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This is a piece of original furry fiction by me David Bennett. All characters in this story with the exception of Billy Black, are my property. Billy Black was used at the request and permission of Turrent Wolf AKA Ravewolfzero. All of the other characters are my creation and are subject to my copyright. If you wish to use one of the characters from my novel, then please notify me before hand.

This story, and not necessarily this chapter, contains some sexual content of an extreme and unusual nature; I.E. watersports, inter-species sex as in human to furry sex, incest, and some rape to come later. If any of these topics offend you, then please look away. If you are offended by gay relationships or gay sex, then please turn away. If some bisexual content or heterosexual content offends you, then these stories aren't for you. Otherwise if none of the above bothers you, then by all means continue reading this book.

If you are under the age of 18 or 21 in your given area, please cease reading these chapters. They are for people over the age of 18 and 21. If you are of age, then you may continue.

If you like what you read, then email me at [email protected] .

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Chapter 3:

Revealed

The elevator doors opened on the second level of the arena and gave me the chance to return to the floor that I had left earlier. Coby was still fresh in my mind; the incident was hard to forget, especially only minutes after the fact. As I stepped out of the elevator, I passed by some of the patrons that had witnessed my previous encounter with the maitre d'. They nodded to me as I walked past them in a simple gesture of greeting. I nodded back to let them know that I had seen them, Even though I was paying the slightest bit of attention to the patrons that I passed by, I still couldn't help but to think of Coby and his sickness; Glokens' Syndrome.

Glokens' Syndrome is probably the worst non-lethal disease on our planet, with the syndrome being congenital and hereditary. The causes are still unknown and the last time I had heard anything on it, there was still no cure, but only treatment. The syndrome affects the lower back and ends in extreme discomfort or in 87 percent of cases ends in paralysis form the waist down. What occurs in someone with GS is their brain gets a mixed signal at some point, and it tells the lower back to increase the length of the bone spurs on your lower two vertebrae just above your tail. The spurs become needle thin spikes that grow outward and upward until in one painful eruption the four spikes of bone protrude from the back. Slowly the spurs will grow back into the back and weave their way around the spine and through the back again until they reach the shoulder blades and then stop. I had seen pictures of people who were what is called "C Complete" Glokens' Syndrome. There are four stages of completion with this syndrome: D,C, B, and A. D is the very beginning stage where the spurs are growing into the back tissues and muscles, the symptoms include: Excessive sore or itchy back, unexpected back popping, and towards the end of stage D 4 raised bumps at the small of the back. C complete is when the spurs first erupt from the back, loss of nerve signals is either instant with the eruption or soon afterward if at all. B complete happens shortly after stage C when the spikes start to weave themselves in and out of the spine; this usually takes six months to a year to finish. The final stage, A complete, is when the spurs weave themselves into the top of your spine and "vine" themselves around your collarbones and eventually stop. It was hard to Imagine that in a year or so Coby McFarland would be C complete and woud never be able to walk again. It made sense why his back broke so easily during the fight he had with Billy Black; the spear directly to the now rather brittle lumbar is rather effective. I knew deep down for the short moments of the fight that his back was broken - Coby knew what it felt like not to be able to use his legs. He knew what the rest of his life was going to be like when he would fall victim to this horrible syndrome.

Before I opened the door to the skybox, I made the decision that I would try to be as good a friend to Coby as I could. I felt sympathetic towards him, and really felt that he could use a friend. I wasn't so important that I might become physically involved with him, but rather I would like to learn more about him.

I opened the door and looked at my father who was still in his seat, gazing like an emperor in his court on the action below. The lights above the ring were still yellow and the cage was still up, so we hadn't reached the main event yet. I walked forward and saw my father's ears swept back in my direction. He groaned, but kept his face forward towards the fight transpiring below.

"So you cooled down yet Adrian?" He sighed, feigning interest but only coming off with annoyance.

"For the most part father. I still don't think the things you said to me were very cool, you hurt my feelings." I said while I stood there with my arms behind my back, almost at parade rest. My father waved an arm and called me forward, his focus (at least visually) was devoted 100% towards the fight. I waled forward and noticed that my father had bought me some more soda and sausage dogs. I could tell because by looking the soda was in my flavor; lemon lime. I supposed that perhaps he wanted wanted to make up for what he had said with more food. I reluctantly took my seat at his right and grabbed my new food.

"Well I really don't care that I hurt your feelings, deal with it. I'm sorry if it matters to you at all. Now sit down and watch. This is the final match of the tournament. The winner gets to fight the grand champion in the Kennel From Hell match, so watch!" He commanded, pointing towards the ring. When I looked into the ring, I almost dropped my soda in shock. Squaring off was Billy Black from Coby's match, and the Red Claw Tribesman I had seen earlier in the locker room. He must have been heading to battle when I saw him in the basement. I leaned forward and began to watch.

The match had to have begun when I was in the elevator with Coby, judging by the carnage already transpired in the ring. The red claw had his battle-axe in hand, and it was dripping from both ends with a purplish red blood. Billy was bleeding horribly from a 2-foot long gash in his left thigh, but he seemed to be fending off the larger Red Claw with a morningstar on a chain at the moment, swinging it around his head. The Red Claw had several puncture wounds all over his body, his face itself was a crimson mask of blood and no longer the face paint he had been wearing previously down to the ring. The Red Claw had a wide stance, and he seemed to be setting Billy up and waiting for the moment to make one powerful strike.

Billy made the first move by tossing the morningstar ball towards the head of the Red Claw, the volleyball sized sphere of spikes flying on it's chain at a tremendous speed towards the blond wolf. The eyes of the tribesman went wide and he bent over backwards to avoid the ball coming towards him. The sphere, much to Billy's dismay, sailed harmlessly over the tribesman, coming to land on the ground behind him. The tribesman was quick on the attack and charged forward with the axe, bringing it screaming down towards the left arm of Billy. Billy, incapable of avoiding the blow, did all he could to lessen the blow by sweeping his left shoulder back as far as possible just as the blade plunged into it. The audience groaned in approval and mortification. The blade made a sickening meat cleaving sound as it tore through Billy's shoulder and collarbone with almost no resistance, stopping with a sudden jerk in the ribcage just above his heart. Billy dropped the chain and screamed in pain, reaching with his right hand to grab onto the handle of the Axe, holding onto it for dear life.

