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The year was 2010. I trekked through 5 inches of snow, making my way home from University. The cold evenings of Chicago showed no mercy to its victims, burning their skin on contact. Yea, the cold actually hurts. A blizzard tormented the city, but that didn't stop me from getting home. There was no way I would be trapped in a place I so desperately wanted to escape.

With my backpack gripped tightly in one hand and a duffle bag in the other, I slowly made my way home. Luckily, my apartment wasn't far, but it's amazing how lost you feel when the only thing you can see is white. What felt like an hour was only 10 minutes.

As soon as I stepped one foot inside the warm building, an overwhelming sense of belonging hit me like a bus. In the background chains could be heard rattling, brute men drunk on testosterone and power swung wildly, hitting punching bags. On the other side the sight of a boxing ring caught my attention. Two muscular guys stood in the center exchanging punches. The view caused me to stop in my tracks and drop the duffle bag while my mouth hung agape.

As I stood there in awe, out of nowhere a short, muscular man appeared.

"Hello, son. My name is Mike Hatrell. Can I help you?"

I looked down at the salt and pepper bearded man, not really knowing what to say. At that moment I felt something. The feeling was weird, but in a good way. A wave of comfort filled my body, I'm surprised I didn't explode.

"W-what is this place?" Were the only words I could muster up.

Hatrell took a step back and looked at the gym. "This place? It's my gym... The 360 Boxing Club."

Leather and sweat filled the air like a thick cloud of fog that never lift. The scent filled my nostrils putting me in an euphoric daze. A salty taste formed in my mouth; it made my tongue float in a lake of saliva as my cheeks tingled.

With no destination in particular, I walked deeper into the gym, my eyes darting in all direction taking in every detail. In the end, I settled on one location, and that was the boxing ring. I followed their swift movement, tracking them by the twitch of their muscles. Each punch cut the air, sending chills down my spine.

The sight reminded me of my father. He boxed as a young man, fighting out of Chicago, Illinois. His career was cut short after a detached retina, leaving him a shallow mess, forced to drink himself into the grips of depression. Those who had to each were affected the most.

I always had a love for the sport of boxing. As a kid I would sneak dads old videos out of the attic to watch them, sometimes spending hours analyzing his form and style. I even started to self train myself, that was, until dad walked in on my fun. Long story short, his actions sealed my dreams of becoming a boxer.

One guy landed a two hit combo which caused his opponent to buckle over in pain. The injured guy fell to the ground, gasping for the air which was ripped from his lungs.

Hatrell stood at my side. A large grin infected his face. "I see the ring caught your eye."

I nodded. "It's beautiful."

"Ever boxed?"

"No," I replied. "My dad was a boxer, but he never taught me."

"That's a shame, you have the right build... In fact." He circled around me, eyes scanning up and down my body. "You're perfect for something I've been working on..."

I tilt my head. "What's that?"

Hatrell stopped and stood directly in front of me, dwarfed in size to the point he had to look up to meet my gaze.

"I will tell you, but first," He pointed at my backpack. "I see you attend the University of Chicago. What is your major?"

"Psychology."

Honestly, I saw no point in the question. Hopefully things would make sense with a little time.

"Why psychology?"

"Because I love patterns." I replied. "Everything in this world, no, universe can be analyzed, broken down, and reconstructed in the image of its architect."

A huge grin spread over this guy's face, his eyes almost seemed closed. The chains continued to rattle in the back ground.

"What does my major have to do with what you've been working on?"

Hatrell walked over to a large crate full of all type of gym equipment producing a set of boxing gloves and a pair of mitts. He walked back over and handed them over to me before strapping on the pair of mitts.

"Kid. I can see you love boxing. The look on your face shows it. There's something special about the sport, and it's luring you to it... To shatter the old way and make a new improved version. Let me help you. Train here and I'll teach you something dangerous..."

Dangerous, huh? To be honest he had me sold from the moment I walked inside those gates of heaven. He made very good points. Just looking at the boxers in the ring I could find the patterns.... Their flaws. Something inside me wanted to dissect that design and exploit every flaw. I've always wanted to step in the ring, but dad never allowed it. Instead, he pushed me toward school, where I learned the concept of human interaction toward certain stimuli. As the years passed, my interest shifted from boxing to science, leaving the dream to become a feint whimper in my subconscious. Yet, that love for science was quickly overpowered when I caught a glimpse of this gym.

Let's be honest, the answer was pretty obvious.

