Titan Clash
This story involves homoeroticism, if you are underage or don't like such schlock read on no further, otherwise enjoy.
It's been a long season in the underground cage match circuit, an infamous association known all too well â€" from whispers and rumors â€" to house the strongest and ballsiest fighters in the country, if not the world. The Finals, a.k.a. Deathmatch. It all came down to this; two testosterone-pumped warriors would enter the ring, one would exit, whether by K.O. or otherwise.
The seemingly abandoned arena, from outer perspective, looked nothing more than a run-down, dilapidated shit-pot, settled in the dust of its former days of glory. To those with admittance, however, it housed the only ring that ever saw real blood and real fighters, and the seats surrounding were packed with tens of thousands of eager patrons, and billions world wide watching in the comfort of their armchairs and couches through BGTV (known as Blood & Gore Television, or Balls, Guts, & Testosterone-vision).
"Welcome, one and all to the moment you've been waiting for!" bellowed the lithe raccoon in a fishnet shirt and tight leather hose, the prime anchorman for BGTV, his voice carrying though blunt but so like cannon fire. A finger held to his headset to keep it on as he flailed about characteristically, bangles and piercings glistening in from the aura of glowsticks hanging from his neck. He ran down the aisle, clapping hands of reaching spectators as the camera followed close behind; he pounced onto the cage and scrambled up the bars in a matter of seconds, standing atop the iron-cast structure like a rock star on stage, "I am the one, the only, DJ Doomsday!" he declared to ignite the roaring fans, throwing horns into the air, "Here to satisfy your bloodlust in the only civilized way I can: by pitting the 2 largest, meanest, strongest, ballsiest champions in a fight to the death!" Across the nation and across the world, the audience cheered and exclaimed their savage elation at their TV screens. He held out his palms, and the crowd became solemnly quiet in an instant, all spotlights focused on the ringtail and his glowing tubes of goo.
"From the west coast, standing 8'9" and weighing 500lbs, ladies, gentlemen, and kids of all ages, our home-grown hero:" he paused, excitement like electricity in the air. He snapped at a far corner of the arena, a massive spotlight flooded where he pointed and pounding rock music flooded the air with the screams of delight. There stood a mountain of dark chocolate muscle draped in blood-violet robes (if violet were a blood color, it would be this), a monstrous bull with devilish horns sticking up from his head, a grand ring punctured through his nose. "K. L. Lewiston...the 'King Killer'!" The bull's presence alone brought thick musk into the air as he stalked down the aisle, greedy paws reaching out to grope his shoulder or whatever part they could touch. He wore a grin, though a modest one, as he walked up to the cage, a door opening for him to enter. Once inside he removed his robe, clad then in only a stretched white speedo (more of a thong) that only just held an evidentially massive package to his body, although the outline shown well by those in the first few rows. Every strand of sinew stretched as he flexed for his adoring fans, posing with his arms above his head, then below his massive chest, soaking in the copious praise of every spectator. The raccoon held up his hands once more, though it took a bit longer to quiet the crowd, he motioned for them to settle. King crossed his arms patiently and stood there like a brick wall covered in a dark chocolate pelt, a glistening grin on his snout.
"Let us now welcome the newest member to our little fighting circuit: traveling all the way from the Savannah, the rookie that shown brightly in his fervor to climb up the ranks on his first try, and make it all the way to the Finals, weighing 623lbs and standing 9' tall, let's hear it," he snapped at the opposite corner from where the bull came from, a spotlight shown upon a towering boulder in the shape of a rhinoceros, "Horace Shinkar...'The Hornmeister'!" Applause erupted from the crowds once more as the stone-gray behemoth traversed the aisle, paws reaching out to touch him somewhere, and everywhere they touched, he seemed unresponsive...glaring hard at the awaiting bovine inside the cage.
He stepped in through the offered door of the iron bars, tossing aside the navy blue robe he wore, now stripped to the dark aqua latex shorts underneath, fabric stretched by his raw muscle and just as impressive equipment. The bull took a stance, as did the rhino, they exchanged harsh glares, horns glistening in the spot light. It was no surprise that these ones made it all the way into the Finals; though weapons were not allowed into the ring, those with horns weren't restricted from using naturally sharp points to their advantage. They slowly began to circle, and the raccoon interjected as he crouched on the roof of the cage, "Whoa! Our warriors are itching for a fight! Can't you just smell the musk in the air?! Quick, someone ring the bell so they can fight!" And with that a clear, sharp chime rang through the roaring crowd, and like gunfire the 2 brutes charged head-first at each other with an ear-splitting crack of skull-on-skull, eyes blazing with an intense flame, both just missing each other with their horns....