The Red Claw growled, so loud that we all could hear it in our seats, baring his bloodied fangs. He was foaming a little at the lips, his saliva frothing like he had our most feared disease of Rabies. Keeping both his hands on the Axe handle, he began to try to remove the blade from Billy for a second swing. The blade however, remained fixed there, and wouldn't budge. The tribesman began pumping the Axe back and forth, rocking the body of Billy Black; billy's head beginning to snap around like a limp noodle, body flailing about like a rag doll. The only aspects of life that seemed to exist in Billy was his ability to scream. The tribesman gave the Axe a few upward tugs, but it remained stuck, Billy's viscera and meat holding onto the blade with a literal death grip. The tribesman, realizing that his attempts were going fruitless, dropped hold of the Axe, letting Billy's Body give way at the same time. Billy dropped limply to his knees, and seemed to be fairly dead. The tribesman smiled and leaned in towards the seemingly lifeless body of Billy, and slapped him firmly across the face with a hard right hand. The smack from the slap could be heard throughout the arena. It was to add insult to injury.

The tribesman smiled at his work, and turned around and walked over to the edge of the ring, jumping off and looking for something to finish off Billy with. The referee began his 20 count, to count the tribesman out if he failed to return to the ring by that time. There were plenty of weapons outside of the ring to satisfy the Red Claw's urges for pain, all he would have to do it choose. Meanwhile in the ring, Billy seemed to be doing something odd. He was reaching into the groin of his pants with his right hand, and seemed to pull something out. I noticed the shape of his groin bulge decrease with this action, proving that something had been removed. Billy then continued to kneel there as he played possum, he was ready to attack.

The Red Claw staggered around the outside of the ring for a moment, light headed from the loss of blood. He looked at the wall of weapons surrounding the ring, and thought. He had originally planned to only use his tribal Axe, but considering how it was buried in Billy's torso it was somewhat useless. The Red Claw looked over the array of swords, tazers, clubs, maces, spears, halberds, shields, and war hammers; each weapon looking more deadly than the rest. The Red Claw wanted to teach Billy a lesson - never mess with a Red Claw! His eyes fixed on an evil and old fashioned weapon. He reached out and grabbed onto the handles of the two-handed weapon and looked down the wooden body to the long curved blade at the end in awe. He tested it with one slash, and it moved in perfect harmony with his body. He held up the scythe he had found a new kinship with and shouted in triumph, the audience joining in his battle cries.

In the center of the ring, the stringy haired Billy looked through his curtain of hair with contempt towards the braided haired Red Claw. Billy's loathing of him was apparent, but his body had very limited capacity and if he didn't do something soon he would die anyway from blood loss. Billy could feel that his entire left side had gone numb from the Axe wound in his leg and the Axe buried in his shoulder. He was a mess. He looked down at his right hand and shifted the hidden object around in his palm, getting it ready.

"I - cant - lose..." I saw him mouth. Billy closed his eyes and slumped a little further onto his knees, his tail wagging limply behind him. I had to have been difficult for him to breathe with one of his lungs severed, and I don't doubt that it was taking every ounce of effort in Billy's body to simply stay alive. This action had my Father and I on the edge of our seats. I was genuinely interested in the outcome of this match. Would the Red Claw win the tournament and restore some honor to his belittled tribe, or would the cocky and charismatic Billy be able to pull a major upset and move on to compete against the Grand Champion?

After getting to know his new weapon, the redclaw climbed back into the ring before the 20 count, licking the blood off his maw and twirling his new scythe in one hand. Billy continued to stay where he was; palming the hidden device in his hand, ready to make his final strike. The crowd began to cheer, sensing that the event was almost over.

Finally, sensing victory, the tribesman charged while bringing the scythe into both hands, keeping the blade low to the ground. The blade of the scythe was then reared back as he ran closer and held over his head as the Tribesman screamed.

"Gennim tal nah!" He screamed, meaning "honor to the claw". As the tribesman approached, Billy closed his eyes and pressed the button on the device in his hand as he began to count down. The audience stood on its feet, wondering what was about to happen.

The next few seconds seemed to go in absolute slow motion; I could see everything happening as if I had the rest of my life to watch it. As the tribesman reared back with the scythe, back and to the right, Billy stood up and lunged forward at the screaming blond lupine. Not many saw it, but in the few brief seconds that Billy had to react, he reared back and tossed a small black sphere into the mouth of the screaming Red Claw. The Red Claw stopped in his tracks and dropped the Scythe in confusion, holding onto his throat as if he was choking. For all I knew he probably was choking. Then there came a sudden rapid beeping from the Red Claw, just before Billy began to limp away as quick as possible. I looked right into the eyes of the Red Claw and for a singular moment, I could see failure in his eyes. Then, our eyes met, and we made eye contact just like we had in the locker room - I swore that he recognized me even now. He could see me all the way up there in the skybox, and make out the details of my eyes. He must have had a keen sense of vision. Just then, as we watched one another, the device let out one long beep.

I doubt the Red Claw felt his head and upper torso explode. The bomb that Billy had been secretly holding against his groin for the whole night had been effective in taking out the warrior. The explosion was not at all like the pyro that had gone off earlier in the day, this was like a grenade - then again it was a grenade wasn't it? Pieces of body flew all over the canvass, splattering like squashed watermelon. Pieces of flesh and sinew hung in the air momentarily before raining back down upon the ring. The remaining section of the body fell to its knees in a heap and eventually disappeared. The roar from the crowd was tremendous! The crowd began chanting the name of Billy Black repeatedly, as he staggered to stand upright again. In almost no time, his collar glowed as he was transported backstage as well to be healed and prepared for the main event of the evening.

Seeing this outcome helped me to realize something odd about the way the matches were going. If you were injured in a fight and then had to regenerate backstage, you didn't get all your strength back. Billy had been competing all day and had won the tournament, he had to be exhausted. The worst part for Billy was he still had the Red match with the Grand Champion to compete in before he was done this evening. The only good thing I thought about this was that no matter what happens in the main event, Billy was guaranteed to keep the World Championship belt, 10,000 Kreblings and the shot at the Grand Championship belt. Billy, who was a regional competitor in the deathmatches, had never had the opportunity to fight the Grand Champion before. My father told me as we sat there that Billy had now won the Championship a total of three times now; the first time winning in a similar tournament three years ago and then loosing it the next night, and the second time winning it in a tazer match against someone named "Fantastic Balastic". Billy would hold onto the World Title until he would lose it in a defense at a later date and time, his title was no longer up for grabs. Another title was up for grabs however, the Grand Championship.

