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XXXX
Summary: What party by and for the ruling 1 percent would be complete without underground fights for betting purposes and admiring hard bodies? Teen underground prize fighter Bronco travels just outside his home town of Amarillo, Texas, to kick off the fighting festivities at an elite party on the back patio of a rural mansion. The fight pit is a swimming pool with just enough water to be dangerous where Bronco is set to face off with a fellow Texan opponent with the accurate name of Champ – no stranger to underground fist fighting with the muscle to back up the bravado. Working with a complex formula of dice rolls to keep the outcome honest and fresh , Will Bronco be leaving the party on his back or will he make a chump of Champ?
Wordcount: 3,781
Tags: Underground fighting; teen fighters, fist fight; fighting for prize money; betting on fights; no-rules bouts; pool fight; upscale party fights
Primary Characters: Bronco – Texas teen and underground prize fighter; “The Boss” – his mystery manager.
Secondary Characters: Champ – Texan teen and underground prize fighter
XXXX
The Boss turns the beat-up red pickup off the rural road and up to open, stylized gates and the security guard standing next to them. Young Bronco takes it all in - surprised and impressed.
"The fight's in there?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
"Yup," the Boss says. "At the bottom of a drained pool, like a pit fight."
Bronco smirks.
"Cool," he says, nodding.
"Do you have an invitation?" the guard asks the Boss, his tone of voice indicating that he seriously doubts it.
"Here," the Boss says, handing the young man a slip of paper. After a quick gaze, the guard looks up and over at Bronco.
"One of the fighters, huh?" he says. "I must have just checked in your opponent."
Bronco looks up the road past the gate, stretching his neck to see.
"Thanks," says the Boss, taking back the slip.
"Good luck," says the guard, smirking.
The Boss drives the pickup past the gates and, after glancing over and noticing that Bronco is leaning forward intently, presses on the gas and speeds up past the manicured grounds on a narrow lane bordered with expensive autos. Rounding a final corner reveals a newer pickup ahead blocking the lane. A parking attendant hands a ticket to the driver.
Exiting on the passenger side is a fighter Bronco's age wearing a snakeskin cowboy hat, plaid short-sleeve shirt unbuttoned to reveal muscular pecs and abs reddened by the sun, tight blue jeans topped by an oversized belt buckle and snakeskin boots that match the hat. The teen takes a final drag on a cigarette and flicks the butt away.
"He smokes..." Bronco says, surprised, then resumes chewing his plug of tobacco.
"Yeah - pretty decent muscles, too," says the Boss, glancing sideways at Bronco, who snorts.
"Big deal," he says. "I've seen better."
The teen notices Bronco and furrows his brow in anger.
"Show him what you're bringing to the rumble," the Boss says.
Bronco - wearing a baseball cap, hoodie, baggie pants and sneakers - instinctively unzips the hoodie to reveal his muscled chest and abs. His watching opponent tenses his muscles in response. Bronco quickly flexs back at him, then opens the pickup's door and steps out.
"Hang on!" says the Boss, slipping out of the pickup but leaving it running as an attendant approaches him.
Bronco stands his ground and checks out his opponent who returns the intense gaze. A few of the arriving party guests begin to notice the young fighters and point them out.
"I guess our little roosters found each other!" says the man who brought Bronco's opponent, clearly the teen's father.
"We better get them to the pool before they put a show on right here," the Boss says, approaching Bronco.
"C'mon, Champ" the man says to Bronco's opponent. "You can get to kicking his butt soon enough."
"See you inside, punk," Champ sneers.
Bronco spreads his arms wide.
"I'm standing right here, little boy!" Bronco snarls. A few of the watching guests laugh.
Champ begins taking off his shirt as Bronco lets the hoodie slip to the ground. The watching guests begin to cheer and clap.
Champ's dad clamps a hand on Champ's shoulder.
"I said get inside NOW!"
Champ stops, slips his shirt back into place, then flips off Bronco as he walks away. Bronco quickly flips him two simultaneous birds, then bends down and picks up his hoodie.
"Any rules to this fight?" Bronco asks, watching after his opponent as the Boss walks up to him.
"No... it’s all legal,” the Boss says.
"Cool..." Bronco says, nodding.
Bronco and the Boss enter the house - a mansion. The Boss shakes hands with an older, tanned man and they speak about money while the guy checks out Bronco - now bare chested and holding on to his hoodie. The guy points to the rear of the mansion and the Boss leads Bronco past crowds of guests and out onto a large back patio filled with tables. More guests are standing around the edge of a large pool, empty of all but knee-deep water.
Two groups are formed at either end of the pool's edge - four muscular men on one side and four on the other, plus Champ. The men are clearly fighters - wearing spandex and lifting weights or doing pushups. As the Boss leads Bronco to his side, the young fighter glares at Champ - now in spandex the color of the Texas flag – who lifts hand weights.
