Unnatural Love

BY : FlameWolf666
Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 4546
Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Undertaker, Sting, Hulk Hogan, Mankind, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Vince Mc Mahon, Jim Ross, Paul Bearer, Kane or C.M. Punk. This is fiction, for fun and no profit will be made from it.

WARNING!!:  Rape!  More extreme bits marked with *


Author’s Note:  Vince can’t have Taker regaining too much now...  Please don’t hate me for this.


Chapter Eleven: A Jealous God


    “I won’t fucking do it!” spat a figure standing in the office, earning a glare from the person across from them.

    “Not only am I not that kind of man but Sam’s...  I fucking refuse you piece of shit,” spat the other male, turning on his heel to leave.  He only stopped when he heard the boss slam his fists down on the desk.

    “You forget just who holds your very existence in their hands, Sting.  You will do as I ordered or I will burn your ‘contract’ right before your eyes,” Vince snarled, some of his dark hair hanging in his furious eyes.

    Pursing his lips, the wrestler glared over his shoulder.  “Go ahead.  If that is the price of my soul, I will gladly be erased,” he whispered, a tense silence following.

    Gripping the roll of parchment tightly, the ‘Big Boss’ lifted his upper lip as he let out a low snarl.  Then, suddenly and slowly, he began to relax with a small grin.  A grin that sent a chill down the fighter’s spine.  He had only gone this far once and the man involved had never been the same after.  Before he could say or do anything, the malignant male began to whisper something over the scroll in his hand.  Briefly, red runes glowed on top of it and his eyes went utterly blank.

    Chuckling, Vince smoothed back his hair before taking his seat.  “Now, do as I say.  Do it tonight,” he demanded, chuckling when Sting nodded almost mechanically.  Then he was turning stiffly, almost like a zombie.  Walking like a puppet on strings, he made his way through the door and out into the main area.  Turning sharply, he made his way to the common area; taking a seat and simply waiting.  Until the appointed time came, he would not move from that spot.




    Stretching, Sam nuzzled into the male embracing her.  They had spent the whole night making love after her revelation.  After which they found they felt much closer than before.  It was almost as if a missing piece had clicked into place.  Kissing under the Phenom’s chin, she slowly sat up and wondered if she could actually get out of the coffin bed by herself.  That was when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind and a chin came to rest on top of her head.  “Didn’t mean to wake you.  I was going to try to do this by myself,” murmured a soft apology while she smiled over her shoulder at her beloved.

    The muscle-bound male merely grinned, easily exiting the raised bed.  “Show-off,” she complained with a slight pout, staring down at the floor that seemed so far away.  Especially with the high sides surrounding her.  It would be a miracle if she could clamber out without tipping the damn thing over.  As if sensing that, ‘Taker came to steady the awkward object; earning a beautiful smile.

    “Thanks,” she whispered before turning and awkwardly climbing out of the bed.

    Once on the floor, she shot a glare at the piece of furniture.  Why couldn’t he have a normal bed?  Why did it have to be a glorified casket on a platform?  Grumbling, she spun to head to the table as a knock came from the door.  Tilting his head in confusion, the wrestler opened it to reveal C.M. Punk with their breakfast.  “Since Bearer is now with Kane, I figured you would have no one to cater to you anymore,” he pointed out with a wide grin, making his way in before the other man could stop him.

    “You just wanted an excuse to spend every morning with us,” Sam pointed out with her own grin, gesturing to a chair across from her.

    “Not going to deny that’s a nice perk,” the mischievous male chuckled, setting the platter on the table before taking a seat.

    As Undertaker closed the door and moved to take his own place, Punk’s jovial demeanor changed to serious.  “The Big Boss summoned Sting to his office today.  Ever since, the guy just... hasn’t been right,” he informed under his breath, dark gaze moving around in a paranoid manner.

    “What do you mean?  Did Vince do something to him?” Samantha asked immediately, concern in her azure orbs.  Wincing, Punk looked from one to the other before fucusing his gaze on the table.

    “He’s... acting like a robot.  Like a marionette being tugged on strings,” he murmured brow furrowing as he raised his gaze to meet ‘Taker’s.

    Almost immediately, the dead man was on his feet; rage on his bearded features.  “Its almost like what happened to Triple H all over again,” he finished, the words sending a chill through Samantha.  She had only heard bits and pieces of the story but it had been more than enough to know the man would never be the same.  If that was what was happening, there could only be one target; a notion that made her feel sick to her stomach.  Yet, dread filled her at what would happen if he was unsuccessful.

