Golden Assets, Chapter 9: Gangrene

On the best of days, Little Gorbachev is able to transform into a mighty meat hammer with a eight inch handle made of hardened cartilage, chock full of Adam’s hot Italian blood. With his tool, Adam slams down on every lover’s anvil with peak power. But those days were growing fewer and fewer. On average, Adam’s most prized appendage hovered around the mundane six inch mark, coming in and out of consciousness according to stimuli (some understandable, some not so). But to return to greatness, Adam found himself more and more dependent on the energization provided by the miracle drug called blue chew, which Adam happened to be a proud sponsor of.

When the Viagra pills dropped into his stomach, flooding his privates with renewed life, Adam knew he was in trouble. Have you ever tried to wrestle with a mountainous outcropping? His handicap limited Adam’s usual nimbleness. His strategy had to be shifted, with the focus being on protecting his manhood while also not get accused of sexual harassment. There was already a plot to get him canceled. He found himself surprised that he hadn’t heard anything from anybody, corporate or law enforcement. Twitter seemed to mock Adam’s unfortunate series of events. Then again, if he was going to go down, he’d bring Polly down with him. After all, she committed a felony feeding him drugs unknowingly. Rape culture is real and alive, America. And men were being victimized as such.

Fight the matriarchy!

After the show went off air, Adam combated unbearable restlessness stemming from his loins. The erection hadn’t shown any signs of hibernation despite several furious sessions to relieve the pressure; instead, his concern backed by medical advice led him to take a trip in the hoowoo wagon to the emergency room. He couldn’t wait for the hospital bill for that joy ride. He refused to take any of his entourage with him. After all, some journeys needed to be taken in solitude.

“What do we have here?” The doctor asked, immediately after stepping into the examination room. Young man, perhaps too young for Adam’s liking. The doctor flipped through the chart. He lifted a record to his mouth. “Patient’s blood pressure is off the charts. 160 over 100. Patient is sweating profusely. Heavy breathing. Pupils dilated. And— well, I can already see the most damning symptom is.

Yep, there was no way of missing the rock hard monument pitching the circus tent in Adam’s slacks. Adam rewarded the doctor demerit points for taking so long in his summary to mention the meat of the issue. “Yeah. The nurse earlier said she never saw one so big. I think your hospital needs some better benefits tho. I might be willing to help during my stay here. Raise the morale for your nurses.”

“Stephanie did mention you were a bit of an ass.

“Ever heard of bedside manners? Are you really a doctor? I find it alarming that I have to deal with such unabated unprofessionalism. I’m definitely leaving you a poor review on Yelp!

Patient’s also easily irritable,” the doctor reported. He lowered the record and cocked his eye. “How many little blue pills did you consume today, Mr. Allacoco?

It’s AL-LOC-CO. And I don’t know. Enough. Evidently.” Adam waved his hands across his crotch before shrugging his shoulders. The more this doctor spoke, the more Adam doubted his credentials. He heard you could buy a doctorate online, at some fake international college, bringing a whole new level of faking it until you make it. Shows some ambition, but he needs a legit professional is they’re playing around his nuts. Only the utmost care must be taken. They were his livelihood.

The doctor eyed him. “You do realize this is a very serious situation, right? Not only is such a high dosage is causing your heart to run a marathon. A prolonged erection such as yours might lead to even more complications. I ask you to take this matter seriously.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m more than serious. What? You think I came into the emergency room to harass your cute underlings? They’re dime a dozen.”

“Drop your pants.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to know the condition of your small package.”

“We can tell it’s large and in charge right now, doc. You insulting it isn’t going to make the old boy quiet down. If anything, he’s probably feeling even more aroused out of sheer defiance,” Adam explained. He really didn’t like this man. The man took potshots at every chance. Once Adam was finished, he planned on going on twitter and complaining about the United States’ crumbling healthcare system. Nationalized healthcare or communism, or anything better than this horse shit. He was a human. He had feelings. He deserved dignity not this type of abuse.

Mr. Aladin, could you please do as I say?”

