Sponsored - Featuring: Demi Lovato

This story was written as a request. So if anything about the plot or characters seems oddly specific, that's why. Enjoy!

____________________________________

Butterflies! Always these fucking butterflies! You'd think having fought three other times, I'd be able to at least make my entrance without getting nervous right? Right!? Well, you'd be wrong. My fists were ready but my mind was not. Even though I knew my opponent couldn't take me. He was merely feeder food, a guppy to hold me off until I got something I could really sink my teeth into. A scrub. And yet, I couldn't help being nervous right up until showtime.

Holding my phone in the palm of my glove-covered hand, I watched second after second tick by until my trainer, Steve finally approached me. "You ready, Shane?" He asked, taking me by the shoulders in an attempt to motivate me. Steve knew all about my timidity and anxiety; he was always the first to tell me it was all bullshit!

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be, man," I assured, an obvious lack of confidence staining my words.

"Listen, kid, you know this guy! He's nothin'! You've got nothin' to worry about, alright? Just get him on the ground, and it'll be over in no time!" Steve guaranteed, smiling down at me like a proud father. Every bit of what he said was right. I didn't have anything to worry about, my groundwork-centered Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu would do the heavy lifting. I just needed to stay focused. Easier said than done.

The next few minutes passed, with different people constantly shuffling in and out of my room. Steve had long since left, and when he finally returned, he informed me that the previous fight had finished, and mine was next. I rose from my seat, pulling over my jacket hood and yanking the strings until it was nice and tight. I followed Steve as he led toward the octagon.

The walkout always felt much longer for me than it should, but I stayed as focused as possible. That was until we actually got out there. Thousands of screaming fans giving enthusiasm a go. This was, by far, the biggest crowd I'd been a part of in my short MMA career. Needless to say, they were affecting me. I could feel the sweat begin to trickle down my face. The heat emanating from the raucous crowd was nearly unbearable. I quickly took my place inside the octagon and waited for my opponent, Jared Garcia.

Jared's music hit and, surprisingly, the opening tune was a bit different than that of his usual music. Instead of the heavy drums from a rock band I'd never heard of, a familiar set of trumpets blared throughout the arena. Over the next few seconds, it became increasingly obvious that what we were hearing and no, it wasn't John Cena. It was the opening to Demi Lovato's song, "Confident", a fact that had the stans in the crowd popping much harder than they had for me. My initial thought upon hearing this was an unimpressed, "Well then!" Hearing the brash pop tune nearly calmed my nerves. But, the moment he arrived, I realized why he suddenly had the fiery vocals of the ultra-hot Latina songstress.

Long black microphone in hand and walking alongside Garcia was the Grammy award-nominated artist herself, wearing a fancy black dress, tackily capped off with her BJJ blue belt to prove that she was NOT out of place at a lower-tier MMA event. Demi was escorting him to the ring, singing the lyrics to her song all the while as the crowd went hysterical. The temporary calming of my nerves proved to be just that. The moment I saw her, looking as gorgeous as ever, I felt a huge lump beginning to form in the back of my throat. Anxiety was back and stronger than before, that only got worse once they both entered the cage.

Continuing her impromptu performance, Demi strutted toward the center, fixing her piercing brown gaze on me. She surveyed me up and down, nearly laughing through the chorus of her song, just from the sight of me. Or maybe, it was the thought of a shorter guy like me beating Garcia? Either way, it did little to help my confidence. Especially considering that I'd had a crush on her ever since I was a teenager. At least I knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that this guy was beating me, whether he had Demi Lovato in his corner or not. That, of course, didn't stop him from smiling from ear to ear.

Demi eventually finished her song and subsequently left the octagon, but not before staring me down as she gave Garcia an emphatic kiss on the cheek, almost to let me know that her guy had it in the bag. Nevertheless, once she'd left, the announcer got to work. He started with me, highlighting my 3-0 record, all of which were submission victories. Then Garcia and his unimpressive 6-3 record. He soaked up the crowd nonetheless as the pre-fight spiel began to wind down. Moments later, the bell rang, and the fight was on.

