Submit stories to: wowefastories@gmail(dot)com
with the title heading "WOWEFA Story Submission"

Mr. McMahon's Master Plan Part 1
by Corporate Mastermind

"Something has to be done about him, Gentlemen..."

That was the voice of Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the billionaire owner of
World Wrestling Federation Entertainment, Incorporated. Well, make that the
half owner. It had been merely weeks since the end-all battle between the
WCW/ECW Alliance and the WWF, and it was the Federation that was victorious.
Not that Vince particularly cared about the Federation or it's fans, he cared
about himself, his money, and his image. Yes, he was, historically, a family
man, but this time the threat was from his own children. Granted, they where
under the influence of the scheming Paul Heyman, but either way there was no
choice but to wipe out the competition once and for all. And that he did,
until the next night, until his hopes and dreams of reigning supreme over the
wrestling world where shattered by...

"...Flair?" The former Motley Crue bodyguard and master of the big boot,
Test, asked quizzically.

"No you idiot! Have you even been paying attention!? Flair is the
underlying problem, but he's too powerfull to attack directly. Damn it
Martin, if you don't start paying attention your ass is going to be fi-"

"Eeeeennhh," Test's almost rodent-like features contorted into a smug grin
as he made the 'Wrong Buzzer' sound,

"My ass, along with the rest of this gorgeous bod, is immune."

Vince's eyes would have rolled around the world and than some if possible.
Taking the opportunity, he raised his right hand to the collar of his black
and grey checked dress shirt, adjusting it. A glossy looking black sportscoat
hung over his shoulders, a pair of tan slacks held about his waist with a
leather belt, his elderly features looking over the group he had assembled to
do his bidding. It was a very odd group to bring together indeed, certainly
nothing like the Corporation of the old days, but they each served thier
purpose well.

And there they all stood assembled, following each word of Mr. McMahon as
if it where gospel. William Regal, the distinguished 'Good Will Ambassador'
from Blackpool England. Christian, brother of Edge, Nine time tag team
champion, current European Champion, and owner of perhaps the most grand
entrance pyrotechnics of all time.

The aforementioned Test, who himself was a member of the equally
aforementioned Corporation, and winner of the 'Immunity Battle Royale' at
Survivor Series, impossible to fire until this time next year. The Dudley
Boyz, Buh Buh Ray and D-Von, First ever to hold all three major Tag
Championships, and responsable for the unification of two of those three.
Thier lovely valet, the so-called 'Dutchess of Dudleyville,' Stacy Keibler.
The Olympic Gold Medalist and man who 'single-handedly' saved the WWF, Kurt
Angle. And the American Bad Ass, the Undertaker.

"...As I was saying," Vince continued, "Yes, Flair is the obvious problem.
We all know this. Just knowing that idiot is in the same building is annoying
enough, let alone having to listen to him 'Woo' all over the place and ruin
all our schemes. It isn't right. The man should be institutionalized, or at
least hospitalized before he has another damn heart attack...."

"Testify!" D-Von nodded in agreement. Vince hardly paused to even notice

"Nevertheless, he IS here. And as I said earlier, if we where to attack
him directly, his retaliation would be fierce. Even if we beat him to a
bloody pulp, he'll still own half the company and you'll all suffer for it.
That's why we must be far more... subtle..."

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. McMahon?" William Regal raised an inquisitive
eyebrow towards the Chairman.

"Well, William, you gentlemen are all my chosen stock of the current
Federation Roster. Granted, most of you turned your backs on us all not too
long ago, but I am a forgiving man. Yes, in the intrest of fairness I gave
you all a second chance. And you all proved yourselves more than worthy. But
you see, Flair is soon to catch on to our newfound alliance, and will soon
attempt to wipe it out. He will himself form the antithesis of all we stand
for, creating a band of those loyal to him, not I. Whoever would join him
would indeed be foolish, as we all know that the Vince McMahon side is ALWAYS
the winning side. But that is beside the point. This threat must be wiped out
before it becomes a threat."

"...So what you're suggesting," the Good Will Ambassador began, "
that we find potential defectors to Flair's soon-to-be faction and deal with
the bloody turncoats accordingly, essentially cutting off his plans before
they can begin?"


"Genius, Mr. McMahon."

"Naturally, William. However, much like Flair himself, any direct assaults
would be far too blatant. Flair would become suspicious that we where
pinpointing those most loyal to him one at a time, and eventually he would
either retaliate or prepare our next target so the assaults would fail.
Again, we must use our utmost craftiness and subterfuge in this endeavor. I
have a unique plan for each of them, each of wich is almost entirely
fool-proof. We shall leave thier spirits broken, thier will shattered. We
shall get them into situations where we are able to attack them as we please,
mentally and physically, and none will be the wiser."

"Now hold up a minute boss man," the deep voice of the Undertaker
interjected, "That's all great, but who the hell we gonna go after first?"

