Celebrity Wrestling Federation
(Harpgon and I are currently writing more stories right now so if theres anything you want to see more of or less of or any celebrities you want to see wrestle send me a message!)
“Ladies and gentleman, our next match,” barks the announcer from the center of the ring, silencing the SRO crowd. “From London, Ontario at 5 feet 9 inches and 157 lbs, the international singing sensation with over 17 million albums sold, the Bad Boy of the CWF, the one and only, Justin Bieber.”
Two burly bodyguards step through the red curtains and part them to either side. A billowing cloud of dry ice follows, filling the platform and wafting into the arena. Through the white haze emerges a lean heavily tattooed figure in a tight snakeskin thong and matching snakeskin wrestling boots. As the mist clears, the insolently pretty face of Justin Bieber comes into focus.
An insouciant smile curls on his pillowy lips, as the pop sensation lifts his arm and flexes his biceps.
Shrieks from his adoring fans sends the decibels off the chart.
“Justin Bieber has definitely been putting in some serious time at the gym,” observes Daly. “Those are impressive guns.”
Justin lowers his arms and flexes his pecs, working them sequentially. The fans swoon.
“Great pecs,” admires Jack. “Justin Bieber has stepped up his game.”
“He’s definitely packed on more muscles. But that’s all show,” differs Colton. “Let’s see what he can do in the ring.”
Running a hand through his light brown coif, Justin turns, giving the crowd a rear view of his thong. His naked buttocks shimmer in the spotlight. As he flexes his glutes seductively, bedlam breaks out across the arena.
Justin turns face front and sticks his right hand down the pouch holding his family jewels. He makes a face to indicate that even he is impressed by his manly package.
He works his right hand back up his torso and joining the left, they smoothly skim down his newly muscled pecs and chiseled six pack abs. His expression is one of total self-worship.
He descends from the platform to let his public get a closer look. But not too close, as the two behemoth personal guards walk alongside, keeping an eye out for any overly exuberant fan who might dare attempt to touch the teen god.
Justin is followed by his personal valet, a comely male model, sporting a stylish leather bag and clutching a perfume atomizer. As Justin reaches the bottom of the steps to the ring, he nods for the valet to proceed him.
The servant steps through the ropes and sprays the scent around the ring.
“Bieber is hawking his personal line of perfumes again. I was told this one is called The Key.”
The referee rushes over to the valet and demands he relinquish the atomizer.
“Good call, ref,” agrees Colton. “That sneaky chickenshit blinded me with perfume in our tag match.”
Reluctantly, the valet relents and the ref passes the fragrance through the ropes to a waiting official.
Justin watches the drama with bemusement. As he ascends the steps, his handsome personal assistant dashes to the ropes and sits on the middle one, while pushing up the top one, creating an entrance for his master.
Bieber climbs through the ropes and strides around the ring like it his personal stage. As the initial hysteria of his fans has subsided, there is a growing chorus of boos mingling with the cheers. Justin looks particularly pleased with the hostility of some of the audience.
“His opponent, from Palo Alto, California, at 5 feet 7 inches and 152 lbs, the star of 21 JUMP STREET, FRIGHT NIGHT, the upcoming UNFINISHED BUSINESS, the FUNNY OR DIE videographer and everyone’s favorite frat boy from NEIGHBORS, Dave Franco.”
“What’s FUNNY OR DIE?” asks a puzzled Jack Daly.
“Oh man, are you serious?” says a surprised Colton Haynes. “Hilarious videos. The one where Dave fucks himself is classic.”
“He what?” exclaims a confused Jack.
Dave Franco rips through the blue curtains like shot out of a cannon. He bounces up and down in his baby blue wrestling boots, his awesome junk bobbing in the pouch of his matching baby blue thong. His well-developed pecs and chiseled six pack abs are a match for Justin’s.
His infectious grin illuminates his handsome face and electrifies the arena with enough kilowatts to light up Times Square.
As he turns and flexes an impressive rear double biceps pose, his naked flawless gluteal globes draw equal attention, evoking loud approval.
He bounds down the ramp and parades the aisle with so much energy the crowd is charged into overdrive, shouting their approval with gleeful whoops. He shakes fans’ hands and poses for selfies.
