Gio of the Jungle!

Spike: Gio, I got it! I got that saucy, cut clip from your movie!

Gio: Wow, 'The Power of the Jungle King'! This is one of my first films. Good job, beautiful Spike. How did you manage it?

Spike: I had to make a deal with the guy who runs the naughty films cinema in town. Less questions the better. Point is, I got this. Fire up the popcorn and let's watch you be a sexy jungle stud.

Gio: Hahaha, sounds good! Playing Darr, the Jungle King, was a lot of fun! But, just know...I am a little shy when other people watch my work!

Spike: I totally understand! Cuddle up and watch?

Gio: Sounds like a perfect evening to me!

The Power of the Jungle King

It is a time of barbarism and strife.

Across the forested savannahs of the Land of K'hemrum. Yet, oases of civilization stand as beacons amid the darkness. In the Kingdom of Nuadd, Emperor Tarqan--as wise as he is mighty--rules with compassion and strength, behind greats walls of solid gold. Ever prudent, the king has forged alliance with the 'untameable' and formidable People of the Deep Green; the tribes of the forest presided over by 'Jungle King' Darr, son of the Unifier, his father. Though many of Tarqan's subjects balk at this treaty with so-called 'savages', the two lords share an amiable and unbreakable bond, an iron truce vital against the encroachment of the dark magick worshipping and cannibalistic Shemhadzzians, who threaten all of K'hemrum with their bloodthirsty ways....

In the palace of beautiful and strong Nuadd, a lofty, sand-stone manse lined with towering, painted pillars, the good King seeks audience with Darr, his friend and former sparring partner. On throne of carved gold sits this giant of men, with muscles wrought of iron, skin the color of night, and eyes the same sheen as the golden jewellery and adornment that line his intimidating form. Oiled with rare herbal tinctures, he resembles a statue of a divinity. Though mere men would tremble to look upon him, his eyes are intelligent, and his smile kind. He is a father to many.

At his side stands Brai, sinewy and clad in the skins of game; attire most foreign to him. Tall and lean, with sun-kissed, copper skin, the youth of eighteen-years is a son of neither Nuadd nor the lush realms of Deep Green. His are a people fallen. He is a survivor, his life forged in fire. Rescued by the good King, and raised as both warrior and scholar, he shares a table with the King's sonsl; has been reared in their ways. Brai stands tall and eager, though there is an undeniable awkwardness about him, especially in the way he tugs at the ceremonial skins granted to him. Perhaps they show off too much of his own flesh and muscle. Though always ready for a scrap, Brai is somewhat prone to shyness.

Today, an arrangement has been made. Two strong sons and a daughter the King has born, yet they are duty-bound to the kingdom. In lieu, and after great discussion, Brai is chosen as a 'gift' to the Jungle King. Far from a body servant or mere concubine, Brai is to taken on as apprentice to the mighty king Darr.

The young man has laid eyes on the 'terror of the Green' before. His image is burned in his memory, etched, like the ash paint used for the palace murals. Still, to look upon great Darr as he swaggers proudly into the audience chamber....it makes Brai's heart beat faster, and his eyes turned downcast. How could he prove himself worthy to such a god?

Darr, olive of skin, knotted with muscle, and clad only in the loin breeches of the man-eating leopard he slew as a promise to his people, stands before the two men. Curled, deep brown hair lines his head. Despite his feral origins, his beard is well-kept (a by product of his brush with Tarqan, insistent on male grooming). He portrays an intimidating appearance, with chest covered in thick fur, and arms and legs that have been known to crush the bones of wild beasts (and men). His eyes sparkle like the stars at night. An ever present, slight smile crosses his handsome face. Far from stoic, the 'Beast King of the Great Green' shows his inner joy proudly.

He bows for none. Except, of course, for Tarqan. Even so, there is a playfulness to it. As Darr kneels, Brai's eyes follow the slight breeze beneath his loin cloth. The young warrior blushes when he spies what lay beneath. 

"Stand, you beast!" Tarqan laughs, low and resonate, as he himself springs up from his throne to embrace his friend. "I will not have you stoop as a subject does!"

"Ah," the wily jungle man replied, gripping his beautiful friend in a tight embrace, "yet the respect is thine, good friend. It has been far too long."

Though he is a wild man by heart, Darr is well-learned in the tongue of Nuadd. Gods know that Tarqan, whose eyes light up at the mention of his ally, always prattles on about how Darr's mind is sharp and attuned. He is a man of brawn and brain.

At last, Darr's eyes turn towards Brai. It is only because of years of training and endurance that Brai does not look away submissively. "How you've grown," Darr says. There is restraint, and wonder, in his voice.

Brai appraises him. How he longs to hunt alongside this beast and man, all in one. Still, he knows his way around men. "Same as you have," he says, cheekily. "Though, perhaps King Darr has somehow gotten...shorter?"

Tarqan, still the fatherly, turns and gives his adopted son an annoyed look. "Manners, Brai."

"I will have to wrestle some respect of it this one!" Darr says mirthfully, before flexing his massive arms before his audience. A demonstration of his power.

Brai gulps, bashful, and adjusts his skins appropriately. "Yes, sir. I am eager to be trained."

There is much feasting and rejoicing that night. Slowly, but sure (and no doubt thanks to several helpings of wine) Brai begins to grow easy with his new teacher. Though they sleep alone that night, Brai yearns now to be nuzzled against him. That, however, will wait til tomorrow, when they set off into the Green at first light.

Weeks have passed since that fateful encounter. Through patience and determination, Brai's training continued smoothly. Long are the days Darr and Brai adventured through the Deep Green, surveying the earthen kingdom. Darr taught Brai the ways of travelling from tree branch to tree branch in the shortest distance, as well as climbing and getting one's footing on steep terrain. Already, Brai's muscle mass increased under the jungle king's tutelage. He senses are sharper. He has learned the ways of the wild.

Brai and Darrs days are spent hunting. Nights are spent locked in combat training, with naked, sweat-slicked bodies illuminated by a steady campfire. Even so, there is also time for simple pleasures. Learning to identify plants and fruits. Tracking animals. Swimming in the river. Long, physically exhausting days culminate peacefully in Brai cuddling up in his master's large, furry chest, and falling asleep in his strong, gentle embrace. The nobles of Nuadd might have spoken of the deep forests as a 'Green Hell', but for Brai, it is a paradise, tended to by a guardian god of strength.

Brai has never been happier. 

It was on a misty, humid morning in the jungle kingdom when Brai, stretching towards the light from the canopy, noted a shortage of berries in their food supplies. Though a wandering soul, Darr had seen to building a tree fortress high up in the branches, in order to protect his provisions from opportunistic creatures.

 Brai frowned at the sudden lack of sustenance. "We're lacking food, master."

"Oh? Perhaps if you had not been so greedy the night before..." Darr said, ruffling his ward's hair. It had gotten noticeably longer, more untamed, since Darr had absconded with the King's ward. "It is understandable. You are taking in more food because your muscles are growing."

Brain frowned. "And who's fault is that? Maybe if you didn't push me so hard, I wouldn't eat so much!"

Laughing jovially, Darr placed his ward, lovingly, in a headlock. "Such sass at so early in the day! Does your master need to teach you a lesson, cub?"

"Grr." Brai growled, trying to remove himself from his master's pit. "Ugh, Master Darr, you are unbathed!" Secretly, though, he liked his master's pungent, masculine scent. 

Sighing, Darr let him go. "Perhaps I have been a bit tougher on you lately, yes? Well, take some rest today. Your generous master will go on ahead and find some forage for both of us, okay?" He took hold of the vine nearest to the wooden fort's terrace. "Just make sure you don't leave. The Shemhadzi have been treading on my territory. They are to be avoided unless I am around. Understood, young one?"

"Yes, master." 

Darr leaned foreword and gave his friend a kiss on the forehead. "You are under my protection. I'll return soon."

With that, Darr jumped onto the vine with a gymnastic grace, and used it as a line towards the ground. Brain watched him go, marvelling at how dextrously he moved through the canopy. It was almost as if he flew!

Before long, Darr came upon the tell-tale signs of a small predator stalking through the brush. The jungle man grunted, crouching low. He had, attached to his length of leather around his waist, a small knife for cutting. He needed no other weapon to hunt. He followed the footprints to a small clearing, where a young, male, jungle cat drank from a puddle. Darr sized the beast up. The cat wasn't big, but he and Brai needed meat. He would do.

Though Darr was careful where he placed his feat, moving in near silence, he could only be so stealthy with so much loose brush around. A branch cracked under his feet. Darr winced. The beast spun around and reared on its haunches, growing and bearing his teeth at the intruder.

