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Club Dread © July 2005 All Rights Reserved
By The Hit Man

Jarrod Sam

Sam and Jarrod had both heard about the club through different avenues but regardless, they ended up there on the same night. Now, through the drawing that pitted unknown opponent against unknown opponent, they found their names drawn, inexplicably thrown together by a twist of fate. Once their names were called, they both made their way down through the aisles filled with men and woman of all shapes and sizes, the only thing common among them was the thirst for blood, the one thing Club Dread was known for providing.

As the two men, unknown to each other, arrived in the locker room, they were told to strip down and provided with a starkly white heavy duty jock strap to put on. Other than that, each was allowed to chose a token team emblem that would be worn around their neck, the emblem designating which of the club teams they represented, either the Skeletor's or the Beltway. Jarrod grabbed the Skeletor emblem right away, knowing they were the leading team of the night. That left the Beltway emblem for Sam. One of the many attendants in the room fastened the emblem around each of their necks. Finally, they were hooked at the wrist, Jarrod by his left, Sam by his right, with a sturdy Velcro strap that was virtually unbreakable. It wasn't but a couple of moments after being ready their names were announced over the loudspeaker.

This whole experience was new to Sam. He wasn't even sure why he had come, other than wanting to test his own virility. But now that he was roped in with no escape, he was questioning the wisdom of choosing this particular way of proving himself. As they entered the ring, Jarrod, who had been docile and mostly quiet, bared his teeth and growled at Sam, "You're going down, loser." Sam knew he got a worried look and didn't have a chance to remove it before a camera bulb flashed in his eyes, catching him looking like a deer in the headlamps of a car. A bell dinged in the distance and the crowd began to shout the team names… "SKELETOR … BELTWAY …" over and over, the building rocking with the noise. The bell sounded a second time, signifying the start of their match.

Jarrod didn't wait, but threw a fist straight into Sam's gut. Sam thought he had a pretty decent set of abs but Jarrod's blow dug in deep, sending a blast of Sam's air out through his mouth, along with a good loud OOMPH. Jarrod followed up with a second blow but Sam saw it coming and tightened his ab muscles, fending off the second blow rather nicely. Jarrod threw a third punch and Sam tightened again. Only his gut wasn't Jarrod's target this time, it was his chin. The blow connected, driving Sam's teeth together in a loud clack. Jarrod followed that blow with another to Sam's gut and Sam was barely able to stay on his feet, his vision blurred.

The crowd was not sympathetic to Sam's dilemma at all. In fact, the team he represented was cat-calling and shouting at him in language not suitable for print. Jarrod began to pummel his abs mercilessly, fist after fist driving into his gut. Try as hard as he might, Sam couldn't seem to get enough sense about him to tighten his abs and be able to breath. Jarrod caught him with an elbow up under the chin and Sam was off his feet, dragging Jarrod down with him. Within just a few moments, Jarrod had managed to totally destroy Sam, laying him out. It certainly hadn't gone the way Sam had envisioned it. As Jarrod made to climb on top of Sam, ready to finish him off, Sam slammed his knee into Jarrod's groin. It was an effective blow that curled Jarrod up, giving Sam the necessary minutes to gather himself at least partially. His abs and chest falling and rising as he struggled to get past the pain, Sam struggled to his knees and climbed on Jarrod, sitting far down near his legs. He then began to pummel Jarrod's abs, even letting a couple of blows add to the discomfort his knee had delivered. Jarrod was now the one writhing in pain as Sam, who was more muscular in the biceps area, drove his fists in repeatedly, each blow digging in deeper and deeper, destroying Jarrod's resistance. Jarrod tried to kick Sam off but only managed to drive Sam forward. Sam used the momentum of the kick to bring his skull down hard into Jarrod's gut. It was a tremendous blow, harder even than his fists had been delivering and Jarrod's eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Now it was Jarrod's team who was condemning the man who had moments ago been their hero.

Sam got off and twisted Jarrod around until he was in a position to lock on a choke hold. Sam knew exactly what he was doing and within seconds, Jarrod's body showed no response. The bell clanged three times, indicating the end of the match. Two men stepped in and undid the strap from the two men's wrist. They then dragged Jarrod from the ring, leaving Sam to bask for a few moments in the glory of his win. Money was falling all around him and he scooped it up greedily, stuffing it in his already manhood filled jock strap.

He didn't know what was to come next but in the moment, he didn't care. He had enough money gathered to pay his rent and buy some groceries. That had been the main reason he'd shown up in the first place. Eventually, another attendant came out and led him backstage to wait for whatever was next to come.