    Frowning slightly, the troubled woman simply stared at the table while her mind spun.  If Vince’s goal was what she thought it was, she wanted no part of it.  But...  Sting was probably one of her closest friends here.  If he failed, it was likely he would be eliminated or made into a mindless zombie.  Neither of which sat well with her.  Pursing her lips, she nodded as she made her painful decision.  The only problem would be getting away long enough to accomplish it.  Glancing up, she felt a small amount of relief to see ‘Taker was too distracted to realize what she was thinking.

    After the news, breakfast finished rapidly and the pair were soon left alone once more.  Mulling over the information, she glanced up at the Phenom and began to form a plan.  All she had to do was find a way to sneak away.  He knew she wouldn’t purposefully put herself in harm’s way and would likely be as relaxed as usual.  She would probably be able to get away during his daily weight session, though guilt filled her at the prospect.  Still, she didn’t feel like she had a choice if she wanted to save Sting.

    Unfortunately, the hours passed like days and she was finding it hard to not act suspicious.  Every time he even looked her way, she found it hard not to twitch.  Not to mention when he would bend occasionally to give her a kiss on the cheek or lips.  When he finally moved into the adjacent room to begin his exercise, she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.  Once he was lifting those weights, nothing scholar of an earthquake would snap him out of the zone.  Getting to her feet, she shot a look toward the room he was in shamefully.  Then she was opening the door and leaving.

    The next problem came when she was out in the hall.  She would have to pass by Kane’s room on her way to the stairs.  She could only hope his door was shut and she could sneak by.  Holding her breath, she crept forward cautiously; craning her neck so she could see a bit further ahead.  To her relief, the door to his chamber was closed.  So, gathering her courage, she sprinted for the stairs; scrabbling up them like the hounds of Hell were on her heels.  It was only when she reached the ground level that she felt mildly safer, though not by much.

    Up here, she was much more exposed.  Without Punk, Sting or ‘Taker, she had none to shield her from the other fighters.  Men she really didn’t know as well, let alone trusted.  Still, she had no choice but to ask someone where her target was.  At least that way she would minimize the risk of running into someone truly dangerous, like Mankind, Triple H or the Rock.  She would rather run into the Heartbreak Kid than any of those men and he intimidated her with his overt sexual behavior.

    Musing to herself how this had been a terrible idea, Sam made her way to the common room in the hopes of finding someone she felt comfortable talking to.  When she saw Sting sitting at a table by himself, she could only blink in shock.  Then she was moving forward.  The painted warrior was staring at the table surface with blank eyes, not even seeming to take notice of her as she sat across from him.  “What did that monster do to you?” whispered out of her as she reached to cover one of his hands with hers.

    Jolting slightly at her touch, he inhaled deeply as he mechanically raised his head to meet her gaze.  “S-sam.  Why?  Leave, please.  He wants me... to..,” he struggled to get out, his voice sounding flat and inflectionless.  Yet, she didn’t budge, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks.

    “I... I know.  Why do you think I’m here?  I know ‘Taker would never allow us to be alone and I’m not about to just sit by and let you die,” she hissed out, licking her now dry lips as he mechanically got to his feet.

    While she trusted him, it was hard not to be afraid due to the lack of control he had over himself at this moment.  So, when he got to her side, she knew it would be best if she followed him without a fuss.  “Don’t...  What about Undertaker,” he grunted out as she got to her feet.  Then he began to lead her deeper into the building and down a series of halls.

    “I...  I don’t know but I do know I will never forgive myself for just sitting by while Vince...,” she declared, tears filling her eyes as her body began to shake.

    No part of her wanted this but she felt she had no choice.  The only solace she had was the fact that at least Sting was someone she cared about.  That maybe she could have even loved him if their circumstances had been different.  “Fuck him.  You.  You matter more,” the struggling male groaned as he shut and locked the door.  She merely shook her head in response.

    “Its too late now.  I made my decision the moment Punk told us how you were acting,” Sam whispered, rubbing her arms and fighting her urge to recoil as he got closer.  Then he was bending to kiss her, his mouth shockingly gentle given the circumstances.

    “Not too late.  I don’t.  I don’t want you.  Hate me,” growled from between gritted teeth when he pulled away, hollow eyes meeting her own.  Yet, somewhere deep inside them, she could see sadness as well as disgust and fear.