“I don’t know. Typically, I’m pretty comfortable with my sexuality. But here you are, pretty aggressive about taking a peek at my genie in the bottle. I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you. No offense, maybe if you Stephanie stop in to examine it, I’ll be a little more at ease, you know?” Adam swung. If Dr. Douchebag calls him by the wrong name one more time, Adam can’t promise he’d be any more cooperative.

Do you want me to amputate?

Those words changed everything.

Adam hopped off the examination table, yanked free his belt, and watched his pants. His red rocket remained erect, standing in salute to the doctor. The doctor hummed loudly, expressing his curiosity. The more he hummed, the more nervous Adam became. He thought this was a joke, but now, with the dead stare given by the doctor, he feared the worst. Maybe there wasn’t going to be any other options. How would he piss without a dick?

The doctor arrived at his final verdict: “We definitely need to perform a priapism prior to prescribing you with some pills to pump the rest of the blood out from your poor penis.”

You mean, I get to keep it.”

“Hopefully you respond well; if not, I have a special cigar cutter waiting back in my office. It’d do the trick.”

Adam shuddered. Chop. Thud. That was all his mind needed before crossing his legs back up on the examination table. He finally broke through his fear to speak, “No. Anything but that! You have no idea how important my little buddy is to me.

A nurse’s going to come in shortly to drain the blood. Remember, treat the nurse with some respect. They have your erectile future in the palm of their hands and you wouldn’t want them to cause a dysfunction,” the asshole physician warned Adam. He jotted down something on a pad before stepping out from the examination room. Adam flipped him off as soon as he turned his back to him. Fuck this nerd.

Of course, what felt like an eternity later, a nurse finally arrived. A very large, Bison-looking fellow, with big powerful bear hands. In his hand was a syringe. The gentleman greeted Adam with a smile upon his approach. Adam exchanged looks with him, before glancing down at his swollen genitals.

Oh no.

It’s only going to be a prick.”

“Is there any alternative medicine?

I’m afraid we must put the needle in the shaft..

I don’t want to,” Adam caught himself saying in a whiny voice. Without realizing, he had moved up on the bed and slid to the back corner of the room, trying to put as much distance between him and the nurse. “Wait, don’t I at least get some local anesthetic? Something to numb the pain?

We could, but—

But—

We do it, case by case. And I really don’t think you need it. You’re a man, right?”

“I’m a little sore right now. We shouldn’t risk it.

I would normally respect a patient’s wishes; but I mean, what goes around comes around, right?” The nurse declared. Karma’s a bitch? Was that what he was trying to say? As Adam processed the man’s words, suddenly he felt a burning sensation rip up from his cock. He cried. He didn’t want to look down. He didn’t want to see what the big mean nurse was doing to him.

It was going to be alright.

Everything was going to be okay. He’ll survive this in one piece.  At least, that was what he kept telling himself. Adam hummed a melody, trying to disguise his discomfort. He still refused to take a look at what the man was doing with his junk.

All done.

Wait, that’s it?” Adam found himself surprised. He glanced down, seeing his deflated purple helmeted warrior. Poor guy looked he went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, that was how much his meat looked beaten. Still, no longer having a needle protruding into his dick brought him great relief. He had survived.

What? Do you want more? This isn’t a massage parlor. We don’t do happy endings here.

But if it’s still intact, then it’s a happy ending for sure.

Anyways, take these pills. Shortly, everything should be back to normal. You might be sore for a few days, but it should go away in time. My advice? Avoid sexual thoughts and situations until he’s all healed up, okay?” The nurse set down a small paper cup with some pills inside. Adam nodded his head, knowing the man must be giving him a hard time. After all, Adam never went more than a few hours without finding something to arouse his interest.

But as Adam soon found out, the nurse wasn’t joking. Adam’s suffering only started.



The scene was Adam’s luxury suite hotel room. He wore a bathrobe, a deep crimson with golden accents. He didn’t have anything on underneath. A big blue bag of ice rested upon his balls. He had his feet up in a recliner. In one hand, he held a bottle of gin. On the other hand, he held the SCW Television Championship. Both were equally important to him at this moment. He recalled that he had overcome the odds in order to keep a hold of his beautiful baby belt.

It’s been three days, Adam. Shouldn’t we go on to the next city?” Bison questioned. He had become stir crazy over the course of the three days.

