Boxing Knockouts

Chad, the other commentator, nods vigorously, though his eyes linger on Kevan's motionless, handsome form with a conflicted fascination "Oh my god! Brendan knocked his lights out with one punch! What a vicious left hook! It's been a few minutes, and Kevan's still unconscious! Look at him, Brendan completely put him to sleep." He shakes his head, though there's a trace of awe in his tone. "But man, the brutality of that impact... you could hear it clear across the arena. Kevan is taking a real beating here. I hope he wakes up soon... I want to see if he can actually land a hit on that monster of a man."

Brendan stands over Kevan's limp body, sweat glistening across his broad shoulders and massive chest, breathing heavy but controlled, each exhale a display of dominance. He looks down at the man who challenged him, a smirk playing on his lips as he savors the victory of the first round. He clenches his red gloved hands at his sides, looming menacingly over the fallen fighter. "Thought you could take me?! Well?! Get up!" His voice booms across the ring, dripping with arrogance and challenge. "This grudge match ain't over. I'm still getting warmed up!"

Kevan lies motionless on the canvas, his black trunks stark against the pale skin of his thighs. His head is tilted back at an awkward angle, eyes closed tight, completely unresponsive to Brendan's shouting or the cheers of the crowd. His impressive physique remains still, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Even in humiliating defeat, his handsome features carry the remnants of his proud, cocky expression, before Brendan smacked it right off his now slack face.

The crowd's roar continues to swell, but for you, the noise fades into a background hum, focusing on the sight of Brendan in the center of the ring. The raw, lawless nature of this contest, the twelve rounds of pure, unmediated violence without a referee to intervene, hangs heavy in the air, and your breath hitches as one of the commentators gushes over Brendan's unadulterated power. Well maybe a little adulterated, you think to yourself in amusement, remembering his arms around you in bed last night, and Kevan's enraged expression when he walked in on the two of you. Every muscle in Brendan's body seems to telegraph his dominance as he waits for his opponent to rise from the canvas, daring him to get up, to get even... or just to get wrecked all over again.

Blake glances briefly toward the front row, catching a glimpse of your expression before turning back to the ring with renewed fervor "Look at this crowd! The energy is off the charts! This isn't just sport anymore; it's primal! Twelve rounds of this? No referee to break them up when things get heated? It's absolute madness, Chad, and I am loving every second of it!" His eyes dart back to Brendan, admiring how the boxer's chest heaves with each breath. "Brendan is a force of nature tonight."

Chad watches Kevan's body with a mix of professional interest and personal concern "It's brutal, Blake. Truly brutal. There's no safety net here. If Brendan keeps this up, Kevan is going to be spending more time on the canvas than on his feet. But that's what makes this exciting, isn't it? The sheer willingness to endure such punishment just to prove who's top dog." He glances at the clock. "Kevan better find his consciousness soon, or Brendan might try to start beating him back to his senses right there on the canvas."

Brendan notices the intensity of the stares from the crowd, specifically yours, and he flashes a cocky, knowing grin. He seems to feed off the attention, his arrogance swelling alongside his adrenaline. He paces around Kevan's unconscious form like a predator circling his prey. "Come on, Kevan! You asked for this! You wanted to prove you were still a man after I slept with your boyfriend?" He laughs, a harsh, triumphant sound. "Wake up so I can show him what a real man looks like!" He flexes his arms, the biceps bulging beneath the sweat slicked skin, deliberately making a show of his physicality.

A small droplet of sweat rolls down Kevan's temple as he lies there on the canvas, vulnerable to whatever Brendan decides to do next, until the bell rings to signal what would have been the end of the first round, and against all odds, Kevan begins to stir...

Blake leans so far over the announcer's table he's nearly falling forward, his voice cracking with excitement "He's moving! Kevan is up! Look at that recovery! That is what I'm talking about, the resilience of a true fighter!" His eyes track Kevan's every movement with undisguised fascination. "He's climbing the ropes, steady now, The fight is back on!"