By the time he races up the steps and leaps over the ropes in one bound, he has won the support of the crowd in a landslide.
“That’s Davey Boy,” enthuses Colton. “Whip his ass, dude!”
Bieber spies Colton cheering on his friend, stalks across the ring and glares at the TEEN WOLF star. As Colton catches sight of him, the pop star wets his middle finger and thrusts it at Haynes. Colton responds with a gesture suggesting Bieber can suck his dick.
The ref directs both grapplers to their corners and after a dramatic pause nods to the bell keeper.
Ding … ding … ding.
Dave bounds to the center of the ring eager to take down the Bad Boy.
Brimming with confidence, Justin marches to Dave and offers his hand as a friendly gesture.
The NEIGHBORS star is taken aback.
The crowd is quick to register their judgment. “Don’t do it!” “It’s a trick.” “Don’t trust him.”
Franco glances to Colton for his friend’s opinion. Haynes shakes his head, “No way!”
Suddenly, Justin’s right boot kicks off the mat, aiming straight for Dave Franco’s ball sack. Wisely, Dave kept sight of the Bieb out of the corner of his eye and catches the delinquent boot seconds before impact.
The Bad Boy is stunned at the Frat Boy’s amazingly quick reflex. The audience however is exhilarated and shout with joy at Franco foiling Bieber’s dirty trick.
The 21 JUMP STREET hottie holds on to Justin’s right foot long enough to make him hop embarrassingly on the other foot and then sends him spinning around, catching him around the waist from the back. He lifts the pop sensation in the air and with precision aim, propels the devious grappler downward in an inverted atomic drop, smashing Justin’s nut sack on to his waiting knee.
Justin dances around the ring, clutching his family jewels and howling in agony.
More cheers from the crowd.
“Way to go, Davey!” urges Colton.
Smiting from the nut cracking, Justin agonizingly skitters about, his hands futilely holding his sore ball sack. As he turns around, Dave sends him to the mat with a flying clothesline.
One of Justin’s bodyguards reaches under the bottom rope and drags Justin to outside the ring.
The teen idol falls against his burly guard for support, as his valet rushes to him to wipe his brow with a handkerchief.
The referee starts to count Justin out. “One … two … three …”
Justin breathlessly tries to recover from the unexpected reversal.
“Four … five … six …”
The two attendants hoist their boss up to the apron.
“Seven … eight …”
Dave Franco hovers near the ropes, anxiously awaiting his opponent.
“Get him back!” Bieber vehemently instructs the ref.
The official orders Dave to step away.
“Nine …”
Justin steps through the ropes.
Franco wastes no time. In a shot, he Irish Whips Justin off the ropes, welcoming him back to the fray with an elbow to the jaw. The sexy FRIGHT NIGHT stud helps the wobbly pop star to his feet, only to send him sailing via an Irish Whip, his back crashing into the turnbuckle.
Bouncing in his baby blue wrestling boots, his gorgeous naked bubble butt jiggling saucily, Dave suddenly springs through the air and javelins Justin in the solar plexus.
The Palo Alto studmuffin climbs to the middle rope and hammers Bieber with a volley of flying fists.
The crowd counts each blow. After an even dozen, Dave jumps back on to the mat, as Justin slides down the corner post, his naked butt colliding with the mat.
“So much for Bieber’s new muscles. Davey is killing the punk,” delights Colton.
“Never underestimate Justin Bieber,” admonishes Jack. “He’s wily as a coyote.”
Aroused by his domination of the arrogant punk, Dave sports an impressive boner, stretching his baby blue pouch to the breaking point.
Fists raised, eager for more lethal blows , Franco stalks towards the near comatose Bieber, slumped on the mat against the corner post.
As he nears Justin, the battered grappler reaches out, grabs the top of Dave’s thong pouch and flings him toward the post, bashing the sexy wrestler’s head into the turnbuckle. At the moment of impact, Justin looks up, spies Dave’s erection and delivers a powerful haymaker into the aroused stud’s cojones.
Dave falls back on the mat, clutching his junk, wailing in pain and writhing on the mat.
Battered but bent on revenge, Justin hoists himself up by the corner ropes and steadies himself.
