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Ja, så var det Risør sin tur til å planlegge et asylmottak.

Artikkel

Greit nok i seg selv. Men hva med å rydde i egen hage først?

Iflg tall fra SSB så ligger Risør over snittet i landet når det kommer til arbeidsledighet, antall uføre og sosia lstøtte.
Vi trenger kanskje noen få folk til å drive asylmottaket og litt for norskkurs. Men hva skal asylsøkerne gjøre når de skal integreres? Hvem sine jobber skal de ta?

Det eneste jeg kan si er at jeg er glad for skepsisen de har frem til nå. Risør er ikke klar for dette. Vi trenger først å få opp antall arbeidsplasser, og da helst noe som krever høyere utdanning slik at Risør kan bli et attraktivt sted fra utsiden. Om en industri hadde vekt liv i gamle Kitron hadde vært en god start. Der hadde det vært mange gode arbeidsplasser.

For fortsetter nedgangen slik den er nå så ender vi opp men en at Risør blir preget av Kiwi og Rimi jobber. “Pose?”

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Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) has been considered for a long time a trend that arrived when Generation X entered the workforce and became a stronger consumer presence in corporate America. Arguments about the role of business in society have raged as companies subscribe to looking at methods to minimise the need for CSR or for ways to turn social responsibility in to a factor of profit making. Whilst some believe that CSR is a distraction that stops businesses performing to their potential and crippling the economy, I firmly believe that an effective CSR policy, coupled with efficient marketing and business strategy could help a business grow to larger profits whilst also benefitting society at large.

Milton Friedman is one of the architects of the movement against social responsibility, writing what is considered by many the seminal piece of work disparaging CSR and the businesses who promoting their CSR credentials, saying,

“Businessmen who talk this way are unwitting puppets of intellectual forces that have been undermining the basis of a free society these past decades.”

(Friedman, 1970, p1)

Friedman’s general belief was that only people can have responsibilities, not businesses, and the people who are hired by business owners have a responsibility primarily to their employers, to meet their desires which in most cases are profits. Friedman recognises that an individual can have perceived responsibilities in areas away from the business, but says of this:

“If we wish we can refer to some of these responsibilities as ’social responsibilities.’ But in these respects he is acting as a principal not an agent; he is spending his own money or time or energy, not the money of his employers or the time and energy he has contracted to devote to their purposes. If these are ’social responsibilities,’ they are the social responsibilities of the individual, not the business.”

(Friedman, 1970, p2)

Friedman’s method is to de-assemble the personification of businesses in to individual businessmen and to instead present them as what he believes they are; collectives of individuals who are paid to work at the bidding of the owners. Therefore, the employees should be solely motivated to fulfil their responsibility to create profit for the owners and not to be concerned as to whether their role in the firm is benefiting society or not. One could almost argue that Friedman is saying that those with the desire to work with a social conscience have no place in the free market.

Whilst I would agree there is an amount of sense in this argument, I cannot help feel that Friedman’s understanding of CSR is too narrow, focused purely on the business and its role in a free market and has become most definitely outdated for the contemporary culture. He makes valid points during his deconstruction of the personification of a business, however he forgets the main attribute that is CSR’s strength and that is the will of the general public. He may see the business in the factual manner of which he presented; employees lined up to work for the owner’s benefit, but the public do not. They view the company as a whole representative and if one man’s mistake leads to an error is social judgement, the public will judge the whole company, not just the one man. It has been proven time and again whilst CSR has yet to be harnessed to create a significant positive difference to profits, a negative policy can destroy profits, as Russell-Walling (2007) reveals:

“Footwear mogul Nike is still dealing with the backlash of a UK-instigated campaign that accused it of employing child labour in developing countries. It responded proactively with a rigorous CSR initiative, including the appointment of a director of sustainable development. In many markets, its reputation has been restored. In a recent survey of most ‘ethical’ brands by country, however, Nike did not appear anywhere in the UK ranking.”

(Russell-Walling, 2007, p. 47)

Nike’s issues stemmed from an individual agent working in a manner that Friedman would support. The manager chose to work in a country where child labour was acceptable, or at least possible, so that costs could be reduced and Nike to increase profits. Unfortunately, when this information went public, the individual was not blamed. Instead the company as a whole was considered irresponsible. This effected the reputation and led to a boycott of the products. Were anyone to ask Friedman what he would have done, I can be sure the CSR initiatives would be low on the list if on the list at all, yet it seemed that those initiatives that Friedman disliked so much, were the only viable methods of regaining trust from the public. Friedman’s mistake, in my view, is that he separated the public from customers in his evaluation, not understanding how much the customer base of a company can be influenced by the wider public.

Drucker (1992) believes that one of Friedman’s main focal points, that a business should be focused on increasing its profits to benefit a society best, is also a shallow evaluation of the business’ responsibilities, saying,

“Economic performance is the first responsibility of a business. A business that does not show a profit at least equal to its cost of capital is socially irresponsible. It wastes society’s resources…But economic performance is not the sole responsibility of a business…Power must always be balanced by responsibility; otherwise it becomes tyranny.”

(Drucker, 1992, p. 101)

It’s clear that those that believe in CSR as a strategy, like Drucker and Russell-Walling, also believe in the profitability espoused by Friedman. But what is the best strategy to ensure profitability through a CSR strategy? Jobber (2005) believes that the most effective CSR strategy is marketing based, as table 6.1 detailing Jobbers dimensions of corporate social responsibility shows, below. However, he does understand that marketing is the sole answer, saying:

“An important point to realize is that the key issues relating to each CSR dimension are not all exclusively marketing related. For example, pollution control at a chemical plant is a production-related issue, standard setting for supplies is a procurement-related topic, and the setting of fair pay is a human resources issue. Nevertheless, for most of the issues listed in [Table 1] marketing practices can affect outcomes.”

(Jobber, 2006, p. 203)

Table 1 – Dimensions of corporate social responsibility (Jobber, 2006, p. 204)

Jobber is correct in showing the importance of marketing to making a CSR strategy profitable, however Peloza and Falkenburg (2009) believe that Jobber’s solution, like many others before and after it, does not go far enough and a much more encompassing analysis of CSR policy is required so that a better solution can be found, stating,

“The lack of a conclusive business case for corporate social responsibility is at the heart of the ongoing debate over the role of business in solving social and environmental problems. Although the link between CSR activities and firm financial performance is still debated, research suggests that the relationship depends, at least in part, on how the CSR initiative is executed

(Peloza and Falkenburg, 2009, p.1)

Seeing the need for a case study analysing the subject in depth, Peloza and Falkenburg noticed that modern CSR strategies can form in one of four ways:

• Single company/single NGO
• Multi-company/single NGO
• Single company/multi-NGO
• Multi-company/multi-NGO

This then lead to creating a matrix which detailed the objectives and considerations of each strategy, detailed in Table 2, below.

Table 2 – Strategic Factors for CSR Collaboration Strategies (Peloza and Falkenburg, 2009, p.1)

With this matrix, it can bee seen that there is no template to creating the right CSR strategy. An analysis of the situation, the environment and possible collaboration must be undertaken prior to looking at any possible strategies. For example, Nike were not the only company to suffer exposes surrounding poor labour conditions, so joined with international labour federations and other clothing companies with similar issues to create a strategy that helped recover their image worldwide. This was the best strategy for Nike as it could be made to appear that they were driving the industry to finding a solution and, more importantly, there was less chance of the solution looking like a guilty re-action if they joined a multi-company strategy. If there was a perception made that the move was guilt-fuelled, linking up with a range of NGOs appears that Nike are taking their social responsibility seriously and could be considered by many as suitable redemption.

Unfortunately for Milton Friedman, corporate social responsibility has lasted long enough to no longer be considered a trend but a fully fledged strategy integral to a business that wishes to succeed in the contemporary socio-economic climate. Where it is widely believed that Karl Marx’s greatest mistake was discounting the natural human instinct of greed, Milton Friedman’s appears to have discounted the natural human need to survive by sticking with the herd. Had he understood that, perhaps he could have explored the opportunities that CSR presented in helping a company create solutions to social issues without affecting its profit performance, rather than trying to stifle the growth of one of the most important business strategies of the late 20^th Century.