Chad wipes sweat from his own forehead, his pulse visibly racing "Unbelievable! He's up! He's glaring at Brendan like he wants to tear him apart with his bare hands!" He shakes his head in disbelief, though a grin splits his face. "That glare... that's not the look of a man who's defeated; he's furious. Round two is going be absolute carnage, Blake. I can feel it in my bones! And it looks like soon, Brendan will feel it too!"

Brendan's cocky smirk widens as he sees Kevan's eyes flutter open. He rolls his shoulders, the muscles rippling as he adopts a combat stance, red gloves raised. "There he is! That's the look I wanted to see!" His voice carries a challenge that cuts through the noise. "Finally decided to come back and join the party? Good. I was starting to think you'd given up on me already." He bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, eager to unleash more punishment.

Kevan grits his teeth as he hauls himself up, his movements slightly stiff but his resolve visibly hardening. His eyes, blazing with a mix of humiliation and rage, lock onto Brendan's. He doesn't say a word, but his stance wide, stable, and ready to stand and fight, speaks volumes. He rolls his neck with a series of audible cracks, his jaw set in a hard line of pure defiance as he prepares to close the distance.

But Brendan beats him to the punch. There is no feeling out process, only raw, explosive violence. Brendan lunges across the ring, closing the distance before Kevan can even put up his guard. The sound of the first impacts fill the arena: the dull thud of gloves connecting with Kevan's unprotected jaw echoing in the sudden hush of the spectators.

Blake's jaw drops, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turn white "OH MY GOD! Brendan didn't even wait for him to plant his feet! He just launched himself across the canvas like a missile!" His voice climbs to a shout as he watches Kevan's head twist sideways from a vicious hook. "Look at Kevan! His arms... his arms have completely given out! He's just taking it! He's being absolutely dismantled right before our eyes!"

Chad stares in horrified fascination, his eyes fixed on the way Kevan's head lolls backward with every blow "This is relentless! Brendan is laying into him with everything he's got, uppercuts, hooks, everything! Kevan's head is spinning like a top, he can't even defend himself anymore!" He winces as a particularly clean uppercut sends Kevan staggering backward, slamming his head so far back Chad can see his eyes as they begin to roll back. "He's trapped against the ropes! He's completely helpless! My god man, get your gloves up!"

Brendan's face is a mask of focused aggression. He doesn't stop, his red gloves becoming a blur of motion as they pummel Kevan against the ropes. His breathing comes in harsh, triumphant grunts as he senses Kevan's resistance crumbling. "Where's that cockiness now, Kevan?!" He roars over the sound of the impacts, throwing another thunderous hook that sends Kevan's head swinging drunkenly to the side. "Stay awake! I'm not done with you yet!"

Kevan's body has become little more than a punching bag. His arms hang uselessly at his sides, his head rolls with the force of each impact, and his eyes roll back as his consciousness slips away for the second time tonight. Each blow sends him crashing hard against the ropes, the cords straining under his weight, the only thing still keeping him up, his mind already fading into the familiar darkness of a knockout.

The arena falls into a stunned, amazed silence as Kevan's body finally gives way to the relentless assault. The ropes strain violently as his weight crashes through them, not a clean fall, but the pathetic, boneless collapse of someone whose nervous system has completely shut down. He sags backward, his torso hanging down the edge of the ring directly in front of you, his mouth agape, eyes closed again.

Blake stands up abruptly, his microphone nearly slipping from his hand as he stares down at the carnage "He's through the ropes! Kevan has collapsed through the ropes! My god, look at him he's completely limp, like a ragdoll!" His voice drops to a hushed, reverent whisper, the excitement tinged by shock. "On his knees... over the ropes... just... hanging there. Unconscious. That was... that was devastating." Blake sits back down, seemingly at a loss for words.

Chad stiffens, his face pale as he stares at Kevan's supine form "This is beyond brutal. He's half in, half out of the ring, just dangling there. His hips are caught on the middle rope..." He swallows hard, glancing at you before looking back at the ring. "He's completely defenseless now. There's no one to stop this, no referee to call it off."

