E. Honda walked into the bathhouse wearing his usual clothing: red underwear that was covered only by a mawashi around his waist. He had his hair pulled back into a knot as usual, and his muscles showed to everyone in the bathhouse that he was prepared for any sort of fight. After being made aware of the new rule, he'd decided to make sure he was ready for anything. Not that he was worried-only a handful of people in the tournament were capable of touching his ass, let alone beating it. But it still never hurt to be prepared. He looked around the bathhouse, picking out any man who might be his opponent.
It wasn't long before E. Honda found what he was looking for. A masked wrestler stepped out of the crowd, hopping around and grinning manically-El Fuerte. He was shirtless and wore colorful spandex pants. An odd outfit for a bath house, but he would never go anywhere without his Lucha Libre outfit.
"So you're my opponent, huh?" he said. He peered at the big guy, taking in his massive body. "Got a big set of cakes on you I see. But not to worry! As a master chef, I'll cook those buns just like I would any other!" He flipped around and got into an energetic fighting stance. "It's DYNAMIC COOKING TIME!"
When El Fuerte had first read the new rule, he'd thought nothing of it. As a pro-wrestler he was used to displays of public dominance over an opponent in the ring, and it wasn't as if he'd never paddled a guy over the ropes with his frying pan before. With his quick free-moving style, it was difficult to pin El Fuerte down, so he felt confident no one would be able to get at his behind. Against an opponent with a bulk like E. Honda's though, he'd be unable to use many of his wrestling moves . . .
E. Honda's eye's twitched in annoyance at the other's words, but it didn't matter. He compared his massive size to El Fuerte's, thinking in his mind that his size was a great advantage over the masked wrestler's. The only problem with him was the fact that he was quick, but E. Honda has taken care of fast people before.
He grabbed some water and tossed it into the air, before getting into his fighting stance with a stomp that shook the ground slightly. He glared at the man. "The only one's who's buns are going to be cooked are yours, until they turn a deep red!"
When E. Honda first read the rules, he couldn't help but smile. He knew it was very unlikely for he himself to become a loser, with his massive size and strength, and the thought of turning all these guys' asses red was something he was looking forward to.
The Mexican wasn't intimidated at all by that stomp, but just chuckled at E. Honda's declaration. "Bigger men than you have tried, amigo," he mocked.
Over the bath's speaker system, a countdown was taking place. "3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . FIGHT!"
As soon as the word was given, El Fuerte was moving. With a backwards leap, he planted his feet on the wall behind him and then kicked off. This gave him a boost of both speed and height, and he flew in to get E. Honda's head into a lock.
E. Honda watched, preparing himself for the moment. As the wrestler jumped off the wall, the sumo wrestler launched himself up into the air. This allowed him to avoid the headlock, and he even landed a blow on El Fuerte. E. Honda landed hard on his rear with a grunt, before he quickly got back up.
"Oof . . . Not bad!" El Fuerte said in pleased Spanish. He clutched at his abs where E. Honda had struck him, but quickly recovered. Then he dove at the big man again. This time instead of attacking from above, he attacked from below. E. Honda tried to bend over to catch him, but with a quick roll El Fuerte went under the sumo wrestler's legs to emerge out the other side. But he didn't go through empty-handed.
"Missing something?" he asked with a smirk. In his hand was the large towel that E. Honda wore for all his fights. He could see the big Japanese man blush, but before he could turn around to get him, El Fuerte was spinning the towel into a whip. Since E. Honda only wore a sumo's thong underneath, when El Fuerte snapped the towel against his ass it hit bare cheek. CRACK!
E. Honda let out a yelp at the crack of the towel to his rear, quickly covering the spot before glaring at the man. The Mexican was smiling wide. "Yep, those chubby muffins are going to get WELL roasted today!"
The hefty man went at him quicker than El Fuerte expected. While he was busy boasting, E. Honda quickly grabbed his arm and, with hardly any effort, flipped him over onto the ground and on his back. He didn't let go of the arm though, instead E. Honda lifted the slimmer man up by it and landed a powerful slap of his own to the luchador's rear.
"Yow!" The spank made El Fuerte shoot through the air. He landed with a roll, and then rubbed his ass. Damn, that hit was definitely going to leave a mark. E. Honda could slap harder than he'd thought. He'd have to be careful not to get caught by the big man again.
Well, they said the best defense was a good offense, right? El Fuerte ran right up to E. Honda's face and then jumped over him, dodging whatever attacks the sumo wrestler sent his way. E. Honda had assumed the luchador would be sliding under him again, and so only made it easier to be taken advantage of. Then, landing with both feet, El Fuerte twisted around and-
SMACK!
He made E. Honda's left buttock bounce. Then-
SMACK!
He made E. Honda's right buttock bounce. As a finisher to his combo, he wound up both arms and-
SMACK!
