Fight Town: Inspiration

by Jinx, Hondo

  Which is exactly why he swept left.

  Freddie was a good friend. If she ever became more than that, it wouldn’t be because he paid for it.

  Next up was poor Millie. She, too, was pretty, but he intended to lift her up, not exploit her mouth.

  Maybe he was reading too much into this or being a bit too noble, but he swept left again.

  And almost gagged.

  He swept Lucinda’s image off the screen with all the speed of a world-class jab.

  Next came Marvella, who was honestly kind of hot, despite her eye patch, scowl, and limp. But not hot in a cute girl you’d have fun swapping oral favors with kind of way. No, Marvella was like an I regret nothing, black widow, female praying mantis kind of way. Like she’d use you up, wring you dry, and then bite your head off.

  He swiped left.

  He went through others he’d met or just seen, considering and rejecting the girls he worked with, until he made his choice.

  Then he went back to the Juice menu and decided to spend 200 Vicarus credits on two permanent stat boosts.

  But which stat or stats should he enhance?

  He’d always believed in maximizing strengths, so it was tempting to throw both points into power.

  But he had to be smart, had to consider all options.

  His chin stat was good for now. He’d survived a clubbing from Jobbo, after all.

  With more agility he would take fewer punches and land more of his own.

  Likewise, with more speed his connect rate would go up and he’d be more likely to land clean shots.

  More strength would be nice, of course, but he was boxing, not wrestling. For now, other stats were more important.

  At 53, his endurance stat sucked, and he’d felt that during the sparring match, but he suspected it would be easier to naturally increase it than his other stats, what with his morning runs and the nightly torture that Marvella called training.

  After a good deal of deliberation, he boosted his agility and power each by one point.

  Agility was the smartest choice, he knew; but like any twenty-one-year-old male boxer, he couldn’t resist the temptation of adding more pop to his punches.

  Once these boost purchases were complete, his new stats appeared, narrated again by the disembodied voice.

  Fighter: Johnny Rockledge

  Age: 21

  Height: 6’0”

  Weight: 186 pounds

  Reach: 76 inches

  Total juice: 486

  Total Juice minus Heart: 386

  Agility: 51

  Chin: 79

  Endurance: 53

  Heart: 100

  Power: 74

  Speed: 60

  Strength: 69

  * * *

  “Huh,” he said, speaking his surprise aloud, “I’ve lost five pounds.” He threw a combination. “I’m a lean, mean, fighting machine.”

  He chose 10-minute Juice Boost, 5% and learned he could mentally trigger the one-time boost whenever he wanted just by willing it to begin.

  The same conditions applied to the two other juice boosts he purchased: 3-minute Endurance Stat Boost, 25% and 3-minute Power Stat Boost, 25%.

  Happy with these purchases, he went through the menus and spent 6 Vicarus credits on a mini-fridge—he wanted to be able to buy and store food, as well as leftovers—and 1 Vicarus credit on a six-pack of beer that wouldn’t hurt his juice cultivation because hey, what use was an empty fridge?

  The remaining 2 Vicarus credits he converted to cash, which would help him to help Millie—and still pay the rent in a few weeks.

  With these final purchases made and his credit balance back to zero, the Vicarus Rewards Store vanished, and he found himself lying in the darkness of his motel room.

  Hey, he thought. The sultry customer service lady never told me how to activate the blowjobs.

  A second later, a soft rapping sounded at his door.

  Chapter 19

  Johnny rose and crossed the room, not bothering to hunt for his pants.

  If this was what he expected, boxer shorts would be more than enough for the occasion.

  And if it was something else, hey, what do expect if you knock on a guy’s door in the middle of the night, a tux?

  He leaned into the door. Even in the peephole’s walleyed view, his visitor was beautiful. Floppy blond dog ears and all.

  And she was holding a pizza.

  Johnny opened the door.

