Known for mainly being a referee, Brad Maddox shocked millions of people around the world after he abused his power and screwed over the most powerful guy on the roster, Ryback. After his shocking performance at the Hell in the Cell PPV, Brad began to show interest in fulfilling his dream; becoming a WWE Superstar. Brad would go on to successfully earn a contract after defeating Randy Orton in singles competition (with help from The Shield). As Brad made his way into the locker room following his win, he received a ton of unimpressed faces from the other guys on the roster. Brad brushed their opinions aside and went straight for his mirror, located in his locker. He turned to Smackdown Money In The Bank winner Dolph Ziggler and said quite arrogantly "Are you intimidated yet?".
Dolph looked over out the corner of his eye at Brad and fought back the urge to laugh. To think that he was intimidated by anybody, let alone "Brad Maddox", was something that could've been written into somebody's comedy. Even though people like to look over the facts, he's been with the WWE for an extensive amount of time. Extensive enough to know what to look for in potential Superstars and how to push himself to the top. He already had the Money In The Bank briefcase, so, he was pretty much as good as gold. "Intimated? By you? Sorry to crush your hopes, but frankly, nobody is intimidated or scared by you. You're still just a lowly wrestler-on-training. Now, go run along. Us serious Superstars have a show to put on."
Brad gave a chuckle at Dolph's reply. "Does it look like I care if you're a better wrestler than me?" "What I meant was are you intimidated at the fact that I have the best ass in the WWE?" Brad took a brief moment to look over his shoulder to admire the two mounds of round flesh confined in his signature pair of black & silver trunks, the phrase 'Beef Mode' plastered along the side of the trunks. "Don't deny the truth Dolph" Brad said, his southern accent rolling off the tongue.
"Maybe instead of going around gauging people's responses, you should clean the wax out your ear. I already told you. I'm not intimidated by you. Not you or that pathetic excuse you like to call your ass. Now, again. Run along." Dolph barely even batted an eye as he said all of that. It was a well-known fact that around the locker room that Dolph reigned supreme in that carefree. He added his 'wiggle' to his ring entrance just because of it. He was too nested in his throne to worry about some upstart trying to overthrow him. He didn't have the time for that kind of foolery to be around him.
"You can deny it all you want Ziggler." Brad replied. "It doesn't bother me at all. At the end of the day, we all know who has the best ass. Some people know it more than others though, But if you insist on being an asshole and denying the truth, why don't we have a contest?"
Dolph couldn't help but burst into laughter. He had heard of some pretty crazy ideas before, but, this was just off the charts. "A contest? With you? Not gonna happen, Braddy. You can have your little opinion on this all you want, but, I'm not about to let you drag me into some childish contest. A contest we all know you'd lose in, so, there's really no point."
"If you know you're going to win, then why not do it?" Brad was doing everything in his power to convince Dolph into playing along with his devious plans. "If you don't do it, then I just might have to tell everyone on the roster that you chickened out of a contest with me, all because you were too afraid of me." Brad laughed at his ridiculous blackmail, he knew that wasn't going to do anything.
"Let's see. Who are the guys more likely to believe: a guy who can't even win a contract match without help or the current Money In The Bank briefcase holder? The guy who was stupid enough to piss off Ryback or the future World Heavyweight Champion? Weigh those options and get back to me." Dolph takes the rest of his ring gear out of his locker and starts to head for the changing rooms. Brad wasn't even worth that much of his time.
"Stop right there!" Brad reached out and grabbed Ziggler by the wrist. "Don't be a bitch Ziggler. Just do as I say,unless you want The Shield coming after you in your next match. No one knows where they are right now but me. All I have to do is give Dean Ambrose a call."
"Now get back here and do as I say!" Brad replied angrily.
Dolph yanked his hand out of Brad's grip. He had no right nor had he earned the privilege of touching him outside of a match. "Don't put your fucking hands on me! You think any of us actually give a damn about 'The Shield'? Do you truly think any of us are scared of those imbeciles?" Dolph starts to put on his best John Cena expression. "Oh, I'm John Cena. I'm so scared of three punks that're at the beck and call of some thick-headed idiot. Please! Won't someone save us from the repetition!"
Brad figured Dolph wasn't going to comply to his demands, so he decided to put matters into his own hands. He grabbed Ziggler by his hair and slammed his body to the closest set of lockers. He pressed Dolph's face against the cold metal as he began to slowly peel down the Money in the Bank Contractholder's tight silver trunks. It wasn't a surprise to the former referee that Ziggler wasn't wearing any underwear under his trunks, it just proved how much of a slut Ziggler is in Brad's mind. Brad took the moment to admire the true beauty that was Dolph Ziggler's ass. The two massive round mounds of pure flesh and muscle, perfectly sculpted, with a golden complexion that shined in the harsh lighting of the locker room. "I guess you're right, Ziggler. You do have the better ass. Didn't even have to measure it to know." Brad laughed, heavily breathing in Ziggler's ear.
Dolph felt Maddox's breath hit his ear and a chill ran down his spine. He shook a little bit and had to bite his lip to control it somewhat. "See, I told you, idiot. I bet you just wanna fuck my perfect ass right now, don't you?" Dolph pokes his butt out so he can start to rub it against the crotch of Brad's trunks.
"Me? Fuck this slutty hole? You're damn right!" Brad laughed. "I just can't keep my hands off of this ass." His hands roamed the large ass; grabbing it, lightly spanking it, and even tracing the length of Ziggler's asscrack with his finger. Brad couldn't resist. "Once you see my ass, Ziggler, my boy, you won't be able to resist either!"
"I'm pretty sure I'll manage just fine. No ass in this business compares to mine." A small smirk starts to come across his face. Ziggler, much to the fans' surprise, was more of a bottom than a top. There was just something about having his ass fucked that drove him wild and made him crave more and more. He would only bottom to a select few, though. He wasn't a complete slut like some of the other Superstars on the roster. He had some standards.
"So Dolph, what's it going to be? Do you want this perfect, fat ass fucked, or do you want to slam your cock in my ass?" Brad asked. "You know, the difference between you and I is, I have no problem calling myself a whore." The southern accent of Brad made his statement sound even more interesting. "I'll admit! I convinced The Shield to help me beat Randy Orton tonight after I convinced them to fuck me into oblivion yesterday! You, on the other hand, think you're too good for anyone." Brad leaned into Dolph's ear again. "You're nothing more than a high-maintenance bitch. So what's it gonna be?"