I stripped out of my coat and jacket, now wearing only a pair of jogging pants and a white t-shirt that wrapped around my pecs. Next I slipped the gloves on, pulling the velcro tight.

I slammed my protected fist together, causing a loud thud to echo throughout the gym. Guys turned around to see their new training partner.

I raised my guard. "Let's do this!"

The first few months were hell. Grand Master Mike's first step in training was strength and balance. Two months went by and the only time I touched a pair of gloves was the first night I discovered the gym. After that, my body was the only thing keeping us focused.

Monday through Saturday were the days I used weights. Any type of weights. Ankle and wrist weights had to be worn at all time. I weighed 185 pounds, but walked around with the full weight of a 220 pound man. The idea was to have create bones that adapt to the weight to increase the durability of my body.

Since there was not much boxing going on, I spent my free time watching boxing videos. Most nights I would be glued to my laptop, mesmerized by two men beautifully dancing to their own rhythm. My analytical eyes opened themselves absorbing every drop of information.

After strength training we moved on to speed. During this phase I almost died, multiple times. There was not much to this step. It actually had only one exercise, and that was running, or what my coach like to call, roadwork.

Simple, huh? Not. I ran everywhere. To class; to work; to practice and during practice. The goal was to reach 60 miles a week, but I averaged in at around 90. You would be amazed at how far your legs will take you without you even noticing.

Master Hatrell and I formed a bond by this point. I've always preferred more alone time than social interaction. I loathed social structures, and at times I would imagine ways to take the pieces apart and do things my way. With Hatrell, I learned to suppress those urges, which allowed a healthy flow of trust to flow between us. He held a knowledge that I could only dream of achieving on my own. For that, I would follow him till the ends of the universe.

At least that's what I felt at the time. Little did I know that the bond formed with Hatrell would soon be broken.

We were in the final stages of my training. Finally, after a year, I was able to enter the boxing ring. The wait was worth every drop of sweat and blood. Opponents came into the ring with confidence. They knew I had not gained much experience in the ring. That piece of information became their downfall as each man that stepped up was knocked down just as fast. The ability to spot patterns on top of a hellish training program enforced by Master Hatrell made for a completed form of the 360 Jolt.

What is the 360 Jolt? All I can say is that this technique went beyond normal human ability. Your movement had to be in sync with the world. At times it felt like you were standing in one place, but in reality there is nowhere you can't be. I could not have accomplished this flexibility without the help of Hatrell.

But his part of the technique was only half the battle. The amount of mental training that was put in outside of practice is where the real money is.

Let's move on.

The 360 jolt is a product of two parties, not one. Keep that in mind. Because after I completed the technique Hatell tried to teach it to other fighters, but I dismissed his actions. The 360 jolt was mine. I didn't even get the chance to show it off to the world and here he was giving it out like he owned it.

So I split ways with him, taking my knowledge as well as Hatrell's. I figured how could anyone duplicate the jolt when they lacked the mental process. Jolting to a random place isn't helpful in a fight. Jolting to the right places, at the right time... That takes more than running a few miles a day.

Hatrell had to know this, because no one out of his gym had replicated the technique. That much mental process put into fighting could only be spotted in the greats: Ali, or Bruce Lee. I was so sure that I held the only copy of the 360 Jolts blueprints; but little did I know....

• • •

"You did what?!" My voice boomed.

Ethan, Ash, Jorge, Quinn, Hatrell and myself all sat around a fire deep inside a cave. Shadows danced over the walls in the background.

"I am teaching Ethan the 360 Jolt." Hatrell replied in a calm manner.

"But that's impossible. The 360 jolt can't be taught. It's not like other techniques, and you know that."

A smile spread over Hatrell's face. "I believed the same thing once... After effortlessly trying to build a new version of you. At first I became depressed thinking I could never find another boxer with your insight... But then it hit me! Instead of trying to replicate the results I had with a boxer, why not find a person who had mastered a different martial arts."

I looked over at Ethan who had a nervous look on his face. A wrestler who could use the 360 jolt. After giving it a little thought, the idea seemed pointless. What could a wrestler possibly do with this technique. I tried to imagine every angle someone like him could attack from, but in the end I had a plan to stop them all. One thing bothered me though. Why didn't he use the 360 jolt against me earlier?

"If he's being taught my move.." Hatrell's expression changed from hearing my words. Now he wore a sour mask. "Why not use it in our fight earlier?"