Immediately, I noticed that Garcia was way too overconfident for his own good because he tried to rush me. Big mistake. The moment he got in range, I hooked his leg, throwing him down and transitioning into my signature armbar. Quite uneventfully, Garcia tapped out moments later. The crowd, and Demi, watched on in shock as I released my hold, the referee quickly running over to raise my hand. Just like that, I was 4-0; not a bad start for a rookie.

____________________________________

The next day, I was already back at it, training hard for my next fight. Hitting the bag, working on my strikes that could always use some improvement. My trainer was out for the day, so the best I could manage was this without any guidance or some kind of sparring partner.

There I was, minding my own business when suddenly, a large crowd of people bursts into the facility. My attention was immediately distorted and, as the crowd of people drew closer, my shy, more reserved half reared its ugly head. I did my best to block them out, but it wasn't working, especially when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

"Shane? I thought I'd find you here!" Demi said as I slowly turned around to face her. There she was, dressed in all black Reebok workout gear, the tight-fitting lycra hardly holding her large breasts and famously fat booty in place.

Stammering, I pressed, "W-what are you doing here?" Probably not something a world-famous pop star was used to hearing, but I was far too bashful to be starstruck. If anything, being this close to the beautiful songstress without hundreds of screaming fans around only made my stomach turn even more. Never, in a million years could I have imagined I'd be this close to the girl of my dreams, let alone her knowing my name. But here she was, in living color.

Demi snapped her fingers, smirking confidently as a big, dark-skinned bodyguard handed her a piece of paper. She held it in front of me and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

Answering honestly, I stated, "N-no!"

"This, rook, is a contract to officially make you a sponsored athlete. An athlete sponsored by yours truly. How does that sound?" She asked, waving the paper in front of me like a dog treat, smiling confidently and beautifully.

'Well, that explains Garcia,' I thought to myself. She must've been sponsoring him, but decided to ditch him after his loss. Ms. Lovato must've thought it ideal to trade up for...me. Suddenly, my face began to burn up. I couldn't tell, but I was certain that my cheeks were beet red. I couldn't believe it, it was like a dream come true! And yet, I was too reserved to take the offer gleefully.

Instead, trying my best to look cool in front of my celebrity crush, I casually retorted, "That sounds pretty good, Demi." As soon as I finished, she quickly approached me, forcefully shoving me against the punching bag as her guards waited on deck.

"That's Miss Lovato to you, scrub. Believe me, you weren't my first choice. Or my second. Or my third. A scrawny thing like you? Please!" My heart sank. Not only had I been pushed around, but she'd also emasculated me, as well. Kind of a turn-on, honestly, but at the moment, with everyone else watching, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"No, no, you weren't my pick. But, my agent says that I need to promote a winner, otherwise I'll look bad. They saw your win last night and told me to meet with you."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You're very welcome, I'm sure," Demi said arrogantly, finally backing off and returning to her sea of henchmen before continuing.

"But, just because I've seen you win before, doesn't mean you won't have to prove yourself!"

Still unable to think straight, I stupidly responded, "How can I do that?" It was obvious which direction this was heading in. A direction that my libido was more than happy to guide me towards.

"Well, I'm going to test you. If you fail, you'll prove yourself to be nothing more than a waste of my time, as expected!" Her grating words sat alone for a few seconds before she explained the alternative scenario.

"If you pass my test, then you'll be my new sponsored athlete. Fat chance of that, but who knows? Maybe you'll surprise me!" Her words were harsh, but they didn't bother me nearly as much as they would've coming from somebody else. No, Demi was my ultimate fantasy and for her, I'd easily take getting pushed around to get to meet her, much less be sponsored by her. I mean seriously, not only is the idea of having a super hot female celeb by my side awesome, but it's also sure to help my popularity go through the roof. If nothing else, it'll get eyes on me. Even without everything else, that alone is worth the price of admission.

"Your test will be simple: last one minute inside the octagon with me. If you can do that, then you pass." Having heard her requirements, I couldn't help but laugh. Sure, I knew she was a blue belt in BJJ and all, but did she really think she would be that much of a challenge? With me being a black belt and her juicy frame only helping to restrict her movements, passing this "test" would be a piece of cake. The ease helped quell my nerves considerably, to the point where I somehow managed to work up the courage to make a joke.