Brendan stands tall over the beaten man, one fist raised. His chest heaves with exertion, sweat dripping from his chin. His face twists into a sneer of pure contempt. He looks down at Kevan with genuine disgust, as if he's looking at something broken and worthless. "Pathetic." His voice carries across the silent ring, dripping with venom. "Is that it? You come here talking all that shit just to collapse like a broken toy?" He grabs Kevan's ankles, hauling him back into the ring, clearly annoyed that the fight has become so one sided. "Get up and fight like a man, or stay down and accept that you're nothing!"

Kevan is utterly unresponsive again as Brendan drags him to the center of the ring. His left foot quivers, his body still reacting to the force of the knockout blow. The seconds tick by, then the minutes, longer than the first knockout... until a groan breaks the silence. "I'll show you pathetic!" Kevan growls, and as the bell for the end of round two sounds and Brendan turns to look down at him in astonishment, Kevan bends his knee and kicks his leg straight up, driving the heel of his boot deep into Brendan's groin.

Oh! You shout, stunned, as Brendan's eyes cross and he sways...

The shockwave of the moment ripples through the arena like lightning. The crowd, a moment ago frozen in expectant silence, suddenly erupts into a deafening roar as the impossible happens. The sound of Kevan's heel connecting with Brendan's groin is audible even over the chaos, a sickening impact that signals an immediate reversal of fortune.

Blake leaps onto his chair, nearly knocking his headset off as he screams into the microphone "OH MY GOD!! DID YOU SEE THAT?! KEVAN IS CONSCIOUS! HE'S BACK UP AND HE JUST OHHHH! HE JUST LAID OUT BRENDAN WITH A KICK TO THE CROTCH!" His voice tense with adrenaline at seeing the tables turned so violently. "The audacity! The sheer, desperate insanity of it! Brendan was gloating, asking for a real fight, and then BOOM! Right where it hurts most!"

Chad, eyes wide as saucers, puts his hand over his mouth. "I have never seen anything like this in all my years of covering combat sports! Kevan came back from the brink of unconsciousness just to land one perfect, devastating strike! He caught him completely off guard!" He watches Brendan's reaction with grim fascination. "Look at Brendan's face! The predator has just become the prey!"

Brendan's body locks up instantly. The sneer of contempt vanishes, replaced by an expression of pure, excruciating agony. His eyes cross, brain struggling to process the lightning bolt of pain shooting up through his pelvis. His gloved hands fly down instinctively to block the shot, but it's too late. His breath catches in his throat, as he doubles over, his knees buckling beneath him. "Nnngh ah... fuck " He chokes out, as he collapses forward, gasping for air that won't come as Kevan rises up to stand over him.

Kevan's entire body trembles with the effort of the exertion, adrenaline flooding his system. His breathing comes in ragged, desperate gasps as he finds himself face to face with his tormentor, his eyes blazing with a feral, vindictive light. He stands there, swaying slightly, legs shaking, but his gaze is locked onto the convulsing Brendan with the intensity of a man who has found his second wind through pure spite. "Pathetic... huh?" he wheezes through gritted teeth, a smirk touching his lips as he raises his fists to head height and sets his feet.

The atmosphere in the arena reaches a fever pitch, the crowd's roar becoming a physical pressure. Every eye in the house is fixed on the ring. Kevan, fueled by raw fury, draws his right hand back far behind his shoulder, coiling his body like a loaded spring.

Blake bows his head, his mouth so close to the microphone his breath muffles the audio, his voice hushed with anticipation "This is it. The moment of truth. Kevan has the momentum, he has the rage, and he's winding up for something absolutely monstrous!" His hands shake as he gestures wildly toward the ring. "Brendan knows it's coming you can see it in his eyes he's trying to brace, he's trying to bring that guard up, but he's too slow! He's still reeling from that groin strike!"

Chad's breathing is shallow, his face flushed with exhilaration at the comeback "You can see the mechanics of it, Blake. Kevan isn't just throwing any old punch, he's putting his entire body weight, all his rage into this single strike." He licks his lips as Kevan's muscles tense visibly. "Brendan's in for it now!" He crows, letting go of any illusion of impartiality as Kevan gains the upper hand.