Darr met the beast's stare head on. He circled it. It circled him. Darr's movements were in lockstep with the creature. He had learned by now to become like them, take on the mindset of a predator. He would not falter.

Beast and man sprang at once. But Darr had long studied the attacks of predators, knew where they positioned their teeth and claws, so he could avoid their attacked. He dodged the cat's sharp weaponry and wrapped his giant, knotted arms around its neck.

SNAP.

The kill was swift and uneventful. The beast struggled. Nature was cruel, and Darr's strength was merciless, but he was not without respect for all life. He cradled the creature, softly, uttered a prayer of thanks for its sacrifice, before he squeezed down lightly and ended its suffering. It breathed no more. This was the harsh way of the wild.

"Your sacrifice be not in vain," Darr said, hoisting the creature over his shoulder with little difficulty. "Meat, and a fresh pelt! I should leave Brai to his own devices more often!"

No sooner had he said that though, than his keen ears picked up on the cry of a young, human male, echoing through the forest.

Darr winced. "Seems I spoke to soon." Annoyed at having to abandon his prey, but thinking quickly, Darr scurried up a tree and placed the creature's remains high up, in hopes other scavanegers might miss it. It didn't matter. There was something far more important to attend to. Darr grabbed a hold of a branch and let his eyes track his path through the canopy, every movement planned three steps ahead. He moved like water, but inwardly, his heartbeat quickened. When it came to facing down the treacheries of the woodlands, he had little concern for his own wellbeing (and certainly had the scars from all manner of beast to prove it). Others though? He couldn't abide them in danger. Not for one moment.

Perched atop a giant tree, Darr looked over the misty canopy. He closed his eyes, and waited, pushing away thoughts of panic. If anything happened to Brai...if he lost another...

"Darr!"

The beast man's body moved ahead his mind, instinct pulling him from branch to branch towards the source of his young friend's cries. Darr jumped forward, out of the brush and into the clearing. What he saw there didn't surprise him, but it made him rage.

Brai was alive (thank the gods) but in a perilous position, stripped and tied to a wooden stake in the middle of the clearing. Looming in front of the boy, the muscular, long- haired barbarian, with only a leather breechloth to conceal his modesty, breathed rancidly onto the struggling hero.

The necklace of teeth around his thick neck indicated his tribe. There was no doubt. He was a Shemhadzi warrior. These brutes had a knack for kidnapping young, virile males and sacrificing them to their lustful, deviant god.

The long haired demon with the pale flesh licked his lips savagely at the boy. "Such a delicious little beasty." He held the long knife out to Brai's throat. "I will do this slow. My god enjoys a suffering death, especially from a pretty one such as yourself. Hahaha!"

Darr's fists went white with rage. He would sneak up behind the oaf and snap his neck, just as he'd done to the jungle cat before.

But Brai was afraid, his senses gone from him. He looked over at Darr, his expression shifting, and thereby alerting the Shemhadzi warrior to the presence of an interlope.

Snarling, with sharp teeth clenched tight, the muscular brute turned around and growled at the intruder.

Darr did the same, roaring and striking his massive pectorals with his fists. Among two men of the wild, there was no need for words. Warriors of the wilderness spoke a more primitive language.

"Fool savage," the white devil snarled in Darr's direction. "How dare you interrupt this sacrifice? How dare you challenge the Great Kahl!"

Darr spat on the soil, a great insult. "Great? Ha! I've never heard of you. How can a man be truly great if he has no esteem?"

The Kahl brute was caught off guard. "A sharper tongue than I'd expect from a man of such..." the fiend looked Darr up and down, lustfully, and licked his lips. "Bulk. I think I'll cut out your heathen tongue and wear it around my neck!"

"Drop your weapon," Darr demanded. He cracked his own neck and rotated his arm, spoiling for a brawl. It had been ages. "Let's settle this like real men."

The challenge incensed Kahl. "I AM KING OF THIS REALM!" he roared, chucking his weapon to the side.

"YOU WILL BE CONQUERED," Darr bellowed, muscles tensed and rippling. He charged forward, meeting his foe in a test of strength.

Brai watched the display between the two godly men, their bodies rippling and contorting with force. Both of them covered in sweat, and with wild eyes, they were more beast than men as they struggled for dominance. Brai only wished he could undo these binds to help his master.

But his master didn't need assistance. He tossed the warrior to the dirt, and jumped upon him, hands together like a makeshift club. He slammed his fists into the brute's skull, eager to crack it open.

The warrior was quicker than anticipated. He shifted his neck at the last second, causing Darr to slam his fists into the ground, painfully. Kahl seized the moment and DROVE his knees into Darr's guts, knocking him to the ground

*swell of dramatic music*

Brai cried out as his master fell back, stunned. "Darr! No!"

"HAHAHA!" The evil Kahl cackled as he got back onto his feet and immediately went for his sword.

Darr clutched his wounded stomach, and heaved. The blow had knocked the air right out of him. He struggled to get back on his feet.

Brai, panicked, looked between the glinting metal in Kahl's hands, and his incapacitated friend. "No! Not like this. Get up, Darr! Get to your feet, king of the jungle!"

Darr spat, and looked to his pupil. He winced.

"Now, die!" Kahl shrieked. He sliced his sword forward.

With a low growl, Darr side-stepped the blow and grabbed Kahl at the elbow, pivoting around and driving his hand behind his back at the wrong angle.

CRACK!

"GODS!" Jahl shrieked, dropping his weapon to the dirt and nursing his damaged arm.

Darr took the opportunity to kick the sword away. "Have faith in your king, lad," he said, reassuringly, to his bound companion.

Brai exhaled with relief, smiling at his master. "Darr."

This wasn't over yet. Darr breathed heavily, dripping sweat, eyes nearly rolling back in his head like a beast gone berserk. He removed his dagger from his hilt, showed it to his foe, and tossed it aside.

He tugged on his leopard print breech cloth, ripping it away and revealing his erect manhood. "We. Fight. Like. Men." 

Kahl, hurt, but defiant, grunted at the challenge. He removed his own breech, exposing a fat, engorged member. 

Exposed to each other, the primal males were driven by a warrior's rage. They drove foreword again, ready to tear each other apart. Darr didn't hesistate. He wrapped his huge, naked form around Kahl's torso; the grip of a starved anaconda. The sweat-saturated king fixed his hands tightly around the small of Kahl's back and heaved, grinding his massive body against his and squeezing down hard.

"Gahhhh!" Kahl screamed. "You...bastard!"

Beyond rage and words, Darr shoved his head in the crook of Kahl's neck and grunted, squeezing down harder and harder. There could be no mercy here. Only swift punishment.

"This is the fate of all who would dare harm the jungle king and his companions! I am the protector of this realm. Know this, under the sound of your breaking body. I sacrifice you to the gods of the green. Be at peace."

Sur enough, a subtle creaking participated an even louder CRUNCH. Kahl went to scream, but the air had been driven out of him. His eyes, bloodshot with terror, went wide and white; his mouth a rectus of pain.

Brai liked watching his master fight, especially in a state of undress. But this was too much brutality. He looked away.

CRACK. 

Kahl's body went forward, slumped over his vanquisher. Still, he breathed, barely.

Driven by bloodlust and rage, the merciless hero held his foe for awhile, even gripping down harder and shaking him, like prey caught in the jaws of a larger beast. He recalled the mercy he had bestowed upon the jungle cat before. He would grant Kahl this much, at least.

From his deadly embrace, Darr leaned forward, gained momentum, and slung the struggling Kahl over his shoulders. With eyes blank, and mouth in a snarl, Darr brought both of his hands down quick.

He roared, guttural and primal, as he delivered the killing blow.

A plume of misty blood escaped Kahl's mouth, as he was quite literally snapped in half. That was that. Darr, knowing he had dealt deatj, let the man's body drop from his shoulders, and onto the dirt. He would not desecrate it. He was no cannibal, like Kahl's wretched kind. 

Yet still, Darr needed to show his power and glory to the jungle. Flexing his muscles, and roaring with primal rage, the sweat peeled off the jungle king's body in an almost supernatural explosion of strength. Brai could only watch, terrified and in awe. Darr was truly the master of this realm; the apex predator of the Deep Green.

The humanity flowed back into Darr. He caught his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned to face his ward. His eyes were sullen. The ways of the jungle were cruel, and he would not hide them from strong-willed and kind Brai, but he would have rather not done this in front of a pure soul like his.

But Brai understood. In silence, and reverence, he let his master pulled the ropes away as if they were nothing. He stood, the only creature in the forest who dared lock eyes with the jungle king.