    Resting her forehead against his, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms and place her in his bed.  “I won’t hate you for something you can’t control.  None of this is your doing,” she assured, her heart beginning to race as his jerking hands reached for her top.  It was there that he seemed to stop, his body heaving while he appeared to fight with himself.  The struggle only lasted a few moments but it seemed to cause him a fair amount of pain given the strained groans and grunts leaving him.  Then his arms continued to move against his will, tears making clear trails in the makeup on his cheeks.

    *“Sorry, so sorry,” he murmured like a mantra while he mechanically exposed her to his horrified gaze.

    Fighting the urge to hide herself, Sam gave him a shaky smile as she reached for his cheek.   “I... I know,” she managed, swallowing thickly as tears began to crowd her throat.  SO much of her was screaming at this moment, telling her she was about to commit the ultimate betrayal.  But she had already made her choice.  All she could hope was that it didn’t haunt her too badly.  Closing her eyes, she flinched when she felt one of his hands brush her breast.   Whimpering, she bit her lower lip as pleasure began to mix with her guilt.

    As much as she knew she couldn’t help her body’s reaction, that didn’t make her hate herself any less.  In fact, she almost wanted to ask that he just get it over with.  The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge it would be more traumatizing for them both.  Not only would it cause her pain but Sting wouldn’t be able to stop himself if she needed.  Still, it took everything in her not to scream when she felt his mouth closed around her nipple.  While he swirled the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand moved to her clothed junction.
    With a hiss, he unbuttoned her pants; pulling away from her to remove them.  Lifting her lips to help, Sam at last felt the dam within her break.  Quiet tears rolled down her pale cheeks as the warrior above her divested his own garments.  Grimacing, the Icon bent mechanically to kiss them away as his traitorous hand moved to her womanhood.  Callused, clumsy fingers played with her sensitive folds, the occasional sparks of lust only fueling her self loathing.  Sniffling, she kept her eyes shut and tried to go somewhere else.

    The hand playing with her wasn’t Sting’s, it was Taker’s.  The mouth closing over her entrance was her lover’s, not the man currently on top of her.  Just clinging to that helped her maintain her sanity even as he brought her to an unwanted orgasm.  Then he was entering her and it was all she could do to hold onto her fantasy.  Whimpering, her hands flew up to his back of their own accord, her body arching up as he hit a particularly good spot.  Against her will, she found herself cumming again, her true lover’s name on her lips.

    Thankfully, Sting didn’t linger, regaining control of himself the moment the deed was over.  Looking down at his hands like he didn’t recognize them, the distraught male fled to his bathroom; making retching noises as he went.  Not that she could blame him.  He was just as much a victim as she was in this and she slowly sat up despite the disgust and self hatred filling her.  Forcing herself forward, she followed him and wrapped the heaving wrestler in a hug.  Reaching up to grasp her hand, the horrified male began to sob loudly; his muscled frame shaking.*

    Feeling her own tears prick her eyes, she leaned into him as she allowed herself to break.  Neither of them could go back from this and it was unlikely Undertaker would ever forgive her.  Yet, Sting was here and still himself.  He was still human, capable of the guilt and horror running rampant through him.  “Why...  I wasn’t worth this!  I would have rather...,” he began.

    “Stop, don’t say something like that.  If I had just sat by while he either killed you or made you into a zombie, I would have never forgiven myself,” Samantha hissed heatedly, grabbing his make up smeared face and forcing him to look up at her.

    Then she was wrapping him into a hug, the pair dissolving into shuddering sobs.  Nothing could help the pain they were feeling.  Nothing could stop their self loathing or disgust but just the fact they knew the other’s pain helped marginally.  It didn’t matter he had committed the act.  If he had been in his right state, he would have never done anything close to this.  It would take time for them to heal but, for the moment, they could lean on one another.




    A pair of malicious eyes stared at the glowing symbols covering a roll of papers.  Slowly, they faded, a cruel smile quirking his lips as he watched.  Getting to his feet, he made his way over to the large window behind him to stare out over the city.  While there had been a few unexpected consequences, his plans for Sam and Taker were going well.  She had been with the Phenom long enough for the audience to recognize her and the pair were tightly bonded.  With the wrench he had thrown into the works, money would now doubt come rolling in.

    One thing the audience loved, it was drama.  On top of that, Undertaker's trust in his woman would be shattered.  He would likely revert to the way he had been, only now without Paul Bearer.  He had effectively killed two birds with one stone and he found himself giddy because of it.  After so many millenia, he was finally the one in charge.  He was finally in control of other’s fates.  Now even the mightiest God had to bow to his whim.  Chuckling, he found himself looking forward to watching how things play out.

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