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Mr. McMahon's Master Plan Part 2
by Corporate Mastermind

The Ross Report

Greetings from under the black hat, wrestling fans. I'm sorry to announce
that just the other day superstar Rob Van Dam recieved a very serious leg
injury during his warm-up activities backstage. It is unclear how long he
will be out for, as he doesn't go in for an MRI until tommorrow. We wish Rob
the best of luck in what will hopefuly be a swift recovery.

Also, I'd like to adress the rumors circulating about Lita demanding a
change in her storyline due to several backstage "incidents" with the Hardy
Brothers and Test...

* * *

Mr. McMahon grinned to himself as he scrolled through the rest of Jim
Ross' inane ramblings. It didn't matter though, he'd read all he needed to.
His plan was in full effect, and Rob Van Dam was out of comission. Rising
from his chair, he reached down with both of his hands to flatten the
wrinkles that had appeared on the legs of his pinstriped gray suit. His eyes
looked around at the group he had again assembled about his office, his
"Boys." They milled around, conversing with one another and waiting to be
adressed by Mr. McMahon once again. All except the Big Bossman, who stood
directly behind Vince, arms folded behind his back, clad in a black suit
with an olive dress shirt and black tie dangling from his neck, on the alert
in case someone decided to turn on McMahon.

"I was thinking," Christian smirked behind goofy pink glasses as he spoke
to Kurt Angle, "I should totaly add a few extra pyros to my entrance! It
would be totaly spectaculous."

"Phh," Kurt dismissivley waved at Christian, "Nobody's fireworks are as
good as mine. Red, White, and Blue. It shows I am what this country stands
for."

"No way, Sucka!" Booker T approached the two, "Everybody knows that the
Booker Man has the best explosions in the business!"

"Yeah, Right," Buh Buh Ray Dudley shook his head, "You wish you could top
our bomb drop."

"Testify!" D-Von screamed in recognition of his brother.

"...Tell me you didn't just say that," Booker T looked to the two Brothers
Dudley, "Tell me, you did not, just-"

"That's enough, Kids." Vince shook his head at the group, wich fell
instantly silent. "Our operation against Rob Van Dam was a complete sucess.
It appears he will be out for an undetirmined amount of time. Wich means we
need to move forward. As you know, our plan is to take out superstars who
could potentially come to the aid of Flair. Van Dam was a serious blow, but
we have to move to the next phase before Flair catches on. Our next target
is rather obvious, it is, of course, the Rock."

The group murmured among themselves, everyone expressing thier dislike of
the People's Champion. Test and Booker T exchanged glances, nodding to one
another, as they both had had thier share of troubles with him lately.

"The plan is simple enough. You all saw his little 'Kiss' incident with
Trish Stratus not too long ago, correct? And I'm sure you all remember my
little affair with Ms. Stratus last year as well. Well, during that affair,
it just so happens I managed to get some pictures of Miss Stratus in some...
compromising posistions. She has no choice but to work with us now. She will
use her magnetism towards the Rock to lure him away from all the security,
all the fans, and draw him right into our trap. There, lying in wait will
be-"

With a loud 'Clanging' noise a member of the Arena Staff dropped a dustpan
in the back of the room. All heads instantly turned to the man, who was clad
in a bright yellow jumpsuit that read "CLEANING STAFF" in bold black letters,
the hood flipped up with a black baseball cap underneath it.

"What the hell are you doing in here!? Damn it, this is a private meeting!
Bossman, escort this idiot out of here immediatley and teach him a lesson!"

"No, No, Please sir, that won't be nessecary!" The strangley gruff voice
of the Staff Member pleaded, "I'll just take my things and be off!" Quickly
placing both his hands on the pushcart, he scrambled out the door to the
Office as the Bossman made his way towards it, clenching his fists
threateningly.

"Goddamn idiot. As I was saying, Bossman and Booker will be lying in wait,
ready to take out the Rock once Trish has lured him into our secure area. We
can't fail, Gentlemen. Trish is already on her way to work over the Rock as
we speak. Booker, Bossman, go to Weight Room 34 and hide out. It's a large
room, there's plenty of space. Wait for the right moment to strike, and then
take the Crock out for good..."

Outside the office door, the Staff Worker looked down at the floor,
mopping the area outside the office inconspicuously. As Booker and Bossman
left the office, they shot him an evil look, mumbling profanity at him
without making eye contact as the worker was busy making the floor shine.
And shine it did, so much that it reflected the icey blue eyes and blonde
goatee that lay beneath that workers hood. And just as Booker and Bossman
rounded the corner, one simple word escaped the worker's lips... "...What?"