  Sylvia bit her bottom lip, giving him the repentant little girl act, then showed him her bright white smile. “Sorry, Johnny. Did I wake you?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He swiveled aside and gestured toward the darkness of his room. “Want to come in?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Silvia skated past him, tail wagging. The pizza box trailed a mouthwatering aroma.

  Marvella said pizza’s bad for training, he reminded himself. Then, flicking on the light and lifting his gaze up Sylvia’s toned legs to the shapely bottom barely concealed by her pink miniskirt, he thought, but there’s plenty more to eat.

  His body was already responding to this lovely girl, so he hoped the moment was what he thought it was. Otherwise, Silvia would take one glance at his boxer shorts and things would get pointedly awkward.

  Keyword pointedly.

  Sylvia spun on her skates. Her blue eyes stared at his bruised face, trailed down his naked torso, dropped below his beltline, and bulged as her bright smile broadened.

  “Well, I must admit when the urge to visit struck, I felt a bit self-conscious,” she said, still staring below his belt, “but I can see that you’re… excited… to see me.”

  “I am,” Johnny said, closing the door behind him. There was no reason to play coy and no reason to second guess the ethics of choosing this beautiful, flirtatious girl for a bit of fun.

  Paul and Annabelle told him to make Vicarus riders happy. And he aimed to do just that.

  Sylvia bit her lip again and skated slowly over the carpeted floor, once more giving him an appraising 360.

  “I heard you went to the gym,” Sylvia said, her tail wagging faster. “All the girls are talking about it. They say you went toe to toe with Jobbo.”

  Johnny nodded, looking her up and down as she skated past, still holding the pizza. “I heard you hurt him.”

  Johnny nodded again. “Right at the bell.”

  Sylvia came to a stop and shivered. At some point, she’d unzipped her uniform top halfway, creating a pink V now filled with cleavage.

  “You must be heavy handed,” she said, her voice suddenly husky. “I mean, you must hit really hard.”

  Johnny shrugged. “I can crack all right.” He reached out and took her waist in his big hands.

  Sylvia’s eyes widened, and she smiled mischievously. “I brought you something.” She shoved the box forward, bumping its edge into his bare chest. He heard the pizza slide inside, and his nostrils filled with its glorious aroma.

  “Thanks, but you go ahead. I can’t eat it. My trainer said no pizza. I’m with Marvella, by the way. Thanks for giving me her name.”

  “No problem, Johnny. She’s the best. Really. Everybody says so. But hey, you sure you don’t want some pizza?”

  He shook his head.

  She tossed the box on the bed. “How about a blowjob instead?”

  Johnny grinned. “Sounds great. Give me a kiss first.”

  “Oh, a fighter and a romantic?” She raised her mouth to his and they kissed passionately.

  Sylvia’s mouth was warm and wet. She whimpered softly as her eager tongue invaded his mouth.

  She smelled like pizza but tasted like bubble gum. He inhaled deeply, loving the feel of her firm body wriggling against him as they kissed.

  When they finally broke the kiss, Sylvia was panting for breath. “You’re a great kisser, Johnny. You ready?”

  Wild with desire, Johnny could only nod and raise a hand to caress her beautiful face.

  “But Johnny? No sex, okay? I mean no sex-sex,
all right? I’ve never done it before.”

  Johnny froze. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a great idea. Was he corrupting this poor girl? “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  All right. That was okay.

  “And you’re still a virgin?”

  Sylvia nodded, gripping his hand in hers. “I am. But don’t worry. My mouth isn’t.”

  She slid his hand from her cheek to her mouth, latched onto his thick middle finger, and took it in her mouth. Her bright blue eyes bore into his as she sucked his finger, pumping it in and out of her puckered mouth.

  She popped it free, lowered his hand to her firm breast, and raised her wet lips to his ear. “Please fuck my mouth, Johnny. I’m begging you to fuck my mouth.”

  He grinned. “You don’t have to beg.”

  “I’m a doggy, Johnny. I like to beg. Please give me your bone.”

  She lowered onto her knees and sat back on her skates. Her fluffy tail wagged, and her gorgeous human face stared up at him as her fingertips slipped into the waist of his boxers, stretched them over his jutting arousal, and whisked them down to his ankles.

