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Bloody Knuckle

It was Friday night. For some that means chillin' with their families or buddies. For me, that meant my life on the line. I was a Pride Fighter in an underground circuit that promoted fighters to the bigger circuits in bigger cities. I had my share of ass-whoopins, and more than my share of grueling victories. I was usually lucky enough to lose. Many others lost their lives here. Chief, my boss (and straight master) was my agent. He was a Great Dane, with a slightly-overdone belly. But his heart was made of pure platinum. He'd seen me throw my fists around enough to see that we could make money from my training. Kung fu, MMA stuff, Muai Thai, generally whatever I could get my paws on. And from a young age too. I was in the weight room, jackin up a weight bag, slowly forgetting that the rules could change at any time, that either my opponent or myself could be forced to kill the other if the rabbling audience demanded. I punched a few inches into the bag as Chief walked up slowly. "Yo Knuck!" he shouted from afar, taking generous care not to startle me. He knows I'd never lay a hand on him though. I yanked out my fist and steadied the bag. I perked my ears to catch his every word, like a good dog should. "Yeah Chief." He looked at the bag with a look of surprise. "You okay? I can pull you out at any time, if you're not sure about this. There are plenty of gigs I could get you." I smiled at him a bit bashfully. "Naw, Chief. I'm fine." I lowered my head, and he grinned a bit. "Who's my opponent tonight?" I asked, trying to develop a few mental strategies. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a black leather-bound, zipped-up notepad. "Let's see... He is a... Bull. His name is Ronson." I looked at him, and he looked at me. Then, we burst into laughter. "Knuck!" Chief shouted, and I stood straight up. "Chief!" I barked attentively. "We're havin beef tonight! Burgers, steak, tongue, the works! Tear him apart boy!" And that was that. I never disobeyed one of his orders. Whether I had to kill him tonight was irrelevant. But he WAS gonna get his leather-ass tanned. Shifting slightly to hide a slowly-forming bone, I went back to beating that wounded weight bag. "Knuck?" Chief said lastly as I stopped in place. "You're scheduled to get out there in fifteen. Please, don't get beat up too bad. And if he has to put you down, you run. Don't stop running. No one is killing the best dog in town." "WOOF! Knuckle's the best dog around!" I said in response. He and I had a good arrangement. I fought, he rewarded my victories. I lost, he tended my injuries. But the two of us were there together, and when I won the belt, he was the one who deserved to wear it. Chief walked off without another word, and I resumed drilling that bag. Time drew short, and I forgot, for a little while at least, that someone was gonna get their clock cleaned. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** I was being led down a hallway, to the garage-like opening that led to the ring outside. The scents of failure stung in my nose, and, like the videos they seemed like, I could guess the memories. Some furs died in this place, unable to make it to the hospital, with bodies so badly battered it seemed like they fought tornadoes out there. Others made their mark, and left this place, never to be seen again by anyone who hadn't already made it big. Three wolves lost their lives. I wouldn't be the fourth. Chief would die if I did. The lights at the end of the tunnel were bright. Chief was with me, helping my apply my paw-wraps, and talking me up the way I liked. "You got the biggest balls around Knuck. YOU are the knuckliest of all Knucks! YOU got the arm to prove it!" he said as he squeezed my right forearm. My dick-beatin arm. Tamed and toned with YEARS and YEARS of being a horndog. My heart raced, but I was cool and calm, like still water. "I was gonna tell you to get a twelve-point buck, but a steer's good enough. You hungry?" Chief continued. "WOOF. You sit back and chill. My Chief's gettin a steak too big for the plate it's gonna be on." Chief beamed confidently. "THAT'S my dog!" he shouted ecstatically. We reached the end of the hallway, and stopped shortly. Chief rubbed my shoulders, and handed me my pair of lucky shorts. We turned our backs to one another. "Handle your business" he instructed. And I did. I stripped, bare-assed. I gripped my nuts, testing myself. And as usual, I growled. I liked it. I pulled the other pair up, grey and worn, and tied the drawstring tight. Then, I held my arm out behind me. "Belt, Chief." I felt it hit my palm, then I tied it around my waist black-belt style. And for me, it was showtime. Chief and I left the other guy in the hallway, and he walked me to the ring through a sea of