The Boss introduces Bronco to the fighters who smile and nod at their teammate's youth. Bronco pulls off his sneakers and shorts, revealing his American-flag spandex fighting shorts. Bronco quickly picks up two hand weights and starts pumping rapidly.
The man the Boss spoke to inside the mansion now enters the patio and lifts a microphone to his lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen - I wanted tonight's entertainment to reflect all that made Texas great, and what has made Texas great is balls and brawn!"
The watching crowd cheers.
"Texans are fighters, so I've gathered up 10 of the toughest underground Texan fighters I could find!"
The crowd cheers again.
"Place your bets on your favorites, then enjoy finding out who the top dogs are! Fights take place in the pool and there are no rules to slow down the action!"
As the crowd again cheers its approval, Champ's dad tapes the young fighter's fists as a fighter on the other side begins doing the same to Bronco's knuckles.
"Our first fight is between two of the meanest, toughest fighters here tonight - and the youngest! Texans are tough at every age, so please welcome, from the great city of Dallas - Champ!"
Champ's dad leans down and whispers in his ear and the muscled teen steps forward to the edge of the pool, raises his arms and flexes to the cheers of the crowd. The man with the microphone approaches him.
"So what are you going to do to your opponent tonight, Champ?" the man asks. Champ looks up at Bronco and smirks.
"Knock his teeth out,” Champ says. The crowd erupts in cheers.
"Good boy," says the man. "Head on down to the bottom of the pool and good luck."
The man begins walking toward Bronco.
"And Champ's opponent... please welcome... from the scrappy city of Amarillo... Bronco!"
The crowd cheers as down in the pool Champ snorts and spits into the knee-high water.
"And Bronco... what do you plan on doing to Champ tonight?"
"I plan to send him to the emergency room."
The audience "ooooohhs," impressed , then applauds.
"That's the spirit, son. Now head on down there and neither one of you start until I say so."
As Champ shadow boxes - eyes on Bronco - Bronco descends into the pool, turns and begins to stretch out his muscles. The audience above quickly crowd around the poolside for a better view.
"All right, boys - meet up in the middle and shake hands," the man says.
Champ and Bronco stalk slowly toward each other and meet face-to-face, glaring, in the middle of the pool. Each young fighter tenses his muscles to intimate his opponent. Neither raises a hand.
"I don't think these boys like each other!" the man says to the laughing crowd. "Champ? Any last words?"
"Yeah," Champ says, smirking. "Say your prayers, boy!"
The crowd again "ewwwes" at the taunt.
"And Bronco?"
Bronco snorts loudly, then spits his wad into Champ's face, instantly pulling back and raising his fists.
The crowd gasps as Champ rears his head back instinctively and blinks in surprise. The crowd then explodes into cheers and laughter as the man shouts, "I guess it's on! FIGHT!"
Champ quickly raises his fists and the two boys begin circling, egged on by the crowd.
Bronco edges forward and fires a right cross to Champ's tobacco-spattered left cheek, connecting solidly and snapping Champ's head to the side. The young fighter stands his ground, but only long enough for Bronco to immediately fire a left cross into Champ's other cheek, connecting harder and sending the young fighter stumbling to the side.
The watching crowd cheers as Champ shakes his head clear and the two fighters resume their circling.
Champ edges forward, then fires his own right fist, slamming it into Bronco's nose. Bronco stumble back a few steps and shake his head clear as the crowd cheers Champ.
From his new distance, Bronco fires a soccer kick to Champ's stomach, thudding in and stopping the young fighter's advance.
Champ launches a sweeping side kick into Bronco's ribcage, slamming into it but failing to budge him.
Bronco lurches forward and fires a right uppercut to Champ's chin, snapping Champ's head upward, then immediately launches a left fist into Champ's stomach, forcing a grunt from the young fighter.
Champ immediately counterattacks with his own left cross that catches Bronco hard, opening a small cut on his right cheek and snapping his head to the side in a spray of sweat, sending him stumbling a few awkward steps.
The crowd again cheers the action as Bronco skips back two steps, then launches forward with a right fist slamming into Champ's nose, pushing him back a step before Champ answers in kind with his own right fist crashing hard into Bronco's nose and sending the teen twisting and stumbling back as if he'd been stung.
Both fighters now face each other warily, muscled chests heaving, dripping with sweat in the stifling heat. Blood begins dripping from Bronco's right nostril. He sniffs and wipes at his nose with the back of his wrapped hand, smearing red across the gauze.
"C'mon, Champ!" the boy's father yells. "Take it to 'em NOW!"
On command, Champ moves forward and fires a right cross into Bronco's left eye, snapping the fighter's head and pushing him a step back as Champ advances and fires a left cross into Bronco's right eye, again snapping Bronco's head as the young fighter continues to retreat backward toward the side of the pool.
The watching crowd cheers as Champ's dad shouts: "That's it, Champ! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!"