Darr lowered his head. "Nobody will EVER hurt Brai, Prince of Nuadd!"

"Darr..." Brai trembled. But it was not fear that took him. He embraced his master's sweaty, muscular form. He felt a stirring in his loins as he did, overwhelmed with lust and affection for the man who had protected him.

"My liege. I pledge body and soul to you." He pulled his head back but did not dare let go. "You have the jungle. Now...have me.

"Brai..." Darr said, looking down. He stroked his ward's cheek, tenderly. "A spirit such as yours cannot be possessed. But...I would have your kiss."

"Master..."

Their lips met. Nothing in the world, perhaps not even the gods, could have pulled those men apart as they kissed passionately, locked in each other's arms.

"I am yours," Brai whispered, tears of raw emotion welling in his eyes.

"And you, mine," Darr said, tenderly. "A king needs a prince. Be mine."

"Without question, my lord. Without question..."

Spike: Wow, that was so hot.

Gio: Francesco was a good actor. Very professional and sweet. He was a football player back home! Alas, he is...the straight.

Spike: Oh, not the straight! Um...so like...do you guys get it on in the next scene?

Gio: Ha! Is not porn, Spike. But...would you maybe like to...re-enact what might have happened had the scene continued?

Spike: Oh yes, my lord. Master. I will have your kiss!

Gio: Haha. Perhaps leave the acting to Francesco and I. Now, lay down like a good beast. Let the jungle man make you his... 

The End!

Supernova Press!

Jack Frost, "The Icepick" VS Iggy Astro "The Cosmic Crusher

Jack Frost: That PUNK Iggy Astro is about to get the DEEP FREEZE! I'm Jack Frost, and I just looooove taking on prettyboys. And do you know why? Because by the time I'm done with them, they're DISFIGURED, DEFEATED, AND DEEEEFILED! Hahaha! My shards of ice are just DYING to cut up that pink pussy Astro's painted up mug!

Iggy Astro: Silly little snowman. You and I might both be villains, but do you know the difference? My magnificent art ENHANCES the beauty of my defeated jobbers. I prize beauty and brawn above all things. So, I think it's funny that you hide your face beneath a mask. Hahaha! You must be really ugly!

Jack Frost: We'll see who's ugly when I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

Iggy Astro: Tsk tsk. You know what a comet did to the dinosaurs, don't you? Your ice age is about to come to an end.... 

*bell!*

5 minutes of brutal beatdown later.

Iggy: Oh I'm sorry, did my stardust blind you? Well, a promise is a promise. I'll make sure your outsides look pristine, padrão. As for your insides...I'm gonna turn them into STAR JELLY. Let's rock and roll, motherfucker!

SUPERNOVA PRESS! Jack Frost is reduced to a smoking crater!

Iggy: Oh dear, I think we need a medic. Hope you don't miss solid food too much, Jacky boy! Hehehe. I'm such a bad little kitty.

The End!

The Titan and His Apprentice

The sun had just risen over the GSA campus, casting the humid morning a rosy pink hue. As always, Joseph, AKA White Tiger, was already awake. He was on his seventh lap around the ranch and making excellent time. Running shirt and shorts stained with perspiration, the determined champion checked his (very expensive) watch, and was satisfied with his goal for the day. It had been a productive morning, and—as usual—all of his peers were still asleep, giving him freedom and peace of mind to train in quiet. One did not become the GSA Champ simply by resting on their laurels. Besides, Joseph, self-appointed guardian (like his legendary feline namesake) took pride in keeping a watchful eye out during the early hours, making sure his peers and trainees slept safely.

Which is why it was unusual, though hardly a bother, to come upon Gio and Cian already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The two men were coming up the path as Joseph turned the corner onto the road leading to the dorms. The giant and his stocky, beefy companion, carried a knapsack each to their backs.

Joseph was aware that his presence tended to intimidate others, so he made the first move, giving them a quick and amiable wave. "Morning, gentlemen."

Cian was more apprehensive, but Gio and Joseph had fought alongside (and against) each other for a few years now. The large, hairy, Italian bodybuilder smiled warmly at him.

"Morning, White Tiger."

Joseph cocked his head to the side. He wasn't normally one to pry. Out early today, are we? Special training going on?"

Cian shrugged and turned his face away. Joseph thought he saw him blush. "It's Midsummer Day. Gio and I are going to do a ritual."

"To bless the GSA with good fortune!" the giant man said, pulling his apprentice in fort a tight hug.

"...my neck, Gio, my neck..." Cian squeaked.

"Oh, sorry!"

Joseph placed his finger to his chin in contemplation. "Ah yes. You two are pagan. But I thought you were from different belief systems?"

"We accept that there are many gods," Gio explained. "There is much similarity between the faith of the Romans and the Celts."

"Fascinating," Joseph said. "So, what sort of ritual is it?"

Gio have Cian a knowing glance, causing the normally cool and unbothered Faeblood Brawler to look away out of shyness.

Gio placed his hands on his hips in a heroic pose, sticking his chest out and raising his voice (perhaps a few decibels higher than what morning called for). "A ritual of STRENGTH and FERTILITY! A ritual that will IMPRESS the gods and grant us their BLESSINGS! My young, strong, HANDSOME apprentice and I are going to conduct a traditional wrestling match in the grove! RAGGH!" 

Gio's enthusiasm, and pec protrusion, was, apparently, far too much for his green button-up shirt. The buttons snapped and went flying, hairy pecs blooming from within the folds of the stressed fabric.

Without blinking, Joseph caught a black button in his hand. "Giovanni, what have I told you you about wearing button ups after chest day?" He smiled wrly.

The bashful giant scratched his head. "Oh, er, sorry. I have been hitting the chest harder lately." His open shirt exposed his muscles, mossy with plentiful, dark fur.

"Here, big lad," Cian said, reaching into his backpack and withdrawing a plain undershirt. "This should work."

"No need!" Gio said, holding up a firm hand. He proudly removed what remained of his top. "Where we are going, my friend, we have NO NEED for clothes!" 

Joseph looked between the two muscle men, deciding there was little similarity between them other then the one brain cell they apparently shared. "Well, you two have fun. Best of luck with your excursion." He couldn't help but smirk, however. "Hope you have a towel packed in there, Cian. Something tells me you'll need it. Oh, and remember, champions hydrate! You better have packed plenty of water. Don't want to risk dehydration. And don't forget sunscre....ugh, they're not listening...."

The midmorning sun had risen high in the sky, but it wasn't as intense as either Cian or Gio had expected. The forest adjacent to the ominously named Dead Man's Gulch, a barren valley on the edge of the Tamberly estate, ringed a river leading back to the waterways of central San Antonio. It was perfect for hikes, and being on the Tamberly property, it was seldom visited by anybody other than the GSA crew (and the few, often amorous admirers from town who occasionally came by to ogle their beefcake neighbors). In other words, not only did Gio and Cian have at least a mile either way of lush forest to explore in either direction, but they had privacy as well.

The path stretched on into the infinite green. Cicadas and songbirds greeted Cian and his mentor, standing before the old forest like two demi-gods ready to embark on an a heroic adventure. Cian was reminded of back home, in a good way. His shoulders relaxed as he thought how he and Gio were probably re-enacting a similar excursion as their ancestors, the Celtic warriors who fought in nothing but furs, and the strapping Roman centurions, one of history's strongest militaries. Though the two groups had often been at odds, with the later having occupied Cian's ancestral homelands at certain turns, it was a complicated and often cordial cultural relationship. That these two men, in modern times, should share similar customs (let alone, gods) was not unusual.

Cian smiled at the deep green world. "Wow! It's...beautiful. I had no idea."

Gio looked down fondly at his friend and student, placing a giant hand on his shoulder. "Yes, young one. It is like our private jungle."

It had been a few months since Cian signed with the GSA, but he was the first to admit lacking in relationship building. He'd mostly gone through the motions, following the rules, and trying to keep out of the drama. Since Gio had taken him under his win, however, Cian had begun to trust the gentle giant more and more. He was quiet. Unpretentious. He favored and respected traditional combat over the more bombastic, showboating styles of their peers. 

But, most of all, Gio and was kind, strong, and always willing to listen. 

Cian took a sip from the water bottle. They walked the path into the woods. "Heh. Reminded of your old films, big lad?"

"Oh yes!" Gio said, smiling. He had accumulated a polished glisten from the humidity. Bare chested, with enormous muscles, the bodybuilder and fighter looked like he was truly among his element. "I was always the big hero! But, I couldn't save the day without my strong, scrappy sidekick." He nudged his apprentice. "That is where you come in!"