Brendan raises his hands in a desperate, half realized attempt to form a guard, but his movements are sluggish and uncoordinated. His eyes are wide, tracking the massive fist as it begins its deadly trajectory toward his jaw. He knows he can't stop it; he can only hope to absorb the worst of it. "Ah... damn..." he groans, realizing what's coming.

Kevan's entire existence has narrowed down to this single point of contact. The ache in his ribs, the dizziness in his head, the smarting of his broken jaw, it all vanishes, replaced by a singular, burning need to punish the man who tried to break him. His shoulder rotates, his hips pivot, and with a primal roar that tears from his lungs, he unleashes the punch. It's no calculated jab; it's a sledgehammer of human will, aimed directly at Brendan's exposed chin.

BOOM, the bone deep crack that echoes off the rafters of the arena. The force of Kevan's brutal haymaker sends a shockwave through Brendan's entire frame. His head snaps to the side with such terrifying force that his neck looks strained almost to its breaking point, his skull twisting violently as if the momentum might tear it from his spine. The impact sends him flying backward like he's been hit by a freight train, his body crashing into the corner pad with a thud that shakes the entire ring as Kevan advances on him to take his revenge.

Blake stares at the ring with mouth agape, his hands frozen mid air. For three full seconds, he can't even speak. When he finally finds his voice, it's a strangled gasp "Oh Brendan!! Oh!!! Did you see that?! It looked like Kevan snapped his neck like a twig! That was bone crushing!" He shudders visibly, turning to Chad with wide eyes. "I thought his head was going to come clean off! Kevan looks like he's trying to end him!"

Chad stares back, smug, as he watches Brendan slump against the padding "I've never seen anything like it. The angle of that twist... it looked dangerous. Feel it in his bones I said, didn't I?" His voice trembles with admiration alongside the shock. "Brendan's not moving. He's not even trying to hold himself up. Out on his feet. That blow may have just ended the fight."

Brendan is pinned against the corner pad, his body limp, his jaw slack, his eyes unfocused and glassy. His reflexes abandon him, and he doesn't even attempt to guard himself as Kevan presses his advantage.

Blake's voice climbs an octave as he recognizes the shift in energy "Oh man, the fight isn't over yet! Brendan is somehow still standing, but he's cornered!" He looks visibly pained. "And look at Kevan... the look on his face. This isn't about winning a fight anymore... Oh sh-ahem Oh wow..."

Chad shakes his head grimly, his professional detachment cracking "You're right, Blake. That's not the face of a fighter seeking victory. That's something else entirely." His voice drops to a breathless murmur. "Kevan's not just looking for a knockout anymore, he's looking for retribution. He's savoring this."

Kevan peppers Brendan with slow, deliberate shovel hooks. Each blow seems calculated, each movement precise, keeping Brendan just on the edge of consciousness. The exhaustion that plagued him has evaporated, replaced by a cold, predatory satisfaction. His eyes meet Brendan's half-lidded ones and he smirks as he sees the understanding in his opponent's glazed-over eyes. He wants Brendan to feel the inevitability of what's coming. "You wanted to see what I was made of, Brendan?" he whispers, in between vicious strikes that bat Brendan's head back and forth, his voice low and dangerous. "You wanted the fight to be less one sided? You should be careful what you wish for."

Blake's voice falters for a moment, his professional commentary suddenly feeling inadequate. He glances nervously toward Chad.

Chad nods slowly, his own expression one of aroused fascination "Look at him, Blake. What a man!" He leans forward, his voice lowering. "Watch closely now!" He draws in his breath slowly, eyes intent.

Brendan's world has narrowed down to the looming shadow of the man who is about to dismantle him. He lifts his chin, searching for your face in the crowd, finding you just as Kevan's last punch connects.

Kevan sees where Brendan's looking, his breathing quickens, eyes darkening with a hungry, possessive light as the knockout blow finds its mark, and he grins, knowing you're watching him do this.

The impact sounds like a gunshot. Brendan's head snaps back violently, ricocheting multiple times as his mouthguard shoots out, spinning through the air trailing spit. The arena erupts. You erupt too, seeing Brendan's body going completely slack mid motion, his arms jerking uselessly in the air for a fraction of a second before his knees buckle. He collapses in a graceless, tangled heap at Kevan's feet, a boneless mass of limbs folded up like a pretzel on the canvas.