Champ fires a sweeping high kick across Bronco's face, connecting solidly and sending the teen fighter stumbling a few steps to his side. Champ immediately jumps forward and clamps both arms tight around Bronco's torso - the oiled and sweat-slickened skin of both boys sliding against the other - and fires a right knee into Bronco's stomach with a solid thud, producing a grunt from the young fighter as Champ shoves him hard against the pool's wall, knocking Bronco's breath out of his heaving chest.
The crowd again cheers Champ's onslaught as the smirking young fighter clamps Bronco's throat in his left fist and pulls back his right fist.
Champ opens his mouth to say something, but Bronco fires a right fist at the opened target, snapping Champ's head back.
The crowd laughs at Champ's stunned look, mouth still open, as Bronco rears back his left fist, but Champ immediately launches a knee into Bronco's bruised stomach, slapping in solidly as Bronco's knees began to buckle but hold.
"I'm gonna break your nose!" Champ snarls, then sends his right elbow flying forward and across Bronco's face, smashing across Bronco's nose and sending the young Texan's head bouncing off the pool wall.
The crowd screams its approval of Champ's domination of both the fight and Bronco.
Champ - still pressing Bronco hard against the emptied pool's wall - smirks as blood begins to spatter heavily down from Bronco's nostrils, down his lips and chin and dripping on to his muscled chest. As Champ again opens his mouth to speak, Bronco again fires a right fist toward the hole, but Champ is ready, dodging the blow that bounces lightly off his cheek.
Champ shakes his head. "Uh-uh," he says, then fires a right fist into Bronco's nose, sending the boy's head bouncing off the pool wall in a spray of blood and causing the bloodied young fighter to crash to his knees hard, his face falling limply forward into Champ's crotch.
Most in the crowd explode into cheers as a few boo and send their betting stubs raining down on the young fighters' heads. Champ's dad cheers and pumps his arm as Champ clamps a fistful of Bronco's hair in his left fist, looks up at the crowd, smirks and pumps his right arm.
Champ then looks down at Bronco as Bronco tries to shake his head clear, dabbing at his nose that continues to rain down droplets of blood onto his fight trunks and into the ankle-deep water.
Champ shifts his hands to either side of Bronco's head. Just as Bronco begins to look up, squinting, Champ pulls his right knee back and sends it flying toward Bronco's nose. Bronco dodges the move, Champ's knee brushing against his cheek before slamming into the side of the pool.
"AHHH!" Champ cries out as the watching crowd bursts into laughter.
Bronco tries to yank his head out of Champ's grip, but Champ looks down, clamps his teeth together in frustration and sends another knee flying toward Bronco's nose, slamming solidly into it as the crowd cheers and Bronco grunts in pain.
Bronco's attempt to break free becomes more frenzied as Champ, flexing his right bicep and pec muscles, clamps the hair atop Bronco’s head and yanks Bronco's head up nearly on par with his own. Bronco uses both hands to try and pry Champ's fingers lose from his mane, but to no avail.
Champ then rears back his left fist and sends it flying toward Bronco's right eye, smashing it hard and opening a cut under it. The force of it snaps Bronco's head, still clamped in Champ's fist. Bronco cries out as blood from his nose spatters the side of the pool.
Champ’s arm and chest muscles harden as he again pulls back his left fist.
"Goodnight, punk!" Champ sneers, then fires the fist deep into Bronco's left eye, the explosion of the punch snapping Bronco's head to the side and out of Champ's clutches, opening a cut across Bronco's right eyebrow. Bronco spins partly around, rag doll-like, before crashing onto his knees and then quickly onto his chest, splashing face-down in the water, knocked out cold.
The crowd roars as Champ, glistening with sweat and with Bronco's blood spattered across his heaving chest, fires both arms upward and screams "YEAH!" The triumphant young fighter swaggers in a tight circle, soaking up the adulation as the water under Bronco's face begins to billow red.
As Champ stands smiling, his back to Bronco, the Boss leaps down into the pool with a splash.
The watching crowd goes silent as Champ snaps his upper body around to see what made the noise. Champ's dad also jumps down with a splash between the Boss and Champ.
The Boss immediately goes to Bronco and turns him over, lifting his eyelids and lightly slapping his face.
Champ and his father ease their stance and the crowd begins to chatter, their interest diminished by the fight's end.
The Boss gingerly lifts Bronco and places him over his shoulder, then moves toward Champ, whose father stands next to him, hand on his shoulder.
"Nice job, kid," the Boss says, extending his hand to the young fighter. "You destroyed him in the second half."
Champ looks confused and turns toward his dad who looks down at him and nods. Champ cautiously extends his hand and the Boss shakes it.
"Looks like you're the kid to beat in this age category in Texas, if not this region," the Boss says. Champ nods slowly. The Boss then turns to Champ's dad.
"Any interest in a rematch?" the Boss asks. The dad nods.
"He's a tough kid," the dad says. "Muscle him up so his hits do more damage and you've got a great little fighter there. How experienced is he?"
