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Daddy Fuck Fight

The movement of those cloven feet passed through the door of the bar, his hand wrapped around the shoulder of his son who was just now coming of age and turning 18 today. In many cultures this would be a ritual, a way to show that he was now a man, but in this community, to a very select few of these people, there was a completely different kind of ritual. Old enough to vote, to drive, to go to war, but not drink, and as he kept that hand on his boy's pink skinned shoulder the two would continue on, their floppy ears shifting while the snouts of this porcine duo lifted lifted and twitched. An easy snort that flowed through them showed that the two were ready for whatever was awaiting them and with their path taking them through that bar, past the tender, the father's brown eyes would shift over to this man so that he could receive a nod from him, could be given that acknowledged show of safety. This was something that had been happening as long as the town had been here, several generations now, and while they started their way down those stairs the door would swing shut behind them, even locking so that this ritual wouldn't be disturbed.

The opponent was already down there, the young brown eyes looking on at the white feathered rooster that was at the same age and wearing the well worn down gloves passed to him by his own father that stood on behind him. A farming community like this was something that was close knit, held secrets, and tended to keep to themselves, but these fights were personal, between two people, and a way to show who's kid was stronger, who had the better genes for making the superior offspring. Red padded gloves wrapped around white feathered fingers, matching the color of that crest at the top of his head, be it died or some other species of avian mixed in there was unsure, but it added the splash of color needed while those red shorts that wrapped around his hips finished the look. This kid was clearly here to fight, his eyes never leaving that pig boy for a second, his figure bobbing, his gloves occasionally hitting one another, just looking for a clear fight and that toned body showing that he'd been just as well trained as his porcine opponent. Even the ring itself shown that it had been there for some time now, the ropes that held it together had been only recently tightened, but still had spots of blood about them in some places where some of the fights got more serious than others. The canvas, or what should be a canvas was nothing more than the foundation of this building, where it had been dug up and the well packed dirt under it made for all the cushion that these kids needed as long as he wasn't the one to get knocked down onto it.

The pig boy felt his skin heating up, his heart racing, his body ready to start this match and while he moved to release his shirt from his body, dropping it quickly to the side in order to expose that young and well built body. His belly shown a small lower of thickness to it as was expected, but he didn't think it would provide anymore protection to his figure than the plumage of his opponent. As he looked on at the avian boxer those yes never separated, never removed, and watched on with intensity to show that he wasn't going to back down, wasn't going to stand to the side and allow himself to be shoved off. This kid was here to fight, just like the cock before him, and both were going to make sure that they were the one standing tall at the end of all of this. With the porcine boy moving to slide those gloves on, his father would lean over the ropes to help tie them, fastening them down quickly with a simple and easy nod coupled with a slap on the shoulder to show that his boy was ready.

***

Without even a word between them these two focused fighters knew that they had to take the other down. The sound of that bell echoing through the ring itself and the sight of these two easily approaching one another with their gloves up. This wasn't a time to be defensive, though, this fight was to show which between them had the better fighting skills, which one was the real man, and which one would be able to claim that prize at the end. In every normal fight the winner would be the one that was permitted to walk away while the other boy would have wake up first, but in this ring the stakes were much higher and these kids were competing for an opportunity that they were only going to be able to receive this one time. Win or lose this was it and they would not get that chance again. It made their situation even more dire, even more important to them as both were looking to be on the giving end for the first time in their lives, and this desire forced their brawl to start in a clear offense, not wanting to let the other build up a defense or land that first hit.

As the two rushed in fast towards on another their movements came in fast, their arms swinging wide with a tight hook and those gloved knuckles crushed down quickly and against one another's face jerking the head to the side as both landed an identical blow right at the start of the fight. Both stumbled to the side easily, forcing themselves to back away from the person that landed a solid blow between the both of them. It didn't happen often that a pair of boxers would do such a thing, but as impractical as it was it wasn't something unknown about in the sport. It really only came down to who could recover first, who would step in to make that next following blow and while the farm fowl continued to recover from that hard strike the porcine boxer had already lifted his gloves once again and moved up towards that country chicken. The fast movement of his swinging fist cracked that right glove against the side of the rooster's ribs and then the follow up to the stomach forced that boy to lean forward against the feeling of that blue glove sinking into his trained abs, forcing the air from his beak and leaving his knees bringing him down to the canvas, trying to lift himself slowly against the weight of his own figure that was feeling far heavier than normal at this point.