"Strong and scrappy, eh?" Cian said, shyly. It was rare to feel all 'butterflies' around someone else. It was even rarer to be this comfortable and intimate with another man. Few knew Cian's struggles. Gio, being a guy who was open about swinging both ways ("like the Spartans of yore!") understood the complexities of what Cian was going through. He had consoled him during their workouts and training. Though the Faeblood Brawler wasn't fully comfortable with expressing himself just yet, Gio was a safe space.

The two had also discussed the boundaries and limits of what they were planning today. Still, Cian was a bit nervous. He had been intimate with men before, but not exactly in the most healthiest of settings. Force-feeding his cock to Ryan Hartley as a post-match punishment wasn't exactly friendly or romantic...

"We should put on sunscreen," Cian nervously suggested, removing the small bottle from his backpack. "You might have the Mediterranean glow, boyo, but us Irish lads turn lobstery real quick."

"Ha! You must have been listening to Joseph and his heroic wisdom!"

Gio stopped in the middle of the path and removed his jeans. He had been wearing orange briefs, an expensive label from Italy, beneath. Cian had half expected him to be wearing animal print, like always. The man's legs were almost the size of Cian's torso, and all of his muscles were covered in a thick fur.

"You're taking off your pants already?" Cian gulped. Now, he understood why Gio had been cast as barbarians, jungle men, and various gods.

"Why not?" Gio shrugged, squeezing some sun lotion into his palms. He motions for Cian to turn around. "We are in nature, my friend! This is our natural state!" Gio was either perpetually shy or EXPLOSIVELY ENTHUSIASTIC. No in-between. 

"Right," Cian mumbled. He removed his shirt. Gio's hands were frim, gentle, and calloused. It was a stimulating mix of sensations, coupled with the slick lotion. Gio, of course, was a natural gentleman. No wandering groping here. But he didn't have to be explicit in order for Cian to find himself completely turned on by his touch. It was a bit of a dark thought, but the fact that this giant could snap him in two—despite Cian's stocky, Rugby build—was a huge turn on. Cian had even jokingly touched Gio's biceps, teasingly made him flex, when they worked out together. Gio was always happy to oblige.

Cian took a deep breath. "Heh. I'm not afraid of getting naked. Just...a bit self conscious compared to such a big, muscle dude! You know, I'm a bit bulkier than a lot of these shredded guys..." He patted his firm belly.

Gio smiled warmly at his mentee. "You have the muscles too! Like big, strapping football player from back home! Yes, Cian, you are bigger. And you are beautiful. Everyone has a different body. And I like guys with the bellies." He winked. "It means that they eat! I know who to cook for."

"Thanks," Cian said. "I needed to hear that. Welp...let's just take these off then..." He removed his workout shorts. He had a green jockstrap on, meaning he had just exposed his (rather large) ass to his teacher. Hope he likes what he sees.

"You should not be afraid," Gio said, encouragingly, giving Cian's butt a playful pinch. "We are strong, beautiful men! The animals shall quake to see our formidable forms. Wow, Cian, you...look like you have been eating well!" He poked his butt cheek.

Cian turned around, just happy to be in the sunlight and the fresh air. Still, he was shy. "Well...I...definitely quake when I see you. In certain parts."

"Huh?" Gio stared at him blankly.

"Never mind." Nuance and innuendo tended to fly right over Gio's head, which Cian was accustomed to by now. But he was nervous. Not thinking. I'm...gonna have to make the first move, eh?

Cian pulled his jockstrap down to his ankles (they would be both leave their sneakers on, of course, til they got to the destination). It wasn't a sexy move, or particular well coordinated. He didn't look at Gio. Just put his clothing back in his backpack, tossing it over his bare shoulders.

Gio gave him an approving, somewhat impressed smile. "Cian!"

Cian jumped. "Y-yes?" Admittedly, the warm air and gentle breeze was nice on his skin. He felt...primal. Wild. And, surprising him most of all, he didn't feel judged or dissected under Gio's stare.

Gio gave him a hearty, mirthful laugh. "Looks like I am not the only bull on campus!" His eyes went down. "Such girth! And your balls are like the eggs of an Ostrich! You must be descended from a fertility god like me!"

Forcing himself not to blush (nowhere to hide it now) Cian turned around. "ERM...thanks!?" He had never really given much thought to his masculine attributes before...mostly because they were always just there. But he was a bit thicker than most, true, and he did hang low... 

"Now, my turn." Excitedly, Gio had no problem stripping right off. 

Cian's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

The man's body was already intimidating. But nowhere nearly as imposing as his cock. He was massively proportioned. When Gio had said he was descended from fertility gods...he wasn't kidding!

Cian couldn't help but stare. Thankfully, Gio tended not to be bothered by such things.

"Wow....uh...wow. You are....umm...." Cian choked.

"Intimidated?" Gio laughed. He really looked like he was in his element, resplendent with trees and leaves. "Do not be! Come on..." he motioned for Cian to follow him deeper into the woods. "Let us go forth and adventure!"

It was hard not for Cian to...well...get hard. He knew in a few minutes he would have to wrestle this man to the ground (or at least, try to). That body. Those muscles. The coarse, dark hair. This was either going to go really well, or really embarrassing!

The nerves slowly melted away, replaced by a tranquil freedom. Cian felt strong. Safe. He felt a sense of comradery and brotherliness from Gio. Two men in their prime, unbothered, and natural. This was their forest.

"This is so freeing," Cian said. "I feel like I am back in the olden days, y'know?"

"It is a great feeling, yes?" Gio motioned to his rippling, hard back. "Here. Hop on. I'' give you a lift." As if reading Cian's mind, he winked at him. "Do not worry about the friction. Anything is fine. You just tell me if something makes you feel not so fine, eh?"

Cian tried not to stammer. It was hard. "Oh...okay." Wow, Gio bent over like that is...wow. He climbed onto his teacher's shoulders. Right away, he found his face nestled into his neck, brushing against his curly, coarse hair. He was warm. Strong. Cian was happy to wrap himself around him. He smelled natural. Sweaty. Earthy. With an undercurrent of faded, expensive, Italian cologne. This was Cian's ultimate vision of a man. Not a brash, cruel brute, but someone strong with a good heart.

"Mmm. This is nice. My own muscle man."

Plus, he didn't have to do any further walking, which was its own reward!

The two fighters eventually came to a small clearing, more grass than dirt. The shadows of tree branches snaked along the ground, and Cian was immediately reminded of fairy circles back home. His keen eye looked for any signs. Spiritual spaces were all well and good if the spirits were welcoming, but the 'Shining Ones' were better left alone and only approached with a light touch.

No fairy rings here, but the magick in the air was palpable. Dreamy, even. Cian allowed Gio to lower him to the ground. He stepped off, but was already eager to get his hands on his master's body again.

"Ah, a beautiful clearing," Gio said, taking off his sneakers. He was a sight to behold. "I can feel the presence of the forest gods here." He pointed to the grass. "Lay down the tarp there. I'll make sure the leaves cushion us. Will be just like the practice mat."

"Right!" Cian removed his shoes and took the clean bundle of tarp of Gio's bag.

Meanwhile, Gio made a twisting motion with his wrist. Green leaves scattered deliberately in formation, like birds travelling in the sky, forming a small and steady bedding. Cian draped the tarp over the pile and tested it. Soft enough. They weren't going to be doing anything super intensive on this, of course. No power moves. Then again, every move executed from a beast like Gio was a power move.

"Now, the oil." Gio shook the little bottle of body oil, a mixture of olive oil and herbs. Cian could smell the aromatic, peppery mixture from where he stood. "I will do you the honor first, my muscular apprentice."

Cian turned around, a little bashful. He hadn't been oiled up by big, beefy men before. He didn't hate it. Gio's hands were very warm, tender.

"Oh wow," Cian said, closing his eyes. Pure bliss. "That feels...so...good." Too good, in fact. Cian looked down. He'd gone diamond hard. "Uh..."

But Gio was without judgment. "Ah, is okay. Would you like me to continue?"

"Yeah!" Cian said, with relief. The endorphins and hormones were starting to take over, bringing him over the threshold of shame and insecurity and into comfort and confidence. As Gio's hands travelled over his shoulders, onto his chest, Cian purposely leaned back into his hairy, hard body. 

"MMM," Gio growled softly at his student pressing his body into his. Slight, but sure, he brushed his cock right in the valley of Cian's Rugby-player ass.

"That feels good, Gio." Nothing wrong with a cheeky tug, Cian thought, mischievous and horny, as he took some of the oil and stroked himself a little. "That cool with you, big guy?"