Bibliography

Drucker, P.F. (1993) Post-Capitalist Society. New York, HarperCollins

Friedman, M. (1970) The Social Responsibility of Business is to Increase its Profits. New York. The New York Times Company.

Jobber, D. (2007) Principles and Practices of Marketing, 5^th Edition. Berkshire, McGraw-Hill.

Pelza, J. and Falkenburg, L. (2009) The Role of Collaboration in Achieving Corporate Social Responsibility Objectives. Berkley, University of California Press

Russell-Walling, E. (2007) 50 Management Ideas You Really Need to Know. London, Quercus.

Nå er det fult kjør på Risøya. Der “Live Production Video” har video produksjon i BigTop.
Her har vi en 16:10 Led og fire plasmar som kjører video, vb og tekst.

Vi bytter mellom tre og fire kameraer.

Jeg går på 10. trinn på Østerås Skole, og vi har (som sikkert alle andre tiende-klassinger har) i samarbeid med faget UTDANNINGSVALG fått i oppgave å finne en arbeidsplass somewhere… Jeg “søkte” (spurte) Grim og Oslo Zoo Senter og begge sa “ja, her kan du jobbe”…

Men, hmm… Jeg tror jeg faktisk heller velger Oslo Zoo Senter… Det er vel mye morsommere å gå rundt og mate fisk, kaniner, rotter og fugler og klappe kaninene og marsvinene og hamsterene enn å rette på klær som har vært brukt i prøverommet… ?

Jeg var med tre venner i dag, og vi skulle søke jobb alle 4, forskjellige steder.
Etter at jeg fikk jobb begynte det å bli kveld og vi begynte å få dårlig tid… Det ble jo kveld. Vi spiste en kebab på Aker Grill og Kebab, og etter det skulle vi dra for å søke jobb for de tre andre. På veien så vi en restaurant. Mette som bare det gikk vi opp trappa, faktisk: BARE FOR Å SE! Fordi det virket som en fin asiatisk restaurant vi skulle prøve ut neste gang siden vi er så glade i det.

Jeg åpnet døra og da: “HEI, DANBY!” på koreansk… Jeg kjente restaurant-eieren, og han sa: KOM INN, KOM INN! Er dette vennene dine? Her har du menyen bla bla bla… Så ventet han sikkert at vi skulle bestille noe hovedrett til 300 kroner eller noe slikt… Men vi var jo så mette av KEBAB!

Etter fem minutter med snakk på bordet kom kelneren bort… Jeg sa vi hadde spist, litt sånn stille, men at vi skulle ha noe dessert og sånn.. Så vi endte opp med frityrstekt banan, frukt og is til 70 kroner per porsjon, Ginseng-te og sorbet-is.

Timingen passet passe dårlig… Vi hadde dårlig tid til å søke tre jobber, hadde ikke penger, og var DRITT mette!
Haha… Og dette er ANDRE gang dette skjer med meg. Sist gang var jeg med en venninne, og da måtte vi “ta ut penger fra banken”. Men denne gangen kjente jeg jo eieren… Jeg skulle møte han igjen liksom… Jeg kunne ikke bare løpe ut. Haha…

Vi ga kelneren det vi hadde av penger og tips og dro ut blakke, flaue, mega-mette og med dårlig tid…

IKKE dra på en restaurant bare for å se.
Jeg har lært etter to ganger! … håper jeg…

Nå er russetreffestivalen i full gang.
I går (fredag) hadde vi en konge konsert med Ole Børud. Der hadde vi full pakke, lyd, lys og supring på lerret på baktrossa.

ole børud

Longtime and legendary WWE enhancement talent Dale “Dusty” Wolfe is on the consideration list for induction in the WWE Hall of Fame in 2010.

Sources close to the legend, who used to brag that “nobody can take the Superfly splash like me”, say he has started writing his speech in anticipation of being picked.

Wolfe is said to want to rival Koko B Ware’s 2009 induction speech, where Koko talked extensively about the population growth in his home town of Union City, Tennessee.

One insider who has seen the speech, who probably cannot be named, said that Wolfe details the early stages of the industrial revolution through to the rise of Starbucks in his hometown of Salt Lake City, although he has privately conceded that it would be difficult to fit it all into three minutes.

In the early 1990s Wolfe was  a regular on “Superstars of Wrestling” and “Wrestling Challenge”, where he had matches against virtually every wrestler on the roster. It is said at one marathon taping in New Jersey he wrestled 12 matches for syndication and got paid 7 bucks for his effort.

Since jobber matches were dropped by the WWF in the mid-90s, Wolfe has been busy with other projects. His latest is a film called “Fishing with the Wolfe and the Fly”, where he sits on the riverbank with Jimmy Snuka, both holding fishrods and talking about and either “taking the splash” and “doing the splash”, depending who is talking. It runs for 104 minutes and was completed in a single take.

When wrestling for the WWF, Wolfe famously had to change his name from “Dusty” to “Dale”. This was said to be because Vince McMahon hated Dusty Springfield. As an insider rib he named Wolfe after a distant male relative of the singer. It was said Virgil, the one-time bodyguard of Ted Dibiase, held a grudge against McMahon for this, due to his love of the Springfield song “Son of a Preacher Man”.

A spokesman for the WWE said they had other things to worry about right now but an announcement about the Hall of Fame would be made in just under a year from now.

Lurer på om jeg er bittelitt mental?? Herrmin, jeg planlegger i det vide og det brede hele forbanna dagen! Aner ikke hvorfor men snakket med kollega om det i lunsjen i dag og jeg tror jeg kom frem til følgende:

Fordi har fortiden 3 jobber MÅ jeg planlegge hele tiden. Og det er greit. Det er greit å planlegge/ minne seg selv på at man må huske å ditt og datt.. Men nå er jeg gått litt over streken. Og nå  juger jeg jaggu og. NÅ er feil, det har vært sånn i alle fall i to-tre år.  Feks. På veien hjem fra trening i dag tar jeg meg selv i å planlegge hjemkomsten i minste detalj. Jeg hadde planlagt å koke ris og steke noe kjøtt har kjøpt i østeuropa. (les: Svime-sund, Sverige).

Jeg tenker: Når jeg kommer hjem skal jeg spise og rydde/ ommøbelere soverommet, og rekke tv kl 2030. SÅ; hvis jeg går inn med jakka på og setter på risen, så trykker på radio knappen på tv er jeg godt i gang. Da kan risen begynne å koke mens jeg tar av jakka. I og med at radio står på i steden for tv kommer jeg ikke til å sette meg ned for å se på gunn-veit-hva. Så; tykke på pc så den starter, må jo sjekke ditt og datt. Mens pc starter gå på kjøkkenet og sette på steikepanna. Skjære opp kjøtt i biter og røre i risen. Gå i stua og sjekke mail, trynebok og blogg, så gjøre ferdig maten. Dette bør ta ca 15 minutter. Hvis jeg så spiser men jeg publiserer innlegg, bør jeg være ferdig med det innen kl 1915. Skli videre inn på soverommet og dra av sengetøyet før hente støvsuger og ommøbelere. Legge på nytt senge tøy og slenge meg i dujsen..

Så “Tangerudbakken” kl 2030. Dønn.. da har jeg faktisk GOD TID!

Jeg rista lett på huet i bilen og tenkte; Nå får du faen meg ta deg sammen! Du har hele kvelden og slapp nå av ett lite sekund. Konsentrer deg om veien i steden.  Hvordan skal jeg klare å tømme huet for planlegging? Det har skikkelig satt seg! Planlegger nå å laste opp ett bilde og legge seg.. Ikke dårlig planlegging det. Utelater alle små detaljer om rekkefølge på fjernkontroll, alarmstilling på mobil og tannpuss.. Trenger ikke tenke på det!

Hjelpes meg, rart jeg ikke kræsjer mer?? 

NATTA!!!!

