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Please let me know what you think of this chapter on this site, or on www.praetorianconsortium.com, or at: [email protected].
"Get in the truck," the Boss says to Bronco. "Your fight starts in 45 minutes and it's across town."
Bronco, bare-chested, looks down at his cleated sneakers and gold-colored, spandex football pants.
"Don't I get a jersey and helmet?" Bronco asks.
"You're not playing football, boy - you're beating up a football player," the Boss says. “You lost your last fight and you’re not established, so we’re not getting any prize fight offers. When that happens, we’ve got to look for work in… other areas.”
"Oh," says Bronco as he walks toward the red pickup. "Who am I’m beating up? Why am I beating him up?"
"His nickname is Clipper and that's what he does to other players in the game," the Boss says. "He's sent three players on three opposing teams to the hospital and took one out for the season. His coach encourages it. When we get to the game, both sides will be warming up. When I give the signal, some fathers will surround his coach and you call him out. Kick his butt and tell him why you’re doing it.”
Bronco smirks and nods.
"Cool," he says.
The Boss smirks, then shakes his head.
“If you lose, he’ll just go on clipping, probably even more than before, you know,” the Boss says, glancing over at the young fighter.
Bronco shrugs.
“I won’t lose,” he says as he distractedly scratches his stomach. The Boss rolls his eyes, then points to some free weights near the truck.
"Bring those with you," the Boss says. "You can pump up on the way to the football field."
Forty-five minutes later, the Boss and Bronco exit the pickup and the Boss nods to a coach who nods back, then turns and points to a group of four men. The men begin walking from one group of young football players - dressed in red jerseys and gold spandex matching Bronco's - over to a group of stretching football players wearing white spandex with a blue stripe up the side and blue jerseys.
The men surround a man Bronco assumes is the coach of the other team. One of the fathers points to Clipper as he speaks to the coach.
"There's your man," the Boss says, pointing to a compact, muscular blonde player stretching his legs on the field. “Call him out."
The Boss quickly lifts a camcorder and begins filming.
Bronco moves quickly past the players on “his” team. Boys on both teams forget about their warm up at the sight of the mystery player, muscles glistening with sweat, who now fronts Clipper.
"You’re gonna pay for clipping, punk," Bronco says to Clipper as he cracks his knuckles.
Clipper tilts his head in confusion. "What?!"
In a louder voice, Bronco says: "I SAID I’m here to make you pay for your cheap clips, and I may break your nose while I’m at it!” Bronco raises his fists and begins bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Teens from both teams begin taking off their helmets and form a circle around Bronco and Clipper. Some of the boys on the team opposing Clipper start to snicker.
"Who the hell are you?!" Clipper shouts, his muscles tensing.
Bronco answers by rearing back his right fist and launching it square into Clipper's left eye, sending the player's head snapping to the side and forcing him to stumble to the side.
The teens wearing Bronco's colors cheer as the opposing team stands in shocked silence. Clipper's eyes go wide as he shakes his head clear, then angrily yanks off his jersey and raises his fists. Bronco takes a quick inventory of Clipper's glistening biceps and stomach and his impressive pectoral shelf.
With Bronco distracted, Clipper fires his right fist into Bronco's nose, snapping Bronco's head back and sending the young fighter stumbling backwards where he bumps into a player on his side.
Clipper's team's cheer as the player Bronco backed into slaps his butt and pushes him forward. "Take him out, boy!" the player shouts.
Bronco and Clipper now circle each other slowly, fists raised, as teens on both teams cheer them on.
Clipper skips forward and fires a brutal right uppercut to Bronco's stomach, the thud causing some of the watching players to wince. Bronco's body is lifted slightly upwardly by the attack as Clipper immediately fires a left uppercut that again slams hard in to Bronco's abs.
The Boss, watching from next to the pickup, shakes his head.
Bronco takes advantage of Clipper's closeness by clamping his hands behind Clipper's shoulders and yanking the boy toward him as he drives his right knee up into the Clipper's stomach, causing him to grunt in pain.
Clipper fires back with his own knee into Bronco's stomach, shaking Bronco's frame before firing his left knee even harder into Bronco's abs, breaking Bronco’s hold of his shoulders.
