You're nervous as you tie on your wrestling mask. You were apprehensive when you were approached after school one day by a tall sexy dragoness in tight revealing clothes and asked if you would like to be beat up, but then she gave you $500 in advance in exchange for a promise to show up at this abandoned warehouse, empty except for some boxes stacked to enclose a small ring made simply of some poles and rough rope. You aren't alone, however. There are big males with ripped physiques and lovely females with large breasts packed into tight wrestling clothes, a leering audience surrounding the wring, other kids like you wearing masks to protect their identities, and the dragoness who hired you standing in the middle of the ring, wearing daisy dukes and a striped tip that showed her entire cleavage. She may be dressed like a ref, but she has made it clear beforehand that she is not going to be helping you.
The dragoness motions you to the ring; you are going to be in the first match for the night. As you walk to the ring, you see one of the audience lean back to look at your butt, then turn to his partner and make a thrusting motion with his hips while his buddy cackles. You feel extremely uncorftable as you climb into the ring, wondering what you have gotten yourself into.
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