"This is his second prize fight," the Boss says evenly. Champ's father looks impressed.
"He held his own pretty well for a newbie," he says. "The teen prizefighting community is pretty small, especially at their age. Make the rounds and develop some rivalries. Grudge fights are always a draw, and they bring bigger money."
Champ's dad nods toward his son.
"He has a rival in New Mexico and another in El Paso and the money's going up for each return match," he says, then reaches into his pocket and hands the Boss a card. "Keep in touch. We'll see if we can get these two to rip each other apart sometime."
The man who introduced Bronco's fight now takes the microphone.
"And our next fight..."
"Better go," says the Boss. "See ya."
Champ’s dad nods as Champ smirks at Bronco's condition.
The Boss climbs up out of the pool and is handed a small wad of cash by the man calling the fights. Champ and his dad climb out the other side of the pool as two older fighters - in their early 20s - jump down at either end. Party-goers surround Champ, patting his back and chatting as the fight organizer hands Champ's father a much larger wad of cash.
The Boss carefully rolls Bronco off his shoulder and onto his back on a gurney near the fighters. The Boss reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a large white pill. He squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger, then waves it under Bronco's nose. The boy gasps, shakes his head and opens his eyes, which dart around wildly.
"What happened?" Bronco asks.
"Champ kicked your butt and knocked you out," the Boss says. Bronco grunts. "Your right eye is going to swell shut and your left isn’t much better. You've got a cut across one eyebrow and a cut under the other eye. Your nose is bleeding pretty steadily but isn't broken. Your stomach is bruised and is going to hurt like hell soon."
The fight announcer leans over toward the Boss.
"Winners can stay but losers gotta leave," he says. The Boss turns toward the man and shakes his head.
"This kid provided you and your guests with plenty of entertainment," the Boss says.
"The other kid provided the entertainment," the man says. "Your boy provided the punching bag."
The Boss regards the man evenly for a second, then hands him a card.
"His name is Bronco and he's going to be the biggest underground fighting attraction in the state," the Boss says. "He'd love to get his revenge on Champ at your next party."
The man's eyebrows rise as he looks at the card and then pockets it.
"Maybe, maybe... but for now, losers out," he says, and walks away.
The Boss grabs a nearby towel and quickly wipes the blood from Bronco's chest, neck, mouth and nose.
"You gotta get up on your own and walk back to the truck in front of this crowd or you'll never be allowed to fight here or face Champ again," the Boss says. "I'll be in the truck. I leave in two minutes."
With that, the Boss stands up and disappears through the crowd. A few onlookers murmur and look between his retreating form, then back at Bronco, still flat on his back.
Bronco lifts his head to look around and sees a few of the guests smirking and looking back at him. He then sees Champ surrounded by a few guests getting patted on the back, a towel around his neck. Champ smirks at Bronco and flexs his pec muscles.
Bronco clinches his jaw in anger and rolls up off the gurney. He begins to walk around the pool, wiping his bloody nose on the back of his hand, his eyes locked to Champ's. Rounding the pool, Bronco pointed at Champ and shouts: "I'll see you again, punk!"
Champ stiffens, the smirk disappearing as he swells his chest and shouts back, "Here I am, loser! I'll knock you out again right now!"
The watching crowd murmurs in approval and turns to gauge Bronco's reaction.
Bronco stops, begins to turn in Champ’s direction, but then glances toward the sliding glass doors the Boss had disappeared through a few moments earlier. Bronco turns and glares once more at Champ, then hurries on toward the glass doors, his nose and eyes pounding in pain with every heartbeat.
"Yeah, that's right, little girl - run away to daddy," Champ shouts after him. "Punk loser!"
Bronco's cheeks burn as he speeds past the party goers – shirtless, shoeless, bruised and swollen, blood dripping from his nose and cuts. The teen fighter finally reaches the beat-up, idling red pickup and gets in the cab, angrily slamming the passenger door. Between him and the Boss on the bench seat is a red cooler. The Boss opens it, revealing syringes, liquids, a bag of ice, a compress, water bottles and towels.
"Fill the compress and put it on your eyes and nose and wipe up the blood," the Boss says, turning and noticing Bronco's heavily swollen eyes, now nearly shut. Bronco sits with arms crossed, face burning, staring at the floorboard.
"How does it feel to lose?” the Boss asks.
“It sucks…” Bronco murmurs. The Boss nods.
“Right,” he says. “Remember that feeling. Do as I say now, and don't worry - you'll be nose-to-nose with Champ soon enough.”.
"Cool!” Bronco snarls as the truck pulls away from the mansion.
– END – (Look for more great erotic combat fiction on www.praetorianconsortium.com. A new chapter will be posted there on May 6! Please leave your reaction to this story! Thanks!)
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warhorse573 (0)
5/02/2013 5:07 AMBy [email protected]
The following is one of seven free chapters from www.praetorianconsortium.com - offering the best in erotic combat fiction. Chapter are also available for sale. Registering for the site is free!
