Underdog
DISCLAIMER! Read This: This story will undoubtedly be too explicit for children to read. If you are under the age of 18, please navigate away from this page. This story contains adult language, adult situations, and a budding lesbian relationship. The term underdog comes from a brutal Elizabethan era sport called Bear Baiting. You knock out a bear, tie him down, and send two dogs in to kill it. One dog, the overdog, goes for the jugular and almost always leaves in one piece. The underdog, the long shot, goes for the intestines and groin. This places the underdog right in swiping range from the bears front paws, and almost always leaves in a bag or left to be consumed by scavengers.
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If you're looking here for a name or a confession, you'll find none. I have no name, and nothing I regret up to now; but I suppose you need something to call me by. In the cells, to the guards, I am prisoner numbered 24601-U. To my cell mates and to other prisoners, I go by dog; to the fresh meat of the prison, my name is Andrea. Not really my name; but I think it's pretty, so I use it for the uninitiated to have something to call me by. I'm maybe five foot three and a hundred and twenty pounds of pure, lean muscle; they trim my fur to keep it hard to grasp. I'm an arctic wolf, so that means a lot of haircuts; I'm a shaggy bastard. What I'm doing in this hell hole, I'll never know; all I know is with every fight, I'm closer and closer to freedom and death.
My cell mate, 24601-O, is about the same as me; no idea why she's here, but we're both fighters for someone's sick amusement. She's a mutt and I can't quite tell what breeds she is, though I see some Irish wolfhound; the bitch is nearly six foot six. Fights are once a week, and we're put in training the other six days; they feed us nothing but lean meat to keep us thin, and we hardly get to sleep. Every fight, they send a priest to me to give me my last rights and offer me salvation; nobody ever expects me to come out alive.
I guess by now, you're trying to guess what I do that's so dangerous; it goes back to my serial number. I'm the underdog, and my cell mate, Sasha, is the overdog; we're fighters in an archaic sport known as bear baiting. They find a male bear, hit him over the head and chain him to the ground; when he wakes up, Sasha goes for his neck and I go for his belly. I've survived a year of fights so far; I wonder how long I have left before a bear crushes my skull or break all my bones.
Sasha... what a beautiful girl; more chub than muscle, but she could still overpower me if she wanted. Over the last year, she and I have become friends and, dare I hope, lovers. Though she was a brute, she was soft and gentle when you got under her gruff exterior. She's surprised like all the rest that I've lived this long, that I haven't been killed. Before I came along, she says, she was getting new partners almost once or twice a month. Some days, I think she's the only reason I stay alive; she's the only reason I get off my cot in the morning.
"Hands through the bars, girls; you know the drill." It must be the morning of the fight, time for prison transfer. We stick our arms through a slot; the cold hard irons wrap tightly around our wrists as the locking mechanism clicks into place. Pulling back my arms, I look down and watch as they attach another longer pair around our ankles; no matter how many times this happens I never feel less like a monster. I still jump every time the lead guards racks his shotgun followed by his subordinates charge their rifles; I think they get a sick joy from my fright. "You run, you die." The gate opened, and I made no move to escape, "Step forward." I took a large stride forward and stopped, I waited for them to attach a leash to my collar and lead us to the awaiting bus.
Sitting in the furthest seat back, beside Sasha, I laid my head on her shoulder; "I'm... I think... I..." My voice trailed off as I failed to piece together what I so desperately wanted to tell her. "Take your time, love... it'll come. On your own time, tell me what be on your mind." I nodded slowly as I started to silently cry. "What's the matter, Dog? Would you kindly tell me?" Tipping my chin up to look her in the eyes, she kissed me softly. I took one long deep breath, and nodded; "I'm taking a dive today, hun... I can't take it no more. Let the bear finish me off. They're ne'er going to let me go free, I don't even know what I done wrong to begin with!" She kissed me again before I could finish as she began to cry. Pulling away quickly, she held my head in her hands as she looked me square in the eyes. "Don't you fucking say that; I spent a year with you! You're... you're a fighter... you never gave up all those times before! Why now?! Why, right now, after I'm finally starting to think maybe you won't die... why?!"
I realized that this had to be so hard for Sasha; the only people she was allowed emotional contact with kept dying. She finally fell for someone... for me... someone she thought would last... and here I am giving up. Curling up in my seat, I looped my arms around the back of her neck and pulled her in with the chain connecting my handcuffs. Pressing my lips to hers, we stayed like that for what felt like hours; I even think I heard one of the guards call us a pair of stupid dykes. Like what he said mattered; Sasha was all the family I had now. Sasha was the only person, I felt, who would miss me when I was gone.
Halfway there, I get hit by this idea like a blow to the back of the head. I look over at her and smile softly, this crazy look in my eye. "This... can't be good. What're you playing at?" Leaning in close so the guards up front couldn't hear, I whispered in her ear. "Let's escape... pull the bears chain loose and make a run for it... We can be together out there, we'll be free." She just looked at me, not sure what to say; the rest of the ride was done in quiet. Sure, I mean, the occasional touch or kiss; our fingers were laced together in fear and anticipation the whole way there. My eyes slowly drooped closed.
Tires skidded hard on the unpaved road, shaking me to my senses. Looking out into an empty field down a small little hill, I could see him; Ursus arctos horribilis. A full grown silvertip bear, chain around the neck and tied tight to a tree stump. Standing tall at nearly seven foot, I wagered, and looked to tip the scales at seven hundred to eight hundred pounds. He was pulling on his chain, trying to escape; I could see in his eyes he knew what was about to happen.