"Is there, by any chance, a signing bonus?" Immediately, her guards began to move in, but she quickly stopped them.

"I doubt it, but nice try. Just be happy you even get this opportunity, asshole" She assured, heading over to the practice cage across the room.

"Men, go ahead and take the rest of the day off!"

In unison, they all shouted, "But, Miss Lovato," but were promptly silenced by their boss.

"Seriously, look at this guy! Go get a smoothie or something. I'll meet you back at the agency later once everything is settled. Are we clear?" Demi sternly explained as she pulled her flowing brunette mane into a ponytail. The guards obliged, filing out of the door, one by one. Once they'd left, Demi turned her attention back to me.

"Okay, rookie, here's how this is gonna go. A single, one-minute round. No kicks, no punches, just grappling. We'll see if I don't have you begging for mercy by then and go from there!" Demi clarified, her innate confidence continuing to boggle my mind. How could she be so sure about not only surviving a round against me but also about beating me? I just couldn't understand it. Nevertheless, I quietly followed her over to the octagon. She made a quick stop to pick up and put on a pair of gloves her size before we both entered the cage.

When we arrived, Demi removed her phone from the waistband of her form-fitting workout shorts. After a few seconds of scrolling, she showed me a timer that she'd set. Sixty seconds, one full minute. I didn't even have to beat Demi, which I feel as though I could have easily. My only goal was to survive. Then, not only would I get work with my celebrity crush, but my popularity would go through the roof! And all I'd have to do was go one round with a pop star, masquerading as an amateur martial artist.

"You ready, rook?" She asked and I nodded in agreement. Demi pressed the start button and tossed the phone aside. The fight was on! As she rushed me though, it finally occurred to me exactly what all grappling would entail. It meant that I would get to touch her ridiculously sexy body. All over. All 5'3" of Demi would be in my grasp at some point. And as that thought raced through my mind, she grabbed my arm and threw me to the floor.

Miss Lovato wrapped her thick thighs around my muscular but less than impressive arm, and I could tell exactly what move she was going for. The killing blow! One of the best techniques in all of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and my specialty, the armbar. She appeared to be using all of her strength, wrapping my limb up vigorously with a grunt or two mixed in to let me know she was trying her damndest.

Normally, I could've easily gotten out of it, since Demi wasn't very powerful, or even skilled enough to hold me down with the technique alone. But, I found myself not wanting to blatantly overpower her. Sure, I could've picked her up and tossed her aside if I wanted, but something told me she wouldn't be too happy about it. Miss Lovato was trying her best to put me out, and since the pain wasn't necessarily excruciating, I allowed her to continue wrenching my arm back until it was. Then, I countered.

Suddenly, I burst into action, rolling around until it was safe to kneel. Demi never released the hold; her juicy thighs were still wrapped around my arm like a vice. She vigorously yanked on my appendage, but to no avail. I had the advantage now. All I needed to do was keep her down until the timer sounded. The victory was in my grasp. Or, at least I thought it was.

Demi proved to be more than just a pretty face or a spectacular set of pipes, using her tremendous legs to send me crashing back down. From there, she transitioned into a rear-naked choke, another BJJ staple. Despite my power and skill advantage, this one was going to be much harder to escape, because of the compromising position. She was behind me, using all of her strength in an attempt to put me down. My situation wasn't looking so bright, and Demi knew it. That's why she felt confident enough to start running her mouth.

"C'mon, rook! This the best you got? Really!? Just go to sleep! Go! To! Sleep!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing in a few cackles of delight between each phrase. Having a pro athlete on the ropes like this was giving her a big head. If I didn't know any better, I would've said she was getting off on it.

Breathing became incredibly difficult. My face was burning, I could feel my consciousness slipping. I was going to sleep. I couldn't see the timer, and though it felt like we'd been going at it for a while, I wasn't sure how much time was left. As much as I hated the idea of hurting my celebrity crush, I would've hated missing out on this opportunity even more. 4-0, I'm a climber. Demi will forgive me when my brand grows astronomically, and hers grows alongside it. For now, I needed to win.