Please let me know what you think of this chapter on this site, on www.praetorianconsortium.com, or at: [email protected]
XXXX
Summary: What party by and for the ruling 1 percent would be complete without underground fights for betting purposes and admiring hard bodies? Teen underground prize fighter Bronco travels just outside his home town of Amarillo, Texas, to kick off the fighting festivities at an elite party on the back patio of a rural mansion. The fight pit is a swimming pool with just enough water to be dangerous where Bronco is set to face off with a fellow Texan opponent with the accurate name of Champ – no stranger to underground fist fighting with the muscle to back up the bravado. Working with a complex formula of dice rolls to keep the outcome honest and fresh , Will Bronco be leaving the party on his back or will he make a chump of Champ?
Wordcount: 3,781
Tags: Underground fighting; teen fighters, fist fight; fighting for prize money; betting on fights; no-rules bouts; pool fight; upscale party fights
Primary Characters: Bronco – Texas teen and underground prize fighter; “The Boss” – his mystery manager.
Secondary Characters: Champ – Texan teen and underground prize fighter
XXXX
The Boss turns the beat-up red pickup off the rural road and up to open, stylized gates and the security guard standing next to them. Young Bronco takes it all in - surprised and impressed.
"The fight's in there?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
"Yup," the Boss says. "At the bottom of a drained pool, like a pit fight."
Bronco smirks.
"Cool," he says, nodding.
"Do you have an invitation?" the guard asks the Boss, his tone of voice indicating that he seriously doubts it.
"Here," the Boss says, handing the young man a slip of paper. After a quick gaze, the guard looks up and over at Bronco.
"One of the fighters, huh?" he says. "I must have just checked in your opponent."
Bronco looks up the road past the gate, stretching his neck to see.
"Thanks," says the Boss, taking back the slip.
"Good luck," says the guard, smirking.
The Boss drives the pickup past the gates and, after glancing over and noticing that Bronco is leaning forward intently, presses on the gas and speeds up past the manicured grounds on a narrow lane bordered with expensive autos. Rounding a final corner reveals a newer pickup ahead blocking the lane. A parking attendant hands a ticket to the driver.
Exiting on the passenger side is a fighter Bronco's age wearing a snakeskin cowboy hat, plaid short-sleeve shirt unbuttoned to reveal muscular pecs and abs reddened by the sun, tight blue jeans topped by an oversized belt buckle and snakeskin boots that match the hat. The teen takes a final drag on a cigarette and flicks the butt away.
"He smokes..." Bronco says, surprised, then resumes chewing his plug of tobacco.
"Yeah - pretty decent muscles, too," says the Boss, glancing sideways at Bronco, who snorts.
"Big deal," he says. "I've seen better."
The teen notices Bronco and furrows his brow in anger.
"Show him what you're bringing to the rumble," the Boss says.
Bronco - wearing a baseball cap, hoodie, baggie pants and sneakers - instinctively unzips the hoodie to reveal his muscled chest and abs. His watching opponent tenses his muscles in response. Bronco quickly flexs back at him, then opens the pickup's door and steps out.
"Hang on!" says the Boss, slipping out of the pickup but leaving it running as an attendant approaches him.
Bronco stands his ground and checks out his opponent who returns the intense gaze. A few of the arriving party guests begin to notice the young fighters and point them out.
"I guess our little roosters found each other!" says the man who brought Bronco's opponent, clearly the teen's father.
"We better get them to the pool before they put a show on right here," the Boss says, approaching Bronco.
"C'mon, Champ" the man says to Bronco's opponent. "You can get to kicking his butt soon enough."
"See you inside, punk," Champ sneers.
Bronco spreads his arms wide.
"I'm standing right here, little boy!" Bronco snarls. A few of the watching guests laugh.
Champ begins taking off his shirt as Bronco lets the hoodie slip to the ground. The watching guests begin to cheer and clap.
Champ's dad clamps a hand on Champ's shoulder.
"I said get inside NOW!"
Champ stops, slips his shirt back into place, then flips off Bronco as he walks away. Bronco quickly flips him two simultaneous birds, then bends down and picks up his hoodie.
"Any rules to this fight?" Bronco asks, watching after his opponent as the Boss walks up to him.
"No... it’s all legal,” the Boss says.
"Cool..." Bronco says, nodding.
Bronco and the Boss enter the house - a mansion. The Boss shakes hands with an older, tanned man and they speak about money while the guy checks out Bronco - now bare chested and holding on to his hoodie. The guy points to the rear of the mansion and the Boss leads Bronco past crowds of guests and out onto a large back patio filled with tables. More guests are standing around the edge of a large pool, empty of all but knee-deep water.
Two groups are formed at either end of the pool's edge - four muscular men on one side and four on the other, plus Champ. The men are clearly fighters - wearing spandex and lifting weights or doing pushups. As the Boss leads Bronco to his side, the young fighter glares at Champ - now in spandex the color of the Texas flag – who lifts hand weights.