  “Oh!” she laughed as his hardness tumbled free and slapped her forehead. She leaned her face back so his erection lay across her face. She sniffed his length, blinking dreamily, and started licking.

  Gently at first, lathing the base of his hardness; then harder and faster, whimpering again as she dragged her tongue up his throbbing erection, painting its underside with her warm saliva.

  Bringing her hands into play, Silvia stared up at him as she squeezed his balls lightly and lazily pumped his shaft with her other hand. “One more thing, Johnny. I’m still on the clock, okay? Do you think you can get off quick?”

  “Sure,” Johnny growled, reaching down to scratch behind her furry ears.

  “Mm, that feels good. But let’s save the soft touch for another time, okay? Grab my hair instead. I want you to dominate me, okay? It’s a dog thing. Take control. Fuck my mouth hard and deep, Johnny. Please? I’m begging you.”

  Johnny brushed her hands from his manhood. They fell to her breasts and stayed there, wrists limp, making her seem like a mostly human dog sitting up and begging for a treat.

  He grabbed a fistful of blond hair. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

  She shuddered with excitement, smiled brightly, and did as she was told.

  He slapped his cock off her wet tongue, making her quiver.

  “Please, Johnny. Give it to me hard and quick. Be the boss. Take my mouth.”

  He pushed his tip into her mouth and filled his hands with blond hair.

  Instantly, Silvia plunged her mouth forward, taking him deep into her mouth. Johnny didn’t know whether this was a function of gameplay or the girl was just supernaturally talented, but she pushed forward, lips cinched tightly around his girth, and deepthroated every inch.

  Pausing there, she stared up at him, her big blue eyes blinking and her tail wagging.

  Johnny growled with pleasure. Seeing the girl’s capabilities, he decided to give her exactly what she wanted: a rough, fast, dominant throat-fucking.

  Gripping Sylvia’s silky hair, he jerked her head back and forth, thrusting his hips, and burying himself to the root again and again as she clutched his legs and wagged her tail, the pink miniskirt creeping up to reveal a shapely ass clad in white cotton panties.

  A short time later, he pulled her head forward and held her in place and exploded, growling as he pumped jet after jet down her talented throat.

  Popping her mouth free, Sylvia gasped for air and showed him a huge smile. “Thank you, master!”

  “Master?” he laughed.

  “You’re my master now, Johnny,” she said, zipping her top and struggling to catch her breath. “You own my mouth, anyway. Thanks!”

  “Thanks? I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  Sylvia shook her head and stood with impressive ease, considering her roller skates. “No need to thank me, master. My mouth is yours to use as you will, when you wish. Mm. That was wonderful!”

  She straightened her uniform, tugging down the hem of her miniskirt, picked up the pizza, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Johnny.”

  “Hold on,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Don’t you want me to return the favor, get you off?”

  Smiling devilishly, Sylvia shook her head. “I hate to suck and run, but I have pizzas to deliver. The rest of my shift, I’ll be replaying in my head how you dominated me tonight. By the time I get home, I’ll be so horny, I’ll cum in two seconds.”

  She kissed his cheek again, opened the door, and skated out with a smile on her face. “Sweet dreams, Johnny!”

  Chapter 20

  Johnny woke up early, went for his run, and took a shower, planning to go back to bed.

  But by the time he toweled off, he knew sleep was a lost cause. He was wide awake, so he decided to grab breakfast over at Lou’s.

  The diner was packed, especially given that it wasn't even six yet.

  He found a seat at the lunch counter and laid his hat before him. No one on the morning shift looked familiar. That was fine. Sometimes, anonymity is nice. Especially before you’ve had your coffee.

  Waiting to place his order, Johnny replayed Silvia’s nocturnal visit. Typically, he was an attentive lover, neither dominant nor submissive but empathetic.