A group of cleaners went down to the ring and swept up the body parts of the Red Claw that had been splattered all over the place so that it would be clean for the Red match. I suppose that parts of you that were detached before death don't disappear with the green collar's powers. It was kind of gross watching them shovel these hunks of flesh and bone into garbage bags as if there was nothing too it. I mean, these were body parts and not just garbage that you might find lying around on the side of the road somewhere. When they had finished, the lights in the arena dimmed once more and the lights above the arena changed from Yellow to Red. My father smiled and looked over at me as I grabbed onto some more food and set into eating once more before the match would begin.

"You ready for this puffer? This is going to be exciting!" My father said with a huge grin. I turned and narrowed my eyes and shook my head. I swallowed and spoke.

"Dad, you know I am not, and I don't like this at all. Look at what just happened down there, can you honestly say you like this?"

He grinned a bit more and nodded his head. "Oh yes. That what you saw down there is just a taste of what you are going to see in the main event. It's going to be really good. And guess what? We are going to meet the Grand Champion after his match tonight. I've arranged a special meeting with him, that way you can meet a real role-model. I've been watching this guy compete since I was a kid, and Adrian he is undefeated! He has never lost in over 100 years and he has won over 999 matches by death. This will be his 1000'th match here today, so pay close attention!" He said with a chuckle of glee. I groaned once more and looked back to the ring as Billy Black's entrance music hit once more. He had a new and shiny title belt of black and platnum over his shoulder, and he had wet his hair down once again. Though his shoulder and leg were completely healed and fixed, his tights were still torn in some places from his previous battles. In addition, as I looked at the cocky competitor, I noticed the fatigue he was enduring as he looked very tired and had difficulty walking down the entrance ramp and into the ring. Once he was there, the promoter stepped into the ring, dressed in an expensive tuxedo and holding the house microphone in his hand. He was a fine Jackal type of lupine, and looked very presentable as he tested his microphone and addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is now time for the Kennel from Hell Match!" He said with pleasure as he paused to let the audience roar. He had a fine promoter's voice, one that was full of charisma and pleasure for what he was doing. "The rules of this match are very simple: Two go in, and only one comes out alive. This match will continue until we have a winner. Now I have the distinct pleasure of introducing the fighters in this spectacular main event. First, already in the ring, and hailing from his own hometown of Khualaquart, he stands at 6 foot 3 and weighs 300 pounds. He is the master if the piledriver, and now a three time World Champion. Please welcome, your challenger in tonight's main event, Billy Black!" The announcer yelled, dragging out the name of Billy for added emphasis. The crowd gave Billy some decent applause as he threw a salute to them. Then there was a hushed silence, and some rather cool electric guitar music began to play. It was obviously the entrance theme of the Grand Champion. The crowd responded with the loudest roar I had ever heard in my life! The promoter began to announce even before the champion had entered.

"About to enter the ring, from parts unknown - he stands at 6 foot 8 and weighs in at 275 pounds. He is the master of the clawed gauntlet and the brain punch, and he has won over 999 straight matches all by death. He is a 15 time world champion, and the current Grand Champion. I give you perhaps the greatest fighter next to Fenris himself - your Grand Champion, Angus Whitefang!" He shouted, getting an even bigger roar this time just as the Champion stepped through the entrance ramp. He was a remarkable sight, Angus stood just as the promoter said at 6 foot 8 inches and he was all muscle. He had a long head of locks that flowed gracefully behind him, the same color as his wolfish fur which was the grayest I had ever seen. His chest bore a tribal tattoo on it, but at the time I couldn't make out which tribe it was for, though it was beautiful nonetheless with all it's sharp points. The tattoo was black and contrasted his gray fur heavily. The clothes Angus wore was an X shaped weapons bandoleer of black leather upon his chest, black boots, a black loincloth that from what I could see was t-backed, and a golden gauntlet on his right hand. The gauntlet did not cover his wrist or his palm, only the top of his hand. The gauntlet was a special spring loaded gauntlet that could produce a set of four claws about a foot long. Around the waist of the lupine was a large title belt of black leather and gold, baring the championship medallion in the middle.

The odd thing about Angus was his walk. I am sure that no once else noticed it, but I did. I had studied the way that our kind walked over the years and most people walked toe to heel, but he seemed to walk heel to toe and when he lifted his leg that was swept back he did it with a kind of feminine grace. I wasn't sure weather he did this intentionally or not, but I walk the same way that Angus does, however I thought that we did it because of a previous injury to our legs or something. Speaking of previous injuries, I looked to his left eye and saw that it was scarred over, ruined by some unknown weapon some time ago. His other eye was ice blue, perfect for his wolven heritage. His body was also covered every which way with several slash scars, adding ferocity to his appearance.

I had read about Angus in school. I thought he was just another fighter when I had read about him, but obviously he had to have been impressive in order to make it into our history books. Something that the announcer had failed to mention was that Angus had been competing in these death matches long before the green collars were available. Angus had genuinely put his life on the line all those times and he had earned the respect of The Nation for it. This fight, like my father insisted, would be a good one.

Once the two men were in the ring, they tossed their title belts to the outside where the ring crew picked them up and took them backstage, just at the promoter was slipping from the ring to get out of the way. The combatants stood in the ring just as the cage began to lower, taking a good 3 minutes to lower around the ring. Considering how the cage weighs almost 2 tons when it is constructed, it naturally takes a while for the arena's pulley system to lower that monstrosity.

The cage lowered with a clang, and the arena's lights lowered to their lowest, keeping only the ring lights bright so that everyone could see the fighters. The fighters stood in the center of the ring, standing eye to eye and nose to nose. The crowd was eating it up, they loved every moment of this thrilling set up. Flashbulbs were going off all over the place, taking picture after picture of this tedious stare down.