* * *

The People's Champion, the Rock, walked valiantly through the Main Hallway
of the arena. A smug look on his face, his eyes covered by a pair of black
reflective sunglasses. His T-Shirt said it all, "JUST BRING IT," the Rock
was ready to take on the world as he strolled down that hall. And in his
eyes, and those of his 'millions and millions' of fans, he could. He knew
nothing of smarks bashing him on the internet, the movie deals that await,
and most importantly, of the conspiracy against him. It was mere seconds,
however, before the Rock stopped dead in his tracks to view the sight before
him.

It was an ass. More importantly, it was the ass of Trish Stratus. A plump
yet firm mound that threatened to burst free of it's leather encasing.
Lowering his sunglasses, the Rock's right eyebrow raised up in that trademark
People's Eyebrow of his. Rising to her full height now, Trish spun around to
look up at the Rock. As she turned, her two massive breasts bounced to the
left and right, themselves bound by a black tanktop. Smiling at the Rock,
Trish innoccently brushed her hair behind her ears.

"Oh, I'm sorry Rocky," Trish cooed, "I was just bending over and... going
down... to the floor, to pick something up."

"Well, Trish Stratus," The Rock spoke in his typical cocky tone, "The Rock
hopes you found everything you where looking for. The Rock hopes, whatever it
was, that you lost, you found. And the Rock knows that you are sorry for
interupting him."

"Oh, of course Rocky... Yeah... I found exactly what I was looking for...
So tell me," Trish inched closer to the Great One, her right hand tracing
circles in the air, "...What is the People's Champ up to?"

"Trish, the Great One doesn't have time for small talk. He's a busy man.
The Rock has many things to do. You see the Ro-"

The Rock's voice faultered as he looked downward, to Trish's outstretched
right hand massaging his crotch through his black warm-up pants. As Trish's
pointer finger traced across the length of his slowly hardening member under
his pants, a devilish smirk came across her face.

"...What in the blue hell are you doing? You think you can just wander up
to the Rock like some two bit slut and get a piece of the People's Strudel!?"

"But Rocky, Baby..." Trish slowly leaned forward, her tongue slithering
out from between her lips, leaving a trail of saliva on the Rock's warm-up
pants as she licked the length of his member through the fabric, before
returning to her full height, "...Don't you want to at least come with me
and have a little fun?"

"Trish," The Rock turned his head to the right, sniffing at the air, "That
would be... ...Electrifying!"

"Here they come, Sucka!" Booker T glared from deep within the locker area
of the Gym McMahon had told them to wait for the Rock and Trish in. He peeked
around the corner, unnoticable in the shadows as the People's Champ and the
Women's Champ entered the weight room.

"He'll serve hard time!" Bossman glared from behind Booker T, his
nightstick held tightly in his right hand as he took a step forward.

"Woah Woah WOAH," Booker shot out his left hand, holding Bossman back,
"...Don't you think we should wait a minute? I mean, we should at least be
watchin' some of 'dis action."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Bossman stepped back into the shadows, his
eyes transfixed on the Rock and Trish at the other end of the room, "I didn't
know you liked to watch, Hell, I always thought you where gay..."

"Tell me you didn't just say that..."

The Rock sat down on the end of a weight bench, spreading his knees apart
as Trish knelt down before him. Trish's hands snapped forward, instantly
yanking the Great One's Warm-Up pants down to his knees, where the elastic
held them in place. She grinned at the Rock's protruding 'Strudel,' before
leaning forward and clamping her pillow lips around it. Slowly she moved down
it's length, taking most of it down her throat before she began bobbing her
head up and down rapidly, her blonde hair flying all over the place. Trish's
soft lips formed a smile around his cock as she went down on the People's
Champ, even though Vince had 'forced' her to do this, she'd wanted the Great
One since she first came to the Federation. Her tongue swirled around the
member of the Rock inside her mouth, circling it's length and coating it with
her thick saliva. Both her hands slowly inched up the Rock's inner thighs,
until her fingertips began to lightly stroke his balls. Like a piston her
head bobbed up and down rapidly, almost bluring to the Rock's hazy vision as
he recieved the oral treatment. Slowly Trish's head leaned back, letting the
People's Strudel pop out of her mouth, slick with her own saliva and clearish
pre-cum.

Crossing her arms, she lowered her tanktop down around her waist, letting
both of her glorious breasts bounce free, gravity taking over. Bending her
elbows back, she placed a palm on each of her tits, leaning forward again to
catch the Rock's solid prick in-between them. Moving from her knees to a
squat posistion, she began to bounce quickly, the Rock's slick member sliding
between Trish's Tits as she pushed them together, forcing the Great One to
Tit Fuck her. Bending her neck forward, she extended her tongue, so that each
time the Rock's dick was thrust upward, the head would rub against her wet
tongue.