The Boss introduces Bronco to the fighters who smile and nod at their teammate's youth. Bronco pulls off his sneakers and shorts, revealing his American-flag spandex fighting shorts. Bronco quickly picks up two hand weights and starts pumping rapidly.
The man the Boss spoke to inside the mansion now enters the patio and lifts a microphone to his lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen - I wanted tonight's entertainment to reflect all that made Texas great, and what has made Texas great is balls and brawn!"
The watching crowd cheers.
"Texans are fighters, so I've gathered up 10 of the toughest underground Texan fighters I could find!"
The crowd cheers again.
"Place your bets on your favorites, then enjoy finding out who the top dogs are! Fights take place in the pool and there are no rules to slow down the action!"
As the crowd again cheers its approval, Champ's dad tapes the young fighter's fists as a fighter on the other side begins doing the same to Bronco's knuckles.
"Our first fight is between two of the meanest, toughest fighters here tonight - and the youngest! Texans are tough at every age, so please welcome, from the great city of Dallas - Champ!"
Champ's dad leans down and whispers in his ear and the muscled teen steps forward to the edge of the pool, raises his arms and flexes to the cheers of the crowd. The man with the microphone approaches him.
"So what are you going to do to your opponent tonight, Champ?" the man asks. Champ looks up at Bronco and smirks.
"Knock his teeth out,” Champ says. The crowd erupts in cheers.
"Good boy," says the man. "Head on down to the bottom of the pool and good luck."
The man begins walking toward Bronco.
"And Champ's opponent... please welcome... from the scrappy city of Amarillo... Bronco!"
The crowd cheers as down in the pool Champ snorts and spits into the knee-high water.
"And Bronco... what do you plan on doing to Champ tonight?"
"I plan to send him to the emergency room."
The audience "ooooohhs," impressed , then applauds.
"That's the spirit, son. Now head on down there and neither one of you start until I say so."
As Champ shadow boxes - eyes on Bronco - Bronco descends into the pool, turns and begins to stretch out his muscles. The audience above quickly crowd around the poolside for a better view.
"All right, boys - meet up in the middle and shake hands," the man says.
Champ and Bronco stalk slowly toward each other and meet face-to-face, glaring, in the middle of the pool. Each young fighter tenses his muscles to intimate his opponent. Neither raises a hand.
"I don't think these boys like each other!" the man says to the laughing crowd. "Champ? Any last words?"
"Yeah," Champ says, smirking. "Say your prayers, boy!"
The crowd again "ewwwes" at the taunt.
"And Bronco?"
Bronco snorts loudly, then spits his wad into Champ's face, instantly pulling back and raising his fists.
The crowd gasps as Champ rears his head back instinctively and blinks in surprise. The crowd then explodes into cheers and laughter as the man shouts, "I guess it's on! FIGHT!"
Champ quickly raises his fists and the two boys begin circling, egged on by the crowd.
Bronco edges forward and fires a right cross to Champ's tobacco-spattered left cheek, connecting solidly and snapping Champ's head to the side. The young fighter stands his ground, but only long enough for Bronco to immediately fire a left cross into Champ's other cheek, connecting harder and sending the young fighter stumbling to the side.
The watching crowd cheers as Champ shakes his head clear and the two fighters resume their circling.
Champ edges forward, then fires his own right fist, slamming it into Bronco's nose. Bronco stumble back a few steps and shake his head clear as the crowd cheers Champ.
From his new distance, Bronco fires a soccer kick to Champ's stomach, thudding in and stopping the young fighter's advance.
Champ launches a sweeping side kick into Bronco's ribcage, slamming into it but failing to budge him.
Bronco lurches forward and fires a right uppercut to Champ's chin, snapping Champ's head upward, then immediately launches a left fist into Champ's stomach, forcing a grunt from the young fighter.
Champ immediately counterattacks with his own left cross that catches Bronco hard, opening a small cut on his right cheek and snapping his head to the side in a spray of sweat, sending him stumbling a few awkward steps.
The crowd again cheers the action as Bronco skips back two steps, then launches forward with a right fist slamming into Champ's nose, pushing him back a step before Champ answers in kind with his own right fist crashing hard into Bronco's nose and sending the teen twisting and stumbling back as if he'd been stung.
Both fighters now face each other warily, muscled chests heaving, dripping with sweat in the stifling heat. Blood begins dripping from Bronco's right nostril. He sniffs and wipes at his nose with the back of his wrapped hand, smearing red across the gauze.
"C'mon, Champ!" the boy's father yells. "Take it to 'em NOW!"
On command, Champ moves forward and fires a right cross into Bronco's left eye, snapping the fighter's head and pushing him a step back as Champ advances and fires a left cross into Bronco's right eye, again snapping Bronco's head as the young fighter continues to retreat backward toward the side of the pool.
