Daddy Vader (big Van Vader)

Author's Note: Please see the previous chapters of this series to get the full understanding of what is going on. This is the culmination of my fantasy with the professional wrestler known as "Big Van Vader." Enjoy! I always welcome feedback and suggestions on where to take the story next.

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"IT'S TIME! IT'S TIME! IT'S...VADER....TIME!!!

The last word echoed and a loud bass reverberated throughout the arena as Vader's entrance music hit. I stood behind Vader and waited for him and Harley Race to step through the curtain. I wore my new wrestling gear - a present from Big Daddy Vader himself. Gone were my jobber blue trunks. Now, I dawned an all red set of boots, knee pads, and speedo trunks. On top, I wore a black t-shirt with "Daddy Vader" written across the front in red lettering.

The shirt was designed to embarrass me - to signal to the crowd and viewers at home exactly where I stood in this new wrestling stable. Vader was the leader - the dominant heel. Harley was the loud charismatic manager. And I was the boy lackie - a sidekick who did all the bitch work. The first time I wore the shirt my face turned the same color as my trunks. However, with each beatdown Vader handed out to some unlucky chump on the roster, the shirt became more and more a badge of honor for me. Vader was the most dominating force in wrestling - the hottest thing going at the moment. I got to be part of that. Sure, I was not his equal. Not even close. But, I was on the winning team.

"Alright champ, it's time to win the big one! That gold belt belongs to you! Let's show the world who is the real sheriff in town. You the man!"

Harely finished his short motivational speech and urged Vader to make his way through the curtain, but Vader did not step forward. Instead, he turned around, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in front of him. His right hand grabbed as much of my ass as it could hold, and with his big bear paws, he damn near held the whole thing. The bold music continued to blare in the background, but I could still make out his gruff voice.

"Sting's not the only one getting his ass pinned tonight." He continued to grab and squeeze my ass unapologetically.

I swallowed hard and nodded meekly. It was dark backstage but the flickering strobe lights offered brief glimpses of his terrifying masked stare. The cowered look on my face produced an evil smile on his. He wholly enjoyed being the big bad bully.

"C'mon big man, we've got to go." Harley tugged at Vader's forearm, but Vader shook him off with a violent flail. A good rule of thumb is never lay an unwanted hand on the "the man they call" Vader.

"Vader Time, it is." The stocky bull said, and he released his handful of my ass, and gave me a hard spank. "C'mon Wonderboy! Let's go give them a metaphor for what's going to happen to you later on tonight!" Vader threw open the curtains and immediately began growling and flexing at the unwelcoming crowd. The music was louder than their jeers, but I could still make out a few "boos". Vader strutted menacingly down the ramp with Harley and myself keeping pace a few feet behind. As I walked behind him and checked out his entire backside I thought, 'Damn! He was a monster of a human being!' The official WCW champion, Sting, did not stand a chance. No man could defeat this enormous giant.

Vader stomped up the steel steps and swung his thick legs over and through the second rope. I followed Harley around the ring to the announcer's table where we joined WCW's announce team, Tony Schiavone and Jim Ross (J.R.).

"...he's a big man with a mean attitude. And, wait a second. What's going on here? What are you guys doing? Who invited you over here?" Schiavone had only now realized Harley had taken liberty and grabbed the seat next to him. I sat on the end next to Harley and we both put on a couple spare headsets.

"No invite needed, Tony. We're with the main attraction up there. We came to make sure this historic moment gets the proper treatment it deserves. Tonight marks the beginning of what will be the most dominant championship run in WCW history. We can't let you clowns screw this up."

"Well, I'll ignore that last insult, but I will remind you, Vader's not the champ, yet, and if Sting has anything to say about it, I don't think he'll ever be." Schiavone retorted. They continued to trade verbal jabs until J.R. stepped in.

"If I may interrupt this cute bickering going on, I know I, and our fans watching at home, would like to know who your and Vader's little sidekick is over there." J.R. wagged his finger at me. "He's been following Vader around for weeks now wearing that hideous shirt." I was tempted to answer but knew Harley would want to do all the talking for us.

"J.R., my friend..."

"That's a strong word..." J.R. cut in, but Harley kept talking.

"...this is Wonderboy. He's a gifted young man who has pledged his allegiance to Big Van Vader!"