The ref argumentatively questions Bieber about the clandestine balls abuse. Justin adamantly denies the accusation.
The crowd screams their discontent with the Bad Boy’s rule breaking.
Justin bloodthirstily pursues his adversary. He picks up Dave’s boots and spreads his legs wide open.
The ref warns Bieber not to pursue any nut cracking. The international singing star fakes a look indicating outside interference behind the ref. As the official turns, Justin rains a deadly elbow drop on Franco’s hurting gonads.
Dave’s scream pierces the night.
The ref turns back too late, as Justin wraps the sexy NEIGHBORS Frat Boy’s legs in an Indian Deathlock, with his left boot firmly planted on Dave’s ball sack.
As Justin grinds his boot into Franco’s nuts, Dave yells to the ref, “My balls! He’s crushing my balls!”
The ref starts the 5 count.
“One … two … three … four …”
Justin viciously stomps on the Frat Boy’s balls before releasing the hold.
As Dave rolls around the ring, screaming in anguish, clutching his inflamed ball sack, Justin stomps on his head repeatedly.
Cruelly smiling down on his victim, the Bad Boy reaches for Dave’s thick brown hair and grabs it firmly with his left hand.
He lifts Franco up, swerving Davey Boy away from the sight of the referee and with the three middle fingers of his right hand pushes the thong out of Dave’s ass crack , replaces it with his three digits and shoves them in up to the palm.
Before the ref can circle around to see the anal assault, Colton jumps from his seat and climbs up to the apron. As he is about to clamber through the ropes to help his buddy, the ref stops him. Enraged with Justin’s tactics, Colton argues vociferously with the official.
Justin takes full advantage of the situation. He chokes Dave with his left hand, while his right impales Dave’s manhole. Dave gurgles strenuously from the choke, bouncing up and down as Justin passionately fucks him with his fingers.
Red-faced, Colton screams at the ref to turn around, but the official refuses till the ARROW star leaves the apron.
Justin segues his choke into a side headlock, withdraws his three right fingers from Dave’s steamy cavern and gouges them into the Frat Boy’s eyes.
Justin releases the headlock and Dave falls to his knees, grabbing at his stinging eyeballs. The Bad Boy yanks the sexy Californian’s hair back and vigorously rubs his three tainted fingers into Franco’s eyes.
Dave’s arms flail about helplessly.
As Dave’s mouth gapes in cries of pain, Justin wipes his right fingers on his victim’s tongue and dries them on the sufferer’s hair.
As Colton finally relents and dismounts the apron, the rough-housing Bad Boy Irish Whips Davey Boy to the turnbuckle.
From the arena floor, Justin’s valet reaches behind Dave and grabs the rear strap of his thong, holding him in place as his master shows off his boxing training with a torrent of fists pounding Dave’s six pack abs.
The ref finally turns and sees the valet interfering. He screams at the servant who breaks his hold on Dave’s thong, but continues to argue with the referee, distracting him from Justin’s devious tactics.
Bieber peels Franco off the corner post, grabs his sore balls, scoops him up and drapes him upside down, his legs bent back over the top rope, hanging him in a Tree of Woe. Justin climbs the ropes and balancing himself, drives his right boot into the Frat Boy’s ball sack.
The ref turns and orders Justin to step down. Reluctantly, Justin obeys, but disputes any wrongdoing, maneuvering the official so his back is turned to Franco hanging in the corner.
One of the bodyguards climbs up to the apron where Davey is suspended, wraps the tag rope around the victimized stud’s ball sack, pulls tightly, tying the razor-thin rope into a knot.
The ref wheels around and sees the bodyguard stepping down off the apron. Suspicious of outside interference, he admonishes the burly thug, who plays totally innocent.
While the ref’s attention is focused elsewhere, Justin presses one boot on Dave’s face, shutting his mouth, then seizes the tag rope with his teeth and vigorously shakes Justin’s captive cojones like a dog with a bone.
The second bodyguard joins his cohort in the spat with the ref, as the Bad Boy tortures the Frat Boy’s crown jewels.
