The League: The Bridge Pt. 1

Story by KayrinSF on SoFurry

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

4 fighters square off in a deadly contest for a bloodthirsty crowd

Just a quickie I threw together over the last day or so. I kinda wanted to test the waters for a series that involves spectator deathsports in the same vein as current sporting events. Each "story" would involve the same league of competitors being pitted against one another in various violently-modified sports & competitions, all televised for the nation's viewing pleasure.

Today, it's wrestling over a spike-pit, because why the hell not? :D

Lemme know what you guys think! This, obviously, is only the first of 3 matches on the Bridge with the winner of the horse & canine going up against the dragon in the finals.

Enjoy, guys!

Shetland © KayrinSF


There comes a time when you must ask yourself what your priorities are. Are you a worker? A lover? A player? Or are you something more? Are you something intangible yet oddly familiar? A beacon to others only because you know who you are and the uncertainty of their own lives draws them to you; you are something they can never be...

"Shetland! Get your ass in gear, boy. The show's about to start!"

We seek out those unlike ourselves only so that we can--for one shining moment--learn more about ourselves, using the unfamiliar as a compass of what we are not. We are all many things to many people but I remain only a single thing to everyone I meet.

"Shetland! I swear to god, I'll come in there and crack your skull myself!"

I am an entertainer.

"That'll be the day, Larry!" The large Belgian draft horse threw back his head as he finally broke from the solitude of his own thoughts. Hot water sprayed from the tips of his blonde mane as he shook it while stepping out of the shower.

The locker room was empty, the others long since gone; the main event had come and the large equine had little reason to hurry, they wouldn't start without him.

"5 minutes. If you ain't out here, I'm tearin' up your contract! I swear to God, Shetland, I mean it!"

The horse simply whickered in amusement; that would be the day. Shetland--a nickname stemming from the overbearing size of his body, and one he had taken to with a certain degree of amusement--had heard Larry's threats a thousand times, and as the horse slowly dried his mahogany brown pelt, he found himself hoping that this time his manager meant it; he would be free! The male moved with a casual ease that only highlighted his indifference to Larry's frantic threats.

As he slid a pair of thin red briefs up over his powerful thighs, the equine considered himself in one of the many body-length mirrors which lined the walls to either side of the locker room's exit. He was not the largest in the leaguer, nor was he the most experienced, but he had somehow created quite the name for himself amongst the hundreds of thousands who tuned in each week to watch him fight. 6'8", the equine's body practically screamed of the power that hid in the sheathe of thick muscles which covered it.

"1 minute, Shetland!" Larry's voice drew Shetland's gaze towards the exit, but that was all.

"I'm coming" the male replied at last before he turned to head towards the arena proper. The male's briefs clung to his body, hiding little of neither the contours of his heavy sheath nor the firm cheeks of his ass as he walked; still, not a hint of embarrassment crossed the horse's features. Like a predator hunting its prey, the horse's thoughts were only on the goal.

--A_ND AT 6'8, WEIGHING IN A 310 POUNDS, IN THE RED TRUNKS, SHETLAND!_

Shetland stepped out to the applause of his audience. The lights of the arena swirled in a cavalcade of multi-coloured spotlights as music pumped from the ring of speakers which hung from the central rafters like a chandelier, though with none of the class. This was not a place for class; this was a place for sweat, and blood, for heroes and villains to meet and for bloodlust to be sated; this was heaven for the rich, the poor, the perverts and even some of the prudes. As Shetland trotted down the wide walkway which led to the ring, he knew this was what he was.

At the end of the walkway a trio of furs waited for the stony-faced draft horse. A tiger in blue trunks similar to Shetlands nodded to the stallion even as a broad-shouldered, black-scaled, wingless dragon in green trunks, and a tawny-furred Bullmastiff in black trunks turned to face the crowd. All four of the males remained silent as each turned to face a different direction to raise their arms. It was almost mechanical, well practiced for the crowd's amusement; though they would be rivals shortly, they were as much co-workers as anything.

"Ready, boys?" the dragon murmured to the other three as they finally dropped their arms.

"Ready to kick your ass again" The Bullmastiff answered.

"Ready to watch him do it" the Tiger mused, shooting the dragon a coy grin.

Shetland remained silent. The voice of the announcer boomed from the speakers only seconds later, riling the crowd up with recaps of what they had already witnessed and teasing allusions to what was coming. The four males split and headed for their designated areas without another word to one another; it was time to work. Each slid into their adopted personas as easily as they had their revealing briefs. The dragon's voice reached Shetland even as the two moved further apart; He was antagonizing the crowd, eagerly devouring the scorn they hurled at him. When he had been recruited he had taken to the part of the villain with an eerie ease, as though he had been practicing for the role his whole life.