Clipper skips back a few steps as does Bronco and the two again begin to circle, muscled chests heaving, both teens dripping in sweat in the steamy Texas twilight.
Bronco takes one step forward with his left leg, then fires his right cleated foot into Clipper's stomach, cutting the flesh and forcing a grunt out of the teen while sending him stumbling back.
Bronco's team’s cheers are suddenly cut short by Clipper's well-perfected tackle at Bronco's knees, hyper-extending them slightly as Bronco cries out and crashes hard onto his back on the clipped grass, Clipper's face to the side of Bronco's knees.
Just as some of the players on Bronco's team begin to boo and those on Clipper's team begin to cheer, Bronco pulls both of his knees up to his sweat-slickened chest and fires his cleated feet into Clipper's stunned face. Clipper begins to dodge the kick as the shoes graze his left cheek.
Clipper, now on his knees, raises his left fist and pounds it like a hammer into Bronco's reddening abs, causing Bronco to again pull his legs to his chest, gasping in pain.
The Boss again shakes his head and looks over at the fathers who now watch the fight along with Clipper’s coach. The Boss begins walking toward the fighting teens.
Clipper quickly scrambles up Bronco's torso until his knees straddle Bronco's hips, then rears back his right fist and sends it smashing hard into Bronco’s mouth, sending Bronco's head bouncing off the grass, splitting both of Bronco's lips and loosening his front teeth.
As Clipper's teammates cheer, the Boss appears behind Clipper, causing the teens to look up and go silent. Visible to Bronco but not to Clipper, the Boss says, "Elbow to nose."
Clipper, smirking, now pulls back his right fist but Bronco, blood streaming down his chin from his split lips, twists his upper torso to the left, then spins back, firing his right elbow into Clipper's nose, causing the fighter to rear his head upward more in surprise than pain.
"Again," the Boss says, and Bronco now twists to the right, then back, sending his left elbow into Clipper's nose as Clipper rears his head back in anticipation .
Bronco clamps the hair atop Clipper's head in his left fist, then shoves Clipper's face down as he fires his right fist upward toward Clipper's mouth, sending the player's head snapping upward and returning the favor of splitting Clipper's lip.
"Good," says the Boss. "Now get him off you."
Clipper dabs at his bloody lips with the back of his hand and makes the mistake of examining the blood as Bronco curls his upper torso up off the ground as if performing situps, then sends a brutal right fist smashing into Clipper's left eye, sending the teen crashing onto his right side in the grass.
As Bronco's team cheers, the glistening young fighter scrambles up to his knees and immediately mounts Clipper who now cups his swelling eye. Bronco yanks Clipper's hand away with his left fist and raises his right arm, using his full force to drive his right elbow down, smashing deep into Clipper's already swollen left eye.
Clipper's scream is nearly drowned out by the cheering of Bronco's team mates. Bronco, chest heaving and dripping with sweat, rears up and looks down at his flailing victim who is now curled into a fetal ball, cupping his damaged eye with both hands and moaning.
"Finish him," the Boss says. "Break his nose."
Bronco pins Clipper's shoulders to the ground with his knees, then bends down and smirks, blood dripping from Bronco's lips onto Clipper's face.
"You lose, punk!" Bronco sneers, then fires a right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Clipper squeals in pain and tries to break free from Bronco’s pin, but to no avail. Bronco fires off another right-left combo into the teen's nose. Blood begins rolling down from each nostril and down either side of Clipper's face as he stares wide-eyed in fear at Bronco.
"Damn!" Bronco says, legitimately annoyed, then fires two more punches into Clipper’s face. Clipper's head bounces off the turf then lolls limply to the side.
One of the watching players whistles. “You knocked him out!”
Bronco again rears back his right fist but the Boss holds it in check. Bronco turns his bloody face to the Boss.
"No," the Boss says. "He gets the message. Take him to his coach to make sure HE gets the message."
Bronco stands up, breathing heavily, then bends down and, glistening muscles straining, lifts Clipper up into his arms and begins to stumble toward Clipper's coach. Players on both teams part for the young gladiator.