screaming furs who wanted to see some bloodshed. The ring was empty when we got there, and Chief held the ropes open for me so I could climb up and through. I found my footing and held the ropes open for Chief so he could get up there with me. There were two wooden stools across from each other in the opposite corners, much like a boxing ring. I sat down on the one for me, and Chief knelt beside me. "You're gonna be okay boy. You're steel, compared to the guys you've broken to get this far." he said reassuringly. And I believed him. A dog knows trust. I nodded, and he hugged me. "Please be careful..." he whispered into one of my ears. And I nuzzled him lightly. "Don't you worry Chief. If I have to, I'll shoot his ass." I joked. I just hope he calmed down. I could tell he was scared of this guy. "Chief, I don't doubt that this guy's gotten here just by winning. How many has he killed?" Chief kept hugging me, and tightened his grip. He hugged me so tight I could feel him shivering with subdued fright. "Eighteen kills and five TKOs. No losses." he said with a shudder. "I got him." You get back now. The Brahma just got here." Chief let go and looked, and he grew pale. This guy was indeed gigantic. I'm tall, but I'm lean. This guy must've been an easy twelve-hundred pounds. But I guarantee that he was too bulky to be a ballet dancer. The referee (who was a skunk) entered the ring, and the cheering intensified. He motioned the two of us to the center, where he made us bump fists. We both backed up a bit, and I put my dukes up. I swayed left to right once, and threw a punch and held it as I became motionless. Some of the audience cheered, and camera flashes went crazy. I relaxed, and the bull stomped once and moo'd crazily. Hah. More flashes erupted, and the ref then called us back, where we both put up one fist apiece. Ref grabbed them both, and looked at the both of us. "These people came to see a show! Now, demonstrate your talents to the greatest degree possible, and FACE YOUR OPPONENT!" The audience went crazy as we both took our stances. I bet the bull was going to focus on gores and haymakers. Everything else was drowned out as I engaged this step prior to an Angus burger. I loosened up, and began to hop around a short distance, making myself a moving target. My shoulders were loose, and my fists were balled up. Ronson kept his eyes on me as I bounced all around him. I wasn't trying to get close to him, but he wasn't having too much trouble keeping up with me. I could tell he was experienced enough to know that he should really try to keep me in front of him. But my best combat quality is my agility. Hopping around to the left and right, I made the decision to take him on. I guess he decided the same thing as he hoofed the ground a couple of times. -What's he comin at me with, a left with the horns, or a right?- He rushed me powerfully with both arms out, trying to grab me in a hold. His head was lowered a bit... When he got close enough, I went still. He didn't notice. I grabbed his horns, and with a light stomp, I wrenched myself up, and launched a knee at his nose. His eyes swelled with shock as it connected, and a bit of blood burst forth to stain my fur. He stopped, stunned enough to add another hit to my combo count. I let his horns go, and fell with an elbow to his already busted shnozz. As soon as my feet hit the ring floor, Ronson's vagina swelled up and he threw a punch at me in bratty retaliation. I crossed my arms in defense of my torso, and caught the blast of a blow head-on. My body reacted in a couple of ways, by tensing up to weather it since I didn't have a chance to dodge, and by hopping back a mere instant before I actually got hit for the assist to my escape. I flew back in a controlled fling, landing easily with a crouch. I put a hand down flat, and my forearm ached. Ronson looked furiously at me and pawed the ground with a hoof. The crowd cheered incomprehensibly, and I felt a bit of doubt. He was strong. As strong as I was fast. Those shots to his nose didn't do much but show me he could bleed, and he wasn't happy with me at all. But the bell rang, and he would have to deal with his sore nose for a bit. He eased back into his corner, and planted his big ass on a comparably tiny stool as his coach checked him out. I stepped back to my corner with Chief, and he had a ton of questions. "That blow looked heavy! Are you okay Knuck? Did you get some strategies going? How strong is he?..." He was already scared, and to him I might as well have just been dismembered. He posted up behind me and rubbed my shoulders, and I raised my arms as he held a roll of gauze to wrap my arms up with. I sniffed it, and my nostrils stung. "These the good ones Chief?" He smiled a bit and nodded. He wrapped my left arm from my elbow up to my wrist, and the effect set