Beaten to Arousal

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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The announcer screamed into the microphone, but the fighters did not hear it over the roar of the crowd. They were too well-practised, only seeing one another in the ring, the blue and red ropes containing them, though they would not restrain them. The ring was their stage, that of the tiger, Dan, a champion MMA fighter, and Cal, a cow and an MMA fighter who had not yet proven himself. He had been around the rings a few times already, but he had not pushed things to the point of winning tournaments, choosing to hone his skill outside the arena.

He bellowed and stomped fists balled up, most of his blue coat of short hair on show. It was different to that of most of his species, splotched with darker shades of blue through the lighter hairs, his hide covered in constellations. Of course, however, the bull was not there for any kind of beauty pageant and anyone that wanted to stare at him would have done better to take in his muscles, how broad his chest was, the thickness of his round, cannonball-like shoulders.

He was more than the sum of his pretty side, after all, snorting and grunting, already fixing his sights on the tight before him. His standard MMA shorts clasped his buttocks and bulge tightly, though not to the point where he lost his agility or range of motion, splashed through with red and yellow and orange shades. It was a striking combination, with his MMA gloves in his colours too, fingerless so that he could grapple and wrestle with the best of them, itching with the ropey swish of his tail for the fight to begin.

The tiger, Dan, surveyed him, stiller, though the heat of the fight was already upon him, a low growl rumbling up from his chest. Lesser fighters had been known to purr, though it was a deeply seated sound of satisfaction, not a softer way of being. Still, Dan did not purr, his MMA shorts hugging his figure, the thickness of his thighs, straining taut around them as the fabric stretched to fit him. His colours were black and red, the stripes on his shorts drawing the eye to his best feature, his legs, being a part of the body that lesser fighters, even jocks, forgot in training. That was something that a proven fighter, winning tournament after tournament, would never have forgotten, however.

Dan's fingers curled around his gloves, finding his stance, shifting his weight back and forth, checking he was loose in all ways. Though the tiger could not drag his gaze from the cocky cow, his bulge appearing as if it was about to burst right through his shorts, though he was undoubtedly wearing nothing underneath them. No one that came to their kind of fight did, after all.

The ring was intoxicating, more potent than any drug, the tug of tightly fitting, revealing clothing showing off all that both fighters had to offer. Besides their MMA shorts, they didn't wear anything at all, snarling, heaving, grunting, waiting.

And then the fight was in action, the announcement to commence roaring over them, though they did not hear it. It was a feeling deep within their chests that shocked them to the core as they snarled, grappling, coming together in a smack of muscled bodies that wowed the crowd. That was one reason, after all, that fights at that arena were so popular, other anthros screaming, hollering, cheering for their favourite fighter, calling out encouragement and leaping from their seats until they were as hoarse and as sore as if they had actually fought themselves.

Dan didn't care about that, not as he launched a punch into Cal's gut, the bull doubling over, though it was not as hard as it could have been. The bull rolled away with a heady grunt, though his ire was up, burning for retaliation when he could have been more level-headed about it. The fights brought that out in the fighters.

Fists flew, kicks abounding, Cal spinning to put more power into his strike, slicing his bare, cloven hoof sideways across the tiger's stomach. The surprised feline let out a yowl and spat out a swear, advancing, closing the distance as arms and fingers dug in around their bodies, grappling. They both tried to get the advantage, scuffling and scraping, though there were few rules in such fights. It was only a shame in Cal's case that his horns were so short that they were not, usually, any use to him in fights, though the feel of the other male's bulge grinding against his body sent a hot flare through him that had nothing to do with the fight.

The crowd had their eyes on them too, even as they separated, panting heavily, fur matting with sweat, Dan wiping off his brow. They saw how their bulges thickly swelled with arousal behind them, shorts struggling to contain their masculinity, what, in the arena, made them who they were, though there was so much more to the fights than mere arousal, the tangle of lust that underline every coming-together.

Cal wrestled Dan into a chokehold from behind, his arms around the tiger's chest as he crushed his arm across the feline's windpipe, seeking out the pressure points that would knock him out. He might have been successful in it too, if not for the fact that the tiger was larger and stronger and, notably, heavier than him. With a grunt, the more seasoned fighter got his leveller head back on for enough time to drag Cal off-balance with his weight, acting like a dead weight against him, kicking back with both legs to strike the cow.

His bellow of surprise was the bull's downfall as Dan loomed, pinning him, twisting his arm behind his back, limbs all tangled up as they grappled, battling it out on the mats themselves. Yet it could only end with the tiger bending the bull's blue-haired leg back while scissoring his own legs around the bull's neck, pushing down on his instep, even though his hind paws were bare, to exert more and more pressure.

The announcer screamed, hollering into the microphone...and then the fight was over. Dripping with sweat, the tiger stood with a smirk, lifting his paws in triumph, accepting his due praise, even as the swell in his shorts grew and grew.