"Come on Angus! Hit him already!" My father yelled as the two continued to stand there looking into one another's eyes. Angus blinked his scarred left eye, a simple all white orb there instead of a normal eye. Billy seemed to be in awe at who he was in the ring with, he had never fought Angus before and now he was getting the chance. The question that was on my mind was, would Billy be able to hold his own against someone that was a truly ruthless killer?

The first move of the match was a vicious right handed slap from Billy to Angus, with Billy putting as much force as possible into the blow. The sound of the slap sounded almost like the sound of a belt on skin (something I know well from my father's beatings and when I've had to discipline Kuni.). Angus' head snapped back and to the right with the impact, his long gray hair moving with him.

Billy seemed to smile for a moment as he thought he had everything under control, but then stepped back in horror as he saw the head of Angus slowly turn back to face him, having the same stone face upon it that he had the entire time. Billy then narrowed his eyes and threw a right hook that connected with the side of Angus' maw, however the recoil of the maneuver was not so great this time as Angus' head was barely moved from it's position of focus. Angus' maw twisted into a wide smile as he continued to stand there and not make any motions of an attack. Angus just smiled and folded his arms with the tribal tattoos that matched the ones on his chest around the shoulders, and wagged his tail.

Billy sneered; this was an outrage to him. He had never failed to stagger an opponent from one of his punches (let alone a slap.) and yet Angus stood fast. Billy then took a few steps back and then proceeded to launch the sole of his right foot out towards the face of the statuesque Angus in a Yakuza kick. Angus made no move to avoid it, letting his face get smacked by the thrusting flat-soled kick of Billy. Angus rolled his head to the side a little bit with the force of the blow, allowing Billy's bare foot to continue it's momentum, so that Billy would continue to go forward and Angus would still stand still. When the transaction was complete, billy stood in awe at the fact that his efforts were unsuccessful in their attempts. Billy, loosing his temper, took his right leg down and set it flat on the canvass, and then sent his left foot out in a toe kick right square between Angus' legs in a low blow. The sound of the impact cause just about all the men in the building (including me and my father.) to hold our groins in agony at the idea of suffering that maneuver. Billy smiled prematurely, listening to the collective groan from the audience he thought that perhaps his kick to the testicles of Angus had maybe made a dent in the seemingly indestructible armor of Angus Whitefang. Much to his chagrin, Angus only smiled and unfolded his arms, placing them on his hips as he shook his head in disappointment. Billy in complete shock, continued to hold his bare foot against Angus' groin because he was too shocked to really register to put his foot down. Angus then in a flash, tucked Billy;s extended left leg under his right arm as he then wrapped his left arm around Billy's waist and lifted him up into a one arm bear hug, and then slammed him down in a spinebuster. The audience roared in appreciation. Billy sat forward from his horizontal position, and held his now aching gut, looking up at Angus in complete surprise.

With a slight grin on his face, Angus sent out his right boot to the face of Billy in an almost stomping motion. With no time to react, he was sent sprawling backwards to the floor, grunting upon the impact. Angus after taking a moment to think then reached down and grabbed onto both of Billy's legs and tucked the feet under his arms. Billy looked up in horror and attempted to use his leg strength to stop Angus from accomplishing whatever dark deed he had planned. Angus remained the stronger and began to drag Billy towards the edge of the ring where the cage was, Once reaching the edge of the ring, there was about 10 feet in between the ring apron and the cage wall. Angus then lifted the legs that were tucked into his arms up a bit and began to tuck the tips of his toes under Billy's shoulders which were the only parts of his body still on the canvass now aside from his arms. As I looked at the image in the giant viewing screen, I could see the smile on the face of Angus, and pure fear on the face of Billy who was still writhing to attempt to counter this maneuver. Angus then suddenly fell backwards onto his back, holding onto the feet of Billy and using his own legs for leverage to catapult Billy and launch him the 10 feet towards the cage. Billy flew with a not so beautiful grace towards the wall, connecting head first with his body following, folding up like an accordion upon the impact. Billy then slumped against the chain-link side of the cage of steel and lay there in a heap. The audience was going crazy with barbaric fulfillment.

"Holy Shit, he used the bang-a-rang! I haven't seen him use that move in over 10 years!" My father shouted. I assumed this "bang-a-rang" was that catapult like maneuver into the side of the ring that Billy had the chance to experience first hand. I groaned and held my head at the idea of myself going through that. I liked to wrestle around for play (Or sometimes as foreplay) with my friends, and I had been placed in submission holds before, but never anything like that catapult before.

Angus then kipped up, and jumped down to the outside of the ring. I saw his face fall to a look of anger as he approached the loopy Billy. Billy looked up and had only a split second to see the boot toe of Angus pull back and be sent forward in a toe kick. Angus grabbed onto the side of the cage as his toe kick connected square in Billy's ribs, causing Billy to sob and cry out in pain. Angus then reared back and did it again, getting pretty much the same reaction as his first kick. His kicks sounded like the sound when you smack a pillow very hard with something, a kind of dull smacking sound.

As the kicks went screaming into the chest of Billy, ribs were bruised and broken and vital organs were being pummeled by the skilled feet of Angus Whitefang. Over and over again he sent his boot into the abdomen of Billy, who could do nothing but try to cover up and take the impacts as best as he could. When Angus seemed that he had done enough kicking, he reached down and grabbed onto Billy's long hair and pulled him up to his feet. Once he had Billy standing, he then rested Billy in a standing position against the side of the cage as Billy heaved and spat up some blood, for he was bleeding internally. Angus then just smiled and then did something that caught the whole arena off guard. He leaned in and kissed Billy right on the lips, making Billy's eyes shoot open in confusion. I took a moment to look away from the kiss to look at my father for his reaction. Though he was seeing a man kiss another man, he had a huge grin on his face for some odd reason.

"Watch this Adrian, this is funny!" He laughed as he pointed to the ring. I looked down to see that Angus still had his lip-lock on Billy, and I could swear that there was some tongue in that kiss. Angus then pulled back and smiled at the surprised Billy. Before Billy could do much more then stand there in even greater shock, Angus then dropped his grin once more into an evil look of anger and grabbed the sides of Billy's face and spun him around so that he was facing the cage wall. Angus then proceeded to rake Billy's face across the chain link fence like a cheese grater, opening up a rather healthy wound on his head. Harder and harder he raked the of Billy who with one hand held himself up by the chain-link cage, the other hand across his broken ribs trying to minimize the pain there. When Angus was done raking his face, he then turned Billy around once more, and sent him in a whip towards the side of the apron. Wisely, Billy was able to roll into the ring before hitting it, and was able to avoid further damage to his Ribs. Billy stood up and staggered around for a moment as he choked a little on his blood.