~
With 7 rounds, it was one of the longest bouts in history of the Finals, and surely there'll be record ratings. In the locker room, K.L. sat at a bench with a horn-wound in his side; he wasn't worried, he's had worse than a graze like that, and the old coyote miracle doctor kneeling beside him was diligent and quick to patch up the gash. The bull nodded to the doctor and said his thanks as he sat on the bench, letting sweat trickle down his body, the torn speedo already removed so his free-hanging genitalia lay limp between his thighs, thick, pendulous, and uncut. He contemplated taking a shower, and decided to act on the decision; without a word he stood and grabbed a towel from his personal locker, slung it over a broad shoulder and headed for the water spigots and tile floors. As he stepped closer his head and ears perked, noticing a strange sound echoing around the reflective tile. He peeked into the community stall closed off specifically for the fighters, and found the rhino sitting pathetically underneath a running shower, curled into a ball and his shoulders shaking. K.L. simply blinked at the sight, and thought maybe to use another shower before remembering there were no more to choose from.
There he stood on the threshold, presence unnoticed by the rhino, obviously, watching the coiled limbs hide the sobbing pachyderm. The awkward moment lasted what felt a lifetime, until K.L. stepped inward and toward the gray behemoth; the sound of his hooves on the tile finally caught Horace's attention. He, the rhino, peaked up from his folded arms, his reddened eye sprang wide as he stood to his feet in an instant, wiping his one good optic orb, for the other was gouged out during the fight (and healed closed by a miracle doctor). He had a nice body to be sure, everything already seen in the cage before, and what wasn't, hung freely and halfway to his knees, though cut.
"Oh...uhh..." he started off, his voice obviously shaky, if not childish, he cleared his throat and narrowed his eye once more, placing hands on his hips and tried in vain to look casual and business-like, "That was a good match, King, umm, you fought...good." He cleared his throat once more, only to be answered by the bull's quirked brow. Turning to the nearest spigot, K.L. whipped the towel behind the faucet and fiddled with the knob to get a nice hot stream of water. Horace looked from the bull to the shower, then twitched and followed suit, quickly turning his own knob to get a suddenly cold then suddenly hot spray of water on his gray skin.
"The showers here are a bit tricky," said the bull simply. The rhino nodded and grunted affirmation immediately, not missing a beat. Silence lingered between them as K.L. stood underneath his spray of water, letting it cascade down his body. Horace glanced to the wall and to the bull multiple times, swaying from one foot to the next, acting like a child just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Hey King..." began the pachyderm to the bovine.
"Are you always this fidgety?" interrupted the bovine to the pachyderm.
"Well...uhh..." began the rhino, taken back.
"Dude, relax, we're not in the ring, there are no cameras here," said the bull, looking to the gray giant.
Horace nodded, gulping and wringing his hands a bit, "What you just saw...me crying..." he began, "No, I don't normally cry after a fight, especially not after losing..." he paused.
"But...?" continued the bull.
"But...this was the Finals..." he said at last, his head hung, his eye closed as a large thumb wiped away another tear that formed at its corner. "I've spent years watching the circuit, watching you, Keith..." The bull blinked, not many knew his first name. "I've wanted to be a The Grand Champion ever since I saw you win the Finals on your first try." He looked to the bull, whom had an expression mixed with confusion and wonder, though subtly, "You're an inspiration to so many, Keith, to me...and I've failed you. I couldn't win the Finals on my first try, I've trained for years and I wasn't good enough to live up to your image." His fists clenched and entire body shook, if just a bit. K.L. felt at a loss to respond; he's dealt with fighters before who he's defeated or who's defeated him, but not one had such evident admiration as Horace had. He reached a tentative hoof and gently caressed the stone-shaped shoulder; he hadn't imagined that anyone who cried so much would appeal to his softer side like this. King thought back to the last moments of the 7th round, for the worst gouges happened then: Hornmeister had just tore out his side, and as his head rose up King brought his down at risk of the pachyderm's horn. With luck, his face just misses the rhino's spiked schnozz, but Horace wasn't so lucky, having just got an eye-full of the bovine's own ivory. Staggering back, the gray giant held a hand to his face, and with that instant of shock King jumped and drove both hind-hooves into the stony behemoth's chest, striking him against the cast-iron cage. It was a lucky move that won King his victory; another inch and K.L. would've certainly had hamburger for a face.