Sau mai bine zis inca mai am. Cu criza asta nu stiu cat o mai tine. Pana una alta, ca si restul de 22 de milioane de romani, nu sunt multumit de job.
De ce? De bou, ca de obicei.
Pentru ca am un salar bun, dar pe care il dau pe rate, chirii si intretineri.
Pentru ca am un job interesant, dar in loc sa imi fac treaba, eu scriu pe blog si cand ma intreaba seful de ce nu am terminat proiectul incep si inventez probleme.
Pentru ca primesc salaru’ la timp, dar nu ma tine o saptamana.
Pentru ca ma enerveaza procesul de lucru si sefii, dar nu pun mana sa schimb ceva.
Pentru ca ma duc din ora in ora la tigara si cafea, si ma mir de ce nu imi ajung banii.

Dupa cum spuneam, pentru ca sunt bou!

Macht Arbeiten Spaß und glücklich? Viele Menschen definieren ihren Wert über Arbeit und Geld. Sie unterwerfen sich selbst auferlegten Zwängen und fühlen sich finanziell abhänig und eingesperrt. Welche Opfer werden Menschen durch Arbeit abverlangt? Zu was sind Menschen bereit, um Geld zu verdienen? Von Mega-Pendlern und Multi-Jobbern…

Live Production hadde i år ansvar for videoproduksjon i bigtopp. Her er det plass ca. 3000 mennesker.

Vi hadde 4 42tommers skjermer og 2 prosjektorer, vi hadde også 4 sony SP kameraer.

De som var med Trygve, Fredrik, Jørgen, Stian B, Stian A, Aleksander, Arne, Annelene og Anette

Sverre hadde lys.

Vi filma også på hovedscenen.

Live Production hadde fått æren av å jobbe på visjon 2008. vi hadde 2 læreter og 4 kameraer, vi hadde også easyworship som teksbehandler.

de som var med var Trygve, Fredrik, Sverre, Magnus, Jens Petter, og Jørgen.

Note: This is a continuation of the story that was started below.

PART 2

Danny’s life would never be the same after his night of humiliation at his old high school. He knew he couldn’t return there for many, many years. His mom tried calling a few times after the match, but he never picked up and she eventually stopped. Danny just couldn’t talk to her now, knowing she had witnessed him being dominated in the ring. For now, and for the next few years, he feared, his life belonged to Watson and Watson’s sadistic desires to see him humiliated on national TV and in high schools and arenas across the country.

Shortly after the high school debacle, Watson took Danny to a tanning salon, telling him he wanted his hot body to be tan and not farmer white. Danny didn’t mind this. As they entered the salon, an incredibly hot girl in her early 20s waited on them. She was perky, had huge tits, a great tan herself, and eager to help.

“Hey guys, what can I do for you?”

Before Danny could speak, Watson broke in. “Hi. Danny here needs to tan, and we’ll need a couple of sessions.”

“Ok,” the girl said, and she explained the pricing, though she thought it was kind of weird that the older man was doing all the talking while the cute young guy just stood there like a dummy.

“You can go into that booth,” she told Danny, who started walking toward the door.

“Wait, Danny,” Watson said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” With that he reached into his gym bag and pulled out a skimpy floral Speedo. The girl giggled to herself and stared in wide-eyed wonderment as the older man held the ridiculous bikini in his fingers. Danny stood there stunned. The girl had no problem with gay guys, much of their clientele was gay, but the idea of this hot guy wearing that skimpy, girlish bikini, was too much for her. She couldn’t stop giggling. Maybe he was a crossdresser or something. Too bad he was “taken.” She would have enjoyed flirting with him whenever he would have visited the salon.

“It’s okay if he wears this right?” Watson asked the girl.

“Yeah, definitely,” she said. Danny grabbed it from him and, defeated, walked into the tanning salon. After the session, the girl said goodbye with a laugh. he returned several more times until he had a great tan. A great tan except for the complete whiteness where the bikini was.

“Now, everytime your wrestling trunks get grabbed Danny, it’ll be even more humiliating as the bikini tan will be so obvious.”

Danny knew it was true. The rest of his body was a great golden brown, but he was albino white around his butt, hips, and balls. And he had no doubt audiences across the country would see this newest humiliation.

Watson dictated Danny’s life in other ways. He was now in charge of the jobber boy’s haircuts, taking him for regular appointments to a barber he knew, who was a big pro wrestling fan…especially of jobbers. The old barber loved pinning the pink cape around Danny as he sat obediently in his chair and awaited his haircut. Watson kept the hair fairly long, so that the heels would always be able to control Danny by his boyish locks. Many of the heels loved manipulating the jobbers by their hair, and it always turned Watson on to see a heel with a handful of jobber locks.

Danny kept alternating between the WWF and WCW, meaning he was dominated on TV in front of different audiences and at the hands of a wide array of wrestlers. A TV taping against the Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiase was just another day in Danny’s new, degraded existence. Watson told Danny that he’d get to get a little action in again and not just be a tackling dummy, but Danny knew that any offense he put up in these matches would never result in a victory.

Danny waited in the ring as Dibiase was led to the squared circle by Virgil and was accompanied by Sherri Martel, his newest manager. The cocky Dibiase climbed into the ring and taunted the crowd while pointing at Danny, decked out in his pink trunks. Dibiase grabbed the microphone from the ring announcer and addressed his jobber boy opponent.

“Listen punk. I know that everyone has a price for the Million Dollar Man, and I think you’re no different. I’m going to offer you three hundred dollars to simply lay down before the match even starts and I’ll put a boot on you for a three-count. You won’t get hurt, you won’t get embarrassed, and you’ll make more money than you probably do in a week.”

The crowd booed at Dibiase’s blatant attempt to buy the jobber. Danny walked toward Dibiase and saw him holding the three hundred dollar bills. Danny took them in his hand as Dibiase told the crowd, “See. That’s it boy. Take the money, put it into your trunks for safekeeping and lay down.” Danny clutched the money in his hand, and obediently pulled the front of his trunks open and stuffed the three bills down the front, near his tiny jobber cock. He heard Dibiase laugh. “Now just lay down boy.” But instead of doing that, Danny attacked the heel, punching Dibiase, and then drilling the stunned Virgil with a right hand. Martel came from behind and hit Danny in the head, but it didn’t faze him. He didn’t believe in hitting women, but he grabbed Sherry by the back of her pants, gave her a little wedgie of her own, and slung her over the top rope. Seconds later, he deposited Virgil next to her and set his sights on Dibiase, who was still rolling on the mat after receiving Danny’s punch. Danny scooped Dibiase up into a body slam and dropped the veteran to the mat. Danny faced the crowd and urged them to cheer him on, which they obliged. THey hated Dibiase and his cocky ways.

He hip tossed Dibiase into a corner and as he stood up, came flying at him with a drop kick that sent Dibiase flying into the turnbuckle. He prepared to send Dibiase into the opposite corner, but Dibiaase reversed the youngster and sent him hurtling into the turnbuckle. A half second after Danny turned his back into the corner, Dibiase was flying into him with a devastating clothesline that connected right to Danny’s throat, sending him head over heels to the mat. Danny struggled to breathe as his windpipe felt like it’d been crushed. Dibiase, now pissed, delivered three kicks to the back of Danny’s head with his black boots. He stood the youngster up and took him to the center of the ring. He hooked Danny’s arm and latched onto the silky pink trunks. He held them for several seconds – on TV, announcer Gorilla Monsoon was telling the national audience, “Look at Dibiase cinch the suplex in. He’s really got ahold of the youngster’s tights” – letting Danny realize what was about to happen. Danny waited to be lifted up, and when it came he came crashing down on his back. Dibiase collected the pussy jobber and took ahold of the back of his trunks, sending him flying over the top rope, the same rope Danny had tossed Martel and Virgil over just minutes earlier.

Danny laid on his stomach, gasping for breath, just inches away from a jeering crowd that was now giggling at the sight of Danny’s trunks being lodged up his ass. In front of him he saw Sherri standing. “Where the hell is Virgil,” he wondered to himself. He then heard Dibiase yell from the ring, “Virgil, get that piece of garbage and throw him back in here.” Wait, where is Virgil, he again wondered. Behind me? Before he could look, he felt Vigil’s strong hands grabbing ahold of the top of Danny’s waistband and pulling up, utterly humiliating the jobber and forcing the pink trunks painfully in his ass. Danny grunted as the crowd cheered and flashbulbs went off. A young woman in the first row with a perfect view of the festivities yelled, “Cute tan, Dannyboy.”