At the feet of Billy, dark red dots began to form. He was bleeding so bad from his head wound that the blood was cascading down his face and was dripping off his muzzle where they fell down on the white canvass beneath him. Meanwhile Angus onn the outside grabbed onto a fine broadsword off the cage and took it into his left hand. He then walked back to the ring and rolled into it. After rolling into the ring, Angus twirled the sword around in an X-shaped motion in his left hand as if to taunt Billy. Billy stood ready, clutching one arm on his chest, ready to dodge any sword attack that would come. Angus then walked (and I do mean walked) very nonchalantly towards Billy and then offered the blade to him by the pommel. Billy looked at him in wonder, trying to figure out if this was a trick or not. Slowly with his good right hand, he took the blade and took a few steps back as he formulated a plan. Angus all the while just stood there and made come-on motions with his fingers.

Billy, once ready, raised the sword with one hand and attempted to bring it into Angus' left shoulder much like the Red Claw had done to him earlier. In a blinding amount of speed the four claws of Angus' gauntlet extended, and were brought to his left to block the path of the blade. The sound of metal hitting metal was tremendous and just about all of us had to hold our ears at the sound. Billy didn't waste any time and brought the sword down in an arc towards the lower left leg of Angus. Angus sent out his claws once again to block once more, and upon the impact of the blade on the claws, spun backwards and backhanded Billy, knocking him back a few steps. While billy was staggering, Angus then spun the other half of his body around and brought the claws of his gauntlet screaming towards Billy's chest in a rake.

You couldn't tell that they connected at first, but the sudden opening of four pinkish red gashes from the top of Billy's right shoulder to his left hip were indication enough that he had hit. Billy dropped the sword, screaming what was possibly an even louder scream than the one he had emitted before, as he fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest with both arms. Billy bowed his head as a small puddle of blood was forming at his feet, steadily growing wider and wider around him.

Angus then positioned himself perpendicular to Billy's shoulders as he stood in front of him. Angus then let out a joyous shout as he reared back with his right boot and buzzsaw kicked Billy right in the top of his cranium. Billy fell silent in a heap as part of his skull was caved in. All life seemed to exit his body as the audience cheered, thinking that the match was over. Unfortunately for Billy, and my stomach, it wasn't over yet. Despite Billy's obviously incapacitated condition, he was still alive, and so the carnage would continue.

A referee, a German Shepard in a pair of skintight black spandex short-shorts and a white and black stripped t-shirt ran over to Angus and shouted something to him, pointing to the body. Angus then started to bark at the referee, shouting something in a rather angry tone at him. The audience during this whole time had began chanting 1000 over and over again. The referee, a rather muscular yet smaller lupine once more pointed towards the body and gave some kind of order. Once more Angus did nothing but bark at the referee.

"What's going on dad? Isn't Angus supposed to kill him?" I asked, genuinely wondering why Angus didn't finish the match.

"I don't have a clue. Angus has never done this before. Usually he uses the Brain Punch with that gauntlet of his, but for some reason he isn't finishing this." He said with about as much confusion as I had. Suddenly the referee in the ring called for the bell, and the bell rang, ending the match. Slowly the cage began to lift as Billy's collar glowed green and his body disappeared, The crowd was collectively scratching their heads in wonder as the Promoter stepped into the ring and handed Angus his title belt. The audience then applauded and cheered before the promoter called for silence. What had happened? Why had the match ended this way?

"Ladies and gentlemen, was that an ass kicking or what?" The young promoter asked as the audience responded with great fanfare. The referee then took up his position behind Angus, acting as a bodyguard I supposed. Angus then looked to the crowd with the belt on his shoulder and smiled. The promoter then turned towards Angus to address him.

"So Angus, how are you feeling about winning 1000 matches in a row in only 100 years? The young promoter asked with a large grin upon his maw. Angus slowly turned to face the promoter as his face reverted back to it's stone facet.

"Well Tom, I did what I had to do - which was survive. I have been fighting in these death matches for over 100 years, and I have ended the lives of countless males, some of which are permanent. It was in a death match not unlike this one that I beat the former Grand Champion after I had won my third World Title. I fought him for a good hour and a half. It was he as all of you fans knot that did this to my eye." He said as he pointed towards his left eye. "It was he that gave me my trademark left eye. I killed him exactally 95 years ago to the date. So, I would say that I feel fairly indifferent as my mood about winning 999 matches in a row by death." He finished. His voice was so crisp and manly it was amazing. He had no accent, and spoke so articulately, I almost swooned. Tom the promoter nodded and gave a light clap.

"Well you have the planet's records for the longest Grand Championship title reign, the person to hold the World Championship the most amount of times, and the person to win the most amount of matches by death. How do you feel about all those records and going down in our planet's history?" Tom asked with enthusiasm. Angus inhaled and adjusted the belt on his right shoulder and continued to speak into the microphone.

"How do I feel? I just feel like I was trying to survive these last 100 years tom. Are all these questions really necessary? I did just let my thousandth kill in a row live, isn't that something special? If I set a few records in the process of living my life and doing my job, then I suppose I made a few people take notice." Angus answered dryly. The promoter simply nodded to Angus and the referee.

"And a very valiant thing, letting Billy Black live. I suppose that he was close enough to death in the match to give you the victory. Well, alright. Do you have anything else you want to say to all your fans out there watching at home?" He said with a look of genuine interest on his face. Angus's good eye seemed to change from non-interest to worry. It seemed as if he was debating something in his head. Slowly he nodded hos head as he took the microphone in his hand.

I do have something I want to say," He said, pausing to think. "I have waited so long to say this to the world, but there is something that I have been wanting to say outside the locker room for so long."

"What is he talking about?" My father asked me in wonder. I shrugged, I didn't have the slightest fucking clue what Angus was going to say.

