Desired Outcome

That night Akira fell soundly asleep, well aware the time to prove himself was finally near.

***

Ch.06: Pussycat

Finally the day had come.

Yumi and David were in the registration line, while Akira and Mike stood around in the lobby. While waiting their turn, David took a glance at Yumi's filled out form (both on paper and body).

David noticed an immediate discrepancy in the paperwork: "Babe, isn't Akira too light to be in that weight bracket?"

"Akira strong," she replied, "for challenge he need boys a little bigger."

"Oh yes, I agree, but will he be allright?"

"He fine, he fine, no worry," Yumi held his hand and looked up at him.

"Well...ok, if you say so," David took his hand out of her grasp and tapped her on the butt. "Still sore from last night? Think you'll be able to sit down?"

Yumi smiled. "I fine, I recover...quick."

Mike spotted his dad and Yumi's less than subtle body language.

"Look, bro, look: My dad is touching-up your mom! Wow! He has his hands on her ass, wow, my dad is the man!"

Akira looked and said nothing.

"Damn, my dad must've done some super hot stuff to her! Yeah, come on, he had to, no way he didn't. Yeah, oh yeah..."

Akira looked away and kept his mind focused on his prize. After a little wait, their parents came back.

"Akira, you ready?" asked his mother. "Your first qualifying match is in fifteen minutes."

"I'm ready, Mother."

"Oh, wait, hold on." Yumi dug into her bag and produced a mask familiar to many. The mane, the fur, the jaguar design: Yumi put a King mask on her son's head.

"Wear this; don't take it off, even during a fight. Oh and remember your name is 'JayKay.'"

Akira nodded. "Yes, Mother."

"Good, good," Yumi put her hand out, Akira clasped it. "Let's go."

The four entered into the small hall arena. There were multiple rings set up, no crowds, just warriors testing each others mettles. Akira was shriving with excitement, stimulated by the reward that was within his grasp.

His opponent, a singlet-wearing, brown haired teen, taller in height than Akira, was waiting eagerly.

"Come on," he shouted, "I don't have all day, let me whoop this pussycat already."

Akira stepped onto the stage; he put his fists in front of his face, then by his side.

"Osu!"

"Ready?" asked the official. "...Fight!"

With one, two, three lighting fast steps, Akira dashed towards his opponent and struck him once in the stomach. The sound reverberated around the room; bone-crunching, hollow and full of hurt. Mike winced, he'd felt that power before – but believed that this time Akira was even more amped, more vicious. Stronger.

Akira's opponent fell on the ground, his eyes rolling into his head.

"K.O!"

The whole room of fighters stopped what they were doing and looked. They were shell-shocked, all feeling the same crushing, overpowering aura emanating from the source and reaching into their veins: They could see the venomous energy coming out from this shirtless, short, surprisingly muscular teen in the lion mask.

Yumi quickly grabbed her son's hand and got him off the stage. Going down those ring steps with his mother, brushing his face across her tender breasts, Akira would've gone through a whole sidescrollers worth of henchmen to get within reach of that sweet, sweet touch.

Yumi held him by the shoulders, kneeled down and looked right at him. "Good, but please, not so hard. You have to know your strength."

"Yes, Mother," he said solemnly

"Now him," Yumi turned her head to look at the unconscious teen on the floor, then looked back at her son, "He'll be fine, nothing to worry about, but please don't hurt anyone too badly. It's about winning, not hurting anyone."

"Yes, I am sorry."

"Good," she patted him on the head, then stood up, addressing Mike and David in English. "Good fight, yes?"

"Oh ye-ye-yeah!" said a jittery David, "He...did good. Let's go wait in the lounge eh? These other guys looking at us is making me nervous."

"Ok," replied Yumi.

Mike walked beside Akira. "Man, bro, whoa, but come on! You could've just hit him with a ring-out, yeah?"

Akira looked at him with a stern expression. "No, wrong game."

***

To qualify for the main eight-man tournament which took place in front of an audience, the participants had to win three preliminary bouts. After his first victory, Akira had two prelim fights to go – and both his opponents forfeited. All Akira had to do was prepare for the finals.

While his mom, David and Mike went to have lunch, Akira stayed in the arena and had a workout in the mini-gym area. He was alone in there, no other fighter daring to come near him after his aggressive display. While Akira was in the middle of deciding his combos, the door opened and in walked a red shirt and blue jeans wearing blond teen.

"Hello there," he said in an American accent. "You the guy everyone's afraid to fight?"