Ethan sat up to speak. "At the moment I can only jolt forward and backwards. Even then I can't fully control where I end up."

"I get it." I started. "Attempting it against someone who can freely use it would be bad news. But I couldn't use mine either"

Hatrell's and Ethan's head tilted slightly to the left as they asked in unison, "Why is that?"

As the question left their lips, my stomach let out a loud roar. I clenched my abs, feeling the hunger pains settle.

"I haven't eaten in a day... My stamina is damn near depleted. Using the jolt would have taken more energy than I had. Not to mention the risk for injury was pretty high."

My stomach growled once more and I fell over gaining a laugh from everyone around me. Hatrell ordered Ash and Jorge to fetch some food for their guest. They did not provide much, fruits and nuts were all they had, but I was so hungry I ended up swallowing everything in one gulp.

The other guys also had themselves a snack. Quinn and I were the first ones done, even though we had the most food. I remember how hungry I had been yesterday, then I pushed myself in the fight. I'm shocked my body could function after all of that.

As I finished my third banana, Hatrell stood up and placed himself in front of me. The stench of his cock filled my nostrils, causing a twitch from my cock.

"I hope there is not any hard feeling between you and I, or you and Ethan. I know we're in the jungle, but let's not forget our human side. The side that is capable of thinking. It's obvious the only we are going to survive out here is to work together. That's why I think you and Quinn should join us."

"Hell," I stood up, tossing one of the yellow peals to my right. "No."

Hatrell wore this calm expression, almost as if he predicted my response. He knew me to well.

"It's the logical step to take, and we both know that." Hatrell words meant nothing. I made up my mind and nothing would sway my decision.

"We're leaving." I looked at Quinn. He didn't seem to happy with my decision; his face showed it, torn between staying and leaving.

"Get up and let's go!" I barked, causing Quinn to jump to his feet and place himself at my side. "The answer is no. I won't serve under you or anyone on this damn island. You are not my master any more. So you can take all of these guys," My eyes shot at Ash, Ethan, and Jorge. "And shove them up your ass!"

I stormed out of the cave with Quinn close behind. I could not stay with those guys, being placed on a lower ladder in their society of fake alphas. An Alpha never sits at the ankle of another Alpha, or any man. A true a Alpha tears the legs off the others so they always kneeled to him.

Once out the cave is when I noticed the sun had left us with only a little illumination. I sighed. The walk back to our tree would be difficult at night, on top of that we were not familiar with this area.

From behind the sound of foot steps closed in on us. We turned around to find Ethan. He slowly walked up to me, held out a fist, turned it around and opened his hand. Inside were two, silver tags, gleaming in the sun sets light.

"As promised. Here are your tags." Ethan looked me in the eye, sincerity pouring out of those brown orbs.

"We didn't finish our fight, so they don't belong to me.

"They do. We both know that last punch would have ended things..."

I glanced at Jorge's tag. "Guess we'll never know"

Ethan tossed two chains to Quinn. "They are yours. Do what you want with them." He turned around to walk away, but stopped to say one last thing.

"I know you don't want to stay, but it's late and walking in the forest at this time of day can be dangerous. If you want you can stay the night."

With that, Ethan made his way back into the cave, disappearing in the shadows.

I looked at Quinn, then the chains in his hand, lost in thought. The smart choice was obvious. Traveling in the dark through an unfamiliar section was not the smartest decisions.

Quinn looked up into my eyes. What he wanted was clear as crystal. This made my choice very easy. We would stay the night. I can't see in the dark. At night distant howls and growls could be heard coming from the trees, and quite frankly I was not equipped to deal with wildlife.

Ethan was the one to show us to our area of the cave. It was actually bigger than I expected. From the entrance to the area I will occupy was about a four minutes walk. After Ethan left, I told Quinn I was thirsty and would go out to get a drink of water. By then, Quinn found a comfortable spot and settled in, laying flat on his back with his arms rested behind his neck.

The nights air caressed my bare body sending a wave of comfort to be washed over me. You would think being naked is a bad thing, and it can be at times, but nights like this made you appreciate being nude. Your mind and body intertwined with the earth, bringing all of its naked participants closer to nature.

I lost track of distance, before I realized I ended up at the top of the waterfall. I kneeled down, cupped my hands together, and filled them with water. As I drank from my hands, something caught my eyes further down the crest. I stood up to get a better view, and to my surprise Jorge could be spotted, kneeling down for his own drink of water.