The watching crowd cheers as Champ's dad shouts: "That's it, Champ! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!"
Champ fires a sweeping high kick across Bronco's face, connecting solidly and sending the teen fighter stumbling a few steps to his side. Champ immediately jumps forward and clamps both arms tight around Bronco's torso - the oiled and sweat-slickened skin of both boys sliding against the other - and fires a right knee into Bronco's stomach with a solid thud, producing a grunt from the young fighter as Champ shoves him hard against the pool's wall, knocking Bronco's breath out of his heaving chest.
The crowd again cheers Champ's onslaught as the smirking young fighter clamps Bronco's throat in his left fist and pulls back his right fist.
Champ opens his mouth to say something, but Bronco fires a right fist at the opened target, snapping Champ's head back.
The crowd laughs at Champ's stunned look, mouth still open, as Bronco rears back his left fist, but Champ immediately launches a knee into Bronco's bruised stomach, slapping in solidly as Bronco's knees began to buckle but hold.
"I'm gonna break your nose!" Champ snarls, then sends his right elbow flying forward and across Bronco's face, smashing across Bronco's nose and sending the young Texan's head bouncing off the pool wall.
The crowd screams its approval of Champ's domination of both the fight and Bronco.
Champ - still pressing Bronco hard against the emptied pool's wall - smirks as blood begins to spatter heavily down from Bronco's nostrils, down his lips and chin and dripping on to his muscled chest. As Champ again opens his mouth to speak, Bronco again fires a right fist toward the hole, but Champ is ready, dodging the blow that bounces lightly off his cheek.
Champ shakes his head. "Uh-uh," he says, then fires a right fist into Bronco's nose, sending the boy's head bouncing off the pool wall in a spray of blood and causing the bloodied young fighter to crash to his knees hard, his face falling limply forward into Champ's crotch.
Most in the crowd explode into cheers as a few boo and send their betting stubs raining down on the young fighters' heads. Champ's dad cheers and pumps his arm as Champ clamps a fistful of Bronco's hair in his left fist, looks up at the crowd, smirks and pumps his right arm.
Champ then looks down at Bronco as Bronco tries to shake his head clear, dabbing at his nose that continues to rain down droplets of blood onto his fight trunks and into the ankle-deep water.
Champ shifts his hands to either side of Bronco's head. Just as Bronco begins to look up, squinting, Champ pulls his right knee back and sends it flying toward Bronco's nose. Bronco dodges the move, Champ's knee brushing against his cheek before slamming into the side of the pool.
"AHHH!" Champ cries out as the watching crowd bursts into laughter.
Bronco tries to yank his head out of Champ's grip, but Champ looks down, clamps his teeth together in frustration and sends another knee flying toward Bronco's nose, slamming solidly into it as the crowd cheers and Bronco grunts in pain.
Bronco's attempt to break free becomes more frenzied as Champ, flexing his right bicep and pec muscles, clamps the hair atop Bronco’s head and yanks Bronco's head up nearly on par with his own. Bronco uses both hands to try and pry Champ's fingers lose from his mane, but to no avail.
Champ then rears back his left fist and sends it flying toward Bronco's right eye, smashing it hard and opening a cut under it. The force of it snaps Bronco's head, still clamped in Champ's fist. Bronco cries out as blood from his nose spatters the side of the pool.
Champ’s arm and chest muscles harden as he again pulls back his left fist.
"Goodnight, punk!" Champ sneers, then fires the fist deep into Bronco's left eye, the explosion of the punch snapping Bronco's head to the side and out of Champ's clutches, opening a cut across Bronco's right eyebrow. Bronco spins partly around, rag doll-like, before crashing onto his knees and then quickly onto his chest, splashing face-down in the water, knocked out cold.
The crowd roars as Champ, glistening with sweat and with Bronco's blood spattered across his heaving chest, fires both arms upward and screams "YEAH!" The triumphant young fighter swaggers in a tight circle, soaking up the adulation as the water under Bronco's face begins to billow red.
As Champ stands smiling, his back to Bronco, the Boss leaps down into the pool with a splash.
The watching crowd goes silent as Champ snaps his upper body around to see what made the noise. Champ's dad also jumps down with a splash between the Boss and Champ.
The Boss immediately goes to Bronco and turns him over, lifting his eyelids and lightly slapping his face.
Champ and his father ease their stance and the crowd begins to chatter, their interest diminished by the fight's end.
The Boss gingerly lifts Bronco and places him over his shoulder, then moves toward Champ, whose father stands next to him, hand on his shoulder.
"Nice job, kid," the Boss says, extending his hand to the young fighter. "You destroyed him in the second half."
Champ looks confused and turns toward his dad who looks down at him and nods. Champ cautiously extends his hand and the Boss shakes it.
"Looks like you're the kid to beat in this age category in Texas, if not this region," the Boss says. Champ nods slowly. The Boss then turns to Champ's dad.
"Any interest in a rematch?" the Boss asks. The dad nods.