"There is a big secret about me, that all those who know me have sworn in their own blood never to tell. Today, I want to tell that secret. Earlier I saw someone in this arena speak his mind about who he is and what he is. He is proud of who he is and what he is, and it is time I be proud alongside him." He said in a calm and neutral tone. My father slowly turned and looked at me with a sinking suspicion. He growled very low, but due to the silence of every soul in the arena, his growling was almost like thunder.

"What the fuck is he talking about Adrian...son?" He sneered. I shook my head and shrugged once more, I had absolutely no clue as to what Angus was saying. In the ring the referee moved next to Angus and shook his head, almost warning him. Angus simply shook his head back and looked out upon the crowd.

"I want to take this time to say that for all you gay people out there, keep showing pride. Don't let anyone talk shit to you. Don't ever let anyone say that you are weak or can't fight because I won't take it anymore." He said as a low mummer of shock rose from the audience. The ref nodded and stood back at at Angus' side while the promoter himself was among the shocked. He took the microphone and addressed the situation.

"So what are you saying exactly?" He asked softly. Angus smiled and put an arm around the ref who had his head lowered in either shame or embarrassment. My father was grinding his teeth and crumpling up his hat in his hand. This was making him very uncomfortable. I liked that.

"What I am saying is, for all you gays out there, I'll fight for you. I am on your side, I am on your side because...I am gay myself." He announced as we all, including myself gasped in shock. "We have fought hard to earn respect. The government has accepted and encourages us to lead healthy lives. Our only problems lies with people who are too closed minded that wont let us lead happy lives." Angus smiled ad he hugged the ref a little tighter. My father threw down his hat and made a very similar exit from the skybox that I had done earlier. I smiled wide and looked down into the ring.

"This male here is referee Lang Nash. He is my lover backstage. I have had several realtionships with the fighters backstage and in some cases they are the reasons I kill. Backstage I am called 'the big guy', because of my tenderness and my willingess to give some of these fighters a good time. I have been gay all my life, I just haven't told anyone outside of the locker room. Anyway I seem to have embarrassed Lang. I am going to go backstage and meet my people I am supposed to meet. Thank you all." He said as he threw the gay pride salute of our race of slapping his right hand against the left side of his chest and then raising his hands in the hand signal. The signal was the ring and middle fingers raised upward with the index and little fingers down, the thumb across the index finger and its tip touching the ring finger's. There came another tremendous roar from the audience while the three males in the ring walked backstage. Suddenly i had a very keen interest in this sport...perhaps I'd watch it after all.

* * *

"This is fucking ridiculous! Adrian - I can't believe you are making me do this." My father barked under his breath. I smiled and wagged my tail, very happy for the first time in a long time. My father on the other hand had just had his entire world shattered when his boyhood hero was revealed to be a "puffer" just like me. I was loving every moment of this.

"Remember Dad, this was your idea." I said with a chuckle as I strutted down the hallway.

"Don't remind me!" He grumbled.

My father had told me earlier that we were going to have a meeting with Angus after the match, a meeting that I was previously dreading and my father looking forward to. It would seem that now that Angus had come out that our situations were reversed. My father adjusted his military cover as we walked down the hallway towards Angus' private locker room. We turned a corner where that same fat maitre d and the promoter that I saw in the ring earlier were guarding the lime green door. The maitre d took one look at me and gulped nervously. The promoter then smiled and shook our hands. The promoter had to be only 20 years older than me; he was still very young by our species standards. When I shook his hand, I gave it a nice firm shake, which he pleasantly returned.

"Hello there, you must be Adrian De Fenos?" He asked in the same voice he used in his announcing. I nodded. I was about to say something before my father interrupted.

"Um - Mr. Johniueknewa, I am Col. Andrew De Fenos. I have my...son's private meeting pass right here. I won't be using mine." My father said softly to Tom the promoter. The promoter looked over at my father with a displaced look upon his face.

"Colonel, when you called me a week ago you were adamant in the fact that you couldn't wait to meet Mr. Whitefang. You told me several times that you've waited 60 years to meet him, and now you are relinquishing your pass? You are aware that I cant refund-"

"I don't CARE about a refund! Keep the damn Kreblings. Just take my pass and give it to some lucky puffer out there that's been waiting as long as I have to meet him." My father interrupted. The promoter didn't back down from my father, he stood tall and proud, I suppose he is used to dealing with older men's egos.

"Col. De Fenos! I do not appreciate use of such language in locker rooms!" Tom informed. My father looked befuddled, he had not met this much resistance in one day in so long.

"What language are you talking about?" My father asked.

"I am taking about your use of the word 'puffer'. That word is a form of verbal harassment and if you can't abstain from using fowl language here colonel, then I will be forced to eject you from my arena and for good, I don't care if you are an officer of the ARMY or not, but when you are in my building you follow my rules you understand me?" He said as he got into my father's face. I could see my father's hand going for the handle of that MM-475 of his, he had that uncontrollable urge to use it when he got angry or put in his place. I was ecstatic; a younger male, and one that wasn't even enlisted had just told off my father! My father nodded and mumbled a "Yes sir.". Tom Then turned towards me and smiled. He reached out gingerly and put a hand on my left shoulder, the maitre d almost wanting to warn Tom about me and my reactions to having strangers touch me. I let him touch me and smiled back, my tail still wagging.

"So kid, did you like the show?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes. He was a man of business, and a man that loved the business he was running.

"Yeah it was an excellent show. Can I go meet Angus now?" I asked. The promoter nodded and gestured to the door.

"Of course you can. You have five minutes with the Champ. I will knock when your time is up. Until then, enjoy your time." He said with a wink as he opened the door.

Inside I could see a couple of leather couches just from the crack in the door. I pushed past Tom gently and slipped in, making sure that my tail didn't get caught in the door. Once inside, the door shut and I was in Angus' private locker room. Angus was sitting on one of the leather couches with a towel wrapped around his waist; his fur seemed to be drying off from a shower. As I looked around the room, i saw various tribal paintings on the wall in fancy picture frames. Angus must have been a fan of tribal art. In the corner was a small end table in the form of a nude male wolf flexing with his arms over his head. Off to my right I heard water running, and looked to see the path to the bath area liked in linoleum and twisting around a corner. Someone was in the shower, The floor was a dark brown in color, and all over the floor were various pieces of clothes, some female clothes. Angus looked at me from one of the two black leather couches, the one facing me directly and beckoned for me to sit with him on the couch. I didn't know it, but the lusty sight of him in a towel was once again setting my cock into action. I took a few steps forward, stepping over a pair of panties to sit about 5 feet from the Grand Champion, As I sat, he smiled at me and very briefly checked me out. I suppose I was right in my guess about the way that he walked, that we walked differently because we were both different. Angus had removed his gauntlet and extended his naked hand to me in a handshake, I took it and noticed how gently he shook my hand, he was so soft and tender.