"Well, that is certainly one way to put it. I, on the other hand and like most proud Americans, pledge allegiance by placing my hand over my heart, not by kissing another man's you know what." J.R. tried to induce shame in me. His voice sounded outraged. "Nor, could I call myself a man if I wore a shirt that referred to another man as "Daddy."

"J.R. if you knew what was good for you, you'd watch what you say! Vader and I are tired of the hogwash that comes out of your mouth every week. You may find yourself eating those words very soon." Harley put extra emphasis on those last few words.

"Oh, bull! I'm a proud son of Oklahoma. Never, will you ever, find me humiliating myself in such a heinous manner." Harley did not respond, but I saw him smile sinisterly. I could see the wheels turning inside his head. J.R. continued. "You know, while we're on it, you and your client up there ought to be ashamed of yourself. You damn near got us kicked off the air after the stunt you pulled with this...this...Wonderboy, as you call him. This is family television for Pete's sake. There are kids watching!" J.R. was referring, of course, to several weeks ago when after a match with Vader, I had been forced (and somewhat did so willingly) kissed Vader's ass after the match in the middle of the ring. Harley opened his mouth to respond but Sting's music started to play and the crowd erupted.

"AND HERE HE IS, FOLKS! The crowd is on their feet! The WCW World Heavyweight Champion - Sting!!" Schiavone did not spare any effort in giving the fan favorite a proper introduction. He ran down a long list of accolades and titles Sting had held throughout his career and how he now carried the hopes and dreams of fans all over the world, praying that he would put an end to Vader's reign of terror.

As Sting made his way to the ring I watched Vader. He became increasingly agitated and continued to sike himself up. He swung his bulky arms in circles to warm them up for the beating they were about to deliver. He bounced back and forth from rope to rope making them extend and stretch to their absolute limit. They strained back so far I thought they might break. There was no doubt about it. The mastodon was ready!

My cock twitched inside my trunks. I was thankful to be sitting and tucked in under a table. Regardless of the shame J.R. tried to make me feel, I loved being under Vader's wing. His strength, power, and domineering attitude were absolutely exhilarating for me. I was still getting used to the little ways he liked to publicly humiliate me, but I was learning to enjoy them more and more. And really, I questioned whether they were really humiliations. In reality, they were all appropriate ways to show Vader the respect he deserved. I wanted to be beneath Vader, to be on my knees for him. I looked down at the words on my shirt again. Who cares what J.R. thought? I sat up straighter and puffed out my chest a little. I was proud to have that name written across my chest.

Sting high fived throngs of screaming fans in the front row and made his way around the ring to where we were sitting at the announce table. He pointed his finger directly in Harley's face. "Stay out of my way tonight, old man! I'm more than willing to take out two bullies tonight!" Harley swung his hand at Sting's finger but was too slow. Sting slickly pulled his hand away and Harley caught only air. Finally, the music died down and Sting stepped into the ring. The referee took the belt and held it high in the air.

"And here we go, ladies and gentlemen! The much anticipated showdown between the challenger, Big Van Vader, and the WCW World Champion, Sting." The bell rang and Schiavone began play by play duties.

Immediately, Sting flew at Vader and delivered a flurry of punches to Vader's head. Vader staggered and looked to be taken off guard for a second.

"And here comes Sting! Right from the start unloading punch after punch on the big man! The champ has come to fight tonight!" Schiavone shouted into his headset.

Sting backed away and propelled himself off the far ropes, but before he could set up his planned attack, Vader had bull rushed him and crashed into him with a thunderous shoulder block. Sting's body hit the mat so hard he bounced in the air and ended up on his stomach. I knew exactly how that felt!

Harley let out a loud bit of laughter. "What a fool, Tony! Sting was landing some lucky shots, and he totally gave away his advantage. You can't let a man of Vader's size and strength gain any momentum. Sting's not a champ. He's a chump!"

"That's a little harsh I'd say." J.R. came to Sting's defense. "Sting is certainly no chump, although I can't disagree with that being an ill advised move."

Sting lay on the canvas, and Vader took his turn to use the ropes. He bounced off them, jumped in the air and landed on Sting with his plus 400+ lbs frame.

"You see! That is when you use the ropes - when your opponent is down. Not only is Vader the biggest and strongest in all of wrestling, he's also the smartest. Ain't that right, Wonderboy?" Harley nudged me in the ribs with his elbow.

"Yes Sir." I croaked.

J.R. scoffed. "Would you look at that? Wonderboy speaks!"