"Kid, look...kid, look at me," said the bull, turning to face him and grasping the rhino's chin, "I'm not gonna mince words, you're one of the best damn fighters I've seen, especially for a rookie. You didn't beat me, and you didn't win the Deathmatch on your first try, but that doesn't matter. Not every rookie makes it to the Finals, and not every rookie put up as good a fight as you did," he explained, gesturing though not looking to the wound in his side, "You're stronger than this, and you know it. Just because you didn't win doesn't mean you're gonna fall apart and just lose hope, is it?" The rhino's eye glistened with his tears, sniffing softly and nodding, "Y-yeah..."
"Now c'mon, ya' big baby, show me that tough bastard I fought in the ring," stated the bull, balling his hoof and in a friendly manner punched his comrade's shoulder. Horace gulped and nodded, quickly wiping away the tears on his cheek with the back of his fist, standing up once more, "You're right, Keith, you're right," he said with conviction, "I lost this time, but next time I'll fight harder than ever! Next time I'm gonna go undefeated, and that includes my fight with you, King." The bull crossed his arms and nodded with a grunt, the rhino certainly had a renewed spark in his belly.
His face shown like the sun and his very presence made to grow. As they shared satisfied grins, Horace had a new expression like he had just decided on something spectacular, aside from his renewed vigor for the fight. With the spontaneity of an exploding cigar, Horace grabbed the bull's cheeks and pressed their lips together, K.L.'s eyes shooting wide as he felt the rhino's tongue plunge lewdly through his lips. They parted as Horace grinned boyishly, a soft blush on his cheeks when his arms embraced around the bull's neck. K.L. warily looked up at his former-opponent, himself blushing a bit, too.
"I've been watching you for a long time, Keith, and I admit that I've fallen in love with you..." whispered Horace, his voice bordering on sultry; touching their noses together soon followed by their chests, and finally their penises, though the rhino's noticeably firmer. K.L. remained unmoving, his heart beating unusually quick in his chest as the rhino's fingers caressed over the muscle of his torso. Horace had that boyish look on his face again, his snout kissing once more the bull's, though on his chin. His lips moved further southward, traveling down his broad neck and across those firm pectorals, combing his fingers to find the dual nubs of firm flesh of King's nipples.
K.L. could only watch in rapt bewilderment at the rock-colored behemoth adoring his chest, licking through each crevice made by his dark chocolate muscles and amazingly careful with the meat-cleaver horn jutting out the end of his nose. The cement-block hands of the rhino slid down eagerly to grasp his idol's waist, and then hesitantly they slid down more, resting just on those masterfully sculpted thighs. The pachyderm shivered in delight at the power that lay in those cannon-fire hips and what force would go behind his thrusts; the thought made him clench his tailhole in anticipation with a deep moan. Horace looked up hopefully to the bull's face, and smiled to himself to find that the studly bovine's eyes were watching him, travel southward, as if understanding, almost allowing. The rhino's tongue came to the bushiness of King's pubic area, licking once as he let his chin nudge at the already half-hard bull-cock, eliciting a deep rumble from the Champion. Both hands rubbed at the bull's upper legs, sliding inward to cradle those heavy orbs, to lift up that immense slab of steak, smelling such intense musk emitted from the tip. Horace opened his lips, his tongue reaching to lick over the thick foreskin, fingers tugging on the shaft to pull back and expose the pre-slick tip.
‘Gods, this thing is huge!' thought Horace with mixed delight and alarm, eyeing the now pulsating length pressed to his lips, letting the warm pre trickle onto his tongue. He moaned aloud, his own prick throbbing at full size, hard as rock and curved upward just a bit, juices washed away by the shower water. He had plenty of practice sucking cock from loved ones and rivals; but such a monster hadn't graced his maw in quite a while, and suddenly felt eager to lift tail and get mounted like a cow. He opted to remove his lips from the rigid length, but was persuaded by a hoof on the back of his head to continue; he obeyed his idol by opening nice and wide for the thick steak, cushioning it with a skilled tongue as pre gushed down his throat. His hands eagerly reached around and grabbed for that bodacious buff bubble-butt of the bovine bubba, which flexed ferocious force through his greedy fingers. K.L. thrust against the rhino's willing snout, mindful of that horn, plunging his erection until balls pressed to his gray chin. Electric ecstasy ran through Horace's body as his ears flicked, moaning around the grand meat pole shoved into his maw. The pachyderm felt at a crossroads, whether he wanted to feast on the bull's creamy essence or have it all in his bum; his answer came to him as K.L. pulled out, looking down and saying in a gruff voice:
"Get up and turn around."