in. Medicated, for muscle aches and cramps. Nice. It felt good, and slightly cool as they were working on the spot to keep the bruising and swelling down. I took it to heart as I remembered that Chief looked out for me. And if I can repay his trust, a frog on the arm is nothing. I cracked my neck on the left and right, and looked at Ronson from across the ring. His coach, a noisy stork, shoved a few cotton balls in his nose to staunch is bleeding. He winced as it probably stung, and his eyes met mine. He glared at me for a second, but I didn't blink. And at that moment, he seemed to shrink back, if for less than a single second. I didn't make a face, but I as a wolf was looking at this hunk of brisket. His coach smacked him lightly and I lost his attention. Chief patted my shoulders as the ref made his way back to the center of the ring, and riled up the audience some more. The stork left the ring, Chief followed, and Ronson and I stood up as the ref made us bump fists. I jostled my nuts as I stepped back, and Ronson looked confused. But the confusion shifted ownership to me as he did the same thing, except his balls made a strongly visible impression in his shorts. A lump formed in my throat. "NOW! FACE YOUR OPPONENT!" The bell rang and I dropped to all fours, bolting forward like a bullet. Ronson looked ready for it; he raised a hoof to squash me. I stopped short and his hoof crushed the spot right ahead of me, and leapt straight up grab at his horns again. He made a grab at me with both hands, and I grabbed his shoulders to push back out of the way. I landed and bounced backwards, and Ronson pawed the ground as he stampeded right at me. He was faster on the ground than I was in the air, and he closed the gap between us fairly quickly. I landed and rolled between his legs, to avoid his horns. His thin tail was there to greet me as I stood up, so I chomped it and held on! Ronson bellowed loudly in what sounded like...surprise? He turned and planted one of those small anvils for hooves in my side, and you can bet that I let his tail go then! DAMN that hurt! I saw red and black slashes, the sounds of stars deafened me. I slid on my feet and then stumbled, and he was on me. He grabbed me around the arms and started to lift me. I grinned. As he lifted me, my oped palm quickly caught and gripped a dense lump in his shorts. Ronson bleated in...again surprise, and I fell. Things fell into slow motion as I dropped. I turned to bounce off of one foot, and when my it made contact... Ronson reeled back as he clutched his jaw, grunting from my heel smashing into it at hyper speed. He staggered back, and I dashed forward and jumped up level with his head. His eyes locked on mine right before I rolled back into another kick. His head rocked back like I uppercutted him, and I landed while swinging my leg around to my left. The momentum made me turn my back, and I my free leg continued to swing, carrying me into one more back flip which was the last blow, a 580 flash kick. Ronson dropped to his knees, clutching his head with his eyes shut tight. I landed in front of him, and the ref checked him out. He wasn't standing up again. The ref declared in my victory, and I mooned Ronson, bare-assed. The crowd was already insane, and Chief ran into the ring. He stopped just short of me and cleared his throat, as my shorts were still past my waist a bit. I pulled them up and tied them tight. Then Chief gave me a crushing congratulatory hug. "WOW! You must have pulled that last part outta your ass, because I've NEVER seen you do that before! GOOD boy!" he said as he beamed straight through me. He patted me softly, and hugged me tighter, enough to remind me of having my side crushed by the steer. I yelped, of course. "Oh, sorry Knuck!" Chief whispered as he loosened up, ut just a little. I grimaced internally, none of my pain is ever Chief's fault. But Ronson had it worse: his manager tore through him like a tornado. He was even pecked a couple of times. But he looked at me, and our eyes locked. I could tell he was a bit frustrated, but he nodded at me. I nodded back, and returned to reality as the ref held up one of my hands. I in turn raised one of Chief's. And he blushed. Hard. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Chief was away, handling the paperwork for gettin our winnings. I needed a shower. So the locker room was where I'd be for the duration. It was silent here, save for the noises I was making; this place was for the contestants only. I was gettin drenched with hot, soothing water, thanks to the huge water heater this place had. I closed my eyes, and replayed the night's events. The beginning of the second and final round, Ronson eying my signature with...something that wouldn't leave me alone. Ronson doing the same, and how I felt when I saw the outline of his impossibly large balls. My dick lengthened from a mix of heat and fiery, unnamed lust, but I froze as I heard the locker room door slam. "...CLOP..." I quickly turned the hot water up on all of the shower heads, and crouched in a corner as the steam gave me excellent concealment. "...CLOP...CLOP...CLOP..." The footsteps were getting closer, and I flattened my ears to aid my stealth. A large figure lumbered into the shower room, obscured by the steam. But I could see his feet, rather hooves- HOOVES? -Ronson must be here to demolish me- I though. -Maybe I made him feel bad...