"He only speaks when spoken to, J.R." Mr. Race fired back.

"Well, you two certainly have him well trained."

"J.R that is the first time you have been right all night." Harley then looked at me and smiled in a mocking way. I peered down the table and saw J.R. staring back at me with a very suspicious look on his face. He had definitely caught whiff of an innuendo in Harley's comment. I blushed and averted my gaze.

"Let's get back to the match, shall we?" Schiavone called our attention back to the ring.

Sting writhed on the ground after being hit with a merciless clothesline. Vader stepped over and straddled Sting putting his feet just beneath each armpit. The crowd had gone silent and Vader stuck out his arms and taunted them as he stood over their hero. "WHO'S DA MAN?" He shouted. A wave of 'boos' toppled down from the crowd. This only served to humor Vader. He feasted on their displeasure as if it were encouragement to deliver more punishment.

He bent over and grabbed Sting by the throat with both hands. Then, in one foul swoop, he lifted Sting off the mat and hoisted him above his head. Sting desperately grabbed hold of Vader's wrists trying to release the choke hold. I had a perfect angle from where I was sitting.

Sting's legs kicked wildly at the empty air as he struggled for breath. Sting was a big muscular man himself, but being held in the air like a rag doll, he looked so tiny next to Vader. Again, my cock twitched.

"...three, four, five! That's it! Let him go! Let him go!" The referee demanded, finally threatening disqualification before Vader flung Sting down to the mat. Vader took his time sauntering over to where the wheezing champion now lay.

Next, came a series of punishing moves. Vader lifted Sting up, delivered a few big right hands, and then threw Sting across the ring with a german suplex. He scooped Sting up in a fireman's carry and dropped straight on his back landing on top of the icon. After a two-count near fall, Vader flung Sting against the ropes and connected with a "Vader Attack" - plowing into him with his rock hard lineman stomach and clubbing his ears with both fists in a clamping motion. After another taunt, he hitched up his tights before picking the Stinger up and gorilla pressing him high in the air above his head. He held him there and walked around the whole ring posing for each section of the crowd. Finally, he dumped the poor wrestler onto the flat of his back. Man, I loved watching Daddy Vader deliver a beating.

"It is not looking good for the champ, folks. Vader continues to pummel the champion, Sting." Schiavone's voice sounded depressed. "Oh, no! What's he going to do now?!? Vader stands over Sting, and oh, Lord! No!" The crowd cringed. I could hear it through my headset.

"That could have crushed his sternum!!" J.R. screamed.

"This might be it, folks! One, two, thr...and no! A kick out!" Schiavone took a deep breath. "How does he do it? How can Sting kick out after Big Van Vader just dropped all 420 pounds on Sting's chest - sitting on him with that big backside of his!"

"You ought to ask Wonderboy over there how big it is. I'm sure he could tell you." J.R. was not missing any opportunities to stick it to me with his color commentary. Harley did not defend me either. The grin on his face told me J.R.'s joke had unintentionally brought him a bit of joy.

Sting tried to make his way up to a standing position but each time he reached all fours Vader kicked him hard in the stomach causing him to roll over again. Eventually, Sting found his way to the corner closest to the announce table and sat with his back against the bottom turnbuckle.

Vader followed Sting and stuck his size 14 boot underneath his chin. He used the ropes for leverage and pushed on Sting's throat. The current champion arched his back as he struggled to dislodge the giant's foot off his neck. His painful grimace was much more visible now with his face paint being washed away by sweat and, of course, Vader's punches.

As the referee gave another five count I noticed how the light reflected off Vader's polished boots accenting their red and black color. I smiled on the inside proud of the shine job I had done for Daddy Vader.

"...four, five! Let go! Vader, let go! This is your last warning!" Vader released the hold. But, instead of lifting Sting up and transitioning to another move, Vader stepped all the way into the corner pressing his big belly into the turnbuckle. He stood there and again taunted the crowd.

"WHO'S DA' MAN?" I laughed, but not at the crowd's displeasure, but at the fact that with the way Vader was standing, Sting's head was nearly level with Vader's crotch. I was sure the dazed icon was getting a good view at Vader's goods and probably a strong whiff of "da' man" as well.