"Oh yes," Gio said, firmly. He patted Cian on his butt. "I want you hard. That's how two warriors should always wrestler." Gio leaned forward and kiss the back of Cian's neck, sending a chill of pure pleasure down his spine.

Cian felt his cock twitch. "Yeah." His 'naughtier' side, his mischievous inner twin, was starting to come out. Already leaning back against Gio, he subtly began grinding his big ass against him, while Gio's hands worked his abdomen. This was full on erotic now.

"Like how that feels, big guy?"

Gio moaned. "Bad little apprentice," he said, reaching down and pulling on Cian's cock. "Gonna teach you a lesson soon!"

"Feels like a damn good lesson so far," Cian said, turning around to give him a flirty look. 

Gio broke away, not about to let his friend show him up. "It's good to get turned on before a fight, yeah?" He leaned back and executed a perfect bodybuilder's double bicep flex. "Now, me."

It was a privilege. Cian could feel himself leaking, as his hands travelled Gio's shoulders. He was a contradiction of extremely hard body and soft skin, helped by his coating of fur. Cian couldn't hide his hungry expression, eyes widened in awe of this massive man.

"Wow, Gio, your muscles..."

"You like them," Gio smirked. The big guy wasn't always quick on the uptake, but he knew what he was doing in the right situations. He grabbed Cian's hands and moved them, by force, to his pectorals, flexing them for his student. Round, massive, warm. Tow living boulders, shifting up and down.

Cian actually gulped. He felt it an honor to being touching this golden god's giant chest. He looked down to see that Gio had gotten hard too. How was it possible that he was even bigger, fully erect? It was almost obscene. Cian was glad they had discussed things beforehand, because he couldn't imagine taking all of that in. And he didn't feel right to mount Gio. Not that he didn't hate the idea of being inside a giant, moaning, warm muscle man.

But, little steps first...

Seeing his apprentice's intense stare, Gio teasingly poked Cian's cock with the tip of his shaft, eliciting a small moan, or yelp. "Do not get turned on too much now, young one. Remember, the first to cum or submit loses. That is part of the ritual."

Cian turned away, bashfully. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Heh. Or if you like, I could  just keep posing for you!" Gio was just being mean now! He turned and showed off his wide, muscle-laden back and ass. His quads and thighs.

"Don't turn your back on someone with Faeblood," Cian warned. "That's when I'd cztch your back!"

"Ah, try it," Gio growled, pivoting back to face his opponent. He gave him a 'most-muscular' flex, every muscle bulging and oiled, that nearly knocked Cian to the ground. "You like what you see...what is you always say, 'boyo'?" He laughed. "That is so cute. 'Boyo.'"

Cian glared, trying to ignore the fact that he was probably the hardest he'd ever been in front of another guy. "Too bad you're about to get shown up by your apprentice, teach! I won't go easy on you."

"So cocky!" Gio took a grappler's stance, hunched over, elbows tucked to the side and hands ready to grappled Cian. "You think you could stand a chance against a titan, young bull? Let's wrestle."

Cian didn't say anything. He was a trained freestyle wrestler, so silence was his go-to. Let's feckin' go, G! 

Gio and Cian circled each other like two male beasts in heat, simultaneously fighting for territory and for each other. Cian usually preferred for the other guy to make the first move and then catch them off their feet. Gio, however, was such a bulldozer that he didn't need to worry about being taken down. In fact, he was likely going easy on Cian.

Gio and Cian locked up, two bucks locking horns, pushing against each other's might. It was a contest of supreme strength between two oiled up studs. Any Renaissance artist would have killed to paint the picture of these two warriors grappling in the clearing.

Cian's right foot fell back, re-grounding itself. The Irish hunk was doing everything he could to hold back Gio, but the big guy didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat. He had that same, placid, 'unbothered' look on his face. Like always.

Meanwhile, Cian was grtting his teeth, trying to gain ground. "Damn, you really are strong!"

"This is me going easy on you," Gio said, before wrapping one of his enormous legs around Cian's, hooking it, and grabbing his shoulder with his giant arm. "I'm not even channelling the Earth into my strength! And now...you are mine!"

Cian assumed Gio was going to take him to the tarp, and had already planned a defense for when he got there (so he didn't get pinned), but the outcome was far worse. Gio clamped his arms around Cian's body, taking his head into his armpit. The leg was just to keep him locked in place. It was a classic move.

Of course, Gio had chosen to go natural today and not wear deodorant. Just Cian's luck! But the combination of his natural masculine odor along with the spiced scent of the oils was strangely satisfying. All the better for Cian, being choked and smothered. He pushed and pulled, trying not to panic.

"Fight against the pain and the pressure," Gio encourage, softly, but not about to let go. "Hold out."

Somehow, this feeling of helplessness (in a safe space) was turning Cian on even more. Gio wasn't shy about grinding his body against Cian's, and there was nothing he could do to stop him from pushing the massive man's cock against his. He was teasing him. Playing with him. Now, Cian was pissed!

He was also oiled. With an explosive move backwards, coupled with the asset of lubrication, Cian free his head from Gio and went for his back. But wrestling with oil was a lot harder than he anticipated. It was impossible to get a tight grip! Like trying to pin down a big, Roman statue coated in butter.

"So cute," Gio said (mockingly!?). He turned and leaned down, grabbing Cian by the upper thigh and LIFTING him right up into the air, flipping him over (somehow, gently) and tossing him to the ground. Cian landed, the wind knocked out of him and stunned, but otherwise no worse for wear.

Gio pinned Cian with sheer dominance, hooking his legs up in the air and leaving his ass in a vulnerable state.

But it was what he did next that really drove home just who the teacher was here. Gio, smiling, hooked Cian's leg and sat down back on him.

Dizzy, Cian looked up just in time to see Gio's built (and hairy) ass come down on his face.

"GAH!" Cian said, turning away. "G-Gio!"

"Hahaha! You must know what it's like to be humbled, apprentice!"

"Ugh, you're hairy everywhere, aren't ye?"

"You love it." Gio said, making sure his thighs were tucked around Cian's head. He wasn't going anywhere now! "Stick your face in there or I'll smother you. And that would be a most disgraceful end to such a beautiful warrior like that!"

"N-no," Cian squeaked, humiliated. But he didn't have much of a choice. It was apparent that Gio hadn't showered since working out this morning. Cian closed his eyes and buried his face into his master's hole. "MMMffffff"

Gio sat back and rode him. "Hahaha! Having fun?" But he wasn't entirely cruel. He sat up and let Cian have a breath.

Cian gasped and winced. "Ugh. I smell like you now!"

"You are most welcome," Gio laughed. He hooked his arm around Cian's neck before he could reposition himself, and brought his face to his pectorals. "Here. How about I smother you with my chest instead?"

Buried between Gio's oily crevasse, muscle and bodyhair entered Cian's nostrils as he tried to pull himself away in futility. Honestly, not a bad way to die, he thought, til the oxygen deprevation set in and he began to panic.

"Mmmmmmm."

"Oh, I think he likes that!" Gio laughed. He let up. "The young bull is so hard now!" 

It was true. Cian was leaking all over the mat. He suspected Gio would prove challenging, but not this much! Annoyed, growling, Cian went in for a bear hug. "I'll crush you, teach!" he snarled.

He wrapped his arms around his teacher's torso, inadvertently pushing their bodies together. The oily friction felt amazing on his cock, but Cian tried to ignore the sensation. He was on a mission. "You're gonna give, teach! Gonna break your spine!"

Gio's reaction was merely to roll his eyes. "This is a bear hug? How cute. Now, have a bear hug from Gio! It's my specialty!"

Cian went wide-eyed. He didn't realized he'd just set himself in a terrible position. Gio broke free of his student's grip with ease and wrapped his giant arms around the small of his back. He didn't even need to apply too much pressure. He had him.

"Just because I am your mentor doesn't mean I won't CRUSH you!"

"AGH!" Cian winced, trying to control his breathing. 

"Up you go!" Gio growled, getting onto his feet. Cian was a like a teddy bear to him. Easy to lift and even more fun to squeeze. He clamped down on harder. "How about now?"

"Uggggh," Cian groaned, trying not to let Gio tighten his breathing. It was like fighting against a starved Anaconda.

Gio grinned. "Do you submit, little one? Or will I need to break you in half with my grip, as Hercules did to Ieolaus?" 

Might as well have entered a trash compactor. Gio grimaced. This was the worst bear hug he'd ever been put in, and he'd even sparred with Kuma Kengo a few times! Beneath the pain though, he noticed a more...enjoyable sensation. As Gio squeezed, he was also grinding his enormous, hard cock against Gio, from side to side. The feeling was just as intense, and somehow, coupled with the pain, it felt amazing. Sensory overload.