Blake yells into the microphone in disbelief "OH! OHH!! MY GOD!!! HE'S DOWN! BRENDAN IS DOWN AND HE IS OUT COLD! DID YOU SEE THAT?! THE MOUTHGUARD FLEW ACROSS THE RING! NOW THAT WAS A KNOCKOUT! THE MOST DEVASTATING SO FAR, AND WE'VE ALREADY SEEN TWO!" He's practically standing up, gesturing wildly at the carnage. "I've never seen anything so brutal in all my years of broadcasting! Kevan just absolutely annihilated him!"

Chad shouts over Blake, his face flushed with the intensity of the moment "HE'S COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS, BLAKE! Look at him! Kevan knocked his lights out! OUT COLD! The sheer force behind that punch was terrifying! Devastating! I couldn't agree more, this was the best, most brutal knockout of the fight!" His hands shake as he adjusts his headset, clearly overwhelmed by the spectacle, shifting in his seat to hide the white fluid dripping from a growing wet spot in his trousers.

Brendan is utterly gone. His consciousness has been extinguished in an instant, pounded straight into the void. His body lies in a twisted, heap at Kevan's feet, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath his torso while his legs splay out unnaturally. His eyes are closed. There is no movement, no twitching, his breathing almost imperceptible in the heavy, limp stillness of someone who has been completely broken.

Kevan stands over him like a conquering god, chest heaving with exertion and triumph. He feels a surge of intoxicating power. His eyes lock onto yours in the crowd, eager to see your reaction. He has delivered the knockout of your dreams, and your eyes tell him all he needs to know, the satisfaction of having performed that violence for for your pleasure burning brightly in his eyes. "Did you see that?!" he shouts to you, the words lost to the roar of the crowd but his meaning clear as he holds your gaze with possessive pride. "That was for you!" You raise a fist, and he returns the gesture, beaming. Then Kevan, turns back to his fallen foe, waiting expectantly, almost hungrily.

As the unspoken pact between the two fighters becomes clear, the crowd settles down again to wait, buzzing over the unexpected turn. Despite the brutality of the knockout, Blake and Chad nod grimly to each other: the agreement between Kevan and Brendan was absolute - this would not end until one man conceded or was truly, physically incapable of rising, regardless of intermittent lapses in consciousness, throughout a full 12 rounds. Brendan continues to lie there, insensate.

After a good few minutes, well into round four, Brendan begins to stir in a way that is still far from conscious. His glove slides against the canvas, a reflexive, involuntary spasm. His breathing remains shallow and labored, his brain struggling to reboot, but trapped in a liminal space between unconsciousness and a pain so profound it threatens to drag him back under immediately. When his eyes flutter open, they are unfocused... until he sees Kevan leering down at him, cocky as ever.

Kevan's shadow falls over the downed fighter like a shroud. He reaches down, grabbing Brendan by the hair and dragging the barely conscious man upright with terrifying strength. He forces Brendan's back against the turnbuckle, propping him up. "Wake up, Brendan," he growls, his voice dripping with a cruel, demanding hunger as he leans close to Brendan's ear, though his eyes never leave yours. "We're not done."

Blake leans back in his chair, relieved to see the big buy back up. "Come on Brendan, where'd the man from those first two rounds go? You're still in this! Show Kevan what you've got!" His eyes track Brendan's every movement with obvious admiration, his breathing erratic as he watches Kevan haul him up by the hair.

Chad adjusts his position further, discreetly pulling his jacket lower to hide the suspicious damp patch on his trousers. "Ohh Kevan's going to enjoy this! How much do you want to bet he knocks Brendan out cold twice as hard this time? He'll be out for hours!" A shudder runs through him as he imagines Kevan's massive fists connecting again and again. "The brutality of these two... it's absolutely intoxicating to watch!"