Vince's expression turned sour as the name entered his mind. He was
hesitant to say it, expecting thousands to chant it along with him, but
fortunatley they where far from the watchfull eyes of the Federation
camera's. "Why, Undertaker, none other than... Rob...Van...Dam..."

A rare occassion, the Undertaker's scowl turned into a smirk, outlined by
his deep orange goatee. His own current foe. The rest of this group nodded in
agreement, apparantly eager to take out the self-proclaimed 'Whole Dam Show.'

"My plan is very simple. You see, Van Dam and the rest of these men may
have almost superhuman abilities in the ring, but they are just that-they are
men. And there are certain things a man can't resist, my friends."

Stepping forward from silence, the lucious Stacy Keilber smirked. As she
walked, all got a solid view of those long, long legs swinging back and
forth, the only hindrance a small black skirt that shouldn't have been legal
to wear. A red, white, and black camoflauge top covered her ample breasts,
though they where compartivley small when put up against the other women of
the Federation. A pair of black no-lense glasses sat atop her head, a
resoundingly cute accent to her overall sensous look.

"Vince, I know exactly what you're saying," Ms. Keibler looked directly
into the eyes of the Chairman, a smirk comming across her mouth, a change
from what was usually comming across her mouth, "And I know that if anyone
is up to the job, it's me. Vince, I want to take care of Flair just as much
as you do, there's some bad blood between his family and I. ...Let's just
say that little son of his could never truely satisfy me. All that aside, it
would be my honor to... serve you, Mr. McMahon, and lure RVD into this

"That's all well and good, Stacy, and I appreciate your... enthusiasm when
it comes to the subject. Yes, I've given thought to sending you in there...
a lot of thought... but after careful consideration, it would be far too
obvious. Van Dam may not be the brightest man in the world, but he still
isn't blatantly stupid. I'm sure he'd know something was up when the valet of
his rivals came in and starting coming onto him. No, we need a neutral party
here, someone he would never expect to be in league with us."

"Vince, be realistic," the Olympic Champion Kurt Angle began, "All the
girls here hate you! Especially Trish, how are you going to convince any of
them to do this?"

"He's right, Vin-...Mr. McMahon," the European Champion, Christian, spoke
from behind a massive pair of sunglasses shaped like the eyes of inscects,
"All the scorchcakes out there so totaly won't go for it!"

"Christian, you've much to learn," the Chairman grinned, "Under the right
circumstances, people will do just about anything." McMahon raised his voice
in the direction of the adjoining doorway, "Chris."

With that the doorway to the office area of Vince's Corporate Suite deep
within the arena opened, revealing a quite unexpected sight to the faction
members present. 'Y2J' Chris Jericho stood tall over two other figures. His
right hand was outstretched, a sick grin on his face as he held the woman
known as Torrie Wilson by her long blonde hair. To his left was a small
slumped form in a chair, his hands bound at the wrists, not that it mattered
as he was clearly unconcious, a trail of blood from his forehead to his
mouth. Immistakably, it was the Japanese Buzzsaw Tajiri.

"Our friend Mr. Jericho here has 'summoned' Ms. Wilson and her boyfriend
Tajiri. We have spoken of the conditions to her. She is to go forth and
fullfill her duties of seducing RVD. Should she not chose to do so properly,
or fail in her mission, we shall ensure that Tajiri here does not wake up.
Her objective is simple. After seducing Van Dam, she will proceed to break
either, or both, of his legs using whatever means nessecary. It won't be the
easiest thing in the world, but she is deceptivley strong for a woman of her
size. And thusly, RVD will be on the shelf for at least a year... By the time
he's ready to return, we should have the whole mess worked out. And who will
know? Who will believe him that some girl injured him as such? And more
importantly, will he even want to admit it? I doubt it would bode well with
Flair to know he was sleeping around in the first place. Either way, RVD will
be taken care of."

"Damn, Boss, you sure know what up." the Undertaker nodded his head
forward, a black ski-cap topping it off with the 'DeadMan Inc.' logo
embroidered across it.

"Now, Go." McMahon glared towards Torrie, who was thrust forward violently
by Jericho in the direction of the door...

* * *

With both of his legs outstreched in a full split between two weight
benches, Rob Van Dam kept his eyes shut as he concentrated on his daily
workout routine. His concentration was broken, however, as a knock sounded
at the door. Opening his eyes, he looked upward towards the locker room
entrance, nodding his head forward, "It's open."

In stepped the lucious form of one Torrie Wilson, a warm smile on her
face, though Van Dam could sense an element of fakeness about it. Not that
any man's eyes would stay there for long, as her firm breasts bounced with
each step, barely contained underneath a small strapless red dress.

"Oh, how's it going Torrie?" RVD gave a quick nod before he closed his
eyes again, attempting to maintain the split as long as possible.

"Oh, things are great, Rob, thanks for asking," Torrie flashed that smile
again as she moved closer, even though Van Dam couldn't see it. "Well,
actually, there's one small problem..."