Bronco approaches Clipper's coach, stops, then drops Clipper like a sack of dirt and looks up at the coach.
"Your boy done clippin’?!" Bronco says between heavy breaths, chest heaving.
Clipper’s coach nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
The watching fathers and players on the opposing team cheer as Bronco, dripping sweat, blood flowing down his chin and neck from his split lips, leans over and spits into Clipper's face.
Bronco begins limping toward the pickup while rubbing his red-and-purpled stomach with his right hand and wiping his bloody lips with the back of his left hand.
The Boss accepts a wad of cash from one of the fathers, then quickly catches up to Bronco. The Boss runs his hand through Bronco's sweat-drenched hair.
"Nice job, killer," the Boss says. "I thought he had you when he mounted you, but you came back strong and got the job done."
"I wasn't about to get my butt kicked again," Bronco says, turning and spitting more blood from his lips. "He had muscle, but was too slow."
The Boss nods and smirks.
"Good," he says. "You need to analyze your opponent's strengths and weaknesses like that."
Bronco and the Boss arrive at the battered pickup and the Boss reaches inside and opens a cooler, then takes out two small bags filled with ice.
"Put one on your stomach and one on your lips," the Boss says.
Bronco climbs into the cab and rests one bag on his stomach and presses the other to his lips. With his free hand he begins pumping a free weight, his sweat-glistened muscles hardening and tightening. The Boss looks over as he fires up the truck's engine.
"You working out right after a fight?" he asks.
Bronco, silent, eyes forward, keeps pumping.
"When do I get to fight Champ again?" Bronco asks, his brow furrowing.
The Boss smiles.
"We'll get you two back face-to-face soon enough,” the Boss says. “Meanwhile, this win should allow me to set up a fight between you and a real bad ass.”
"Cool," says Bronco, nodding and pumping as the truck pulls out of the parking lot.
warhorse573 (0)
26/7/2013 03:14The following is one of seven free chapters available from www.praetorianconsortiium.com — offering the best in erotic combat fiction! Three additional chapters of this novel are available for $3 each on the site. A second novel featuring college combat is also available with free and for-pay chapters. Members are also welcome to contribute their own stories. Membership is free!
Please let me know what you think of this chapter on this site, or on www.praetorianconsortium.com, or at: [email protected].
XXX
Warrior: A Fighter’s Odyssey
FREE Chapter 3: Foot Ballers' Fight By [email protected]
"Get in the truck," the Boss says to Bronco. "Your fight starts in 45 minutes and it's across town."
Bronco, bare-chested, looks down at his cleated sneakers and gold-colored, spandex football pants.
"Don't I get a jersey and helmet?" Bronco asks.
"You're not playing football, boy - you're beating up a football player," the Boss says. “You lost your last fight and you’re not established, so we’re not getting any prize fight offers. When that happens, we’ve got to look for work in… other areas.”
"Oh," says Bronco as he walks toward the red pickup. "Who am I’m beating up? Why am I beating him up?"
"His nickname is Clipper and that's what he does to other players in the game," the Boss says. "He's sent three players on three opposing teams to the hospital and took one out for the season. His coach encourages it. When we get to the game, both sides will be warming up. When I give the signal, some fathers will surround his coach and you call him out. Kick his butt and tell him why you’re doing it.”
Bronco smirks and nods.
"Cool," he says.
The Boss smirks, then shakes his head.
“If you lose, he’ll just go on clipping, probably even more than before, you know,” the Boss says, glancing over at the young fighter.
Bronco shrugs.
“I won’t lose,” he says as he distractedly scratches his stomach. The Boss rolls his eyes, then points to some free weights near the truck.
"Bring those with you," the Boss says. "You can pump up on the way to the football field."
Forty-five minutes later, the Boss and Bronco exit the pickup and the Boss nods to a coach who nods back, then turns and points to a group of four men. The men begin walking from one group of young football players - dressed in red jerseys and gold spandex matching Bronco's - over to a group of stretching football players wearing white spandex with a blue stripe up the side and blue jerseys.
The men surround a man Bronco assumes is the coach of the other team. One of the fathers points to Clipper as he speaks to the coach.