"Ah... poor little chick can't handle it?" he taunted the young rooster, his guard lifting and his body shifting side to side while waiting for the opponent to get back to his feet.

The fowl sneered through his beak, moving to slowly work at pushing himself up, but he couldn't just let a comment like that slide, he needed to say something back to him in order to prove that he was still in this fight, "I didn't know bacon could talk back..." Nice.

The rooster's feet being planted on the dirt floor was more than enough for this porcine boxer to move back in at him and with the distance between them coming to a close the fowl would quickly lift his leather covered feathered knuckles to crush down against the toned thick belly of that pig, forcing a hard blow straight into his body and forcing the pig to be knocked back a few steps which gave the young feathered kid a chance to stand up, a moment to right himself before he'd bring himself in closer with a hard blow towards that snout, a blow that would be blocked against the back of the pig's arms, even with a follow up hook to the side of the head the twisting of that porcine body would still meet that leather glove against his pink skinned arm, blocking it the best he was able to, but still permitting his figure to close in on that rooster so that he could make drop his guard and force a fast and hard knuckle into those feathered covered ribs once again driving a hard cry from that boy who retaliated for the strike by taking advantage of that now unguarded face by lifting his glove straight along the length of that body and into the underside of the pig's jaw, jerking the head back quickly and forcing the pink body to back off in order to stop the world around him from spinning.

The loud snorting from the father to tell his son to keep his guard up fell on deaf ears while the ringing overwhelmed any kind of sound that was trying to reach him and by the time that he'd managed to realize that his guard was down it was too late. This rooster wasn't going to stand by and wait for the pig to recover, he wasn't going to stand along and just give that porcine fighter the time he needed to regain himself. This was the chance for that fowl to land in a good solid blow, to try and put a lid on this match and when he'd step in towards the pig his gloved knuckles would crash down against the side of that head, jerking that boy's face to the side and sending him straight into the floor to bounce like a muscled sack of meat. The rooster kept his guard up, kept his defenses high, but backed away to wait for that kid to either stay down or start to rise up again. The pig grunted out loudly, not knocked out, but clearly having trouble picking himself up and that gave the young rooster the time he needed to start his own taunts. This white feathered kid wasn't going to taunt the other boy, though, he was going to taunt that boy's father. Knowing what was on the line here he'd give that older pig a bit of a smirk, his gloved finger moving to point at that man and then reach his red gloves down to easily pat at his own crotch showing what he had planned for that man by the end of this fight, and forcing that pig to start yelling out into the ring.

"Get up!" he said to his son, hitting the top rope a bit and looking over his boy would was struggling to rise. He wasn't upset, or mad that his son got hit, but he wanted that younger pig to win this, to earn that victory and carry on the family tradition of winning this thing. Heck, he'd had to take on a bull when he stepped into this ring, and while that was hard he still found a way. If he could do that then he knew his son could manage this rough rooster.

The young porcine wasn't about to stay down, he wasn't going to disappoint his father, and he wasn't going to sacrifice his win. This match was too important and unless he was knocked out he'd keep getting up. As his arms pushed against the dirt ground those wobbling feet finally managed to shift under his figure, helping the pig boy to lift himself up, but only so that he could see that chicken coming at him and landing a well placed punch into the side of his thick skull once again, a lifting of his arm was the only thing that saved him by absorbing most of the hit before it grazed off and impacted his face followed by another and then a third, the feeling of the blood running over his bottom lip, tracing its length down his jaw and then splattered to the side driving the easy growl from the lips of that swine before he'd try and throw his own attack. Those blue gloves hitting deep into the abs of the avian attacker forcing the air from him again before the other came crashing in, going for the same point and driving that fowl backward, the rooster keeping his feet below him, but when he felt those ropes at his back holding him in place he could only suffer the strikes before a hard crossing strike drew across his beak forcing that head to the side. The ropes that had been a curse before in holding him there was no his saving grace while they kept him standing, but he knew that he had to fight his way from the side here if he wanted to stay in this match.