I gazed over that muscular frame. The view was perfect, especially when I have a back view. Jorge was put in the spotlight by a ray of moonlight; his body fur sparkling as light danced over his body. Damn was he beautiful. Without any warning, my cock shot up bouncing gracefully in the wind.

What was he doing out here alone? It was none of my business, but his muscles were like a magnet, drawing my mind and body to him. I decided to get a closer look. I had to.

"Mmmmm Mmm!" I said as I closed in on him. "Just like I like my men, kneeling down. Although, I prefer them on all fours."

Jorge's head turned as he slowly stood up. Each muscle in his ass, back, and legs popped out like he was in a 3D movie.

"If it isn't the king of alphas." Jorge's remark was bathed in sarcasm. He never turned around to face me, but I wasn't complaining. I could look at his ass all day. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

"I come to fulfill a promise."

"A promise?" Jorge twisted his upper body to get a better look at me.

I stood there, grinning ear to ear.

"You don't remember? I told you I'd be coming for your ass. How should I collect?"

Now, Jorge turned to face me completely. His strong arms tightened and his fist balled. I could tell he did not like what I said, and that only made my cock even more hungry.

"You better be fuckin' ready for a fight if you think you're getting anywhere near my ass!"

I chuckled. Even though this guy had a mountain of muscle, there was still a slight height difference. His words brought back memories of the days when I would 'wrestle for top' with different guys. I never lost a standup fight, and I didn't plan on starting. Now the idea remained in my head.

"That's what we're here for, right?" I shrugged. "If I remember correctly, it's not against the rules to take a hot ass."

I winked, causing him to blush. Once I saw that he lowered his guard, I dashed at him, throwing three left jabs. Jorge jumped back, blocking punches in the process. The look on his face showed distress, which made it easier for me to knock his arms up, grab his neck, and force him against a tree.

Jorge shot a hand in attempt to grab my neck, but he failed. I caught his wrist just in time, holding it tightly within my grasp. My nails penetrated the golden skin, pushing a trickle of blood down his arm to drip onto his chest.

"I'm stronger than you thought, huh?" Jorge squirmed a bit. "Am I stronger than Ethan?"

"What's with you?" Jorge spat. "And your obsession to be stronger than everyone."

The question caught my off guard. Why? Because it was something I asked myself thousands of times. Over my lifetime I developed this consuming drive to stand at the top. With the sky as my goal, I would often forget to enjoy the things on the ground. Honestly, that's not what I wanted. I preferred to fly through the clouds.

Jorge took advantage of this opportunity, knocking my hand from his neck. A short uppercut was thrown, directed for my chin, but I quickly pushed the fist aside before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell on his back with me hovering over his exposed body; our faces stationed inches apart. Our eyes locked. We just looked into each other's pupils, slowly letting our breathes return to a normal pace.

I took off one of the chains around my neck, the one Ethan gave me earlier. Jorge's name was engraved in it. I placed the cold metal on his chest, holding my hands over it. The real reason why I wanted Jorge's tag was...

"This belongs to you."

Jorge grabbed the tag and looked at it. His eyes widened.

"How?"

"Ethan gave it to me. He believe I won the fight earlier, and I believe you never lost your original fight."

We were both silent. But only for a moment.

"I'm not a bad guy," I whispered. "I'm just misunderstood."

With that, Jorge leaned up to press our lips together. For a short, blissful instant I felt like everything was going to be alright. A feeling I hadn't felt since I got on the island. A feeling that would probably get me killed, hint the reason why I have not felt it in so long.

Our lips parted, but our eyes locked. We both gave a nervous smile, blushes staining our cheeks. It's hard to believe that just a second ago we were ready to beat one another to death and take their manhood by force.

"You are..." Jorge said softly.

My right brow rose, confusion spreading over my face. "I'm what? What do you mean?"

"Stronger than Ethan."

I smirked.

"You don't think the fight was close?"

The length of my member rest on a set of hard, furry abs. I could tell he felt my growing erection by the rush of blood flooding his face.

"I- I respect Ethan." Jorge started, staring into my eyes as he spoke. "He gains strength through the people he care about, but you... Your strength comes from within."

Jorge placed a hand on my chest. His warmth radiated through me. Every. Single. Inch. Of me. A cool breeze that caused the leaves to ruffle in the back ground was the only thing cooling off the growing temperature around Jorge and I. I couldn't hold back any more! I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss than before, losing myself.

I wanted him. No. Needed him. At least for tonight.