"How does my 'Hercules Hug' feel?" Gio said, hoisting and repositioning Cian. "I wonder...will you break first, or will you...?"

Cian arched his back out and began to scream. "Ffffuck!"

Oh no, I do not want to break him for real! Gio thought. Time to finish Cian off a much nicer way. He'd learned his lesson, after all. "Hehehe. Yes. I think I'll do that." Gio eased up his grip barely, but deliberately grinded his meat against Cian's. "Oh no, my little bull, what is happening TO YOU? Is it perhaps time for the big, strong Earth god to rut you with his giant cock? You love it?"

Cian shook his head. "No...no." Fuck, this feels amazing. 

Slowly, without breaking his grip, Gio lowered Cian to the tarp. He mounted him like a bull in heat, forcing his weight to pin the trapped, squirming hunk beneath his body. He increased the friction, sliding his cock against Cian's shaft.

"Oh fuck," Cian said. He was trapped, but the pressure was relieved, replaced by the most amazing sensation between his legs. "Oh fuck, Gio, that's amazing. I'm gonna lose it..." It almost took the sting out of the one-sided squash! Cian had never felt this much arousal and sexual gratification before. He was going to cum quick.

Gio kissed the nape of Cian's neck, brushing his beard and dialling up the pleasure even more. "Look down, little bull."

Cian could barely lift his head, but did as he was told. "Oh...oh fuck..."

"See how my big bull cock is dominating yours?" Gio said. "Look at that."

Cian couldn't even see his own member, trapped and pinned beneath Gio's, in an erotic reflection of his current situation. He wasn't just being dominated physically, but sexually too. Gio's spear went to work, completely mounting his own. He was rutting him good, and between the oil and the precum leaking out of both of their slits, the sensation was only increasing.

Gotta' fight back, Cian thought, briefly, trying to grind against his master. But this only served to make the pleasure more intense. There was no use. And holding it back was like edging, making the explosion inevitable... 

"Forget escape, little one. My muscles. My fur. My cock. All work against you. Driving you closer and closer to the edge. But...I will not steal a kiss from you. That's for someone special. Instead, I will FORCE you to give me, and the gods, your seed." 

"Oh no..." Cian said, feeling something build up deep inside his pelvis. He wasn't just going to shoot. He was going to shoot hard. "Oh fuck, Gio..."

Gio leered down at him, going harder, unrelenting, like a beast of burden in heat. He tensed and flexed all his muscles as he commanded, "Submit!"

Cian was helpless to do anything but. His whole body trembled, and his eyes rolled back into his head, his voice cracking with an intense pleasure bordering on painful. 

"AGHHH I GIIIVE!"

Cian felt himself shoot out a giant, unending load. Then, another rope. More. A forest-green wave of light radiated out from him, like a ripple, shifting the grassland into a field of colorful flowers. The summery, green trees in the grove became pink blossoms. A mirage of springtime, pulled from the depths of Cian's hidden desires, exploded out of him with each rapturous orgasm.

"Again!" Gio commanded.

"FUCK! I give!" Cian was screaming now. All the gods and the spirits in the forests could hear him surrender and shoot. "Please...agh...I'm gonna die...." He breathed, shook, overwhelm with pleasure. Gio really was a god, and just had just taken him by force into Olympus.

"No," Gio laughed softly, kissing his opponent's chest. He relented. Sighed. And looked down. "Wow, Cian! Look at all of that." He swivelled his head around, in wonder. "Your magick..."

Weakly, and overwhelm with a drug-like state of satisfaction, Cian raised his head and looked down. A river of thick, sticky cum and oil travelled from his belly down to the ground. They'd wanted a fertility ritual. They got one.

Cian looked around at the changed grove, the field of flowers and cherry blossom trees. He stared, almost moved. "This is...this is from me?"

Gio looked down and smiled. "Yes, my little bull."

"But this is...beautiful." Cian shook his head. The orgasm had already driven him to tears, but now it was emotions that took their hold. "Usually my illusions are tough and mean. How...did I create this? Was this always inside me?"

"This is what it looks like when you free yourself," Gio softly spoke. "The real you. But the ritual is not complete yet," he said, getting up. He stood, in his primal glory, towering above Cian. He pointed to his own giant cock, leaking oil and precum onto the oil, mixing with Cian's offering. "The victor now marks the conquered."

"Fuck, Gio." Cian, rarely submissive, was all too willing. He pawed, in worship of his master's muscles. First, the legs. The quads. "Look at these muscles." He kissed them. Every bulge, every muscle, travelling up to his cock, the most satisfying reward of all.

Cian sighed, beyond words or reason, and placed his lips on Gio's glans. It tasted like divine ambrosia. He kept his lips on their for a good few seconds, to let his master know how much he respected, desired, and revered him. Then, he used his tongue, his mouth. There was no way he'd fit all of Gio's enormity inside his mouth, and Gio understood this. He wasn't going to force and skull-fuck. That would go against the mood anyway. 

Cian's hands and mouth coordinated their worship of Gio's cock. The titan reared his head back and closed his eyes. "I must say, my little bull, Cian, that you brought me very close. I am soon to shoot."

Cian forced himself to stop sucking and licking his master. He smiled, stroking him, and looked up. "And I gotta' say, my big bull, you really gave me a hell of a fight."

"A new god for your pantheon," Gio nodded. He moaned. Cian's mouth was amazing.

"Yes, sir." Cian dotted Gio's cock with softer kisses. "Anything for you, sir."

Gio placed both his hands on the back of Cian's head. "I will make you stronger, Cian. You are a true hero. I can already tell. But now...tell me you worship me."

Cian leaned back and looked up at his master with eyes full of reverence. "I worship you, muscle god."

That was enough. Cian didn't even need to use his mouth. Gio leaned back, and then like a warrior god, or a jungle man from one of is films, he roared out his pleasure.

"GGGGGAAHAHH!"

A continuous fountain of white cum shot all over Cian's neck and chest. Beads of seminal fluid flew off in every direction as the Titan kept shooting his load, hands free.

Cian blinked. He was completely coated (he really wanted a shower, now). "Holy shit, G. That's unreal."

Heaving and sighing, Gio looked down at his work and blushed. "Oh...more a lot than usual! Er...sorry!"

"Don't apologise," Cian said, smiling. He leaned back, more in peace than he'd ever been. The flowers weren't real, he knew, but they sure felt like it. "Lay down with me a second?"

"Let's clean you off, first!"

Gio let Cian rest. He deserved it. He went to their backpacks (now covered in illusory moss) and removed two sets of towels. The larger master laid down next to his apprentice and towel them both off...which took a long minute or two. When done, Gio tossed the towels aside and cradled Cian, spooning him, and pulling him into a nest of warmth and fur.

Cian shut his eyes. He smiled. "This feels awesome."

"We can stay here as long as you like," Gio said softly. He kissed the back of Cian's neck again, but not the mouth. Gio knew that some other man deserved that gift, and he wasn't going to take it from Cian. He still had a journey ahead of him. This was only one step on his way to self-discovery.

But Gio was happy to have helped him along the way.

The flowers began to fade back into the green grass of the grove, but Cian and Gio laid in each other's arms for a time, softly rubbing each other's muscles, and sharing sighs of contentment.

"Think we made the gods happy?" Cian asked.

"Oh, most definitely," Gio chuckled. "You made this god happy, at least!"

The End

'Macho' El Amante vs 'Monkey' Khemalitzli!!

"Fuck it, I just love Phuket!" Spike chirped up.

The road to the arena was lined with stalls, all of them displaying a rainbow of banners, signs, and lights. This was nothing to say of the aromas, the fruits, the foods, and the colorful clothing worn by the jovial proprietors calling out their wares to the hungry crowd drawing closer to the open air stadium.

Iggy and Spike didn't exactly blend in. Dressed in a blue floral T-shirt and a flashy aviators, Spike looked like a Hollywood celebrity. Iggy, going for a more feminine approach, wore a green sarong, their hair in a ponytails, capped with a hibiscus flower. Spike thought it nice to see his teacher in more gender fluid clothing, especially because it showed off their amazing arms and legs. 

"You look pretty great in that getup," Spike said.

Iggy adjusted their flashy sunglasses. "Nothing wrong with a sarong, kitten!"

The two spellbreakers earned their fine share of stares from the crowd around them, but they were more expressions of awe and curiosity than derision. The spellbreakers had received nothing but a warm welcome from their Thai fans since landing a few days ago. 