Virgil held him in that position for several seconds, holding his prey. Little did Danny know that a cameraman was standing directly behind him, perfectly capturing a shot of the 21-year-old’s ass for the TV audience. Not to mention the obvious bikini tan the kid had. Virgil held him as Martel aproached. She slapped Danny in the face with a yell, and then kicked him in the gut. Danny started going to his knees, but Virgil held on to the trunks, furthering Danny’s wedgie and keeping the kid from falling. Virgil loved moments like this. He wasn’t happy with his role as Dibiase’s right-hand man – he felt he could be a contender as a solo wrestler – so he had to find amusement whenever he could. Dominating jobber boys like this was one of the times he enjoyed his role.

Virgil finally took ahold of Danny’s brown hair and stuffed him back under the bottom ring, where Dibiase awaited. Before Danny could adjust his trunks, Dibiase took him up and flung him into the ropes. Danny’s wedgied ass bounced off the ropes and he came running toward Dibiase, who caught him in a powerslam. Danny could feel the older heel’s hand on his nearly bare ass as he went flying through the air and crashing to the ground. He laid there for a few seconds before finally getting to his feet.

Dibiase crept behind his young victim and slapped the Million Dollar Dream on him, his version of the sleeper that always put jobber boys under. He swung the defeated jobber viciously as Danny felt his air constricting. There was no escape and Danny knew it. He felt himself going out and finally dropped to the ground after the ref had called for the bell.

He layed there on his back, trying to regain his bearings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil and Martel entering the ring as well. Dibiase yelled to his servant, “Virgil, get my money back.” Get his money back? Danny didn’t understand. The money was lodged in the front of his trunks. Virgil reached down and pulled the front of Danny’s trunks up. Danny felt his hand reaching down the front and feeling for the three bills. His cock was lightly touched as the valet grabbed the money and put Danny’s trunks back. The crowd was loving it.

“Here’s how you’re going to get your money boy,” Dibiase yelled. With that, he reached down and stuffed all three bills into Danny’s open mouth. Watching backstage, Watson jerked off as the veteran heel stuffed three bills into the jobber’s open mouth, and pushed them deeper down his mouth with his finger. There Danny laid. Prone, pink trunks wedged up his ass, money protruding ridiculously out of his jobber mouth. The same money that had been nestled against his cock just minutes earlier. Danny felt a tear running down his cheek, from the pain, and the humiliation. The cameraman zoomed in on that and captured it for the audience to see, along with the greenbacks stuffed into the kid’s mouth.

“Another victory for the Million Dollar Man,” Monsoon told the TV audience as the last shot before commercial was Danny’s money-stuffed face, “and another victim of the Million Dollar Dream

***

Danny was almost relieved as he stood in the lockerroom and listened to Watson tell him his opponent for that night would be against the Iron Sheik. He knew the Sheik was tough, but he’d seen several of his matches and noticed that the guy rarely grabbed his opponent’s trunks. Maybe, for one night at least, Danny would escape the humiliating wedgies and trunk pulls that had come to define his existence. Maybe he could just take quick beating and that’d be it.

He went through some stretches while standing in his trunks and white boots. His match was still an hour away. He was talking with some other jobbers and even a couple of the friendlier heels. All of a sudden the locker room door flew open and in stormed the Iron Sheik, already wearing his small red trunks and pointed, should-be-illegal boots. Danny felt his stomach rumble a bit. The sheik was bigger than he was expecting, and whether it was the bald head or the mustache, he was a bit more intimidating than he’d anticipated. The Sheik was yelling now, “WHERE’S DANNY ROGERS? WHERE’S DANNY ROGERS?”

What? Danny wondered to himself. What the hell does this guy want now? He slowly raised his hand as the Sheik walked toward him and said, “Danny Rogers. I’m here for my prematch workout.”

What the hell was he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” Danny said. The Sheik grinned as a crowd of other wrestlers gathered around the pair. “Before every match, I put you jobber pussies through some paces to get warmed up for the match. It helps me understand how much you weigh and gives me an idea of what I’ll have to do once we’re in the ring.”

“Come on, man,” Danny said. “We don’t have to do that.” The Sheik got up close to Danny’s face and Danny could smell alcohol on the Sheik’s breath. He’d obviously been drinking. Great. He looked at Tommy Angel who was standing nearby in his white trunks. “Sorry kid, the sheik does like to do this.”

Danny couldn’t believe it. He’d never heard of such a thing. And how were they supposed to do anything in the small confines of the locker room? Before he could think anymore, the Sheik’s pointed boot came up and drilled Danny in the stomach, doubling him over. The Sheik grabbed Danny by the head and rammed him face first into a locker like a high school bully picking on a nerd.

The other wrestlers were oohing, but one did say, “Come on Sheik, knock it off.” The Sheik completely ignored the request, and, holding Danny’s head in the locker, slammed the door on it. The Sheik then snapped a quick suplex on Danny, slamming his back onto the filthy locker room floor. He stood up and kicked Danny in the gut. He picked up a gasping Danny and effortlessly lifted for a bodyslam. Instead of dropping him, he carried him into the shower area where he slammed the jobber onto the floor as the other wrestlers trailed behind.

Finally two wrestlers stepped in and ushered the Sheik away. Tommy Angel helped Danny to his feet. “Sorry about that kid. THat guy’s a little crazy.” Danny readjusted his trunks that had been grabbed during the suplex and rubbed his throbbing head, which had been victimized by the Sheik and the locker.

45 minutes later, Danny was in the ring against the Sheik. The Sheik yelled his anti-American rants at the crowd and spit on the ground. Danny jumped up and down nervously, his beating from earlier still fresh in his mind. He had no doubt that the Sheik was still drunk and had no idea what the crazy man would do. The sight of Danny’s pink trunks seemed to simultaneously enrage and arouse the Sheik. The Sheik himself couldn’t wait to get his hands on Danny. The time in the locker room had not been enough. If he’d had his choice, he’d have ripped the tiny trunks off this kid and fucked him up the ass in front of the other wrestlers. He felt his large cock growing in his trunks as he looked at the fresh piece of jobber meat across the ring from him.

The two met in the center of the ring and Danny locked the bald Sheik into a headlock. He grinded it a bit, trying to get at least a shred of payback for the earlier lashing. Unfortunately for Danny, the Sheik was in no mood to mess around. With Danny holding for dear life to the headlock, the Sheik lifted him up backwards and dropped Danny on his head. He picked Danny up and walked to the turnbuckle, where he put his pointy boot and proceeded to ram Danny’s forehead into. The Sheik did it again in the other corner. Danny felt a trickle of blood on his forehead and wanted to know what in the hell was in the Sheik’s boot. The Sheik then slapped a devastating bearhug on the pink trunked jobber. The pain in Danny’s ribs was excruciating. He couldn’t breathe and he literally thought the Sheik was maybe trying to kill him. Just when he thought the pressure was easing, the Sheik would cinch it in some more.

Danny instinctively felt his legs lifting and wrapping around the Sheik, a ridiculous looking move that looked like Danny was a child wrapping around his daddy’s torso. The crowd gave a huge pop as Danny was lifted like this. Danny finally got his legs to drop but he was only standing because the Sheik held him firmly. Danny’s strength had been completely sapped and he was like a wet noodle in the Sheik’s powerful grip.

The Sheik held that position for several minutes, until he was satisfied the fight had been taken out of the jobber. Now he could truly have his way with this pansy. Danny could feel the sheik’s cock rubbing against his as they stood face to face. The Sheik then lifted Danny into a belly-to-belly suplex that further destroyed Danny’s back and ribs. Danny rolled around on the mat as the Sheik again stood up and shouted his anti-American rhetoric before spitting on Danny, who felt the saliva hit him in the chest.

Rising to his feet, Danny found himself being twisted into another painful submission hold, an abdominal stretch. Danny was stretched beyond belief as the Sheik cinched the hold in. When the ref wasn’t looking, the Sheik took ahold of the right side of Danny’s trunks and yanked up, giving him added leverage and adding to Danny’s embarrassment. Danny barely registered that the side of his trunks had been put up his ass and that his white rear was now on display. He was just trying not to cry out from the pain that was dominating his world. His entire side and stomach felt like it was being ripped apart. Again he could feel the sheik’s hard cock rubbing against him, this time on his back as he held the hold for several minutes. The ref asked Danny if he gave up, and Danny thought about doing it. But he also knew the match was not supposed to end like this. The crowd had come to see the Sheik’s clutch, and Watson had told Danny he’d have to endure it, no matter what pain led up to it.