"What's up?" Rob opened his eyes to look up at her, a grimace on his face
as his posistion became somewhat painful.

"Well, Rob, You see, I just," Torrie's eyes wandered down, "...I just
can't stop thinking about you. About the way you... move so gracefully in the
ring... it's just so... sensual, Rob."

"Great." RVD clenched his fists as he exhaled slowly.

"Oh Rob," Even Torrie couldn't believe how fake she was comming off, but
she hoped it would work none the less, "I want you so bad... I want you to
take me now!"

"That's Cool," RVD replied casually.


"Yeah, everything's cool when you're Rob...Van...Dam."

Torrie shot Rob a strange look as she dropped to her knees in front of
him, still in a split posistion. Shaking her head from side to side, her
right hand reached forward, her delicate fingers slowly unzipping the front
of his jeans. The Whole F'n' Dick flopped out from between his now open
pants, and those same fingers slowly massaged the soft member to life,
Torrie's hands starting to pump up and down it's length as it grew hard.
Leaning her head forward, Ms. Wilson engulfed the head of Rob's cock with
her lips, moving them down it's length to take a considerable amount into
her mouth.

"Wow, that's really cool," Rob smiled widley as he glanced downard.

"Everything's cool when you're getting a B...J..." Torrie smirked as her
right hand pumped up and down Rob's dick.

She stopped this behavior to turn around, flipping her dress up to reveal
a complete lack of undergarments. Her pert ass jutted out toward Rob, just
sentimeters away from his glistening prick. Still in a split posistion, the
Whole Dam Show thrust his hips downward, inserting his dick into her moist
vagina. Torrie's eyes shut as she moaned with each thrust of Van Dam, who was
doing akward push-ups to fuck her from his split posistion. Torrie's body
rocked forward slightly, her massive breasts bouncing free of the skimpy
dress and pressing against the floor.

"Oh God Rob, please don't stop..."

* * *

Like a flash of lightning, a black leg struck out at Jericho's head. With
a loud 'SMACK!' the very same leg connected with his right temple, sending
him falling to the floor in a heap. Hearing the sound, Christian, the other
member left to guard Tajiri, turned his head around the corner.

"Hey! How did you-"

But before he could finish he was blinded by a mysterious green liquid,
stumbling around, he grasped at his eyes, unable to see. With a foul
expression, the Japaneese Buzzsaw Tajiri glared as his fallen captors,
Jericho and Christian. Frayed pieces of rope still clung to his wrists, the
green mist spilling down his jaw making for an all-together frightening

"Torrie-san!" Where the only concerned words he managed as ran out of Mr.
McMahon's office, in search of his love Torrie.

"Vince is totaly going to have our asses for this one," Christian mumbled
as he managed his way to the sink, trying to clean his eyes of the Mist.

* * *

"Oh Rob don't stop!" Torrie screamed out as RVD continued pumping her. His
slick member slid in and out of her pussy with a growing intensity, Rob's
ponytailed hair jussled across his sweaty face. Torrie's blonde hair flew
everywhere with each wild thrust, her eyes closed tightly. Rob could feel his
balls tighten, it would be a matter of seconds before he came in her wet

"Oh God, Baby, I'm going to-"

Rob's moaning voice was interupted abruptly. The doorway to his locker
room slammed open, revealing the scene to the escaped Tajiri, who's eyes
where wide in shock for a mere second, before they narrowed in search for
vengeance. Bolting forward, the Buzzsaw lept into the air, his left leg
slamming against the face of RVD. As he fell backwards with a loud "PLOP"
his dick came out of Torrie just as he came, sending his ejaculate flying
against the oppossite wall and on Torrie's back. A loud "CRACK" was heard
as Van Dam fell backward, still in the Split, his legs akwardly slamming
against the weight bench and twisting in ways they where not meant to go.
Tajiri stood over him, livid, while Torrie stood up, trying in vain to stuff
her huge breasts back into her dress. Tajiri was screaming in Japanese, and
Torrie was on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, Tajiri, I did it for you, I couldn't..." and she fell to her
knees crying.

* * *

Sitting in the Security Office, Vince McMahon grinned evily at the private
show he had just witnessed. His right hand adjust his collar once more, as he
looked over to the Undertaker next to him.

"That went even better than planned," McMahon smirked.

"Yeah," Undertaker didn't share his enthusiasm, "But Jericho and Christian
still fucked up back there, next time leave the Deadman in charge, he'll take
care of business."

"Of course, Of course. And now with Van Dam out of the picture, we move on
to the second Phase."

"What's that, Boss?"

"Oh, you'll see, 'Taker, you'll see. Everything is going according to
plan..." Vince let out an evil villainous laugh as the Deadman turned his
gaze to the moniter to scene before them. According to plan indeed.

Support by joining for only $4.95
Lindsay Lohan Sex Fakes     |     Angela Schijf Fakes     |     Deborah Norville Fakes     |     Women of Wrestling Fakes