"I want to thank you Adrian." Angus said suddenly, speaking very softly. I took my hand back slowly and looked at him puzzled.

"Whatever for?" I asked

"For giving me the courage to do what I did today."

"Courage? But surely you..."

"You thought I had all the courage in the world? Nah, I am really a scared guy outside of the ring. I am frightened of all kinds of things, and public approval is one thing that has weighed heavily upon my mind." He said with a smile. I found myself checking out this almost naked gladiator next to me and thought about purring like my mother had taught me. She had a catling friend that had taught her how to purr, and she taught me.

"Your welcome I guess." I retorted nervously. He just kept smiling.

"What did you think of the fights?"

"Well...um..." I moaned.

"Not your kind of stuff eh?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No sir, I am afraid not." I said quietly. Angus smiled wider and laughed.

"Don't call me sir, call me Angus. You can consider me one of your friends."

"Okay." I stopped and listened to the sound of the water falling in the shower and noticed a referee shirt on the floor, about the same size as Lang's. I looked to him and pointed to the shirt and the panties on the floor.

"Hey, are those Lang's clothes?" I asked. He snickered and kidked them aside so they were up against a sports bag and looked as if they were just waiting to be put inside.

"Yeah, he's in the shower. We were both in there earlier, but were done."

"Done screwing?" I asked. He looked at me as the smile faded off his face.

"Yes, but not only that, our relationship is over." He sighed.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you guys fuck if you are through?"

"Well we felt that we should end on a positive note. I guess he is just too embarrassed of what we are to be my lover anymore," He looked at me and ran a hand under his chin and nodded, "Hey your time is almost up, but hey, take this with you." He said with a smile as he tossed me a small box. The box was small and black. I then opened it up and my mouth dropped open. Inside was a platnum watch, the rather expensive kind. There were all kinds of dials inside of it; one for time, one for days of the week, one for the month, and one for the cycles of the moons. I looked at him in awe.

"This is too much!" I tried to say.

"Hardly. It was going to be an anniversary gift for Lang, but I feel better giving it to you now. After all, you did so much for me." He said with a smile. I nodded and put the watch on my left arm. Just then there came a knocking at the door. I stood and walked to the door and turned to face Angus.

"Thanks. Perhaps we'll meet again?" I asked.

"Perhaps we shall..." He said with a wink as he stood and walked to his sports bag to dress. I left the room and closed the door behind me, waving to Tom the promoter and winking evilly at the fat maitre d as I went by.

My father was waiting for me. He had a look of frustration upon his face. Without a word he walked out towards the elevator, I had no choice but to follow. I followed him back down the hallway that we had come down in order to reach the locker room and up the same elevator. After pushing the button for the lobby the large stainless steel doors closed and the elevator began it's long ascent towards the ground level.

"I hope you had fun in there." My father grumbled. I was a little put out, of course I had a good time, it was short but was there something wrong with that?

"Dad, what's the matter?" I asked, leaning against the wall as I checked out my new watch. He groaned and poked me in the chest a couple of times with agression, forcing me to take notice of him.

"It's you! It's you and godsdamned puffers in general. I can't believe that 'Mr. Straight as an arrow' is really 'Mr. Straight as a corkscrew'. How can this happen to me Adrian? My hero is a fucking puffer! Plus on top of that, I have you to deal with!" My father drilled. I narrowed my eyes in disdain and licked at my forearm to clean my fur a little bit in a cat like gesture. My father, thinking that I was ignoring him, gave me a firm slap across the face that sent me sprawling to the floor. I gasped in surprise as my face throbbed in pain and looked up at my father who was bearing down on me. The elevator dinged once to let us know that we were only a floor away from our destination, yet it would take another minute before we arrived there, due to how slow the elevator went.

"What the hells are you doing to me Dad?" I asked while I held my sore face. Andrew, my father, then grabbed me by my ponytail and hoisted me off the ground with relative ease. I groaned and cried out at the sensation of the hair almost being ripped from my scalp. I screamed a little bit in pain, my voice echoing off the walls of the stainless steel elevator.

"I'm taking my frustrations out on you. You haven't had a good beating from me in a long time and today seems as good a day as any!" He growled, holding me up by my ponytail. I noticed that he had both his hands on me, and realized that my father had made a critical mistake. My father had failed to lock the holster of his MM-475, and both his hands were on me, leaving the gun unprotected. I looked him in the eyes, only having about 15 seconds to react before the door was opened. A lot could happen in 15 seconds; my father could really work me over in that time if he wanted to.

I reacted as quick as I could, using my feminine grace to grab that MM-475 out of it's holster and clicked on the C.E.L.T.S system. My father's eyes went wide as he was no longer staring into the eyes of his slightly frightened son, but into the barrel of his own hand rifle. The grip on my hair loosened slightly as his eyes made the transition from anger to fear. My finger held fast to the trigger, ready to squeeze it if I needed to.

"A-Adrian...s-son now c-calm down...you don't know what you're doing." My father tried to say in an apologizing tone. The elevator door dinged for our floor as the door opened. I pushed the gun barrel to his head and lead him out the door and into the crowd of passer-bys, all of which looked at us in supreme surprise.

"I am tired of it! I am sick of you calling me a puffer dad. So what if I'm not like you, that doesn't give you the right to hit me or ridicule me! I swear by Alex's blood that if you call me puffer one more time I will paint your brains all over this arena!" I threatened, still holding the barrel to his head. My father and I were masters in weapon disarmament, however with all the people nearby my father wasn't able to disarm me because I might have shot a nearby patron on accident. Shouts of "He's got a gun!" went up as the crowd nervously tried to exit and get away from this family dispute.

"Adrian stop this...you're going to get yourself in a lot of trouble!" My father commanded. I simply shook my head in response and kept pushing him backwards with the gun.