A sharp tug on our leashes got us on our feet. Walking slowly toward the front, I could feel a heightened sense of things; the cold long irons shackled around my feet and arms, the textured floor beneath my feet, and the circulated air filling my nose. Stepping down from the bus slowly, I felt the stock of the lead guard's shotgun come down on the back of my neck; "Move with a purpose, bitch!" Falling to my face, I whimpered and cried; looking back to Sasha, I could see she knew my pain as she nodded and mouthed just one word to me, "okay".
We stood side by side, hands out and palms faced skyward; it felt good as they took the handcuffs and legcuffs off. We were ordered to sit just out of reach of the bear and wait for the financiers to arrive; this was our routine, our army. Hurry up and wait. This, for once, played out for us as the bear came up to us nearly resigned to his fate; "I've seen what you dogs have done to my family and friends; even if I kill you both, they'll shoot me dead". I nodded "Usually; they're humans. What did you expect, mercy? I don't even know why I was forced into this; but no more." Looking at him, my hand inching closer and closer to his, I smiled as I laid out our plan. "But those men with guns will shoot all of us at the first sign of a shift in the balance of power", "Don't be so afraid," said Sasha, "I'll take care of them personally; they hurt my girl, I owe them for that." She smiled at me and winked; under my white fur, I blushed heavily. She had claimed me as her own, something I had wanted since they first threw me in her cell.
We waited, patiently, as various cars pulled up to this desolate hellhole; Lamborghini's and Ferrari's, McLaren's and Mercedes Benz', even one lone Dodge Viper. Men dressed in three piece suits with suitcases filled with cash flooded out of these vehicles, shaking hands with the guards and bribing them for entry into our blood sport. The same priest as always, Father Gregory, came up with bible in hand and looked me over and shook his head; "Should I waste my breath praying for you, or do you want me to leave as always?" I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, pulling on him like a little child. "Father... please... Let me pray with you?" He was shocked, slightly, but smiled; perhaps I had finally found God he hoped. "Of course, my child."
Kneeling in front of me, he began reciting passages and I truly prayed with him; God, forgive me for what we are about to do to your creation. They have created us, and they are gods to us; but you are the one true God, and I will no longer be a toy they feel they can break and throw away. Take your messenger, O Lord, and make him flee as if carried by your angels. He cares for us like we are his equal, and he has never slighted me or my kind; he does not deserve to suffer the horrors about to befall these evil men. This is my only way out of slavery, God, and I'm going to take it; I've found a reason to carry on just a bit longer, and I won't give it up.
Minutes flew past as I heard him chant and deliver unto me my last rights as I go off to die; he gave me absolution for my crimes and sins so that I may be welcomed into God's arms as his child, not his pet. I may have the body of an animal, he said, but I carried in me a soul capable of love and pain like every other man; and he said it was shaped by God. I kissed his hands, taking my first, and last, communion. I asked him to do me one favor before I died, and he told me he'd do anything to help easy my mind and my suffering if he could. Looking up at Sasha, a bit abashed, I forced a smile as I looked over at him, "Would you bless the union I've shared with Sasha over the past year?"
A smile crept on his face as he graced a hand grasping the cross against my cheek softly. "But of course, my daughter... I'm glad that, in your short life, you found love. Remember the truth once spoken; to love another is to see the face of God." He took our hands together, pressing them between his great big hands. Blessing our union, he told Sasha that even in death I would always be with her in spirit. Nodding, she leaned in and softly kissed me as the lead guard gripped our leashes and pulled us apart. "I must take my leave now," Father spoke, "I cannot bear to see the deaths of these individuals." Before he could leave, however, one of the guards laughed, "They're just mutated animals... They may walk and talk like you and me, padre, but they're still stupid little barnyard animals. Only thin' they good for, Reverend, is fightin' to the death and a good romp in the hay." Shaking his head, Father Gregory left us to return to his flock of children back at the prison.
Nobody moved, neither us or the bear; the investors became irate and agitated. Now when this happens, a guards job is to get the whole group fighting. Nothing does this job better than a bull whip crack across the back a few times to each of us. I went, on instinct, for the bears belly and latched on; while a fight ensued between the two of us, Sasha tore the chain out of the ground and freed our unnamed friend. Throwing me hard and right into one of the guards, I couldn't help but fell like a rag doll as I hurdled through the air. Colliding with him, I pranged up his car pretty nicely using only my right leg. I could feel it snap as it mashed up with the car; when two solid objects come together, the weaker one usually snaps. In this case, my bone gave to his aluminum and steel car.
Lying there, I saw the guard go to stand and grab his carbine to kill them both. This couldn't happen, not to someone willing to believe us, and not to my girl! Reaching out, I grabbed his gun away and pumped a round straight into his heart. He looked at me in shock and disbelief. "You stupid fucking dog..." Falling onto his knees, he reached out feebly to choke the life out of me; another round to his cranium finished the job. Looking up, I saw the investors scramble to escape as Sasha and the bear went to town on the remaining guards. Moving to stand, I felt a sharp pain surge up my leg; right then, I realized my leg was broken. I was useless now, I couldn't run and I'd slow them down. Reinforcements would be on the way shortly, and I was dead weight; it was at that moment I looked down at the carbine and realized what had to be done. I done what I came to do; Sasha was going to be free and hopefully safe in the hands of this beast. I had resigned myself to this back on the bus, and now was my chance...
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So what do you think? It's time to vote! You get to decide what happens in the next chapter, because I write these stories for you. Do they intervene? Does she kill herself so they can get away? Is there a threesome? Does the bear enslave them? Do they fall in love and escape to start a new life? I need your input to write the next chapter of your story! I'm open to all ideas!