Kevan wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his black glove, a cocky, lopsided smirk playing on his lips showing his utter lack of concern. He shifts his weight back and forth, taking a close look at his rival's battered but still handsome face, savoring his helplessness before stepping forward with a predatory confidence, leaning in close to Brendan's ear. "You looked real pretty lying there on the canvas... I can almost see what my boyfriend found appealing about you. I bet he's going to enjoy every second of watching me demolish you again. And this time, I'll hit you so hard you might not wake up at a-" His taunt cuts off abruptly as Brendan's massive arms suddenly coil around his midsection like iron bands. Kevan's eyes go wide as he's yanked flush against Brendan's sweat slicked chest. The air rushes out of his lungs as Brendan lifts him clean off the floor, and he arches his back, straining against the overwhelming strength of the bear hug.

A dark, triumphant smirk splits Brendan's face as he holds Kevan aloft, squeezing with enough force to make the other man's ribs creak under the strain. His voice is a rough rumble against Kevan's ear "Always so cocky." His grip tightens further, relishing the feeling of Kevan's powerful body being crushed against his own. "Anger beats cockiness, every time." He murmurs, and then heaves Kevan into the air.

Blake gasps, kicking over his own chair in his rush to stand. "Oh sh-ahem Oh my gosh! Brendan wasn't out at all! He baited him! He baited Kevan right into his arms!" His pupils dilate as he watches the display of raw, physical dominance, his voice hushed with awe. "Look at that strength... he's got him right where he wants him!"

Chad stares at the ring with half lidded eyes, his breathing becoming noticeably shallow as he watches Kevan struggle against the embrace "That's... that's some serious power right there." He feels the dampness in his trousers spreading as he watches the two muscular men locked together. "Brendan's turned the tables yet again, that's for sure. Kevan looks like he's trapped in a vise!"

"Time to sleep, Kevan!" Brendan flips the other man mid air, spinning him so he comes down head first on the canvas.

The impact echoes through the silent arena as Kevan's skull connects, but Brendan's footing falters at the last moment, still recovering from his earlier knockout, and Kevan is sent tumbling across the ring, rolling onto his back halfway under the ropes, gasping for breath.

Kevan's body convulses slightly from the shock of the impact, his eyes are unfocused, but he's still conscious. A pained groan escapes his lips as he struggles to make sense of the spinning world as he heard Brendan's heavy footfalls as his opponent stomps across the ring.

"HE'S DOWN! Kevan is down for a third time! Blake crows. He watches Kevan's chest rise and fall with reluctant admiration. "But not out! He's conscious. And here comes Brendan, looking none too pleased! "

"Oh Kevan!" Chad croaks in a strained whisper, his eyes fixed on Kevan's well sculpted torso as he struggles to recover. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "He's halfway out of the ring, again, but I wouldn't count him out yet..."

Blake's eyes widen at Brendan's enraged expression as he approaches Kevan, who's trying to climb back up the ropes before Brendan can finish what he started. "From the look of things nobody's going to need to count him out, Brendan is going to finish him off right here and now!"

The spectators are on their feet, a sea of roaring faces, as the scene unfolds with terrifying inevitability. The technical skill that defined the early rounds has been abandoned, replaced by angry brutality.

Brendan closes the distance in three massive strides. His jaw is set in a grim line of pure aggression, his eyes fixed on Kevan's upturned face. He winds up a devastating hook, his entire torso twisting to generate maximum torque. "You won't be waking up after this!" His glove becomes a blur of motion as he unleashes the strike aimed directly at Kevan's jaw while the other man is still halfway to his feet.

"HE'S GOING FOR IT!" Blake hollers his own hands balled into fists, "Brendan's going to knock Kevan clean out of the ring with this one!" His eyes dart between the fighters and the commentator's table, sensing the imminent catastrophe.

Chad's breathing has become audible through the microphone. His eyes wide with a mix of terror and perverse fascination as he watches the trajectory of the punch. "Oh god watch out! Kevan!" He flinches instinctively, pressing himself back into his chair, but revealing the now extensive cum stain darkening his pants.