The valet warns Justin that the ref is winding down his squabble. The sadistic heel painfully eases Dave’s balls out from the tag rope penitentiary and frees his legs from the imprisoning ropes. The 21 JUMP STREET hottie falls face down on the mat, his beautifully defined muscular body twitching in torment.
Justin grabs a handful of Dave’s hair.
“No hair,” warns the ref.
“No hair. After all the vicious tactics Bieber has pulled, that’s what the ref objects to,” mystifies Colton.
“This ref is blind. He needs glasses,” agrees Jack. “Justin and his gang have worked Dave Franco mercilessly.”
As he stealthily stands on Dave’s right hand, Bieber assures the ref he only wrestles by the rules.
To end the Frat Boy’s yelping, the Bad Boy reaches down, grabs Dave by his right arm, lifts him up and Irish Whips him to the ropes, connecting Dave’s handsome face with a waiting snakeskin boot.
Bieber scoops Franco up in the air, clutching Davey’s smoothly round buns and body slams him to the mat.
The ruthless heel keenly waits for the sexy stunner to teeter to his feet, then quickly wraps his right arm around Davey Boy’s neck and his tattooed left arm behind the unsuspecting grappler’s head, exerting intense pressure in a match-ending sleeper hold.
Davey’s body goes limp, dropping to his knees as Justin’s well-developed biceps squeeze the life out of him.
The audience exhorts Franco to rally, chanting, “Davey, Davey, Davey.” Revitalized by their encouragement, the crowd favorite starts to come back to life. Slowly, but increasingly surely, he rises up on his feet and then surprisingly plunges, driving his skull into Justin’s chin.
Bieber releases the hold, grasping at his aching jaw.
Rejuvenated by the blow he dealt his oppressor, Dave wraps his left arm around the back of Justin’s neck, grabs the side of the snakeskin thong with his right hand, hoists Bieber in the air, holds him there, as the crowd cheers, and suplexes him to the mat.
Franco kicks the Bad Boy’s legs apart and sails into Justin’s ball sack with a precisely aimed head butt.
The throng applauds. Colton agrees, “Poetic justice.”
The Frat Boy lifts the Bad Boy’s legs up in the air and lifts his right boot to exact more damage on the Bieb’s nuts.
The ref is shouting, “No! No!” but the crowd is roaring, “Yes! Yes!”
The NEIGHBORS star goes for door number two and stomps his boot on Bieber’s meat and two veg. The heartless heel clutches his junk and kicks furiously on the mat.
Davey Boy pulls Justin up by his hair, ignoring the ref, Irish Whips him to the ropes and drives his knee into Bieber’s stomach, sending him flipping in the air, landing on his back with a loud whack on the mat.
Gripping Justin’s hair like he wants to rip it out by its roots, Dave yanks him up off the canvas and Irish Whips him to the ropes. As Franco ricochets off the opposite ropes, intending a clothesline, Justin’s valet reaches under the bottom rope and trips him.
Dave breaks his fall with his hands and jumps up in time to leap up and drop kick Bieber in the face.
As Justin hits the mat, Dave rolls out under the bottom rope, grabs the valet by his shirt and sends him reeling with a European Uppercut.
As Justin shakily staggers to his feet in the ring, one of his bodyguards charges Franco on the arena floor. Dave connects his baby blue boots with the guard’s upper chest in a lethal drop kick.
Franco readies himself for the second approaching bodyguard when he is struck from behind by an orange cone used for crowd control, wielded by a resurgent Justin Bieber.
Davey Boy falls forward against the outside ring, his vulnerable bubble butt cheeks glimmering in the arena lights.
Justin takes the orange cone, places the base of the cone over his dong and rams the pointed top against Dave’s manhole, thrusting forcefully like a fervent top.
“I guess Justin saw Dave’s video where he fucks himself ,” avers Jack.
“He’s mocking him, the dickhead,” answers a furious Colton.
Pleased with his clowning and the boos it elicits from the crowd, Justin bounces the cone off of Dave’s back.
The ref finally starts the ten count.
Gripping the hair and rear thong strap, Justin tosses Dave under the bottom rope and back into the ring.
The Bad Boy climbs back into the ring and lifts Dave up by a handful of hair and Irish Whips him to the ropes. As Franco boomerangs, Bieber catches him with his right arm around his neck and his left behind Dave’s head for a second sleeper hold.