Horace, his heart beating like a jackhammer, submitted to the lustful whims of his idol. He kissed the throbbing tip and then pivoted on the spot, lowering his torso and raising his haunches, tuft-tipped tail curled over the small of his back to reveal his nigh-virgin pucker. King was not strange to the prospect of anal sex, nor to the prospect of homosexuality, for he had many before who presented their selves in hopes of a good ass-ramming, but few of them were his opponents. He looked across the anticipating butt, and stuck his fingers into his mouth to get them nice and wet with his accruing saliva, then rubbed the tips across the tender pink flesh. Horace shivered in lustful determination, pressing back longingly against the bull's digits, feeling his anal ring be opened up. King kept one palm on a nicely shaped cheek, feeling the slight bubbly texture of the gluteus muscle, yet at the same time feeling rather firm and powerful.
"This is one tight anus, but it stretches so well; were you shooting to have me mount you?" he asked with genuine curiosity, feeling around inside the black cherry and experimenting its elasticity. The gray behemoth bit his lower lip and blushed bright like a Chinese lantern, nodding to the question thusly, "I've been saving it for you, King...but I've been â€"," he grunted out as he felt his prostate be barely brushed, pre splashed from the tip of his erection, "â€" training myself ...," he blushed much brighter at mentioning this, remembering all the late nights he would be riding his way up to bigger and thicker dildos. Recalling back to the privacy of his room where he had pornography rolling of 2 men going at it, watching and learning, building his stamina to last through a few orgasms, and able to release through anal stimulation alone. The last decade of his life was building up to this point, and he could hardly pinpoint the true reason he got into the underground cage-fighting; whether for glory or Keith.
King's fingers left the rhino's behind, leaving it clutching at the air for something else to pull into its depths. Horace felt his prized bull grasp both of the sweet cheeks of his posterior, thumbs spreading them to fire a sluttish shiver up the rhino's spine, his breath turning to shallow pants as he envisioned it all. The skin was hooked back on King's bullhood, his hips aligned and the proud crown pressed right against his admirer's anal entrance. Horace drew in breath and forced himself to settle, summoning his experiences in withstanding intense sexual pleasure for a satisfying duration of time. The bell of beef-cock pushed forward and inward, hot to the touch and slick against the flesh, slowly stretching Horace's trained anal ring about his indulgent girth.
"Oh King..." whimpered the stony behemoth in a manly tone, clenching and massaging the tip of meat imbedded inside his black cherry, his cheeks ready to burst into flame. His dreams were blossoming into fruition as the bull buried that mighty tower of manmeat inside his needy ass, feeling the dominating throbs against his prostate, the warm flow of fluids pouring into him.
It had been a good long while since King had a nice ass to pound, and his blue-balls demanded that certain itch be scratched. His fingered hooves caressed about the nicely rounded rear cushion of the pachyderm beneath him, leaning forward to attain a heated hilted; spring-loaded thighs pressed flush together, heavy sets of cum-welling orbs smacked against one another. Rutting grunts filled the already thick air of the showers; a knife could cut through the abundant steam and potent musk.
"You ready, kid?" grunted the dark chocolate giant, though from the anxious body language and dire need of his vocalizations, the rhino was obviously ready to get humped as soon as they entered the cage. Horace's intentions were to dominate his idol in the ring, and let himself be dominated in the showers afterwards, but soon the rhino considered that the circumstances were best as they were. Holding the broad gray hips, King yanked back his veined monster from that gloriously snug bottom and drove it hilt-ward once again to echo thundering off the surrounding tiles. Horace's world shrunk and condensed until just he and his lover existed, and the only sensation he knew was their flesh grinding together.
The rhino's eye was rolled back into his head and naught to return. His long jaw hung loose for his mind was focused on more important parts of his body to keep clenched. All the energy he retained from the brutal fight kept at his haunches and abdomen, and just for the single purpose to massage the bull's pulsating phallus and to refrain from climaxing too soon. As a result of the concentration attention, Horace voiced all manner of lewd vocalizations; whether he shouted, "Fuck me harder!" or "Gods, don't stop!" it all was paired with a "-you horny stud!" or something of the like. In a sudden and violent jerk of his body, the rhino cried out in the sluttiest whine possible for such a masculine man dripping with testosterone and erupted against the shower floor. At that moment he knew that his ass now belonged to the bull, and he was willing to give it.