Releasing the jobber boy, the Sheik went behind Danny and lifted him for a belly-to-back suplex. Danny landed awkwardly on his head, and the momentum from the throw sent him toppling over so he ended up on his stomach, the top half of his body under the ropes. The next thing he knew, the Sheik had grabbed both of his feet and was pulling him toward the center of the ring. Danny was helpless to stop it as his carcass was dragged against his will, his pink pantied cock being rubbed on the canvas. The Sheik dropped his feet as the crowd started cheering. Danny knew the dreaded camel clutch was coming. But he was helpless to escape. The sheik kicked danny’s legs apart. Again, the Sheik thought about how delicious it’d be to take this kid from behind in front of the crowd.

He lifted the jobber’s arms and draped them on his knees. He grabbed ahold of the jobber’s chin and yanked back. Danny’s back felt like it was breaking. He made eye contact with someone in the crowd who was taking a picture of Danny’s face, which was a portrait of misery. AFter about 20 seconds, Danny screamed out that he gave up and the ref rang the bell. But the Sheik held onto the hold for another 30 seconds, until finally releasing the defeated jobber.

The ring announcer climbed into the ring and announced the winner. The Sheik angrily grabbed the microphone.

“Iran No. 1,” he yelled, “USA, phooey,” and with that he again spit on the prone jobber. Finally, Danny began crawling toward the edge of the ring as the Iranian madman continued his rant. Finally he threw down the mic and posed in the center of the ring. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Danny slithering away. The Sheik wasn’t done. He marched over toward the ropes. Danny was nearly out, he’d crawled forward on his stomach until his head and top of his back were under the ropes. Suddenly, he felt the Sheik grabbing the top of his trunks and pulling them down, keeping the jobber in the ring and mooning the crowd. He released the trunks after the depantsing but they were now lodged halfway down Danny’s ass. THe crowd went wild as the jobber was exposed. Danny was aware of what had happened, but had no chance to fix them. The top half of his crack was now fully exposed as the trunks resided toward the bottom of his cheeks.

The Sheik again took Danny’s legs and dragged him to the center of the ring. The Sheik himself was now rock hard in his trunks, a fact that was obvious to more than a few audience members. The sight of this young jobber half naked – nearly entirely naked – in front of him, on his back, was too much. He again sat down on Danny, this time a little further down so that his hard cock was resting against the top of Danny’s exposed ass. Danny could feel it digging into him as the Sheik cinched the camel clutch in again, tearing Danny’s head back and holding him by the chin. The Sheik refused to release danny, even after several minutes. Finally, several other wrestlers from the locker room came running to the ring to pull the madman off. As they escored the drunk heel from the ring, Danny felt one of his fellow jobbers helpfully pulling his trunks up his ass to save him further embarrassment.

The punishment he took that night from the Sheik would put him out of action for a couple of weeks, as his back was simply too sore to compete. Watson missed having his favorite jobber humiliated each week, but he made sure he was always in his office, still being milked before the cards, still wearing his pink trunks so he wouldn’t forget how they felt.

***

Watson was introducing Sid Justice to the world and he loved his new monstrous heel. For all Watson knew the guy was loaded up on steroids, but he could really destroy his opponents, and the crowds were in awe of him. He wanted to put the vicious new wrestler in a handicap match. Except, unlike many handicap matches that were usually against two jobbers, Watson wanted to use three. And he definitely wanted Danny to be one of them.

So as he returned to the ring Danny found himself standing in the squared circle with two longtime veteran jobbers: Tommy Angel and Red Tyler. Angel was decked out in his small white trunks that had been abused throughout the years, while Tyler was wearing his lime green spandex ones that had once resided up his ass during a match against Mr. Perfect. THey all stood nervously in the ring as the music started and the giant Justice strolled to the ring, clad only in his black trunks. As Justice stepped over the top rope with ease and turned to the crowd with arms raised, the three jobbers stormed the big man, hoping to catch him offguard. They pounded on his back for 10 seconds as Justice ducked his head and took the beating. It had no effect. Finally he turned around and kicked Angel in the stomach, doubling him over. He blocked one of Tyler’s punched and hammered a huge head butt that sent him backward. Danny kept punching and Justice let him get a few more in to his stomach but he stood there, feeling nothing. Tired of the jobber’s attempts, he latched onto Danny’s throats with both hands and effortlessly lifted him by his neck, choking him as Danny’s feet dangled two feet off the ground. Justice dropped him and again roared to the crowd as the three jobbers in their small trunks rolled in their agonies in front of him. He grabbed Angel and Tyler and rammed their heads together. Justice then grabbed Danny and threw him with avengeance into the turnbuckle. Danny was planted there from the sheer force of the throw. Before he could move, Justice had scooped up Angel and was firing the blonde-haired, white-trunked pussy into the same turnbuckle as Danny. He turned at the last second and his back was planted into Danny’s chest. Finally, he grabbed Tyler and completed the tosses by firing Red into the corner. As Tyler richocheted into Angel, he stumbled forward two steps and fell facefirst. Angel then walked two steps and fell, followed inevitably by Danny.

Justice reached down and pulled Tyler up by his hair with just one hand, another example of his awesome strength. Using just the hand on the hair, he ran toward the ropes and flung Red over the top one as the jobber crashed onto the floor below. Angel was next, but Justice threw him over a different rope. Finally it was Danny’s turn. Danny landed against the concrete railing on the outside. He was motionless for a few seconds. As he lay prone, a middle-aged woman in the front row reached through the bars and ran her hand up the side of Danny’s pink trunks. He registered that her friends were laughing and complimenting her on “touching his panties,” but he couldn’t move away.

Justice had deposited the three jobbers on three sides of the ring. It was a nice touch, Watson thought to himself as he watched in the back. He regretted not sending a fourth jobber out there, could have had one on each side of the ring.

Justice climbed over the top rope and dropped down to the floor, first addressing Tommy Angel. He scooped up the small jobber and put him over his shoulder before sprinting into the steel corner of the ring, leveling Angel’s head against the barrier and dropping him to the floor, nearly unconscious. Danny could hear the crowd going nuts so he figured Justice was working over his partners, but he still found it tough to move. The landing on the floor had taken a lot out of him, not to mention the choking from before.

On the other side of the ring, Justice picked up Angel and scooped him up into a military press, clutching the bottom of the spandex white trunks and holding them above Angel’s ass. He did this with one arm and did a 360 degree turn in front of the crowd, giving all sides a view of his domination of the jobber. He then lifted Angel even higher over his head and tossed him like a sack over the top rope and back into the ring. The crowd was amazed the display of raw power. Tyler’s turn was next.

Justice methodically strolled to the side where Tyler had been sent flying. He backed the redhead up to the apron and delivered a devastating chop to the chest. Instantly, Tyler’s chest went red and he fell to his knees. Justice picked him up and rammed him head first into the rail, just like with Angel. What’s good for one is good for all, Justice thought to himself. By now the crowd knew what was coming next. They anticipated it as Justice brougt his hands under Red’s crotch and gripped the green trunks and lifted the jobber high above him. Again spinning in a 360, the crowd got another look at a jobber on display, his ass hanging out as the trunks wedgied up his ass. Justice threw him over the top rope and into the ring as the crowd went wild in awe.

Danny had finally staggered to his knees and was holding onto the mat under the bottom rope so he had a view of Tyler being thrown unceremoniously into the ring. He actually tried climbing in, not wanting to be subjected to the same humiliating military press that he’d experienced so many times already and that his partners had just been lifted into. But he was still aching so much from hitting the railing that he didn’t have the strength. He was still on his knees when Justice approached his side, his eyes flaring in roid rage. He took ahold of Danny by the side of the head, firmly grasping those wonderful brown locks, and yanked him up to his feet.

With his face just inches from Danny, Justice began yelling at the frightened, bewildered jobber. With each word, the spit flew into Danny’s face as he stared into the eyes of a man who could, if he really wanted, probably kill him right then and there.