Both kids handed here, the beak on the chicken showing itself as being loose with the laying of blood building around the outside of it, the pig boy's own bloody gums not looking much better after the beating that they'd given one another. Their bodies were bruised, battered, fathers broken, skin purple in the pattern to match those gloves, the flesh around their eyes was swollen, and even the muscles that made up their figures ached and followed with an easy grunt and groan of their bodies working to keep up with their desire to fight. The rooster remained pinned to that rope, his hand reaching over to grip it, holding it, keeping himself up so that he couldn't be counted out of the fight and all the while the slowing pace of that blue gloved wrapped around pink pig skin would arch down again, the porcine trying to force that chicken down into the dirt ground despite the boy holding himself up. With that fist coming down it would hit the rooster in the side of the head again, but only jerking that face down long enough to put in place for that other fist to come up, striking right into that beak and driving it to crack to the side before the force of the hit tore the beak off entirely and it would sail over and out of the ring. A birds beak was like a finger nail and even lost it would grow back in time, but for now it was a battle scar, a devastating blow that bounced that chicken body against the ropes again just so that those ropes could throw him forward into that young pig would followed up with a fast punch to the side of the face again driving that chicken into the ground once more. The feeling of the dirt against his mouth where the beak should be only made this avian grunt out more, but his body wasn't going to be getting up this time, he was down and he was staying down. Even while he tried to pick himself up slowly that strong feathered body simply collapsed once again and the panting pig watched him remain in the dirt giving this swine the clear victory today.

It was only then that his eyes would shift to the rooster's father, smirking at him, looking over him, and his own dad coming up behind him to give him that congratulatory slap on the back coupled with an easy shove forward that allowed those heavy steps, those movements that seemed so heavier than they needed to be, to stumble, to step, and finally to find his way to the corner that this old rooster was standing at. The pig had won his fight, and even as beaten up as he was right now, he was looking forward to taking his prize.

***

The fight had been long and hard, and the old rooster had to look at his son resting in the dirt there, his beak having been knocked off, and the porcine boy that did it stepping over him to get to the corner that this old cock was standing in. It wasn't like he could back out of this now, that would look bad on his own son, and after putting up such a hard fight there was no way he'd betray his blood like that. No, he'd have to give this young pig his reward, his prize for having overcome the match he was placed in, despite the look of this kid and despite how beaten up he'd gotten. Even as the swine moved himself from those ropes the old cock backed up, giving him room to flex and show off a bit, the movement of those smaller muscles, those rolling layers of thickness that made up his young girth, helping to hide the real muscle that rested under his figure, on full display to the father chicken. In many leagues when one loses a fight they surrender themselves to the dominant individual that had beaten them, but in this one the coming of age boy becomes a man by taking the pride of another man, and fights that man's son as a way of earning the right to do so. That was this farm towns dark, underground, secret, that was how they decided when a boy was ready to be a man, and while the loser's father wasn't always happy about the situation, they were expected to go along with it the moment they entered their boy into the ring. This newly labeled porcine man closed in his distance, already moving to slip his hands free of the gloves and toss them to the side so that he could get a better grip on those white chicken feathers, but more importantly he'd lose his shorts, allowing them to fall down over his meaty and muscular thighs before stepping out of them towards the this rooster. Eyes were on this father now, would he back down, would he call foul, or would he act like the man he was expected to be and honor his son's loss with his body?