- I waited as I saw him stand there, probably looking for me. He made a few grunts, like I was SUPPOSED to be here. He didn't seem to be in a hurry... He walked over to the showers and began to rinse himself off. And that made me smile. "What'chu want, Angus?" I called out. Ronson stomped a couple of times in shock. "You were here? Where were you?" he asked. He also didn't sound angry. That realization stuck around. "I was cleanin my nuts, before I heard you bring your big ass down here. Why? You want revenge?" He snorted, and laughed a bit. Nervously. "C'mon. Show yourself. Your're makin' me nervous... We can just talk man. I didn't come here to shower..." That too stuck with me, but it stuck like a knife. "You didn't come to shower." I repeated. I sighed, silently enough to keep my location undisclosed. I stood up, and posted up in the corner. He didn't see me right off, but he eventually found me. "If not to shower..." I said, so he could finally get his eyes on me. "Then for what? Revenge?" He suddenly looked nervous, and shook is head 'no'. He blushed. Okay... "What the fuck for?" I shouted, tired of the dancing around. He grinned, and wiped some formin' moisture from his mouth. "A rematch." The lump in my throat tightened. "A rematch? Why? Gettin yer ass dusted twice should be too much shame for ya." He kept up his grin, unfazed. "Maybe I'd like to see if I could dust YOURS, Knuckle." He took a couple of wide steps toward me, and I heard an accompanying SWOOSH. "I like the way you...carry yourself Knuckle. Especially the way you did in the ring. What did your manager call you... KNUCK?" I gruffed up. "That name ain't fer you to use." I hissed as he drew my old country drawl out. "Maybe I WANT your name, or YOU in my mouth Knucky." What the hell? Where did 'Knucky' come from? "Wha's with the name? We ain't got nothin' special goin on." Ronson looked defeated. Really defeated. His shoulders drooped. "...Alright then..." He turned to leave, and it dawned on me. He liked me. I don't know for how long, but he saw somethin in me that he wanted to be a part of, and I rejected him savagely. His broad-as-a-billboard back was all I could see, and I bolted off after him. SPLISH SPLISH SPLISH was all he could hear, and I tackled him to the wall in front of the door. I reached under his big butt and grabbed his...what the? I grabbed something all right, but it was like a smooth rope. Ronson began to shiver, and he spread his legs. He placed his hands on the wall, and I could finally see what I had my fist around. His scrote was as thick as a quarter. His...balls hang down a full foot. And they were huge, like sweet-potatoes. A thin coat of fine brown hair covered everything. No wonder I beat him so easily. I hit his sweet spot. "Uhn... D-don't...let go man, p-please..." he said as he lowered his head. His whip-like tail lashed me softly. I was...impressed. "Goddam! Were you BORN with these? I didn't know they came this big!" Ronson chuckled at my remark. I squeezed tighter and he stopped. But he shook like the last leaf on a tree branch in the face of a gale. I spun him around, and he had the dumbest grin on his face that I'd ever seen. He opened his arms and grabbed me, shoving me into his great abs and his foot-long dick. I grabbed it and angled it upward so it rested comfortably along my torso and pecs. THAT took a bit of strength, and a good grip. I reached down and hoisted his nuts, grunting to give him a boost to his ego. "Things are heavy..." I said, and he chuckled again. His big arm lowered from my back to grab one of my hairy wet butt cheeks, and proceeded to grab MY balls. I filled his palm well, and HE was surprised. But I began to pant hard as he squeezed back. My substantial dick stood, making friends with his thigh as I stroked his balls a bit before I let them fall to swing back into the wall with a THUD. Ronson gritted his teeth. I wasn't finished. I began to stroke the exposed part of his dick. Pre exploded onto my pecs, and I sped up. Ronson crushed me into his abs, and I leaned in close. I stroked him like I wanted to set this beef sausage link ablaze. I succeeded in makin HIM hot though, and I made him sweat as I licked his chest. He moo'd like a bull should, grunting as I made his wish