The TV camera caught every word.

“LISTEN YOU LITTLE PUNK. HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SID JUSTICE. NO ONE CAN HANDLE ME. NO ONE. NO ONE IN THE WWF.”

For the third time, Justice put a jobber on his shoulder and sprinted toward the ring post. Totally unprotected, Danny could do nothing but close his eyes as his head approached the steel. Justice hammered him into it and Danny went down. When he looked up from his back, everything was dizzy. When someone did that move, they were supposed to ram their opponent shoulder first, not headfirst. But Justice apparently played by different rules. He was still dizzy and only half aware as Justice reached beneath him and hoisted him up effortlessly into the military press position. Justice lifted Danny’s pink trunks six inches above his ass. The entire crowd took pictures as they stared in wonderment. Danny could only see blurred faces because of his ringing head, and it was probably for the best. That way he didn’t have to see the smirking men, women and children who were reveling in his humiliation and the destruction of his fellow jobbers.

With a heave, Justice threw Danny into the ring with his fellow jobbers, who were all seeing stars. All three laid there with their trunks up both cheeks. None of them reached back to adjust the trunks because they were all too dazed to be fully cognizant of what was happening.

But Justice wasn’t done.

Going to Tyler, he picked up the jobber like a sack of potatoes, held him upright for a second, and then stuck his head between his legs, like he was going to give him a piledriver. But instead of lifting him for that move, Justice brought him up for a powerbomb, holding him up by his face for just a few seconds before slamming Tyler onto the back of his head, neck and back, knocking the jobber out.

Now it was Angel’s turn. Danny’s cobwebs were clearing slightly and he looked up to see Angel’s wedgied ass on display and his head stuck between Justice’s massive, sweating legs. Justice reached to Tommy’s gut and lifted him up. Danny cringed as Angel too was brought down in a powerbomb, also knocking him out. Danny feared for his safety now, but there was no escape. Not ever.

Justice grabbed him and shoved him between his legs. Danny was held in that position for a much longer time than his fellow pussy jobbers because this was the final act of Sid Justice. He wanted the crowd to remember what they’d just seen. So he held Danny in that position and manuevered him so that each side of the ring got a look at the bent over young jobber, and his pink tights. Justice finally picked Danny up. Danny felt himself being lifted and now he was up above Justice’s shoulders, but he knew it was a long way down, like anticipating a drop on a rollercoaster. Justice flung Danny down with anger. As Danny’s head hit, he instantly lost consciousness for a few seconds, just like his fellow jobbers.

It was now only time for the pin. But it wasn’t the end of the humiliations. Justice toook Angel by the arms and dragged him toward Tyler’s prone body. He laid Angel across Red’s groin, so that Angel’s lower back was resting on Tyler’s jobber cock. Their splayed bodies formed a T, Tyler lying vertically, Angel horizonatally across his partner’s midsection.

Watson watched in amazement. Even he hadn’t thought of this final touch. He’d have to give Justice a little bonus money.

Now Justice took Danny, but first flipped the boy onto his stomach. Only then did he take his arms and drag him over the jobber pile he had constructed in the middle of the ring. He positioned Danny right on top of Angel, but Danny was laid stomach down, so his cock was touching Angel’s through their trunks and his wedgied ass stuck up ludicrously. It looked like the two jobber boys were sleeping on top of each other, with Tyler bearing the weight of both on the bottom. Justice kneeled down and put a hand on Tyler’s chest, and the other on Danny’s bare ass cheek. The ref counted to three.

“COUNT TO NINE, THREE FOR EACH,” Justice screamed at the ref. The ref obliged, hitting the mat nine times before Justice finally stood up.

The KO’d jobbers were powerless to disentangle from the jobber meat mountain they’d formed in the center of the ring. After a few minutes, EMTs came to the ring, each bearing three stretchers. Carefully the jobbers were laid onto the stretchers. The female EMTs couldn’t help smiling to themselves as they worked with the jobbers, whose trunks were still firmly residing in their asses. They especially liked young Dannys’ look.

The jobbers were being taken back in single file formation like war wounded. Justice, who had been yelling at the fans and watching the injured jobbers being taken out on stretchers, suddenly ran down the walkway and knocked Angel off his stretcher, then Tyler and finally Danny. The EMTs scrambled away in fear as the wrestlers writhed on the blue mat covering the concrete. A WWF official tried getting between Justice and the jobbers, pushing his chest and telling him to get back to the locker room.

“That’s enough, Sid. Get out of here.”

Justice responded by shoving the official down. He yanked Angel up and effortlessly lifted him into a choke slam onto the blue mat. Tyler was next, followed again by Danny. Justice took all the stretchers and slammed them onto the jobbers, then jumped on them, stomping them with the stretchers that were supposed to take them to safety.

The official finally got off his back and pushed Justice back and told him he was going to be banned from the WWF if he didn’t return to the locker room. Justice finally relented and walked back, leaving destruction in his wake. Three jobbers in his wake. Three wedgied pussies in his wake. As Danny was carried back to the lockerroom by the EMTs, all he wanted to do was sleep for a week and escape the torture that Watson had delivered yet again.

***

Damn it, Danny thought to himself. He kept looking at his car’s clock, watching the minutes tick by. He was stuck in Atlanta traffic, and he was supposed to be at the WCW studio in less than 15 minutes. He’d overslept, but thought he’d still have time. That was before he saw this traffic. He called Watson in his office.

“Mr. Watson, it’s Danny. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be a few minutes late for the taping.”

“I’d make it on time if I were you, Danny,” Watson cooly responded.

“But Mr. Watson, it’s the traffic, it’s terrible. I’ll do my best.”

“If you’re late, there will be consequences, Danny. Just remember that.”

Watson hung up and left Danny wondering what in the hell that cryptic comment would mean. What consequences could be worse than the degradations that he’d had to deal with as a jobber? He was certainly nervous for that night’s match. It was going to be a tag team battle against Arn Anderson and Barry Windham. The tiny TBS studio that filmed WCW meant the crowd was right on top of you and you could hear every insult, and Danny had heard them all as the pink-trunked pansy of the WCW. He knew Anderson and Windham both liked to grab the trunks. His only hope was that his partner, Brian Walsh, would get the worst of it.

Danny finally made it to the studio. 30 minutes late. As he ran in, he was met by Walsh, a fellow jobber.

“Danny, Watson is pissed. he had to push our match back and rearrange the schedule. Get to the locker room and get dressed.”

Danny did and was soon in his white boots and pink trunks. Watson came in.

“I told you there’d be consequences if you were late,” he said. “After your match, I want you and Walsh back in my office.” He walked out and left Danny wondering what was to come.

Fifteen minutes later Danny and Brian were jumping up and down waiting for the arrival of Arn and Barry. Brian was wearing red spandex trunks. He watched Danny out of the corner of his eye. he loved this young piece of meat and had jerked off many times to his humiliations. he’d gone through many of the same things, but nothing like Danny had had to endure. Tonight, Danny thought he might be escaping that, but Walsh knew better. Watson had told him that it would be Danny who would take the brunt of the punishment. Perfect, thought Walsh. I get paid the same amount and he takes all the pain and humiliation.

Watson watched from his office and knew that at that moment, in homes across the country, a certain niche of the wrestling fanbase was racing to hit record on their VCRs. WHen they saw two jobbers like Walsh and Rogers trotted out for destruction at the hands of known dominators like Windham and Anderson, that was a match that needed to be kept in the video library.

Walsh started off against the veteran, hairy Anderson, who’d long made a career out of slowly, methodically dominating young jobbers. And Windham was even better at it. The two locked up in the center of the ring aand exchanged a volley of headlocks, shoulder blocks, and hip tosses, with Walsh giving as good as he was taking. He actually gained the upper hand and tagged Danny in, who continued to work over the veteran. As Danny held a chinlock, the crowd actually began chanting, “Danny, Danny, Danny.” They were getting behind him. Danny was going to tag out in a minute. But Anderson stood him up and sent him flying into the ropes. Danny bounced off and came at Arn, who dropped to his stomach as Danny leaped over him. As Danny went into the opposite ropes – where Windahm was standing – he was brought to his knees as Windham lifted his leg and delivered a knee right to Danny’s lower back. That’d be the end of the offense, and even as he rubbed his back, Danny knew his partner Walsh would not be taking any punishment. it would be him. Like always.