"There's your man," the Boss says, pointing to a compact, muscular blonde player stretching his legs on the field. “Call him out."
The Boss quickly lifts a camcorder and begins filming.
Bronco moves quickly past the players on “his” team. Boys on both teams forget about their warm up at the sight of the mystery player, muscles glistening with sweat, who now fronts Clipper.
"You’re gonna pay for clipping, punk," Bronco says to Clipper as he cracks his knuckles.
Clipper tilts his head in confusion. "What?!"
In a louder voice, Bronco says: "I SAID I’m here to make you pay for your cheap clips, and I may break your nose while I’m at it!” Bronco raises his fists and begins bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Teens from both teams begin taking off their helmets and form a circle around Bronco and Clipper. Some of the boys on the team opposing Clipper start to snicker.
"Who the hell are you?!" Clipper shouts, his muscles tensing.
Bronco answers by rearing back his right fist and launching it square into Clipper's left eye, sending the player's head snapping to the side and forcing him to stumble to the side.
The teens wearing Bronco's colors cheer as the opposing team stands in shocked silence. Clipper's eyes go wide as he shakes his head clear, then angrily yanks off his jersey and raises his fists. Bronco takes a quick inventory of Clipper's glistening biceps and stomach and his impressive pectoral shelf.
With Bronco distracted, Clipper fires his right fist into Bronco's nose, snapping Bronco's head back and sending the young fighter stumbling backwards where he bumps into a player on his side.
Clipper's team's cheer as the player Bronco backed into slaps his butt and pushes him forward. "Take him out, boy!" the player shouts.
Bronco and Clipper now circle each other slowly, fists raised, as teens on both teams cheer them on.
Clipper skips forward and fires a brutal right uppercut to Bronco's stomach, the thud causing some of the watching players to wince. Bronco's body is lifted slightly upwardly by the attack as Clipper immediately fires a left uppercut that again slams hard in to Bronco's abs.
The Boss, watching from next to the pickup, shakes his head.
Bronco takes advantage of Clipper's closeness by clamping his hands behind Clipper's shoulders and yanking the boy toward him as he drives his right knee up into the Clipper's stomach, causing him to grunt in pain.
Clipper fires back with his own knee into Bronco's stomach, shaking Bronco's frame before firing his left knee even harder into Bronco's abs, breaking Bronco’s hold of his shoulders.
Clipper skips back a few steps as does Bronco and the two again begin to circle, muscled chests heaving, both teens dripping in sweat in the steamy Texas twilight.
Bronco takes one step forward with his left leg, then fires his right cleated foot into Clipper's stomach, cutting the flesh and forcing a grunt out of the teen while sending him stumbling back.
Bronco's team’s cheers are suddenly cut short by Clipper's well-perfected tackle at Bronco's knees, hyper-extending them slightly as Bronco cries out and crashes hard onto his back on the clipped grass, Clipper's face to the side of Bronco's knees.
Just as some of the players on Bronco's team begin to boo and those on Clipper's team begin to cheer, Bronco pulls both of his knees up to his sweat-slickened chest and fires his cleated feet into Clipper's stunned face. Clipper begins to dodge the kick as the shoes graze his left cheek.
Clipper, now on his knees, raises his left fist and pounds it like a hammer into Bronco's reddening abs, causing Bronco to again pull his legs to his chest, gasping in pain.
The Boss again shakes his head and looks over at the fathers who now watch the fight along with Clipper’s coach. The Boss begins walking toward the fighting teens.
Clipper quickly scrambles up Bronco's torso until his knees straddle Bronco's hips, then rears back his right fist and sends it smashing hard into Bronco’s mouth, sending Bronco's head bouncing off the grass, splitting both of Bronco's lips and loosening his front teeth.
As Clipper's teammates cheer, the Boss appears behind Clipper, causing the teens to look up and go silent. Visible to Bronco but not to Clipper, the Boss says, "Elbow to nose."
Clipper, smirking, now pulls back his right fist but Bronco, blood streaming down his chin from his split lips, twists his upper torso to the left, then spins back, firing his right elbow into Clipper's nose, causing the fighter to rear his head upward more in surprise than pain.