come true. His hot breath washed over my back like storm clouds, drawing static that parted around my tail and charged me through my ass. I gripped the rope that was his sac's plumbing, and pre splatted up my chest and neck. Nice. Against the wall, Ronson staggered through something he felt was important enough to say. "Kn-nuck-kle, I g-got-tta t-tas-taste ya m-man..." I suppose it was then. I backed up quickly and his dick sprang out like it was trying to catch me. It looked like some strange alien tentacle, as it just drooled and drooled. He was so hard that I could actually see the darkness in his tube. He slid down to the floor, motioning for me to knock the back of his neck out. He rearranged his balls so they were out between his legs, and he had that damn grin again. I strode up to him, and his tongue slithered out like it wanted to greet me first. I grabbed his handle bars. "You ready?" I asked. "Give it to me, stud puppy." he responded. He had took me into his actually cavernous mouth, and my tip rested on the slightly ticklish hairs on the back of his tongue. He closed around me, and I placed my feet on his shoulders. He sucked lightly, I humped lightly, parting those soft, greasy bristles. He sucked some more, and I fell into my rhythm of deep strokes into his quickly stimulating mouth. I humped his face, using the blessings in my hands and the strong, die-cast shoulders under my feet to feed this thunderbeast a high-protein milkshake. He wanted it too. He changed pressure numerous times, and let his tongue snake out (accompanied by a flood of dickdrool-soup) and cradle my nuts individually. THAT was a sweet trick. I split more of those hairs, and it pretty much enveloped all of my most sensitive parts. I yelped from such a sweet feeling, and Ronson chuckled. I powered on! He beat his tube using his pre as lube, covering each inch with smooth strokes. With his free hand, he got a mix of his drool and pre on a couple of fingers. I wasn't payin too much attentio- "FUCK!" I yelped as he shoved in two moderately thick fingers, and I hit the back of his throat as I jumped. He went slow though, and I was thankful, if not turned on. Each time I thought he was almost out, he'd shov'em back in and I'd deliver with a slam. I could feel the hairs about halfway down my dick, and Ronson sped up, pegging me, makin' me feed him! He looked like he was dreamin. He wrapped his tongue around the neck of my nuts and tugged them. That was it. I gritted my teeth and built my load to maximum pressure before I pierced steel with a cannonball of a shot. He gagged and swallowed, beatin his tall dick silly before he began to breathe hard himself. He swallowed a good bit, and grunted as he began to shoot his moo juice high, angling his dick to shoot between my cheeks and onto my balls. He shot a great load. It was all on my backside, dripping slowly like some runny syrup, and on everything else between his abs to his knees. My puppies ran from his mouth like wasted milk. He sucked and stroked my dick with his tongue, and as it let my balls go I could feel him suck his own cum off of it. I panted like I wrestled a hurricane as I rode through such a good nut, and Ronson did the same. His fingers popped out of my hole and he rubbed my back. I let go with one hand and patted him on the head. We froze as we could hear Chiefs voice. "Knuckle, with our winnings I bought Ronson's contract; he's workin with you while he's workin' for m-" He stood there in shock as he could see the aftermath of our efforts. I was still balls-deep in Ronson's mouth, he was holding his half-limp dick, cum was EVERYWHERE... "I see you ah...had your steak early..." I blushed deeply. "Well, uh... I didn't think you'd want any of this kind of steak..." Ronson gulped. Chief turned around. "His manager canned him, so I figured you two could uh...work out a partnership." Ronson gasped, with a mouthful of dick. "I don't think that that would be a...problem Chief." I returned. He cleared his throat. "Good, uh... Training's the same time tomorrow, make sure you two are...up early enough in the morning. Ronson, you're gonna be stayin with us from now on, so... Get...acquainted with your sparring partner." Chief walked away, and I instantly felt bad. I tried not to let him know too much about my habits. But Ronson slurped again, and that thought was depressurized away, somewhere into my mind. We spent the next hour or so actually showering, joking and whatnot, before Ronson left to face the city with a night on the town. I put my shorts back on, and looked myself over in front of a mirror. It was late. I should leave as well... But as I began to walk away, I stopped. I looked over my shoulder. There was the battered weight bag, hanging lonely and lifeless in the corner... With an insane and sadistic grin, I charged it.