Franco’s torpid body offers no resistance. The ref holds up his right arm and it drops to the mat. A second try has the same result. The ref raises the Frat Boy’s arm for the third time and it plummets to the canvas.
The ref signals the bell keeper.
Ding … ding … ding.
Justin releases the hold and struts around the ring flaunting his victory as the crowd jeers.
“The time 27 minutes and 16 seconds. A sleeper hold. Dave Franco submits to Justin Bieber. The winner of the match Justin Bieber.”
The ref raises Justin’s arm to resounding boos.
“Davey didn’t have a chance,” bemoans Colton. “It was four against one.”
“I agree the outside interference by Bieber’s entourage made for an unfair advantage,” declares Jack. “But you got to admit, Justin Bieber really showed he’s got what it takes to wrestle in the CWF. He heeled Dave Franco around the ring.”
“Davey is a damn good wrestler.”
“He sure is. I look forward to seeing him in future matches.”
“I still say he could have beaten Bieber if … “
A loud gasp from the crowd gets Colton’s attention. “Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on?’
Justin Bieber has tangled the arms of the unconscious Dave Franco between the top and middle ropes and has lifted Davey’s legs up and pinioned his boots behind the twisted ropes, arranging the Frat Boy’s bubble butt in a vulnerable position. Franco’s thong lay beneath up on the mat. The two bodyguards are stationed on the outside apron either side of the trussed up Dave Franco.
The valet has joined Justin in the ring, pulled a rubber glove over his right hand, taken a tube of lubricant and is smearing its contents on to Justin’s right arm.
“What the fuck!” exclaims a stunned Colton.
Working his fingers in anticipation, Justin strides to his defeated foe tied up in the ropes. He lifts up Dave’s low-hanging nutsack, fingers Dave’s butt crack sensuously and tightens his five right greased-up fingers in a fist ready to ravage the Frat Boy’s manhole as he did the rest of his body in the wrestling match.
Suddenly, Justin is struck from behind by a pair of biker boots as Colton Haynes drop kicks the vicious heel. He grabs the valet by the hair and tosses him over the top rope, then drop kicks one bodyguard, then the other, sending them crashing to the arena floor.
He scoops Justin up and body slams him to the mat. With a moonsault off the ropes, the ARROW star lands with a resounding thwack on the pop sensation. Colton grabs Justin’s hair, pulls his head between his thighs, wraps his arms around Bieber’s waist, hoists him up into a vertical and pile drives his head into the canvas. He covers the Bad Boy in a cross body press, locking his left leg.
The ref enthusiastically drops to the mat.
“One … two … three.”
The official raises Colton’s arm in mock victory.
The TEEN WOLF hottie picks Justin up by the hair, runs him across the ring and tosses him over the top rope. The Bad Boy is caught by his bodyguards who hustle him up the aisle and out the exit, followed by a disheveled valet.
Colton liberates Dave from the ropes and helps him into his thong. The beaten grappler hugs his savior warmly, kissing him softly on the lips. The gallant hero ardently embraces the violated and abused wrestler, sensuously fondling his ripe buns and fervently kissing his lips.
The crowd applauds. Colton lifts Davey’s arm in victory. Applause gives way to cheers.
The ARROW stud separates the ropes for the NEIGHBORS star. Franco steps through to the apron and alights to the floor, followed by Haynes.
Davey exits up the aisle to the platform and turns to wave to the fans. Colton leads the cheers. As the 21 JUMP STREET star exits through the blue curtains, Colton resumes his seat at the commentator’s table.
“I think we have a future grudge match, wrestling fans,” crows Jack. “Colton Haynes taking on Justin Bieber.”
“I challenge Justin Bieber to man up and face me alone in the ring,” declares Colton into the commentator’s mic. “Every time you break a rule, Bieber, I’m gonna give it back double. I’m gonna wipe the mat with you, punk.”
“I guarantee the CWF is drawing up contracts right now. And speaking of rule breakers, we have two of the biggest violators facing each other in our final match of the evening.”
“Oh man, there may be blood on the walls after this match.”
“And it looks like we’re about to get under way, wrestling fans. Fasten your seat belts.”