"Again," the Boss says, and Bronco now twists to the right, then back, sending his left elbow into Clipper's nose as Clipper rears his head back in anticipation .
Bronco clamps the hair atop Clipper's head in his left fist, then shoves Clipper's face down as he fires his right fist upward toward Clipper's mouth, sending the player's head snapping upward and returning the favor of splitting Clipper's lip.
"Good," says the Boss. "Now get him off you."
Clipper dabs at his bloody lips with the back of his hand and makes the mistake of examining the blood as Bronco curls his upper torso up off the ground as if performing situps, then sends a brutal right fist smashing into Clipper's left eye, sending the teen crashing onto his right side in the grass.
As Bronco's team cheers, the glistening young fighter scrambles up to his knees and immediately mounts Clipper who now cups his swelling eye. Bronco yanks Clipper's hand away with his left fist and raises his right arm, using his full force to drive his right elbow down, smashing deep into Clipper's already swollen left eye.
Clipper's scream is nearly drowned out by the cheering of Bronco's team mates. Bronco, chest heaving and dripping with sweat, rears up and looks down at his flailing victim who is now curled into a fetal ball, cupping his damaged eye with both hands and moaning.
"Finish him," the Boss says. "Break his nose."
Bronco pins Clipper's shoulders to the ground with his knees, then bends down and smirks, blood dripping from Bronco's lips onto Clipper's face.
"You lose, punk!" Bronco sneers, then fires a right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Clipper squeals in pain and tries to break free from Bronco’s pin, but to no avail. Bronco fires off another right-left combo into the teen's nose. Blood begins rolling down from each nostril and down either side of Clipper's face as he stares wide-eyed in fear at Bronco.
"Damn!" Bronco says, legitimately annoyed, then fires two more punches into Clipper’s face. Clipper's head bounces off the turf then lolls limply to the side.
One of the watching players whistles. “You knocked him out!”
Bronco again rears back his right fist but the Boss holds it in check. Bronco turns his bloody face to the Boss.
"No," the Boss says. "He gets the message. Take him to his coach to make sure HE gets the message."
Bronco stands up, breathing heavily, then bends down and, glistening muscles straining, lifts Clipper up into his arms and begins to stumble toward Clipper's coach. Players on both teams part for the young gladiator.
Bronco approaches Clipper's coach, stops, then drops Clipper like a sack of dirt and looks up at the coach.
"Your boy done clippin’?!" Bronco says between heavy breaths, chest heaving.
Clipper’s coach nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
The watching fathers and players on the opposing team cheer as Bronco, dripping sweat, blood flowing down his chin and neck from his split lips, leans over and spits into Clipper's face.
Bronco begins limping toward the pickup while rubbing his red-and-purpled stomach with his right hand and wiping his bloody lips with the back of his left hand.
The Boss accepts a wad of cash from one of the fathers, then quickly catches up to Bronco. The Boss runs his hand through Bronco's sweat-drenched hair.
"Nice job, killer," the Boss says. "I thought he had you when he mounted you, but you came back strong and got the job done."
"I wasn't about to get my butt kicked again," Bronco says, turning and spitting more blood from his lips. "He had muscle, but was too slow."
The Boss nods and smirks.
"Good," he says. "You need to analyze your opponent's strengths and weaknesses like that."
Bronco and the Boss arrive at the battered pickup and the Boss reaches inside and opens a cooler, then takes out two small bags filled with ice.
"Put one on your stomach and one on your lips," the Boss says.
Bronco climbs into the cab and rests one bag on his stomach and presses the other to his lips. With his free hand he begins pumping a free weight, his sweat-glistened muscles hardening and tightening. The Boss looks over as he fires up the truck's engine.
"You working out right after a fight?" he asks.
Bronco, silent, eyes forward, keeps pumping.
"When do I get to fight Champ again?" Bronco asks, his brow furrowing.
The Boss smiles.
"We'll get you two back face-to-face soon enough,” the Boss says. “Meanwhile, this win should allow me to set up a fight between you and a real bad ass.”
"Cool," says Bronco, nodding and pumping as the truck pulls out of the parking lot.
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