WHAM! Brendan's fist connects. Kevan's jaw absorbs the full force of the hook, blasting his head back with such violent force that his head turns almost backward. His body follows suit, contorting from the punch's impact as he is catapulted through the air, flying free of the ropes to crash down right in the center of the commentator's table

Blake barely has time to react before Kevan's body crashes down in front of him with a thunderous bang. The equipment rattles violently, microphones screeching with feedback as the table jolts under the sudden weight. "OH GOD! KEVAN JUST FLEW OUT OF THE RING! AND HERE HE IS, RIGHT HERE ON THE TABLE! GOOD GOD!" He scrambles backward in his chair, nearly toppling over as he stares at the limp, unconscious form of the fighter sprawled out in front of him. "He's out! He's completely out! Such a big guy, but out cold again!" Blake gapes at the well built knocked out fighter, now sporting his own embarrassing stain on his trousers, and with nowhere to hide it.

"OH!" Chad cries out, as Kevan's body slams down in front of him. His face pales, his hands shaking so violently he can barely hold onto his chair for support as he leans over the fallen man in concern. "Jesus Christ! Look at him! HE'S OUT COLD AGAIN!!?!" Chad declares with horny incredulity, as though the brawny frame draped across his sound setup is not proof enough of Brendan's dominance in this fight.

Brendan lets out a low growl, almost drowned out by the collective gasp of the crowd, as he climbs down out of the ring and angrily stalks over to Kevan and the stunned announcers. His eyes glint with malicious intent as he winds up his fist, not for the head this time, but aimed directly at the vulnerable space between Kevan's legs. "This isn't over until I say it's over!" His voice booms across the silent stadium, dripping with contempt. "Now it's my turn for some payback." He drives his gloved fist downward with piston like force toward Kevan's groin.

Kevan's head lolls to one side... until the blow connects with a crunch, and his eyes snap open. "Ah! Ha-huh! Hah!" He gasps, muscles tensing.

Blake's jaw has literally dropped open as he watches Brendan pound Kevan in the balls right in front of him, amazed by how palpable his handsome virility is up close. "OOF! Well THAT sure woke up back up!" Blake stutters, seeing Brendan nod fiercely in agreement.

Chad's eyes are dinner plates, fixed in yearning on his favored fighter as Brendan's fist descends. His entire body tenses with Kevan's as if he could somehow absorb the blow himself, even as he finds himself swooning at Brendan's indomitable will and manly aggression. "KEVAN! Kevan is awake!" Chad shouts, stepping aside as Kevan rolls off the table, groaning, only semi-conscious, going down on one knee.

Blake steps back, out of Brendan's way, gripping his microphone like a liferaft, his voice roaring with anticipation. "LOOK AT THAT POWER! OUT COLD THREE TIMES! ARE WE GOING TO SEE FOUR?!"

Emboldened by the deafening roar of approval from the crowd and the commentators, Brendan steps forward and grabs Kevan by the hair. He shows no mercy, slamming his head on the edge of the table so hard it rebounds, bouncing off the table again as Kevan slumps to the floor. He grins, as Kevan face plants at his feet. "You like that?!" He roars angrily.

"Yes" Chad whispers, his pale face has flushed crimson. He leans in, breathing in the scent of a true champion as Brendan brushes him aside and takes Kevan by the hair again. "YES! HIT HIM AGAIN!" His voice cracks as he screams along with the crowd. "Don't stop until he's out cold! Put him back under! GIVE US A FIFTH KNOCKOUT!!!"

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!" Brendan smashes his glove into Kevan's face in repeated jabs that send Kevan's head snapping back against Chad's stained pants like a punching bag. "FOR THINKING... YOU... CAN... TAKE... ME!" Brendan punctuates each hit with a shout.

Kevan mumbles, absorbing punishment without any ability to react. His consciousness has been repeatedly shattered and forcibly dragged back to the surface only to be crushed again, but he somehow regains his feet as Brendan hurls him back toward the ring, raising his fists by instinct alone as he sees the big man start toward him again.

"Defiant to the last, huh?!" Brendan chuckles, eyeing Blake and Chad playfully as they stare at him breathlessly, enthralled by the boxer.

"He's still up!" Blake admits, his tie askew and his face flushed with uncontrollable arousal. "But not for long!" He exclaims enthusiastically as Brendan turns back to Kevan and closes the distance.