Those feathered fingers moved to his overalls, his hands coming to unsnap the top of his farmer's clothes and allow those pants to fall free. The flannel shirt that remained was already getting it's attention while the buttons on it were unfastened one at a time. What was displayed was that larger belly that shown out well under the thick chest of strength, something that was only accomplish-able by someone that worked the fields outside his home. Farm work aside those tail feathers could be seen slipping up the pant hole as those jean slowly fell around his ankles, their motion moving in time with his shirt that rolled off of his shoulders only to be dropped to the side. Bare, naked, and waiting the large cock would lean himself forward, showing that waving dick that had already slipped free and made itself known to those around him, the size of it being impressive, but none of that mattered now as the young porcine moved in easily behind him, hands gripping his feathered hips and just as that chicken rump tensed up, squeezed down, and then relaxing. Those avian eyes turned back over his own shoulder, watching that porcine dick grow thicker, the twist of it seemed odd, but then it slowly occurred that the twisting came in to form what looked to be a cork screw, something that matched that twisted tail quite well. When the tip pressed in the cock compressed, but soon that compression was freed and the twisting movement of the young pig's versatile dick drove straight into that otherwise tight and underused rear hole. It was something that drove the cock's eyes to widen, but the more it unraveled inside of his body the longer it reached, the deeper it went, and the harder those hips came in to crash against the white fluffy feathers.

"You've got a tight rear, bet it feels nice to be spread open by a real man, huh?" The kid said easily to him, his hips smashing well into the chicken's body, crushing those feathers down and spreading those cheeks against the deeply penetrating dick that only seemed to keep going as it uncoils from around itself, "I'll show you want good breeding can do."

The ruthless thrusting, the harsh talking, the rude behavior, it was all part of the process here. The boy was flaunting his victory, delving into the new world of adulthood as a strong winner of the match, and was set in his right in this town. Others would hear about his victory on whispers and their actions and attitudes towards him would reflect that news. He was to be respected, held high, his genes were good, his body strong, and even while he moved to thrust those hips forward, those young arms would pull back on those hips, gripping them tightly as he grunted out the feeling of that tight rear wrapped around his length, squeezing down on it with a crushing force that only drove him to push harder, drive faster, and even lift his hand in order to slap that cock's ass like a hen. The boy was showing off, using this man was a trophy to display his superiority. The porcine boy had worked hard to earn the victory that he'd gotten, and it simply wouldn't do to ignore such a thing, to pretend like he wasn't showing off his sexual skills for the first time as an adult. The rooster was right down below, but with effort and some patience this boy was going to make sure that this fact changed. The easy panting filled his snout, the taste of blood still on his tongue, but even through that he'd keep his domination of his opponent's father, using him, showing that onlooking sprout what happens when someone loses in such a way, but more importantly lording his win over him by using his daddy as an example to keep spreading that legend just as he was expected to.

The rooster could feel his own body moving in response, the feeling of that hard pig dick pushing into his ass making his body shiver, is already dangling cock throb with need to release. The harder he was pushed into the more he felt that he needed it just to be able to cum from this harsh session. The sound of panting over his shoulder, the feeling of a hand moving to reach around his neck, gripping the bottom of his jaw and pulling his head back in simply the most uncomfortable way, and that powerful young pig porking his cock into that tight body finally drove them both to call out, to sound their personal alarms and alerts that what they were feeling was about to end, that the need to release was slowly overtaking them. Finally with one final thrust from that new adult his thick and long cork-screw looking member would erupt a heavy and harsh wave of thick bubbling seed into the depth of that rooster rear, filling it, and watching as that same cum gushed back out over his own member. The feeling of being filled drove that cock over his limits, the shivering and awaiting member between his feathered legs giving in to the force and brutality of this young man, and in a deep and loud call of pleasure he'd cry out the feeling of his own cum being wasted down into the concrete floor, splashing between their feet and leaving the two of them with a hard and long panting that seemed to flow in unison with one another. The boy would slowly pull himself back, releasing that rooster finally and giving him back the space that he had before, all the while turning to his own father to give him a nice messy hug for the sole purpose of spreading that young potent seed over the front of his father's pants.

"It's time to go home, son, and I'll see you at work tomorrow." He said towards the rooster man, still panting, still used, his ass leaking with the porcine cum that managed to bubble away towards the surface, but that chicken gave an easy nod to him, even while he picked up his pants and moved his way over to his own boy, he gave his farewell wave to the winner of this match.