It was not a loser's game, however, not one that anyone could lose, not as Cal's shorts bulged with arousal, the sight getting more out of him than any that he had been a part of before. Sweat dripped into his eyes, salty on his tongue, and the tiger was on him before he knew it, grinding his soft nose, willingly, into his own bulge, so hard that it was a wonder that it did not spring out entirely through his shorts.

"Get that tongue to work, calf..."

Dan smirked, pushing on, though his head already clouded with swirling lust, the bull's tongue snaking out wetly, caressing that bulge. Yet such pleasure could not be gentle in the aftermath of an explosive fight like that and the tiger snarled, dragging him in closer, muscles bulging, fingers tangled up in Cal's hair.

Cal was only too eager to wrench down the tiger's shorts, allowing his beast of a cock to spring free, though the shorts remained, strained, around Dan's thighs, the waistline tucked back behind his balls so that nothing was left to the imagination. There was no wasting time as the crowd screamed for the grand finale, the bull taking a deep breath and taking the entire length of Dan's thick, meaty cock into his mouth, sucking it into the back of his throat. Although he did not possess much of a gag reflex anymore, he still swallowed rapidly to make the pushing of it into his throat easier to bear, eyes half-lidded with lust. His cock openly showed through his shorts, framing his bulge nicely in his fighting colours, though neither fighter bothered removing their gloves. Where was the time?

Dan hissed through his teeth, relishing in being the champion, though he had not the breath for more, his chest rising and falling rapidly, thrusting and grinding. Holding Cal's head still, he used his muzzle like a gloryhole, exactly as they both wanted. The slap of his crotch ground into the bull's soft nose, ensuring that not a single sliver of his dick went to waste.

Yet the tiger was not satisfied.

"Come on, bull, you can fucking do better than that," he growled, though it was hardly mockery when it was exactly what they both wanted. "Get down, get those muscled thighs open for me."

As the winner, he was just as lustful for Cal as the cow was for him, the bull crumpling willingly to his back, his legs spread and kicked wide, though his lower back strained with the force of keeping them up like that. Dan ripped through his shorts as if they were nothing at all, revealing his tight tail hole and the spring of his throbbing erection in one swipe, tattered shreds of cloth hanging from Cal's hips. The loss was only felt for a moment, though the press of the tiger's cock to his anal ring was all that the bull needed.

The moment of penetration was not felt as much as the plunge of Dan's bare cock entering him, grinding deep even without lube, though the edge of strain and pain was not something that Cal was unfamiliar with. The jock twisted and moaned, clinging to the tiger's arms as the seasoned fighter bore over him, forcing his body to submit with every stroke.

Only, it was not about winners and losers but about their lust, sharing it, relieving it. Cal could have mounted the tiger in the aftermath and the only reason that Dan did was simply because he was quicker to take what he wanted. He had more experienced and the bull was more than willing to take every overpowering, driving thrust into his tight backside, muscles aching around his hot length of fuck meat and desperate for more.

Cal moaned, wanting it all, every stroke, despite the strain. It was worth it, all of it, from the hard feel of the firm mats under his back to the scent of sweat tickling his nose, the looming figure of the tiger framed by lights, as if he was an angel. Yet no angel in heaven or hell came with a halo like that, muscles set off by the bright lights, cutting through shadows as he snarled and powered through the cow, again and again.

That was all how it was meant to be, Dan's groans fuelling the crowd, lost in their lust for the fight, after the fight, everything to do with the fight. To have them fucking like that, relieving their needs, Dan's paw closing around Cal's cock... There was no better way to end a bout, the hunger of the crowd driving their chants.

"Cum! Cum! Cum! Cum! Cum!"

There was only one thing that the audience wanted and the fighters were more than willing to deliver, hot and ready, Cal twisting and trying to rock up, legs around the tiger's muscular waist, as he spent himself. He couldn't stop the deluge of orgasm, how his cock twitched and jerked within the tiger's hold, need flowing through him, pulse after pulse. He was not even fully present in the moment, lost instead in sensation, every driving thrust of the tiger's seeming to reach deeper and deeper inside him. Of course, that was not possible when Dan's balls already bounced off his arse with every stroke, grinding and pumping, need rolling through him.

"Unff... Yes... Fuck..."

Dan would not hold back, slamming in as deep as he could go, groaning deeply, eyes closed. All that mattered for him was spending his lust, rope after rope of cum filling the bull up to the brim, fucking him bare in his tail hole. Tiredly, Cal's tail swished back and forth across the mats, though neither noticed, spurts of thick cum sloshing into the bull from those heavy, virile nuts.

The crowd screamed. The fighters took their pleasure.

In the arena, all was right with the sharing of their lust, the pleasure of the fight, of bringing together the best of the best for the hunger of the body. Call lowed, ears twitching, head falling back.

Neither could wait for the next fight they were lined up for...even if Cal would need a new set of shorts.