..Now marvel as these four battle for their very lives and their honour in a battleground voted for by you, the fans--The Bridge!

A hearty rumble tore through the arena as the ground split down the centre of the enormous floor-area that made up the bulk of the performance area. From the depths of the dedicated colosseum-building a sight that had even Shetland watching with curiosity began to expose itself.

A long arching bridge made of simple stone blocks was the centrepiece of the emerging field. There were no railings, and the stones afforded only seven or eight feet to manoeuvre. The horse drug his fingers through his still-drying mane as he watched the structure move into position. Below the bridge--which rose nearly fifteen feet into the air at its apex--lay a field of spikes which still bore the remnants of past fighters amidst their blood-tinted tops. There was no horror in the howls of the crowd, only the enjoyment of the fights to come.

GREEN VERSUS BLUE

The announcers earlier flowery language was reduced to those three simple words, any pretence long since past.

The tiger and dragon moved to either end of the bridge, their half-cocked smirks a mirror image of one another. Shetland sat back, glancing towards the Bullmastiff only briefly before turning his attention to the current combatants. The two chosen fighters took their positions nearly a quarter of the way up the incline of the bridge, unable to see one another but well aware that the other was there. The crowd's feet pounded against the floor in unison, some declaring their support for the tiger while others shouted for his death, everyone secure in the knowledge that their would be blood regardless of who triumphed.

BEGIN.

The fighters took off at a run. To lag behind at the opening stage of the fight only allowed the opponent the advantage of being on the high ground and the benefits that came with that higher position. The tiger's body was tense as he reached the apex at the same time as the dragon, both males throwing themselves into one another with a reckless abandon that only incited the crowd to shout louder. For the two fighters, however, the crowd was little more than the droning of a mosquito; only the hot breath of their opponent mattered, the strain of their muscles as they clasped their hands together and sought to upend the other.

The tiger's bare feet braced against the stone, little room to either side of his broad body before the stone gave way to open air and certain death on the spikes below. Grunting with the effort of keeping himself upright as the dragon's strength bore down on him, the male pressed himself right up against the dragon's body. Warm fur met smooth scales and the feline's hardening cock ground against the bare thigh of the black-scaled warrior. The thin satin-soft fabric of the tiger's briefs did little to hide the growing tent as he put all of his effort into seeing the dragon fall before him; still, the spikes waited below patiently for their first taste of blood of the evening and they cared not whether it was dragon blood, or tiger.

The dragon could feel himself prevailing over the initial grapple. His muscles bulged and though they were evenly matched in size, the dragon had the benefit of his thick talons' ability to grab hold of the stone beneath them. The tiger found himself falling back several steps before he finally broke the grapple. The feline threw all of his weight into a side-ways shove, hoping to score a quick victory by catching the dragon off guard and ruining his balance with the sudden change of direction. The dragon was ready for it, however; he was fond of the same trick and as the tiger tried to break free the scaled male simply released him.

Jolting forward a step by the sudden lack of resistance against his weight, the tiger let out a frustrated growl. His body turned towards the edge of the bridge and left his side wide-open to a pair of hard punches from the dragon. Each hit drew a grunt of pain from the orange-furred male followed by his body tucking downwards to protect his ribs. As a third punch tried to break through the tiger's defenses, however, his own arm rose and flew into the side of the dragon's head in a vicious slam that had the large male reeling. His assault thwarted, the black-scaled fighter lifted a hand to clutch the side of his head as the tiger pushed his newfound advantage. Punch after punch slammed into the unprotected gut and chest of the stunned green-wearing warrior and with each hit he found himself falling back.

Sweat was already beading beneath the tiger's fur, each drop brimming with the raw emotion that surged around the two fighters. It filled the air with a cloying drive that had both the tiger and dragon ignoring their respective pain in favour of causing more to their opponent. Bracing his gut for yet another punch from the tiger, the dragon scowled as the feline's fist sent a sickening pain shooting up his belly and into his chest. His own claws dug into the tiger's shoulders, dragging the male towards him then away in a hard shove that nearly sent the feline sailing off of the bridge. Instead, the tiger fell to his ass in order to save himself from just such a fate, his tail twisting beneath his body as he slid against the smooth stone.

The dragon was on the downed male in seconds, his fists clutching for the tiger's shoulders as he tried to pin the frantic feline down against the bridge. Once again the fight became one of sheer strength, the dragon allowing gravity to aid him as he pressed down on his opponent. The tiger's eyes narrowed as he fought the inevitable press of his rival's body. His legs spread, granting him greater purchase against the stone even as his shoulders were slowly forced down against it. Whether intentional or not, he was dimly away of his rock hard dick jousting with the bobbing cock hidden beneath the dragon's green briefs, both shafts fighting a battle of their own as they jostled and slid against one another.

