1
Fight of the Century!
Part
One - The Rules
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“You ready to go over to the club yet?”
“Yeah, this place is really dead. Let’s head on
over.”
The two men grabbed their wind shells, paid, and left
the bar. The short walk to the club was enough to
allow them to feel the crisp air of autumn. There was
a tang in the air as they walked quickly, breathing
deeply. It was just past sundown, but the afterglow
of the sunset lingered, casting deep maroons across
the bottoms of the cloud cover.
Daryl felt an excited twinge in his whitey-tighties.
There were rumors floating around that the club was
going to have fighting tonight. Everyone said it was
going to be a good fight! No one knew who the
fighters were going to be though. Still, should be a
nice change of pace, Daryl thought.
For the Enth time that night his guilty mind
reprocessed his little-white-lie he had told to Lieza,
his girlfriend of a few years. He kept rationalizing
that he hadn’t really lied to her when she asked where
he was going tonight. He just hadn’t told her the
full truth.
In the end, it didn’t seem to matter to Lieza where he
was going, because she told him she was going to be
out with her friend JJ. He had no idea who JJ was.
This was the first time he had heard the name. He
knew his girlfriend was bi, and often would spend the
night or the evening with a female lover. She also
strictly enforced her original rule with him about it
being her body, and if she decided to allow another
man to have her, there was nothing he could do about
it. In fact, for the first six months of their
dating, she had allowed him to only have her bottom,
while she made a point of telling him she was letting
other guys have her pussy almost daily. She had even
made him watch a few times so that he would be
absolutely certain that she was giving her pussy away
to other men.
As they entered the club, he put that all behind him.
The sharp smell of cigars, the raucous music, the
booming voice of the announcer, all made him glad he
was here. He felt the shiver of excitement course
down his spine.
Both men lit a cigar and found their seats. They were
excellent seats, in the first balcony, front row! He
could not believe their luck at having been able to
buy them on eBay.
Settling back, they discovered they were just in time.
The announcer, in black suit and tie, ducked under
the ropes and took the mic. Standing up, he beamed at
the audience though the thick bluish haze of
cigar-smoke. He waited for a few minutes until the
tumultuous roar of the crowd died down to a dull
rumble. Every one leaned forward, eager to have the
mystery of who was fighting cleared up.
“Laaaaaaaaaaaaadiessssssss and Gentleman! Tonight we
have a first! Neverrrrrrrrr before has THIS type of
fighting been attempteeeeeed!”
The echo of the large coliseum enhanced the deep
sibilant voice of the announcer. It reminded Daryl of
Darth Vader’s deep whispery voice. Daryl felt the
tickle of growing excitement cascade over him. He was
here for a first! A new type of fighting! WOW! he
was again SO glad he had found a way to be here.
“Ladiessssssssssssssssssssssssssss and
Geeeeentlemaaaaaaan, here are the rules of this
contest! Listen carefully! They were hammered
ooooout just tweeeeenty minuuuuuutes ago betweeeeeeen
the twooooo conteeeestants!”
The rumble of excited murmurs spread throughout the
crowd. This was really something!
“First, let me say that one contestant tonight is an
inexperienced fighter!”
Again murmurs filled the vast room. When the crowd
again quieted, the announcer continued. “AND! The
other fighter has won every fight! A grand total of
nine straight in fact!”
The arena again erupted into speculative murmurs.
“Ruuuuuule number Onnnnne!” The promoter looked in
all directions, as if to assure himself that all were
listening. “Rule number One is that . . . there can
be nooooo bloooooows to the heeeeeeeeeeead!”
Exclamations of “What the fuck!!!!!!!!!” could be
heard through out the cavernous hall.
“Ruuuuule number Twwwwwwwwooooooooooooooooooo! There
can be no blooooooooows to the kidneys, froooooont or
baaaaack!”
That rule seemed to make sense to the crowd. They
hushed for the next rule.
“Ruuuuuule number Threeeeeeeeeeee!” Everyone again
leaned forward, puffing hard on their cigars as if
they were hardened fight fans. “Chest blows are
legal!”
Again the building erupted in “What the fuck?” Of
course chest blows were legal, where else would you
hit someone if you can’t hit their head or kidneys?
“Ruuuuuuule number Fouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur!” By now the
crowd was becoming a bit blasé. They were leaning
back in their chairs and joking with each other,
almost not paying attention.
The huge video screens focused down tight on the
announcer.
The announcer suddenly raised a strap-on dildo above
his head!
Not a sound could be heard from the crowd. Everyone’s
eyes were glued on the unexpected contraption.
The announcer turned it around and over, showing the
crowd the gaudily colored phallus. To Daryl it seemed
to be about twelve inches long, perhaps one and a half
inches in diameter, and had a pattern of contrasting
coloring.
“Ruuuuuule number Four iiiiiiiiiiiiis that . . . . ”
he paused for dramatic affect, as though that were
needed. “Rule number Foooooooooooooour is that this
device must penetrate the body of the losing
contestant THREE TIMES in a ROOOOOOOW, being inserted
to at least this point . . .” the announcer pointed
to where the gaudy coloring changed near the base,
“and then withdrawn to this point . . . . ” the
announcer pointed to where the coloring changed near
the head of the phallus “each time in order to count
as one of the three reeeeeeequiiiiiiiired
penetrations.” Again he paused. “Only the proper
insertion depth and withdrawal distances will count
toward satisfying the three penetrations rule.” A
graphic on the screen showed the three penetrations
occur in an asexual cartoon character.
The arena went nuts. No one could understand what
this had to do with a fight. After a few minutes of
cacophonous conversation, the heads again turned
toward the announcer.
“AAAAAAAAAAAnd . . . the final Ruuuuuuule! Ruuuule
number Fiiiiiive!” Not a sound from the stunned
audience. “The deeeeeviccccccce may be inserted into
any of THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE openings within the
contestants in order to count.”
Then it hit the crowd. This fight was between women!
The women would literally have to rape the other
contestant in order to win! Men struggled with their
spontaneous erections, trying to stay comfortable, but
not have their straining bulges showing.
Dozens of scantily clad, large busted women began
hawking programs throughout the crowd, proclaiming
loudly that the programs included the rules
graphically shown with real women for one hundred
bucks, cash only. They sold out in minutes.
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