"I want out of here father! I want out of here now! Take me home, or at least someone else." I grumbled, holding the gun steadily on him. He nodded and started to back his way towards the front door of the arena, the crowd parting for us to let us by.

I myself was surprised that security didn't do anything to stop me from holding the gun to my father's head. I guess that maybe somewhere in the arena Tom was watching and was holding off the security, just so my father could get his just deserts; provided I didn't shoot him.

"Adrian son...you're making a scene...lets just calm down and go to the truck ok?" He said with his military negotiation voice. I nodded and put the gun into my tights, gesturing towards the door. The crowd of onlookers let out a sigh of relief as we finally left through the large glass doors at the front of the arena. I looked around the parking lot for a moment, trying to figure out where my father had parked when he started storming off. I hopped to it and followed him, having his gun he didn't have much choice but to take me to the truck. Father hated being seperated from his gun, he felt naked without it. Come to think of it at that moment I could have felt better if I was naked but I was kind of in public. My father's pace was a hurried one, he must have wanted to get as far away from the arena as possible, or was it that he wanted to get as far away from me as possible?

I came across the truck a few minutes after our whole scene had ended. My father stood leaning up against the passenger side door with an angry grin upon his face. He had the keys in one hand and he was holding out his other hand. He gestured me forward.

"Give me the hand-rifle and I'll take you somewhere else." He demanded. I smiled and made a sardonic look. I wasn't falling for it. I pulled out the hand-rifle out of my tights again and pointed it at him once more. I clicked the C.E.L.T.S system on, which gave a couple of beeps as a red dot formed on the center of my father's forehead.

The wonderful thing about the C.E.L.T.S system was that it was more or less a "sharpshooting for dummies" tool. On the trigger was a little button that causes the system to lock onto the cranium of a desired creature within 200 yards, by finding the pattern of a creature's brain with it's scanners. The scope on the top gave you a read out on how many potential targets there are within that 200 yard range and weather they are "friendly" or "dangerous". My father normally would never have his own gun turned against him, because part of the C.E.L.T.S system is a security device. Inside the hand grip of the hand-rifle is a small scanner that scans the genetic readout of the owner of the gun. They are programed to the genetic makeup of the owner of the gun. The rifles are programmed to the genetic makeup of the owner and will not function for anyone else. The gun would would for me however work for me because I am his son and carry the same genes that he does, the genes that are necessary to operate the firearm.

"Give me the batteries." I ordered. I wanted my father's spare battery clips. Each clip gave you roughly 50 shots, and I didn't want my father shooting any. My father reached to his utility belt and handed me his spare batteries with reluctance. I took them into my hand and ejected the battery that was currently loaded. I tossed my father the now useless MM-475, that he caught as if I was tossing a child. He checked it over and seemed to pour worry over that worthless piece of metal and wire as if it was a child. Perhaps it was a child that he cared for more than he cared for me.

I looked over at the street in front of me and saw a nearby storm drain, a perfect place to dispose of the batteries, With haste I ran to the small grate and looked over my shoulder at my father who had only then decided to take notice of what I was doing. I held the four clips in my hands and they were ready to drop through the holes in the grate.

"Come on now Adrian, don't do that to the clips!" My father pleaded. I shook my head and let them fall. They fell down the drain with couple of clatters and then landed with a collective splashing sound. My father all the while dropped his head and turned around to open the passenger side door to the truck. I waked back with my tail wagging happily, my face no longer sore, glad to be rid of any potential threat of my father's gun. I had taken my father's beatings before and those were easy to deal with. I could not deal with his MM-475.

I hopped into the passenger side, and shut the door next to me. My father then climbed in and turned on the truck, his face a face of seriousness and defeat. I laughed inside, he was seriously defeated! In almost no time my father had us back on the streets, headed for home. I sat in silence, smiling that this day wasn't a complete loss.

* * *

I arrived at my 2 story rose colored home after my father dropped me off 10 blocks away. He was not in the mood to drive me down my street, and I suppose that I deserved to walk for making him feel that way, but it was a walk that I didn't mind. I stared at my house and smiled, admiring the flowers that lined the front driveway and house. Mother and I had planted them ourselves three years ago, and the they had been blooming since. I looked at the Qualagra trees that stood in my neighbor's yard. I remembered climbing those trees at least once a year since I was four in order to collect the rather delicious melons that grow at the top. The thing is that you have to grab onto them before they fall and hit the ground, so one would have to climb up there and get the purple colored melons before it was too late. My mother and my neighbor agreed that I would be the one for the job. I sighed and walked up the driveway and opened the front door to my house.

My mother was sitting on the couch with my neighbor, in a cuddle. My neighbor was almost a twin to my mother, it was often difficult to tell them apart. The only differences between her and my mother were that my mother had bigger tits and she had pink colored eyes. Yes, pink eyes. The two sat there cuddling and seemed to have been kissing when I entered. I smiled at the two females and cleared my throat. My mother turned her head quickly and looked at me with a happy yet surprised look on her face.

"Hello sweetheart, you seem to have caught Mari and I in the process of getting to know one another a little better. Why are you home so early?" She cooed. I smiled at my mother and Mari and walked over.

"Well you know, it was the usual. Dad took me somewhere I didn't like, we found out his childhood hero is gay, I held a gun to his head...so yeah he took me home early. As far as you and Mari go, you should quit cuddling and start fucking!" I said with a laugh. They both laughed and shrugged.

"We'll take that into consideration." Mari said in a kind voice as she leaned in and pressed her lips to my mother's and began to deeply kiss her. My mother kissed back in a passion that she normally reserves for me, it was almost fun to watch. It didn't matter that they were both female, it was just fun to watch.

"I am going to bed early, I am going to say goodnight to Ashley first." I informed. They waved me off as their hands began to slip up one another's shirts. I shook my head and started to walk towards my Sister's room. My Mother's pheromones had aroused me, and I was beginning to get a healthy boner. I hoped that Ashley was already in bed so I wouldn't have to tuck her in I walked up to her brown colored door and knocked. She answered with a tired moan that sounded like "what?".

"Goodnight Sis, I'll see you after school tomorrow." I said through the door. There came another moan, this one of acknowledgment. I nodded and closed her door and headed up towards my room. I had school the next day, and quite honestly I needed to release some pent up frustration.