Anderson tagged in Windham. The tall Texan slowly stepped into the ring with a smirk on his face. He already felt his cock stirring in his small black trunks. His dad, Blackjack Mulligan, had told him there was nothing more enjoyable than destroying young jobbers, and he’d discovered the same thing. yeah, wearing the WCW tag team belts was cool and got him a lot of women, but nothing was as satisfying as taking these sissies in their tiny trunks and showing them what real men are like.

Cockily chewing his gum as he walked toward Danny, Windam hauled him up and threw him back into the ropes. Danny bounced off like a rubber ball and was greeted with a back bodydrop. Windham put an extra oomph into it and Dany went way up in the sky before falling. Windahm scooped Danny up by the hair and sent him off the ropes for a third time. This time, instead of a body drop, he used Danny’s momentum, put his hands on the young jobber’s muscled, bare chest and lifted him off the ground, before he fell face first onto the mat. Danny landed awkwardly and hit his balls on the mat and curled into a ball.

Windham stood him up, clutched onto the rear waistband of the silky trunks and fired Danny over the top rope. As he landed, Danny went on his back and adjusted the trunks out of his butt, hoping that few would notice it since he did it while laying on his back. Anderson dropped down from the apron and kicked Danny right in the stomach, leaving him gasping and rolling. As he was on his stomach, Anderson mounted him and started slapping the back of Danny’s head. Once, twice, three times. The whole time he was taunting the kid, telling him there was much more to come. he then grabbed Danny’s head and rubbed his face on the concrete. The burn on Danny’s prettyboy face was excruciating. Anderson lifted Danny’s head up by the hair so Danny was looking into the near camera.

“Take a look, Dusty Rhodes,” Anderson yelled into the camera, calling out his most hated rival. “This is what’s going to happen to you at SuperClash.” with that he brought over a camear cord, wrapped it around Danny’s neck and started choking him.

The TV color announcer said, “Yeah, Dusty Rhodes will be there, Arn. You’re not going to beat him like you are this poor youngster. Stop the choke hold, ref!”

Danny felt himself blacking out as the pressure from the cord dug into his neck. Anderson finally let him go and lifted him up by the seat of his trunks and fired him back under the bottom rope, again giving Danny a wedgie. As Danny was taken in by Windham, he went to again adjust the wedgied trunks, but Windham actually slapped his hand away. As he backed Danny into the ring corner, he leaned in and whispered to the pussy, “Might as well leave those pink panties up your ass, boy, because they’re going to be there all night long.”

Danny understood. He understood his humiliation was far from over, and the trunk abuse would continue. Windham showed off his athleticism by firing danny into the ropes and hammering him with a drop kick. He tagged in Anderson as Danny checked to make sure all his teeth were still in. Arn strolled in and immediately went to work on the jobber’s arm. He locked in an arm bar that had Danny screaming in pain in the tiny studio, the sound reverberating throughout the arena and on TV. Holding the boy’s arm down, Anderson stood up and dropped his knee onto the kid’s elbow. With his ass exposed to the crowd, Danny heard a woman in the audience yell, “Pick your wedgie,” and many people laughed. But Windham’s warning was echoing in his head and he knew he couldn’t. He felt like Anderson was trying to break his arm. Maybe he should, he thought. That way I could sit out a few weeks. Anderson brought DAnny up and stuck the jobber’s arm behind his back and pinned it there. He reached down and lifted the jobber up for a slam, making sure the arm was still pinned to his back. Slamming him down to the mat, Danny’s arm took the full force of the blow as all of his weight came on it.

Anderson put him into an arm twist and walked over to the corner, where he tagged in Windham. The big Texan climbed to the second rope and brought down both fists on Danny’s arm, sending him to the ground clutching his aching, tortured limb. Now Windham went to work on Danny’s back. As Danny got to his knees, still holding his wounded arm, Windham reached down and grabbed Danny’s trunks by the back and pulled him up for an elbow to the back. The blonde bombshell heel then picked Danny up for a slam, clutching onto the pink fabric and showing off to the crowd. Instead of a slam, he dropped Danny’s carcass down on his knee for a painful backbreaker, draping Danny over his right knee. But he didn’t release him. Instead he held him there, bent over his knee. He put one hand on Danny’s thigh and another on his chin and pushed down on both sides, pushing Danny to the floor, and punishing the back even more. Then he’d release and Danny would eae up, before pushing back again, bringing cries from the jobber’s mouth. Windham admired the view. Even though the jobber had a tiny cock, in this exposed position, and in these trunks, the small dick was sticking up, a great sight for the TV audience and the studio. Windham kept him like that for the better part of two minutes. Pushing him down, then releasing him. Finally he shoved Danny off his knee with disdain.

Danny, rolling around with both sides of the trunks still up his ass, tried reaching over to Walsh for the tag, but Windham let him only get so close before picking him up by the hair and hooking his arm for a suplex. Windahm stood still for a few seconds as Danny waited for the heel’s hand to grip the side of his trunks for the inevitable suplex. Windahm finally did and lifted him up for a vertical drop. As he came down, he performed a manuever that he’d perfected. Instead of releasing the trunks, he held onto them and used that momentum to bring himself from his own back to his stomach so that he was in a position to cover the jobber. One side effect of holding onto the trunks like that? The crowd – both on TV and in the studio – usually got a look at the jobber’s groin, as the side of his trunks would be lifted up. So in this case, millions of people got a perfect look at the perfectly shaved groin of Danny Rogers, along with a glimpse of his left nut.

Windham could have easily gotten the pin, but what would be the fun of that. He lifted Danny up after a two count and shook his head at the crowd. As Danny was brought unwillingly back to his feet, he reached back and picked the left side of his trunks out of his ass.He didn’t care what Windham had said, he needed to regain some of his dignity.

“Ya gotta get the other side too, pussy,” yelled the woman who had taunted him earlier about his wedgie.

Windahm marched over and tagged in Arn. Danny had his arms locked in a full nelson position by Windham as Anderson came into the ring. With his stomach exposed, Arn reached into the front of Danny’s trunks and punched him right in the abs. Then again, and again, each time using the trunks to gain his advantage. Finally Windahm let him go and Danny fell.

Arn gathered up the youngster and slapped a DDT on him. Danny’s head bounced off the mat and he went limp, unable to fight, unable to try and tag his partner, unable to move. He prayed that Anderson would roll him over for the pin.

Instead he grabbed him and did a quick tag to Windham. It was time to put this kid out of his misery. Each man hooked an arm of Danny and both grabbed onto a good side of pink trunks. They counted to three and then lifted him up for a double face drop suplex. As he dropped, Windahm grabbed the side of Danny’s trunks to pull him over for a pin, but Anderson stopped him. He wanted to roll him over so he grabbed the other side. No, Windahm wanted him. They kept taking turns yanking Danny’s trunks before finally Windahm let Arn do the honors. As Danny laid on his back, each man hooked a leg of Danny’s for the pin, leaving Danny’s legs splayed, and his wedgied, cute, tight fuckable ass on display for everyone and in front of the camera.

“Another dominating win for the Four Horsemen,” the announcer said.

Finally Danny could reach back and properly adjust his trunks before Walsh helped him roll out of the ring and head back to the locker room. Before they got there, though, an assistant producer stopped them and said that Watson wanted them in his office. Now.

“Shit,” Danny said. “This is about me being late right? Do you think we’re in trouble.”

“I don’t think we’re in trouble,” Walsh replied. “I think you’re in trouble.”

Minutes later, Danny and Brian stood in front of Watson’s desk. He fiddled with some papers for a few minutes while the jobbers waited. Danny felt so nervous. he had no idea what this psycho would do.

“All right. Danny, you were 30 minutes late. That’s completely unacceptable in this organization. You let down Brian here, me, and everyone else in that locker room. You have to accept responsibility for your actions.”

“Yes sir,” Danny nearly whispered. “It’ll never happen again.”

“I have no doubt about that Danny,” Watson replied. “But I’m afraid we do have to address what did happen. And you have to be disciplined for it.”