The pleasure coursing through the Savannah golem's body was immeasurable as the cream bursting from the tip of his swollen glands felt little different from a hose. That sensation, however, paled in comparison to the tremendous rush plowing through his clenching tailhole, despite the rhino's orgasmic writhing and whimpers of delight, King kept pounding into his body. Each hilt into Horace's climax seemed to prolong it that much more, and when his balls determined that all his seed was now splattered beneath him, they conjured more and shot that as well. The pachyderm began losing himself in the heavenly cloud of musk and rapture, smiling quite contently feeling the bull riding his still tight rump and his softening wang spurt his last drops.
What echoed over the roar of the shower sent shivers up Horace's back, his eye shooting wide and heart skipping a beat; he was caught completely by surprised, almost whining in protest before what happened felt so unbelievably awesome. The hot rush of the bovine spooge bursting into his body triggered another impossible climax in the poor rhino's sack, urging his cock to harden and spray cum he didn't know he had. King's humps would not relent on the juice-oozing rhino butt, for he hadn't fucked such a fine ass in quite some time, and judging by the bellowing roar/moo that shook the shower's tiles, he intended to breed his admirer into unconsciousness.
Horace's good eye fluttered as his face shaped and stuck on a stupid smile, he didn't even notice that his horn was chiseling through the shower wall from all the furious mounting. The smacking of heavy bull-balls against his junk kept him sane, for the phallus plowing him drove the rhino to nirvana. Semen gushed over his thighs after it filled his ass, and in an act that made Horace feel gayer than ever before, King yanked his hardon from the gray rump and began grinding between his muscled buns, firing thick ropes of spoo over his broad back.
A dull splash sounded when the rhino fell flat on the floor, his spongy cock now squished between his abs and the tile, chest heaving with each erotic breath. His heart and ass were filled with love, and should he sleep there all night it wouldn't matter. The 500lbs of hot beef lay sensually atop him, pressing him more into the floor, and above all, that slab of steak was still hard and throbbing. "Damn, King...you don't go soft, do you?" he grunted, and almost wished he had some time to rest, but could only moan out in delight as the bull hunk prodded at his sore tailhole once more. He would wince but shiver as his lover sunk back into him again; his balls ached as he felt arousal surge into his cock once more. All the glorious pain and pleasure mingled as he was penetrated once again in numb delight, and slowly fucked. Keith embraced him so tenderly and even rubbed his chest with gentle hooves, he would kiss his neck and press their bodies so close.
"Ohhh~" moaned Horace, like clay in the master's hands. His nipples were caressed and tugged and squeezed to fill him with a tingly warmth, "Are you going toâ€"" he grunted, " â€"mount me again?" His voice was spotted with moans and gasps as his loosened pucker continued to be humped. He wasn't sure how much more pleasure he could withstand and remain awake, for his tailhole grew sore and he desired to snuggle the horny bull. King soon came to a stop, their hips flush together and his shaft softening inside the rhino; Horace moaned softly when supple lips caressed his neck.
"Later, when you're ready to go a second round," replied the bull. At the moment, Keith seemed to out grow Horace by a few sizes, what with his muscled arms wrapped around his body and squeezing him tight. "Horace, no one else knows this, but this fight was supposed to be my last, I planned to retire if it didn't kill me."
With a forlorn expression, the pachyderm looked over his shoulder to his dark chocolate lover, "Wh-What? But I'm suppose to fight you next year..." he began, but stopped when received a tender kiss on the lips.
"Hush, boy, I've been fighting for a long time and don't want to fight no more. But I've been thinking when I was pounding you that I could be your trainer."
"My trainer?" he replied, borderline incredulous.
"Yep. You're strong and powerful, and have a lot of skill but it's easy to trip you up. You got to the finals on raw power and dumb luck, and if you're going to continue in the ring you'll have to fight smarter. Who knows, maybe after a couple years of rest I might return for a season," he suggested, smirking to the rhino. Horace mentally chewed on the proposal; he would have agreed on the spot if Keith offered to be his boyfriend or husband, but to be trained by him...it certainly was a start.