"Oh man, Sucka," Booker T shook his head, watching the action, "Oh man..."

"That's enough of that shit, Book," Bossman nudged Booker T with his left
arm, "Let's go beat the shit out of him."

"...What?" A voice called out from behind them. The two spun around
instantly, Bossman pointing his nighstick towards the speaker. They both
scowled as they noticed it was the same Arena Staff Member from earlier.

"You dumbass," Booker T stepped towards the Worker, his eyes narrowing,
"Whatchu doin' followin' us around back here? You're askin' for an ass
kickin'!"

"...What?" The worker responded with one simple word as he stood there,
clutching his mop with his head looking down.

"I said I'm gonna-" Booker's eyes then widened with realization as the
Worker looked up, pulling back the hood that covered his face before to
reveal the immistakable icey blue eyes, blonde goatee, and bald head of the
Texas Rattlesnake! "Oh, Shit."

In one quick motion Austin leapt forward, thrusting the broomhandle into
the gut of Booker T. As Booker leaned forward, Austin lifted the broom high
over his head, slamming it down with great force over his back, the handle
snapping in two as Booker stumbled forward. Spinning with him, Austin grabbed
Booker by his pants, thrusting him head-first into the lockers behind them,
with a loud 'CLANG!' the locker dented as Booker's head made contact and he
fell to the concrete in a heap. Quick-thinking, the Bossman ran at Austin
with his nightstick, but instantly dropped it as Austin's boot slammed into
his stomach. As the Bossman leaned forward, Austin spun around, reaching
behind him with both of his arms and wrapping them around Bossman's neck.
Kicking his own feet out from under him, Austin landed ass-first on the
concrete, Bossman's Addam's Apple was thrust into his shoulder as he fell
backwards, a victim of the Stone Cold Stunner.

"The Rock's gonna cum, Trish," the Rock's eyes glazed over as Trish's
right hand wrapped around his cock, pumping up and down almost violently as
her wide eyes begged for him to let loose all over her. Her lithe hands moved
with incredible speed, and it was all too much for the People's Champ. The
first thick stream shot out like a bullet, splattering right into Trish's
open mouth. Trish lowered his dick a little, letting the second stream blast
onto her huge breasts, where it slowly dripped down onto her firm stomach.

"Oh God Rocky, " Trish panted, "Yes, Come all over me..."

"What?" A deep voice called out from behind both of them.

"I said come all over m-" Trish's eyes widened in shock as she saw Stone
Cold Steve Austin standing behind the Rock. She instantly released her grip
on the Great One's prick and stood up, as the Bionic Redneck walked up to
face her.

"Please, Please," Trish begged with wide eyes, "Don't tell anyone about
this... I... I... it was all Mr. McMahon's plan..."

"What!?"

"It was all Vince," Trish was on the verge of tears, "Please..."

"WHAT!?" Austin screamed in her face.

"Please Steve don't-"

"I know it was all that son of a bitch. I just gave two of his stooges the
ass whippin' of a lifetime back there. Now go clean 'yerself up you little
slut, put a damn shirt on," Austin pointed to the doorway as Trish scampered
out, covering her breasts in her crossed arms, before he turned his attention
to the Rock, "And you, you dumb sumbitch, keep your dick in your pants and
your eyes open, Vinnie's gunnin' for you." Austin turned abruptly and headed
back to the beaten Booker and Bossman, dissapearing behind the lockers.

The Rock's eyes narrowed as he tucked his prick back into his warm-up
pants. He knew the bull-headed Austin was too much of a solo man to tell
Flair what was going on, and even though he knew he didn't need the help, he
rose to his feet, intent on warning the co-owner about what was happening
here. With that confident stride, Rock flipped his sunglasses on as he walked
into the Main Hallway, headed directly for Flair's office. He passed another
cooridor and...

The last thing the People's Champion felt was a very sharp pain in his
forehead, and a soft 'Thud' as he hit the ground and blackness engulfed him.
All his eyes saw was a quick metallic blur before he found himself looking up
at the ceiling lights, his vision clouded as blood trickled over his eyes...
a huge muscular form standing over him clutching some kind of cylinder... and
then nothingness.

Triple H glared down at the Rock, his hands wrapped tightly around his
trademark Sledgehammer, his blonde hair draped over his eyes and wrinkled
nose as he mumbled, "You do not fuck with McMahon. And you never fuck with
the Game..."


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