Let a man go on a bender.

It’s been three days.

I heard you the first time.

We have other responsibilities. You have commitments. The rest of the crew might think you went on the run, skip town. And if they’re everything you say they are, that’s not a good look. Don’t you think? And since somehow my future is married to yours, I don’t want to be collateral damage,” Bison responded. While Bison enjoyed ordering room service over the course of three days, the bill started to add up. Believe it or not, Adam paid for most of their meals, perhaps a side effect of his drunkenness is his thinly disguised vanity charading as generosity. Still some of the meals landed on him. They weren’t cheap and he had child support coming out of his account that same week.

They are happy. They are probably the most happy they have ever been with me. So stop your worrying. If you’re bored, make yourself useful and go pick me up another bottle. I’m almost empty.

You need to snap out of this.

I’m fine. I’m coping. Let me be.

You’re acting like your sorry ass suffered a tragedy. A goddamn death in the family or some shit. And it’s starting to get on my nerves.

I did suffer a tragedy, take a look at Little Gorbachev! Take a look at him. He’s scarred! He’s disfigured! I don’t even know if he’s ever going to work the same way. And I’ve been trying to avoid the landmines that is arousal, thus the drinking, to suppress but every time that maid comes in here for room service, I encounter hell on earth,” Adam said. He removed the ice pack from his groin.

Bison did not look. He didn’t want to. He saw enough of the mess downstairs that he even felt some of Adam’s pain. “She’s like sixty and built like a oompa loompa doompety doo.

When you’re in the desert, dying of thirst, even the small puddle seemed like the largest oasis,” Adam answered in a tone that made him sound philosophical. Instead, Bison shook his head, walked out of the room. He had seen enough of Adam’s black and blue, ugly all over equipment and needed something to bleach his eyes.

That was the first time in two years, Bison went to see a movie in a theater. He ultimately decided on a romance, a story about two Korean sisters, one that escaped with their mother to the South, the other stayed with his father. The family that was left behind was punished for the mother’s deflection. At the end of the movie, the two Korean sisters were reunited in Seoul. Bison cried several times in the darkness. The first came when the father sacrificed himself to get his baby girl across the border. The second came at the very end when the three surviving women all embraced. Damn, Bison was a sucker for those sentimental art house flicks.

Adam instead started to  watch Golden Girls for inspiration, eating from a tube of ice cream, washing down the sugary sweetness with more Christmas tree tasting gin. He decided that he started to see the girls in a different light and switched over to cartoons. And even then, the cartoons seemed very suggestive, those curved lines really did something to him. He always wondered what the neckbeards ever saw in hentai but when your stimuli is meager, I guessed everything could be arousing. As soon as another dick ache erupted, Adam changed the channel once more to the discovery channel, landing on a documentary about whales. Thankfully, he did not find the humpback, despite its name, to be very inciting.

He then passed out to the songs of some of the most majestic sea creatures the world has ever seen.



[REC]

“Gavin, Gavin, Gavin,” Adam repeated. He fostered a certain warmth towards the kid. Hell, they have worked together. Granted, Adam quickly learned Gavin wasn’t the answer as a tag team partner but he didn’t hold it against Gavin. Many, much better partners disappointed Adam as well in tag team competition. But now, he finally solved the puzzle, found the cure. “It’s good to see that you’re still hanging around, still kicking. I know you’re over the moon that you didn’t get injured by my shithead protégé. I get it. He’s scary. He’s dangerous. And trust me, I’ve tried to get him off my roster because he presents a workplace hazard. I even attempted to contact OSHA but unfortunately, there’s a lot of red tape and bureaucratic bullshit. Plus corporate doesn’t actually care for their independent contracts, only about their image and their bottom line.

But hell, enough about you, what about me?

Oh yeah. Since we last caught up, I earned this beautiful baby girl,” Adam motioned towards the SCW Television championship around his waist. He petted the gold faceplate, muttering something that sounds a lot like my precious. And now, you’re trying to take my bundle of joy away from me. And normally, in any given week, your audacious attempt to steal what’s properly mind would upset me greatly. After all, I thought we were friends but here you are, trying to screw me over. I don’t know if you ever heard of the Bro Code, it’s like the Geneva convention but for us guys. And I’m pretty sure part of that code is to not steal from your fellow brother.