Danny cringed inside. He figured that meant a fine or something, or maybe a week suspension. He was unprepared for what Watson said next.

“Come over here.”

Danny walked over to Watson who sat at the desk. Before Danny knew what happened, Watson had reached for Danny’s pink trunks and pulled them to his knees, and seemingly in the same motion, had grabbed Danny’s arms and dropped him over his lap, so he was in a perfect spanking position. Danny’s legs kicked helplessly and he yelled, “No, no.”

Watching, Walsh knew what was about to happen. In fact he’d been in this position many times himself. Like Danny, he’d been captured in Watson’s web and was now a jobber for life. At one point in time Brian had a very good looking wife and what he thought was a bright future in wrestling. That was until Watson started outfitting him in skimpy spandex trunks and having him humiliated on a weekly basis. Hiw wife questioned what the hell he was allowing himself to get into, but he couldn’t explain the hold Watson had taken on his life. The marriage finally ended when Jodi walked into Watson’s office one day and discovered the promoter fucking her husband who was bent over the desk, his green trunks around his knees. Watson had arranged for her to walk in on them but Walsh had no idea what was coming. He knew then his life as he knew it was over. The divorce papers came a day later.

But he’d made a pretty good living as a jobber. And younger guys like Danny were now the ones suffering the most humiliations. Watson even allowed Walsh to win a few matches now and then, soemthing Danny would never be allowed. Oh yes, he remembered being over Watson’s lap, and he knew Danny was going to be in for a long session.

“You ever been spanked Danny?” Watson asked the prone jobber who was stuck dangling over his lap, his hot jobber ass sticking up in the air.

“No, sir. My parents didn’t believe in it.”

“Well, I do, Danny. I think it reminds you of what you did and will maybe keep you from doing it again.”

Watson then reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out a small object, an old favorite. Danny heard a buzzing but didn’t yet register what it was. The next thing he knew Watson’s fingers were holding apart his butt cheeks and the vibrating object, a vibrating butt plug, was being carefully inserted into his bottom. Danny grunted and pleaded for Watson not to do it. But the object filled him and vibrated, and finally Danny’s ass accepted the intruder, giving Danny a sense of pleasure he had never experienced. It filled him and made his ass seem wide open. As he was still pondering this, Watson delivered three harsh and hard spanks to Danny’s cheeks, bringing cries from the helpless, humiliated jobber.

“Please sir no.” Watson ignored the cries and kept delivering spanks to each cheek. It was a pain Danny had never felt before. One time in college, with a girl who turned into a one-night stand, he had taken her over his knee for a spanking and he’d enjoyed himself as he spanked her pantied ass. He never imagined he’d be over someone’s knee, much less a man’s. But here he was and he could do nothing about it. What would that girl say if she saw Danny now? Danny kept crying out and reaching his arms back to try and keep the blows from raining down on his ass. Watson finally got fed up with the cries and the reaching back. He again reached into his desk drawer, and this time pulled out a pair of handcuffs and an old, used, dirty jockstrap. He stuffed the jock into Danny’s mouth, finally silencing the jobber, who could still taste the ball sweat that had been caked on there gor God knows how long. And then he cuffed the kid’s hands behind his back, giving Watson unfettered access.

The spanking continued off and on for 10 minutes, while Walsh watched. Watson would take time out to lecture Danny about punctuality and to tell him about future plans he had for him as a pink trunks wearing jobber. Danny was now utterly defeated. Cuffed, plugged, and stuffed, he couldn’t speak, and couldn’t provide any self defense to his butt, all the while feeling the vibrating butt plug that had penetrated him and given him a new reality.

Finally, mercifully, Watson rolled Danny off his lap and stood him up. He told him to stand in the corner near his desk.

“You’ll stand like that for 30 minutes, the same amount of time you were late. Think about what you did.”

He kept the plug in and Danny’s trunks at his ankles, but he pulled out the jockstrap, which was now coated with Danny’s jobber spit. He found another type of gag in his desk and showed it to Danny. It was a cock gag. Danny was horrified. Watson forced the rubber dick into his mouth and strapped it behind his head, enjoying the drool start to ooze out of the kid’s mouth.

“Just getting you ready for the real thing,” Watson said, before playfully slapping Danny’s aching, tender ass.

Walsh was excused and Danny stood like that for 30 minutes while Watson went about his work like everything was normal. And to him it was. He would occasionally lean over and readjust Danny’s vibrating plug. Eventually, Watson called his secretary and told her to come in “with the camera.” Danny dreaded what was to come. He didn’t mean the secretary, Karen, did he? The cute 30-year-old woman who handled Watson’s personal business. Was she coming in? His answer came when the door opened and he heard a beautiful feminine voice say, “Hi Mr. Watson.”

Karen walked toward Watson’s desk and took in the sight before her. Danny, the cute young jobber, standing nude save for his white boots, pink trunks at his ankles, a cock gag in his mouth, and a red ass from an obvious spanking. She’d seen a lot during her time with Watson and nothing surprised her anymore. She sort of felt bad sometimes for the jobbers who fell under his control, but she figured it was their own fault for getting into such a situation. It was evolution at work, predator and prey. She’d enjoyed watching Danny in his pink trunks get humiliated by the heels, and she was waiting for this day to come, when Watson would show Danny a bit more of the wrestling business, the sort of thing you don’t learn in wrestling school.

She’d actually seen Danny at the mall recently and watched as Danny walked through and a couple of cute young girls stopped and pointed at him. Danny stopped and smiled, but they pointed and giggled and guffawed and it was obvious they recognized him as the wedgied jobber they saw each week on TV. Danny just slunk away.

Karen started the video camera as Watson turned Danny around. He took out his cock gag and threw it to the floor. With Danny’s hands still cuffed behind him, he was powerless. Watson removed his own pants and revealed his hard, 8 inch cock. Danny recoiled. Part of him knew what was about to happen, but he tried to block it out. But it was inevitable, and a part of him probably had known it ever since Watson had first come into his life and first outfitted him in the sissy pink trunks. Watson sat down and forced Danny to kneel in front of him, the plug still vibrating in him. Holding the side of Danny’s head, he lowered the jobber boy’s mouth onto his cock. “Take it jobber, take it.”

Danny didn’t really know what to do, but he wrapped his mouth around the throbbing cock, and Watson took care of most of the work, giving him instructions or moving his head where he wanted it. Danny started tonguing it more as the tears came again and poured down his face.

Karen felt herself getting aroused as her boss orally raped the crying jobber. It was obvious the kid had never blown anyone before, but he must have received plenty from cute girls. This is what it’s like being on the other end, kid, she thought.

“You fucking faggot jobber,” Watson said as Danny went to town. “I’m going to make you into a jobber who will no nothing in life but humiliation.”

Danny sucked and sucked until finally Watson pulled out. Danny was confused at first, but only for a half second. Then, Watson came all over Danny’s face, shooting his load onto his cheeks, nose, eyes and forehead. Danny tried recoiling but he had to accept Watson’s seed, all the while Karen captured it on video, a video Watson would later force Danny to watch.

Finally drained, Watson thanked Karen and told her to leave. He stood the shaken Danny up, and removed the plug, which left Danny gasping, suddenly empty. He pulled Danny’s pink trunks back up and told him to go back to the lockerroom. He picked up the jock that had been Danny’s gag before and wiped the cum off the kid’s face. That crusty stain would still be there the next time the jock was forced into a jobber’s mouth. He left a few drops of cum on the side of Danny’s face and in his hair.

Danny walked through the offices and to the locker room with Watson’s juices decorating his face and head. He was marked as the jobber boy he was. And he accepted it.

vi hadde 3 timer på og rigge opp, lydprøve og lys prøve før publikum slapp inn.
scenen var på ca 40m² og trosserigg rundt hele scenen.

de som var med var:
lyd: (FOH)Trygve og Jens Petter

Lys: Sverre

Rigg: Fabian og Fredrik

Vi var på Kragerø spa hotell 2 helger

Vi hadde lys begge helgene(Sverre Andresen)

systemansvarlig på Lyd(Trygve Andresen)

vi hadde også DVD produskjon den siste helga.

Fredrik Haseleid, Stian Bratland og Fabian Eckholt

Dette var en jobb som vi syns var veldig morro og utfordrende.