The two fighters had come out to support their fellow roster-member tonight, but Spike was already having a wrestling match against hunger. The sights of red, steaming prawns and chefs wok-tossing rice over tall flames made his stomach growl. "I could eat my weight in pad thai...or pineapple fried rice...or mango custard...or..."

Iggy smirked. "We get it, you're here for the food."

Spike eyed the two, beefy Thai rugby boys throwing back shots at a stall near by. "Not just the food, teach..." Then again, culture. "I wanna go to some drag shows too!" He knew that would interest his mentor, the flashy, theatrical heel.

"Kitten, we're here to support our hunky, luchador friend."

"Your boyfriend, I know, I know." 

"This is gonna be a special match, Sailor! Your roomie, Kengo, might be a spirit summoner, but his is only one kind of summoning."

Now, Spike—passing through a hanging floral arrangement partitioning the stadium entrance—was genuinely intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Iggy winked. "You'll see."

It was a fairly small arena, but the crowd was electric. A humid, tropical evening, Spike and Iggy were thankful for the open arena, and with not a cloud hanging in the clear sky, they were unlikely to get rained on. The excited audience carried paper fans and sipped from long glasses of iced tea. Cryos and Ventus magi, positioned at either end of the stadium, took shifts casting a cool climate over all. For Spike, this was the best kind of evening. No high stakes spellbreaking. Just fun.

The mistress of ceremonies, celebrated announcer and drag queen, Miss Khanom Chan, appeared on the announcer's stage in a giant, blooming lotus that burst into a snow shower of colorful petals. The giant bloom became the Plant magi's dress. She waved to her adoring fans and blew kisses, before taking up the microphone.

"Ladies and gentleman, how are we all feeling tonight!?"

"Hungry!" Spike gleefully shouted, before Iggy playfully smacked him upside the head. The crowd answered the announcer with far more focused enthusiasm. 

Face painted to perfection, and hair a beehave of blossoms, the drag queen smiled. "Okay folks, let's get to it! We have some absolute muscle studs about to go at it and get nasty. So, no matter who loses the match, we're the real winners. This match is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring, it's the macho papi of romance, the Romeo of the Ring, the Warrior of Love, and my future husband...El Amante Intoxico!"

From the rows, Iggy shot Miss Khanom Chan a dark look. "Keep off my man, sister. This kitten has claws!" She's lucky her outfit looks sickening...

With a red, velvet cape wrapped around his sturdy frame, El Amante looked like a regal king. Befitting a floral setting, the luchador had chosen a desert cactus inspired mask outfit tonight that his cousin, and Chloros-wielding spellbreaker, Reina Rosa had put together. He could hear excitedly rattling off the details in his head. 

"The costume is based on the acuña cactus--or Butterfly Cactus. The cactus flower, in the language of flowers, symbolizes lust/physical attraction that withstands harsh environments In addition, it attracts monarch butterflies. The cactus flower, in the language of flowers, symbolizes lust and physical attraction that withstands harsh environments."

El Amante smiled and blew kisses to his many admirers on either side of the aisle, all who reeled back in ecstasy as they were hit by his wave of love magick.

Arriving at the ring, El Amante wiped his gold boots on the apron and entered. He let the ref pat him down, and then did his sexy little strpper routine for the squeeling delight of the crowd.

"This too hot!" Miss Khanom said, unfurling a floral-patterned fan and fanning herself. "El Amante, don't go and get deported now, sweetie!"

The luchador threw off his apron, revealing his oil-coated body. El Amante had been going harder on the pec day, and when he wiggled his pecs for the crowd, it was almost obscene. But there was a lot of muscle to highlight on el cachas. Abs. Beefy biceps. Boulder shoulders. Giant legs. There was a good reason why many spellbreakers actually wanted to get put into submission holds by the Warrior of Love.

El Amante took his time doing his dance for his adoring crowd. Hips isolated, arms over head, he thrusted in slow, grinding, circular motions, as if he was seducing the whole arena.

Spike gulped. "Hard?" he asked Iggy, without looking at them.

"...Yeah."

Spike sighed. "Same."

After bowing to the ref, and giving him a small kiss on the cheek (nearly making the handsome, Thani man faint) El Amante took the microphone. Usually, Luchadors were men and women of few words. That never stopped El Amante, for whom 'too much' was never enough.

Deep voiced, with a sensual, smoky accent, El Amante greeted his crowd. "Hello, Thailand!"

Cheers, sighs, and even a few sexual moans, ensued.

"Oh wow. You are all so beautiful." El Amante, however, took a moment too long to notice the strange, glowing symbol slowly burning its way into the canvas. "Huh? This is..."

Miss Khanom Chan, distracted by El Amante's sexy dance, suddenly snapped back to reality. She cleared her throat. "That's right, folks, you're seeing a summoning sygil! Foreign guests, we do it a little different here in Thailand, as you're about to find out. Introducing El Amante's opponent, all the way from the distant realms of the Prakhai...Khemalitzli."

El Amante stood back, holding his massive arms up to the burst of flame and light that came from the summoning sygil. A shadow appeared in the light, slowly taking material form. The handsome warrior that stood before the luchador was mostly human in appearence, save for his golden hair and simian-like tail, that swung from behind him.

The unusual and attractive warrior put their knuckles together and stared defiantly at his opponent. "Hm!"

In the audience, Spike turned his head incredulously towards Iggy. "He's...a Beastman?" He had heard the phrase before. Anthropomorphic beings from other realms, other worlds (life has gotten a little weird for the spellbreakers lately). 

Iggy, full of wisdom, searched their brain index for an answer. "Hmmm. I think he might be something else."

El Amante was initially taken aback by the warrior's odd appearance, but now he was intrigued. He circled his opponent. "Beautiful muscles, my handsome friend," El Amante growled. He winked. "But can you put them to use, I wonder?" Interesting, El Amante thought, there is something almost Aztec about his outfit!

Khemalitzli was far from intimidated by the masked muscle man. "Ah, now you are quite the human," he said in a rich, almost musical voice.

El Amante sized him up. He was playful, but strong. "And here I thought I was the only stud with a nice tail here." He licked his lips. "You're going to be fun to dominate." 

"Dominate!?" the monkey warrior laughed, as if it was the most absurd suggestion in the world. "Well, you should see what my tail can do, pretty one!" Taking a more serious tone, he pounded his fist against his chest. "I AM THE GREAT KHEMALITZLI! I am warrior of people. You wanted a fight? You're gonna get one!"

"Now that's a pickup line!" El Amante growled, getting into fighting stance, muscles bulging (and not just muscles either). He's lucky I always wear my thong to hide my true 'power'. He's turning me on!

The bell rang, and the two fighters wasted no time locking up. Though they both confidently grinned, their eyes narrowed like two predators locked in a struggle for territory. Hand met giant bicep, each fighter pushing and pulling against each other.

Stronger than he looks, El Amant quietly admitted. This was getting fun! Then, they noticed something odd. It took them a second before they picked up on it. 

El Amante let his confident demeanour drop, for but a moment. "You...you have no magick!"

Khemalitzli sneered, pushing back against the brawny man's might. "Hmph! I don't need magick, masked man!" Suddenly, his eyes flashed gold. "I HAVE POWER!"

The monkey man used the momentum of El Amante's force to push him back, and wasted no time pivoting and roundhouse kicking the luchador stud right in the chest. The Mexican powerhouse was over 250 pounds, but he sailed through the air as if he'd been struck by a cannon ball!

The audience gasped. As did Spike. "Oh shit, he's strong!"

Normally cool, collected, and cocky, Iggy's eyes bugged out. He said nothing, however. They'd seen their boy in tougher scrapes before. He was made of strong stuff.

El Amante reeled back into the ropes, shaking off the blow. Even the ref felt it necessary to run to their side. But the luchador regained their posture. "What a love tap!" he said. "I like a man who packs a punch."

"You haven't seen anything yet!" Khemalitzli shouted as he JUMPED into the air with acrobatic grace, both feet landing (perfectly balanced) on the top rope. The audience reacted with shock and awe.

El Amante glared. He wasn't about to be outdone, and now this monkey idiot was starting to get too cocky for his lucky. The sweaty luchador spit on the canvas, gritted his teeth, and made a 'come-and-get-it" motion with his hand. He'd pluck that acrobatic fool right out of the air and body slam his brains out!

Khemalitzli jumped from the ropes, somersaulting in mid-air. The precision and flow was remarkable. Even El Amante, no strange to high flying was duly impressed! Even more so when Khemalitzli switched things up and turned his dive into a kick instead!

Boot met masked head. El Amante went sailing back, knocked absolutely senseless.

Iggy balled their hands up into fists. "Come on, guapo. Enough monkey business!"