"He's a tough kid," the dad says. "Muscle him up so his hits do more damage and you've got a great little fighter there. How experienced is he?"
"This is his second prize fight," the Boss says evenly. Champ's father looks impressed.
"He held his own pretty well for a newbie," he says. "The teen prizefighting community is pretty small, especially at their age. Make the rounds and develop some rivalries. Grudge fights are always a draw, and they bring bigger money."
Champ's dad nods toward his son.
"He has a rival in New Mexico and another in El Paso and the money's going up for each return match," he says, then reaches into his pocket and hands the Boss a card. "Keep in touch. We'll see if we can get these two to rip each other apart sometime."
The man who introduced Bronco's fight now takes the microphone.
"And our next fight..."
"Better go," says the Boss. "See ya."
Champ’s dad nods as Champ smirks at Bronco's condition.
The Boss climbs up out of the pool and is handed a small wad of cash by the man calling the fights. Champ and his dad climb out the other side of the pool as two older fighters - in their early 20s - jump down at either end. Party-goers surround Champ, patting his back and chatting as the fight organizer hands Champ's father a much larger wad of cash.
The Boss carefully rolls Bronco off his shoulder and onto his back on a gurney near the fighters. The Boss reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a large white pill. He squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger, then waves it under Bronco's nose. The boy gasps, shakes his head and opens his eyes, which dart around wildly.
"What happened?" Bronco asks.
"Champ kicked your butt and knocked you out," the Boss says. Bronco grunts. "Your right eye is going to swell shut and your left isn’t much better. You've got a cut across one eyebrow and a cut under the other eye. Your nose is bleeding pretty steadily but isn't broken. Your stomach is bruised and is going to hurt like hell soon."
The fight announcer leans over toward the Boss.
"Winners can stay but losers gotta leave," he says. The Boss turns toward the man and shakes his head.
"This kid provided you and your guests with plenty of entertainment," the Boss says.
"The other kid provided the entertainment," the man says. "Your boy provided the punching bag."
The Boss regards the man evenly for a second, then hands him a card.
"His name is Bronco and he's going to be the biggest underground fighting attraction in the state," the Boss says. "He'd love to get his revenge on Champ at your next party."
The man's eyebrows rise as he looks at the card and then pockets it.
"Maybe, maybe... but for now, losers out," he says, and walks away.
The Boss grabs a nearby towel and quickly wipes the blood from Bronco's chest, neck, mouth and nose.
"You gotta get up on your own and walk back to the truck in front of this crowd or you'll never be allowed to fight here or face Champ again," the Boss says. "I'll be in the truck. I leave in two minutes."
With that, the Boss stands up and disappears through the crowd. A few onlookers murmur and look between his retreating form, then back at Bronco, still flat on his back.
Bronco lifts his head to look around and sees a few of the guests smirking and looking back at him. He then sees Champ surrounded by a few guests getting patted on the back, a towel around his neck. Champ smirks at Bronco and flexs his pec muscles.
Bronco clinches his jaw in anger and rolls up off the gurney. He begins to walk around the pool, wiping his bloody nose on the back of his hand, his eyes locked to Champ's. Rounding the pool, Bronco pointed at Champ and shouts: "I'll see you again, punk!"
Champ stiffens, the smirk disappearing as he swells his chest and shouts back, "Here I am, loser! I'll knock you out again right now!"
The watching crowd murmurs in approval and turns to gauge Bronco's reaction.
Bronco stops, begins to turn in Champ’s direction, but then glances toward the sliding glass doors the Boss had disappeared through a few moments earlier. Bronco turns and glares once more at Champ, then hurries on toward the glass doors, his nose and eyes pounding in pain with every heartbeat.
"Yeah, that's right, little girl - run away to daddy," Champ shouts after him. "Punk loser!"
Bronco's cheeks burn as he speeds past the party goers – shirtless, shoeless, bruised and swollen, blood dripping from his nose and cuts. The teen fighter finally reaches the beat-up, idling red pickup and gets in the cab, angrily slamming the passenger door. Between him and the Boss on the bench seat is a red cooler. The Boss opens it, revealing syringes, liquids, a bag of ice, a compress, water bottles and towels.
"Fill the compress and put it on your eyes and nose and wipe up the blood," the Boss says, turning and noticing Bronco's heavily swollen eyes, now nearly shut. Bronco sits with arms crossed, face burning, staring at the floorboard.
"How does it feel to lose?” the Boss asks.
“It sucks…” Bronco murmurs. The Boss nods.
“Right,” he says. “Remember that feeling. Do as I say now, and don't worry - you'll be nose-to-nose with Champ soon enough.”.
"Cool!” Bronco snarls as the truck pulls away from the mansion.
– END – (Look for more great erotic combat fiction on www.praetorianconsortium.com. A new chapter will be posted there on May 6! Please leave your reaction to this story! Thanks!) Please log in to view gallery photos.