Using my overwhelming strength advantage, I took Demi's arms into my hands and slowly pried them apart, taking a huge breath once I had. That moment of hesitation allowed her to try and slip the hold back on, but I countered, grabbing hold of her arm and rolling through until the pop star was laying flat on her back with me, mounted on top of her.

Demi Lovato grunted and moaned. She pushed and shoved. The Grammy nominee even broke the rule she'd set herself, throwing a few punches my way. Regardless of her efforts, they were all in vain. Demi was powerless against me; I was on top of her and we remained that until the timer sounded. I had won!

Unsurprisingly, I'd proven myself tough enough to handle Demi inside the octagon. Finally unmounting the actress turned singer, I allowed her to pathetically rise to her feet before stating the obvious, "So, that uhh...contract?" Even after having her in such a compromising position, I still struggled to find the confidence to speak strongly towards her.

"No!" Demi screamed, the rage evident in her tone. "No! No! No! I didn't want you! You were NOT supposed to win."

"Well, I did though," I needlessly dropped in. "So, can we discuss some details?" Taking off my gloves, I headed for the cage entrance, but before I could leave, Demi jumped me, throwing me against the mesh and holding me there. If I wasn't sweating before, I definitely was now.

"No, rook, we can't! I need to be represented by somebody with experience," Demi assured, beginning to rub her glove-covered hands over my shiny body. "What was it that you mentioned earlier? A signing bonus? Well, consider this a bonus of sorts. One more round, but this time..." Demi's words lingered as she dropped to her knees. My heartbeat was like a rampaging racehorse as she took the sides of my trunks into her hands.

"This time, rook, we play a game where I have the advantage," Demi purred, giving a quick snicker before pulling my shorts down, allowing my eight-inch cock to spring out. My length and girth were impressive, for sure, but more impressive was the fact that I was hardly even erect. And, how could I be?

Obviously, that last statement sounds ridiculous! How could I not be hard when I've got my dick inches away from world-famous pop star Demi Lovato's beautiful face? Well, the nerves, of course! My stomach was in knots, and I didn't know what to do so I just...stood there, allowing the gorgeous Latina to take my rod into her tiny hand. All the while, she looked on in amazement. In fact, Demi's eyes had gone wide the moment she saw my serpent. It was obvious she'd never seen one quite this big, let alone the potential of my full mast. But regardless of my size, Demi had a job to do, and she was intent on getting it done.

"Wh-what's wrong, rook? Can't get it up, or what?" She asked, struggling to believe what was being said. I stayed silent, mostly because I was still coming to terms with what was happening, but also because I didn't want to humor her. Rookie or not, she'd never seen a cock this big in real-time, I was sure of it.

Anyway, looking as determined as ever, Demi spat into her other hand, before placing it around my cock as well. She felt me grow slowly inside of her grasp, my rod stiffening constantly from her incredible soft touch despite my anxiety. After letting another glob of spit fall from her luscious, full lips, Demi began to jerk me off. Slowly at first, the long strokes from top to bottom had me gripping at the mesh behind me and moaning quietly. But we both knew it wouldn't be enough to make me cum.

That was her goal. This second round? The test was to last, not in a fight, but in a brutal game of sexual endurance. It wasn't fair; I'd already earned the right to be her sponsored athlete. But, who was I to argue with our current situation? I wasn't upset with it, that's for sure. I only wished the pressure of getting a handjob from my dream girl wasn't so intense. That way, I could at least enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience to its fullest extent.

But alas, it wasn't meant to be. Her soft hands felt great wrapped around my dick, but after a few minutes, the pleasure had plateaued. Demi quickly realized that she had no choice but to either admit defeat or try something else. Something a bit more stimulating.

Letting out an audible groan and wearing a dejected expression, Demi slowly opened her mouth and took my cock inside. A small gasp followed, as my impressive girth forced her to spread her jaw wider and wider until she was finally able to accept my head. It was all downhill from there, though.

Again, I stayed completely silent, allowing the pop star to show that her mouth was multi-talented. She took things slowly, allowing herself plenty of time to relax and get into a groove. Lips coiled around my shaft like a vice, Demi bobbed her head up and down, not even trying to stop the slobber that was pouring from the sides of her mouth. She didn't care, so long as I got closer to coming. So long as she was the one to make it happen.