Chad circles around to see the knockout, pumping his fist in the air. "LOOK AT HIM SWAY! HE'S TOTALLY GONE!" He whoops at the top of his lungs, his eyes fixed on Brendan's clenched gloves. "SEND HIM TO SLEEP, BRENDAN! KNOCK HIM OUT!"

Brendan's first hook catches Kevan, rolling his head. Before Kevan can even begin to fall, Brendan's second hook connects with the opposite side of his jaw. The onslaught timed perfectly to keep the losing fighter on his feet, and devastatingly precise, each blow designed to rattle the brain against the skull with maximum effect. Brendan doesn't say a word. From now on, his fists will do all the talking he needs.

Kevan's world is nothing but pain and spinning darkness. Each impact sends him a little closer to unconsciousness, but his body continues to fight, unable to collapse until the final blow lands. His gloves drop lower and lower as his strength fails, his head lolling forward into each hook.

Blake is visibly trembling, his breathing shallow and ragged. His eyes are dilated to the point of blackness as he stares at the carnage, his hand unconsciously drifting to his tie, loosening it. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he speaks into the microphone, his voice dropping to a husky, desperate whisper that betrays his complete loss of control. "God... oh god, look at him..." His voice cracks with an unmistakable edge of pleasure. "The way Brendan just... dismantles him... it's so fucking beautiful. The power... the absolute dominance..." He shudders, and you and the audience shudder along with him, almost as one.

Chad is panting heavily, his chest heaving as if he has been running. His pupils are also blown wide, reflecting the brutal spectacle before him. He steps back as Kevan's mouthguard flies past him, his hips shifting restlessly as he watches the hooks connect with the man's skull. A dazed, hungry expression has taken over his features. "It's too much... it's too perfect..." he gasps out, his voice thick with arousal. "Look how Brendan just has his way with him. I've never... I've never seen anything so devastating. So brutal. So hot." He closes his eyes for a moment, and as he opens them Brendan slugs Kevan with a punch so hard, everyone watching already knows deep down that THAT was the knockout blow. The sound is sublime. The rapid gyration of Kevan's head even more so. The twist of his shoulders, the slump of his back, the sway of his arms, the dip of his knees, all the way down to the twitch of his toes, we all climax together as we witness everything that a knockout should be.

Kevan goes down flat on his back, not responding as Brendan tells him to get up, taunting him, just like the first time, as we all hang on bated breath, all thinking the same thought: he's completely out cold!!!

And like a sign, sent from on high to confirm this is indeed the case, the twelfth and final round bell rings out, and Brendan raises both fists as Blake and Chad both gaze at the victorious boxer with undisguised arousal while he flexes triumphantly for the appreciative crowd...

Brendan sees them watching, and swaggers up to them as the crowd disperses and you help the paramedics carry Kevan out on a stretcher.

Chad steps toward Brendan, until he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. He turns back to see Blake, head cocked, giving him a stern look.

"I saw him first." Blake hisses. "You were rooting for Kevan for most of the fight, remember?" He holds Chad's gaze intensely, suddenly uneasy as an undercurrent of something primal flickers in his colleague's eyes, and he realizes for the first time what a big, sturdy guy Chad is himself.

Brendan raises an eyebrow expectantly, and Blake gets the message, clenching his free hand into a fist and taking a desperate swing at Chad's jaw as he holds him there by the shoulder.

Chad rolls with the punch, alarmingly nonchalant, as he turns his head back to meet Blake's panicked eyes with grim amusement for a split second before angrily seizing him by the tie and pounding him in the face with his own, far bigger fist. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. WHAM! The impacts echo through the empty arena as Blake gasps, doubling over as Chad buries his right fist in his gut, driving the breath out of him.

Blake is seeing double, staring down at Chad's shoes as the guy takes a wide stance, looking up just in time for one last glimpse of Brendan's handsome face before Chad's savage left hook slams into his jaw.

"It's not just about how hard you can hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep getting back up. A champion is someone who gets back up when they can't. You're no champion. You're just the guy I'm about to hit so hard you won't regain consciousness until next year."