But I get it. I really do. This piece is too tantalizing, too tempting, too alluring. I know you wanted to look the other way, but you can’t keep your eyes of my lady. In your head, you probably see this as the cure all for your recent woes. You might even see the SCW Television Championship as the one thing you’re missing in life. You might even fool yourself thinking that this belt is better than sex, which it is not if you’re banging Maddykins every night while staring yourself in the mirror, but I’m sure it damn comes close. Ownership of this belt has done wonders to my life, dropped years off my age, with the exception of last week. Due to certain sabotage, I had to fight through harshest working conditions imaginable, afflicted by a certain physical ailment, in order to defend my bouncing baby belt. But I did because the SCW Television Championship the proudest addition to the family. The belt brings meaning to my life, and by meaning, I mean importance, and by importance, I mean getting spotlighted every week. And you’re telling me, Gavin, you want to take my sweet child o’mine aaaa-wwaayyyaah?

You need to check yourself, young Gavin. You must have never faced an angry dad head on. Trust me, my paternal instincts make me into a cold blooded killer. If you plan on showing up on my door step, I’m going to introduce myself with a shotgun hanging at my side.

See, I know, you’re a smart kid and all. I know that there’s a good head up on those board shoulders of yours. You get complexities of the business unlike most others. You’re not some muscle bound jock who grunts every time he lifts something up and sets it back down. No, you’re an All-Star. But despite that, you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of Christmas Miracle, conjure up some divine intervention, hell, maybe some animal sacrifices to get the odds in your favor. Look at Polly Playtime, last week, she had to resort to drugging me to have a shot at prying this belt from my hands. I ended up hospitalized due to her fun prank. Yes, I know it was you, Polly, we caught you red handed sneaking into the men’s locker room! Either you’re the one that swap my vitamins or you’re the person responsible for planting a camera in my locker,” Adam roared. The whole incident still upset him. If he had slipped some roofies in his female opponent’s water bottle before a match, he’d be rightfully ejected from the company, blackballed, never heard from again except maybe during trial. BUT no, Polly, got off, scot-free. Fucking bullshit. Double standards always pained Adam.

You see, what people don’t know. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Except AIDS. I am right now dodging a lot of gunfire aimed in my direction. I HAVE some sort of whistleblower, social justice warrior trying to get me canceled! I HAVE you and everyone else trying to deny me of my dream as Adam All-Belts. I HAVE ungrateful, angry, disrespectful little twats spitting in my face because the Golden Boys are the best tag team in the world, and we’ve proved it, time and time again. And you know what, I’m not missing a beat, I’m got swagger in my step and I’m unfazed. I’m used to this. I’m used to this world shitting on me, not appreciating my greatness. You know what, it galvanizes me. I rally around all the butt hurt critics, all the ire from former conquests, and backstabbing friends like yourself. I strive to trigger everyone that crosses my path. Watch them ooze saltiness because I’m better than them. That is what gets me up in the morning. The ability to get underneath the skin of my peers. To watch them cringe because they know they’re being washed away by my Wrestling’s Enlightenment. They can’t compare to my glory.

And regardless of the fact that I see a lot of myself in you, you’re not me. You’re close, but you’re not the the Renaissance Man. But I’m me. Yes, that’s right. I’m awesome and I’m a fighting champion, fiercer than any red ass baboon looking to assert his manhood over a harem. And you. And everyone else. You’re all simply some beta males trying to slide into some sloppy seconds. I don’t care if you get in on the action behind my back, out of my sight, out of my immediate vicinity, but now that you’re coming into my home, trying to take my happiness. No sir, I refuse to stand for it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. And I’m going to show you, that I’m willing and ready to do anything to keep this precious creation around my waist this coming Breakdown.” Adam motioned around his waist. He didn’t need to elaborate. Anyone who ever watched Adam in action knew he would go to any length, sink to any depths in order to win. And now that a title is on the line, he had to win. “Fun fact, I’ve never lost a title defense. And I don’t plan on starting that bad habit any time soon.

[/REC]

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