  Sylvia’s aggressive submission, however, along with her incredible deepthroat skills, had awakened something within him. He might not have ears or a tail, but he now knew there was a dominant primordial beast living in his heart.

  Well, he’d done as Paul and Annabelle had asked and given his riders what they hungered for.

  The idea of purchasing the experience still weirded him out a little but not so much as it had. There’s something about getting an A+ blowjob that puts the mind at ease.

  Which made him wonder when Sylvia would show up again.

  A waitress, thirtyish with curly black hair and a name tag that read Sandy, strolled over, greeted Johnny, and asked what he wanted.

  He was hungry from all this working out, and the good smells coming out of the kitchen made his stomach growl. He ordered scrambled eggs, hash browns with gravy, toast with coffee, and a double side of bacon.

  "Well,” Sandy said with a big smile, "somebody sure brought his appetite with him this morning. You a fighter?"

  Johnny nodded. It felt natural now. It felt like it was his identity.

  Sandy brightened. “Are you a pro?"

  “Not quite,” he said with a grin, feeling a little sheepish. “In fact, I just started this week.”

  Sandy laughed, setting a white cup and saucer on the counter before him. “Well, in that case, good luck to you. It's hard work, fighting.”

  Johnny leaned back and twisted, making a show of wincing at the soreness. “My body concurs.”

  “My brothers and sisters all gave it a go. But not me. Oh no.” Sweeping a carafe from the coffee station behind her, Sandy filled his cup. “Why would I want to punch people? And why in the world would I want them punching at me? No thank you. Besides, I don't have the stomach for boxing. Can't even watch the fights. I mean, I watch them. Of course, I watch. Everybody watches. But if somebody gets cut or killed, it makes me sick. Would you like some cream?”

  Johnny shook his head. “I drink it black.”

  But something she’d said echoed in his mind. Cut or killed. He knew people got killed boxing. Not often, though. How frequently did fighters die in Fight Town?

  “Spoken like a true fighter,” she said, drifting toward the kitchen. “Well, this stuff’s strong. You drink it black, you’ll be 10-0 by the time I get back with your food.”

  Johnny sipped his coffee, twisted halfway around on his stool, and watched people passing on the street, which was busy for the hour. The coffee was good—dark and bitter—even better than the lunch counter coffee at the five and dime.

  When Sandy came back and spread
his food before him, Johnny asked if Lou was working.

  The waitress shook her head. “He never works on fight days. Well, every day is fight day in Fight Town, I suppose, but you know what I mean. The big ones. Probably goes back to his days as a fighter.”

  Johnny nodded, reckoning that was why Lou had given him the day off, too. “Was he good?”

  “Who, Lou?” Sandy said, and looked at him like he was crazy. “Good? He was great. City champ, then had a solid pro career, went something like 100-20. How do you think he paid for this diner?”

  “I’ll have to ask him for some pointers,” Johnny said.

  Sandy grinned. “You do, you’d better not have any plans for the day. Once you get Lou talking about boxing, he doesn’t stop. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  Johnny shook his head and dug in.

  The eggs were good. The rest was excellent. Which came as no surprise with the bacon. You have to work pretty hard to mess up bacon, and this stuff was done just right, chewy but crisp at the edges with plenty of sweet and salty caramelization. The real shocker, though, was the home fries with sausage gravy. The potatoes were soft and salty with onions cooked into them. The cream gravy was thick and rich, just greasy enough, with a generous amount of spicy ground sausage.

  Johnny took his time, remembering the instructions of Paul and Annabelle, and savored both the food and the moment.

  People came and went, most of them talking about the fights. They were all jazzed up.

  Johnny was jazzed up, too. He was excited to see the fights, but mostly, he was looking forward to hanging out with Freddie. It was cool of her to show him the ropes.

  After he finished up and paid his bill, a voice behind him said, “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Guess they’ll let anybody in this joint.”

  Johnny turned to see his orange-haired motel manager smirking at him. She had the pug in her arms.

  “Hey, Lucinda.”

  “Don’t try to butter me up, kid. You get a job yet?”