Unfortunately, it was this overconfidence that turned the match for the first time. Sting had been given a chance to recover from this unrelenting torture. First, Vader lifted Sting up to his feet and flung him into the diagonal corner. Sting smacked hard against the turnbuckles but as Vader charged across the ring and jumped in the air to deliver a humongous Vader splash, Sting moved out of the way. Vader hit the empty corner and stumbled backward. Sting moved underneath Vader, tripped him with a tabletop maneuver, and rolled him up for a quick pin attempt.

"One! Two! Thr....and no! A kick-out!" Schiavone shrilled, his despairing tone now gone.

"I thought he had it right there! Boy, could you imagine J.R.? That would've been a comeback for the ages."

"Oh, nonsense, Tony!" Harley butted in. "You're going to need a lot more than a rollup to beat Vader."

"Well, a lot more could be coming, now! Look at Sting go! A right hand, now a left! The champ has caught a second wind!" Schiavone became more and more animated as Sting mounted his comeback.

Sting once again launched into the ropes. Vader swung a huge clothesline, but Sting ducked and bounced off the opposite side. Vader was still turning around when he was hit with a fully flared out Sting. The big body splash took the big man off his feet. Both men quickly scrambled up, but Sting was quicker. As soon as Vader stood up he was hit with a dropkick that knocked him over the top rope and onto the floor.

"Would you listen to this crowd! They have come back to life! You can hear chants of Sting ringing throughout the arena, now!" Schiavone wasn't lying. The crowd feverishly called out their hero's name trying to will him to victory. I grew slightly nervous. I looked at Harley to see if he would signal me to go and distract the surging wrestler in some way. I received no such signal. However, I was ready to step in at any moment.

Sting quickly hopped out of the ring not wanting his momentum to waiver in any degree. Vader stumbled away and tried to regain his composure and his breath. Sting grabbed Vader from behind and taking hold of his tights and the back of his head, he flung Vader into the nearby ring post directly in front of the announce table. Vader staggered backwards but remained on his feet until he fell against the metal guard rail. His arms draped over the top of the rail holding his body up. His feet remained flat on the floor. Sting sprinted at the off-balance big man and leaped up to deliver a Stinger Splash, but at the last second Vader moved nimbly to the side and Sting collided with the unforgiving metal.

Harley celebrated gleefully. "Look at that! Once again, Sting proves he has no brains. You've got to beat down the champ more than that before you try such a risky move!"

"May I remind you that Sting is the champ. Vader is not."

"Oh, shut up, J.R.! Everyone knows Vader is the real champ! He's the most devastating and feared man in the world, and he is proving that tonight. Your precious champion," Harley added air quotes to the word 'champion', "isn't worthy enough to hold Vader's jockstrap, let alone the title belt."

Memories of pulling down Vader's jockstrap while on my knees flashed across my mind. I spoke without thinking. "Vader is THE alpha Daddy of the WCW." There were a few seconds of silence and all the heads at the table turned toward me.

"My word! Would you listen to this crap?" J.R. started to lose his cool.

"Hey J.R., watch you language. May I remind you that this is family television." Harley quickly retorted. "There are kids watching!". J.R. stared daggers at Harley and then at me.

Vader once again had the advantage and now inflicted punishment from the outside. After a couple driving thighs to the stomach, he grabbed Sting by the back of the hair and brought him over to the announce table. He grabbed the smaller man's head with both hands and slammed it against the table top. Sting would have fallen to the ground if Vader had not held on to him. Again and again, Vader rammed Sting's head against the table finally letting go after the fourth time. Sting sank to his knees. His body slumped against the front of the table.

"C'mon now, stop it! That is uncalled for!" Both J.R. and Schiavone pleaded with Vader to stop the abuse.

But Vader wasn't listening. Why would he? He grabbed the back of Sting's tights and pulled him backwards. He spun the dazed wrestler around and bent Sting over at the waist by pushing his head down. He thrust his head forcefully in between his tree trunk thighs. J.R., Schiavone, and Harley stood up and backed away from the table. I scooted back as well but stayed in my chair. We all knew the carnage that was coming.

Schiavone and J.R. implored Vader not to go through with this. But, without any hesitation, Vader locked his grip around Sting's waist and lifted him high in the air and delivered an absolutely devastating power bomb. There was a loud crash, and the table exploded in front of us. Sting laid on top of the rubble. His face paint had now completely disappeared, and so too the mystique that came with it. He no longer looked like a world champion. He looked like a beaten man - an average Joe. Vader lifted his arms in the air and laughed villainously at the silent crowd.