Minutes passed with neither fighter gaining any ground. Their bodies strained and their eyes locked with one another, but it was clear that they had reached a stalemate.

Pre-cum welled against the tip of the tiger's cock at the myriad of sensations--both physical and emotional--that threatened to overtake him. Still, he held onto himself as the dragon's jaws opened to try and catch the bulging tendons of his throat. The feline's knee rose sharply into the lower gut of the dragon and tore a raspy howl from the surprised reptilian male. A second shot caught the underside of the dragon's cock and drew an even louder cry from the hurting male. The feline could feel his opponent's grip weaken enough to allow a counter-attack, and like any trained fighter the tiger didn't miss his chance. Rather than try to get the dragon off of him, however, the tiger simply rolled. It was a risky move that could easily have sent them both tumbling from the bridge but as the tiger found himself rearing up above the now pinned dragon he knew it had been the right move to make. Their legs tangled in the scuffle and though the dragon's talons tightened their grip--drawing thin rivulets of blood from the tiger's flesh as they did--it was the tiger in control now.

Their jaws snapped in fury as the tiger's maw dipped and dodged as he attempted to catch the dragon's throat between his sharp white fangs. The dragon's head rolled this way and that, the length of his throat somehow staying out of the tiger's maw. Every inch of their bodies were fighting battles of their own; the tiger's hips tried to stay firmly planted atop the dragon's, his legs fighting to keep the dragon from getting some purchase on the stone bridge and his arms desperately seeking to keep the large black-scaled male firmly pressed against the stone.

It was as the tiger sought to readjust his position and at last catch the dragon in a fatal fang-hold that the dragon finally tried to regain the upper hand. As the feline shifted his weight, the dragon shifted his with it and once again they were rolling. They rolled back in the direction they had originally moved from though the tenacity of the dragon's tumbling hold on the tiger's shoulders nearly carried them over the edge once more. Instead, the tiger found his head and shoulders hanging over empty space and the dragon's knees firmly pinned to either side of his ribs. The feline's arms flailed as he sought some secure purchase but the dragon was quick to rob him of the chance.

The feline's jaws opened in a defeated roar as the dragon's maw fell upon his throat like a scarf made of sharp teeth and fetid breath. The thought that he had lost flashed through the writhing tiger's mind even as the dragon bit down. White teeth tore through soft fur, yielding flesh and hard muscle as the dragon ripped out the throat of his opponent in a stunning flash of triumph and gore. Blood spilled freely as the tiger's entire body jerked upwards against the male who had just vanquished him, cock straining and hips twisting to the side as a gurgling scream tried to escape the slain feline's muzzle.

Still pinning the dying cat beneath him, the dragon's head rolled back in a blood-stained howl of triumph before he rolled off of his writhing opponent. One of the tiger's paws had already moved to try and stem the flow of blood pumping from his rent throat, no air escaping his lips as they moved soundlessly with shock and pain; the crowd was ecstatic. The feline was spared no indignity, however. Even as he died, the dragon crouched to slowly lift the male's limp body with both hands, straining with the weight after the exertion of the short, but intense, match. The crowd ate up the somewhat vulgar display as though it were the finest caviar. Hoisting the tiger's increasingly lifeless body above his head the dragon displayed his trophy to the crowd-- though his arms wobbled and his knees locked--before hurling it over the side of the bridge.

The tiger was still barely alive as he fell. He was aware of the aching need in his dick, as though it had realized he was about to die and it demanded he attend to it one last time, and he was aware of the lights hanging from the stadium's roof so far above. Most importantly, however, he was aware that he had lost. The shouts of the crowd were for the dragon, not him, and when he was finally tossed aside he was almost thankful for the spikes suddenly rushing towards him.

The large male struck the spikes with a meaty impact that took the tiger's life immediately. Sharp points pierced his body in a dozen places, a final "HRRRRK" torn from the tiger's lips as he landed bellydown. One arm drooped lifelessly towards the floor while the other was propped up by the metal point jutting from its forearm. Blood slid down the shaft of the spikes and the dead male's body slid another inch or two with it before finally coming to rest; the Bridge had claimed a new decoration for its macabre collection.

GREEN DEFEATS BLUE!

The dragon hot-dogged for the crowd before finally stumbling from the bridge and returning to his seat.

RED VERSUS BLACK

There was no break between the matches and both Shetland and the Bullmastiff he faced made their way to the starting positions. Much like the dragon and tiger before them the two waited for their match to begin, eagerness tempered only by the still-cooling corpse of the tiger on the spikes below.

Soon, a second body would join him...