He spanked both hefty globes at the same time. El Fuerte grinned manically under his mask. He'd heard that E. Honda was one of the most dangerous competitors in the tournament, but now the man's ass was covered in his hand-prints.
The sumo wrestler groaned in both annoyance and pain, standing up and covering his cheeks with his hands. He turned to glare at El Fuerte before launching his big body once more into the air. This time he was the one to land behind his opponent. He immediately began an assault on the masked man's ass, using his fast slap attack to give quick and hard spanks.
!
"Ahhh! Ay caramba!" It was El Fuerte's turn to yell, as his own ass came under attack. The spandex pants he wore offered no protection from E. Honda's high-powered slaps, and he was surprised by the incredible strength behind each blow. Just from those few seconds alone, it felt like his taut, well-muscled Mexican backside was burning up.
He was propelled forwards by the spanks, butt-cheeks visibly jiggling. Before he could recover, El Fuerte's knees hit against a porcelain vat and he found himself bent over into a bath, ass raised up. " . . . uh oh!"
raised an eyebrow at the man's position, but smiled. Before the Mexican could even get up, E. Honda had an arm around El Fuerte, holding him in the exact position he wanted. His other hand grabbing the spandex pants and practically ripped them off along with any underwear he was wearing to show El Fuerte's bare rear to every person inside the bathhouse. They cheered, knowing that a spanking was about to come on.
"Like I said, the only one whose buns are going to be cooked are yours." E. Honda said, raising up his hand and began bringing it down. He used the slap attack again, only this time the slaps were a lot harder know that he knew El Fuerte wasn't going anywhere.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Que! Ow ow ow OWWW! Nooooo!" El Fuerte squirmed and wriggled under the sudden, inescapable blows. In his illustrious Lucha Libre career, El Fuerte had never once been unmasked in the ring. This, however, was much worse than that. It wasn't his face which had been bared, but his tan ass-cheeks which now reddened and flexed for the watching crowd!
"Let me up! Ooh! Stoop!" The younger wrestler struggled in the sumo's grip, but it was no good. Once E. Honda got his massive hands on you, there was no escape. His legs kicked out as the burn started to really kick in.
just chuckled at the man's reaction, not letting him go at all as his hand continued to fall, raining punishing blows on the humiliated man's backside, turning the tan cheeks into a red color with each slap.
"I don't think so. Not until your ass is good and red and burning from this spanking. A man like me always keeps his word!" E. Honda had a large hand which nearly covered El Fuerte's entire ass, so he didn't need to move it around much as he punished. Just up and down occasionally to switch from spanking the two bouncing ass-cheeks to the man's squirming upper thighs.
"Ooh! Damn you, you big tub of lard! Go ahead and spank me then-as much as you want! I can take your wussy blows all day!" . . . is what El Fuerte wanted to say. The truth was, however, that E. Honda's high speed slaps had already rendered him almost to tears. It was unbelievable how quickly the big man could lay down the spanks-like El Fuerte was being punished by a high-speed machine rather than a normal man. Those big calloused hands covered every inch of his wriggling rear until it felt like each of El Fuerte's buns had been fried, lambasted, and baked a rich, dark red.
So instead he started begging. "Ooooh! Lo siento-I'm sorry! Pleeeease! I give up!" El Fuerte cried, fighting back a rush of tears. He bowed his head down, his buttocks lying over the tub rim tender and defeated. At least he still had his mask on, so the people couldn't see how red his face had also become from the humiliating results of the fight.
Over the loudspeakers, the same voice as before declared, "E. Honda, WINS!"
E. Honda grinned. "There. Cooked to a nice, deep red, just as promised. Who says a sumo can't cook? Maybe next time I'll go for an even deeper red." The huge man gave one more final SMACK! before he picked El Fuerte up and and dropped him heavily on his rear. Chuckling, he walked across the bathhouse to grab his towel, and threw it over his brawny shoulder. "And by the way," he called back. "If you think that was bad, I was just going easy on you. You haven't felt a REAL spanking from me yet."
"Ooooh . . . " El Fuerte just lay on the wet floor, naked except for his mask and boots, as the big sumo wrestler walked away. Slowly, his hands crept back until he could rub his hot, blistered ass. He gritted his teeth as he tenderly ran his hands up and down the flesh. Looking at E. Honda's retreating backside, El Fuerte could still see the handful of prints he'd left decorating the large buttocks. But that was nothing compared to the inferno his own ass had been left in. His cheeks felt like the inside of his mouth after eating one too many jalapenos.
Silently, the Mexican vowed to train hard for the next tournament, and not to be caught off-guard like that again. He did, however, wonder what E. Honda had meant by a "real" spanking, and felt pity for the next fighter who'd go up against the big sumo with the lightning palms. For now though, he'd better get his pants back on, or at least a towel to cover himself with before somebody-
Behind him, he heard the snap of several cameras going off. El Fuerte cursed in Spanish.