El Amant turned and spat blood onto the canvas, heaving, but not down for the count. The crowd was stunned that he was even able to stand. So was Khemalitzli.

"No bad, my monkey amigo." El Amante's eyes glowed violet. The mood in the ring changed. "I think perhaps your energy needs to come down a knotch. Why skip the foreplay?"

The monkey warrior was ready to give El Amante another one, this time to his square-cut jaw, and settle this quick, but he was hit by the spellbreaker's unusual aura. The fight wasn't taken out of him, not entirely, but he felt less hot blooded. Calmer.

It was all El Amante needed to act. He grit down on the pain to his skull and pivoted around Khemalitzli grabbing him around the waist. Before the warrior from another world could react, the luchador reached down and cupped a handful of his ass, tail included.

"HEY!" the suddenly embarrassed monkey yelped. He tried to pull away, but it was the exact reaction El Amante was looking for. He booted the monkey in the butt and knocked him into the canvas, trapping his tail between his legs.

The beefy, masked man began to stroke the warrior's tail suggestively, making it almost erect. "Oooh, he went hard, everyone!" He pointed and laughed. "Did you see that!?"

The audience reeled back, enjoying the warrior's humiliation. Red face and angry, the warrior finally yanked his tail away and got back onto his feet...not knowing that El Amante's 'love venom' had slowly begun to take effect.

Khemalitzli was shaken, but he wasn't done. "You will pay for that!" he snarled.

"Oh, will I?" came El Amante's response, he bounced off the ropes, quicker than the (now slower) Khemalitzli could follow, delivering a stunning, stuff lariat to the monkey king's sternum. 

CRACK!

Even Iggy, out in the audience, felt that one! But while Spike winced empathetically at the searing strike, the more sadistic Iggy Astro grinned. "My hunk hits like a truck! Looks like monkey met is about to be on the menu!"

The blow knocked Khemalitzli to the canvas, and nearly took him out. The ref went to their knees in anticipation, and it was a good thing too...because El Amante was already setting up his next move.

El Amante brought their elbow down hard on Khemalitzli's stomach, knocking whatever wind was left inside them! He didn't got for pin, however. Instead, he took the opportunity to grab and twist the proud warrior's nipples.

"GET OFF!" Khemalitzli managed to squeak. Ooh, that feels good.

"So rude!" the luchador tut-tutted, yanking the warrior onto his back and setting him up for a dragon sleeper. The luchador shoved the monkey king's face into his sweaty, cologne-coated pits, forcing a masculine, domininant aroma into the stunned warrior's open mouth and nose. 

Oxygen and blood flow restricted, the Khemalitzli couldn't help but take big gasps of air...each time, inhaling the intoxicating the luchador's pungent scent. He choked and sputtered, but inside, he was turned on.

"How do you like my masculine scent?" El Amant laughed, grinding his armpit and chest into Khemalitzli's handsome face.

"MMmmmmm!"

"What was that," El Amante asked, blowing a kiss to the ref. "Is that a 'mi rindo'? Eh? You already smell like me now, so I guess that's makes you mine!"

Khemalitzli managed to summon their spectacular strength and pull away, gasping for fresh air. It was no use though. They were covered completely in their opponent's aroma. It was a humiliation of the highest order. One Khemalitzli would not soon forgive. To make matters worse for him, El Amante's pheromones had taken their toll, giving the warrior an unwitting erection that wasn't about to go down any time soon. For days to come, the lingering scent would make Khemalitzli instantly hard. How embarrassing and emasculating for a virile warrior!

Now, Khemalitzli and El Amante glared at each other from the other side of the arena, each fighter breathing heavily and dripping sweat onto the canvas. They were well matched, and it had proved an interesting fight.

But it was time to bring it to a close.

Khemalitzli and El Amante were like dancers in perfect time and rhythm. Each men, with a warrior's grace, turned and threw their momentum against the ropes, picking up more speed. Two runaway trains speeding towards each other, it looked like the Warrior Monkey might knock El Amante's head clean off his shoulders with a killer clothesline.

At the last second, El Amante ducked, avoiding the stiff forearm. He wrapped his giant arms around Khemalitzli's back, and clamped down in an iron grip. It was bear hug of monstrous proportions. El Amante's biceps bulged, veins popping, and back muscles rippling as he put all his muscle and all his magick into squeezing the life out of Khemalitzli.

Khemalitzli struggled to breathe. Their eyes bulged out of their skull, and their ribs creaked and groaned under the massive amount of pressure. Any lesser being would have been crushed into a messy pulp, but even the warrior from the other world was starting to break. On top of that, El Amante had pumped him full of his potent, seductive magick, so that Khemalitzli was aware of the pain, but not processing it, feeling an overwhelming pleasure instead.

El Amante knew what he was doing. This was too easy. He smirked at his opponent, whose face was contorting in a battle between pain and pleasure. "Yeah, you like it when papi holds you close, eh?" El Amante drove home the statement by slowly grinding his massive bulge against Khemalitzli's.

If the warrior were even capable of looking down, he'd see a wet spot begin to form. This wasn't good. He was either going to crush or blow first!

"What do you say?" the ref pleaded, reminded of several 'watermelon' demonstrations in which body builders had squeezed the pulpy fruit apart. 

El Amante's slow, methodical grinding was so subtle that the ref couldn't even catch it. He looked into his opponent's blood shot eyes knowingly, as if to say, 'this is our little secret'.

"Kiss me and I'll let you go."

Khemalitzli was about to pass out, break, or bust. He had no choice. He closed his eyes and presented his mouth, giving it up, completely emasculated.

El Amante's lips found it. "Good little monkey," he whispered, letting his tongue and lips find his opponent's. It was like a completely different submission move. El Amante pumped his energy straight into Khemalitzli's mouth, forcing it down his throat and into his system. A double dose of love venom.

Whatever happened to Khemalitzli in that intimate moment, he would refuse to say for years to come, too embarrassed. But he found himself taken by the overwhelming pleasure and pain. His sensed couldn't cope. The last thing Khemalitzli thought was how defeated he felt, becoming a plaything for another man, as he slipped into sweet oblivion.

El Amante held the kiss a moment longer, even as the bell peeled and the ref began to break away. He couldn't help it! A handsome, muscle man had just passed out in his arms. The luchador gently lowered him to the canvas and leaned over, his stringy, sweaty hair falling in front of his chest and dangling teasingly over his defeated opponent. He placed both hands on the warrior's sweaty chest for the pin.

"Uno...do...tres..."

Victorious, and sexy, reggaeton music blaring, El Amante leaned over and gave his unconscious opponent a revitalizing kiss, bringing him back from the brink.

Khemalitzli's eyes fluttered open. He was delerious. That bear hug had beruttaly sapped him of all his strength. "Ughh...what happened?" He realized who the pair of soft, sultry, dark eyes belonged to and winced. "No..."

El Amante laughed and patted his opponent tenderly on the shoulder. "Afraid you lost, mi amor." He helped him off the ground, bringing him back onto his feet.

The luchador smiled magnanimously at his sullen, embarrassed opponent. He placed both his hands on Khemalitzli's shoulders. "But...that was exciting! You are very strong, my friend!"

Khemalitzli, angry, but gracious in defeat, scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, thanks."

Out in the audience, Iggy and Spike collectively wiped the nervous sweat from their brows...though really, there had been no doubt that their beloved fighter would come out on top. Miss Khanom Chan enthusiastically announced the winner of the fight, and summoned a rain of rose petals in El Amante's honor.

In the ring, El Amante grabbed the mic and proudly raised his opponent's arm. He had nothing but respect for him. "Hola thailand! How about a cheer for the two kings! King of Romance and King of Monkeys!

The audience cheered, and Khemalitzli, though still annoyed at his loss, warmly embraced his new friend.

"Though your amorous moves are deceptive and strong, luchador, none can deny you are worthy of the moniker Warrior of Love." He shook his hand, fondly. 

El Amante gave the warrior a graceful and deeply respectful bow. "Human or not, love is universal. As is honor and respect. You were a great sport! You deserve an El Amante lap dance."

A sexy reggaeton beat came on over head, and a pink aura fell upon the ring. Khemalitzli, confused, suddenly found a beefy, sweaty, and amorous masked stud pick him up in the air and begin grinding on him against the turnbuckle.

Iggy rolled their eyes, ignoring Spike drooling at the masculine, erotic display. "Ugh...Viki...why?"

Red faced and slightly bewildered, Khemalitzli held on for dear life. "Erm...you humans do have such interesting rituals!"

Behind the floral mask, El Amante winked. "Just lay back and relax, stud. Let papi do his thing..."

The End