Akira sized him up right away; his figure was slender, around Akira's height yet clearly older. Though from first glance this teen didn't seem like much, Akira knew right away this was a formidable fighter.

"Robert Richards...America champion."

"Ah you know me?" replied Robert, "Sweet! I never heard of you, are you, like, related to King or something?" he said while referring to Akira's mask.

Akira was confused. "No. I not. You fight in show?"

"Yeah, I am. I thought it was going to be an easy deal, quick cash and all, but with you here, everything changes."

Before Akira could respond, a tall statuesque woman came from out of the hallway and slapped Robert upside his head.

"Bobby, stop fraternising with your enemy!"

Even stoic Akira was at awe at this bodacious American woman: At 6'1, blue-eyes, full blond hair, long slender legs, a perfect hourglass figure and big in-your-face breasts, this was like no other woman he'd ever seen before. She was wearing a white tank top with beige shorts.

"Ow, Mom, don't embarrass me in front of my competition."

"Your competition nothing! Don't be friendly with boys you going to be beating."

Robert sighed. "Yes, Mother...I'll see you in the final round, JayKay."

Akira could hear Robert and his mother speaking as they left.

"Mom, oh Mom, I won so I get my –"

"Clamp down, boy! We ain't wanting people to know about that, sheesh! Come on; let's get it over with quick."

Akira, intrigued for an unknown reason, discreetly followed Robert and his mother.

"Come ere!" she grabbed her son by the arm and threw him in a vacant locker room.

As he got closer, Akira heard an odd sound, almost like grapes being squashed. He then heard groaning, panting, muttered voices. Akira got to the room, looked inside and gasped.

Robert's mother was on her knees, her son's cock fully enclosed in her full pink lips. Like a hoover without an off switch, she held her mouth on it with an unclosing grip, saliva dripping out her mouth, hitting the floor with a sizzle. Robert arched his head back, shaking, his spasms rocking all the pictures off the wall.

Akira watched with intent silence, observing the mother-son interplay.

After a few deep strokes, Robert's mom took her son's cock out of her mouth, ripped her shirt open, and stuck his member between her breasts.

"Ohhh, ohhhh!" screamed Robert.

She lowered her head and licked the tip of his foreskin. "Like it? Huh? Huh!?" she asked while simultaneously tit-fucking her son.

"Yes, yes Mom! Ohhh! God, yeah!"

"You know our deal: this is your reward for making it this far, but you gets lots more if you win it all, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah!"

"Now, I'm gonna finish you off, no complaining, this is all you get!" While holstering his cock between her breasts, Robert's mom licked, kissed and stroked his red member to completion.

"Ohhh I feel it, Mom! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Robert's mother moved her son's cock away from her face, pointed it to the floor and let it all sputter out.

"Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Oh Mom, ohhhh, ohhhh, oh, oh, oh....Mom, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm going to kick his and everyone's ass! Yeah! Yeah! Bring it!"

"Good Son, keep that attitude," she said while wiping her lips with a tissue. "Whoop all them boys and you get the full experience, you hear? You get nothing for second place! Nothing!"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm ready! Yeah!"

Akira could see the fire burning from within Robert, seeing him draw from the same energy source that he had found his inspiration from. Akira rushed back to the gym and worked out harder than he'd ever had in his entire life. For him, there was only one desired outcome: total complete victory.

***

Ch.07: Sweep The Leg

Evening time, inside a full 10,000 seat arena, the spectators having packed themselves into the hot sweltering building for the purpose of viewing the final rounds of the Monaco Fight Junior Grand Prix. Due to being the family of one of the competitors, Yumi, David and Mike got primo seats in the front row. Yumi watched anxiously, scouting the combatants. From the bunch, she saw only one real threat: American Champion Robert Richards.

David looked around nervously. "Hmm, you know, my C.E.O doesn't like fighting, so I shouldn't really be here."

Yumi feigned concern: "Oh? I sorry, you be in trouble?"

"Oh no, no, no, maybe just a telling off, I mean, he can't hate fighting too much, his daughter's a very good fighter after all."

"Good, I glad."

Mike then nudged his dad and said in a hushed voice: "Worth it for her, huh? Do it all for the, you know, the sex, come on, she's so hot."

David smacked his son on the chest: "Shut it, Son! Don't speak about her like that!"

"Oh, okay, Dad."

After two listless quarterfinal matches, it was Akira's time to hit the stage.

"Coming all the way from Japan, it's the mysterious JayKay!"

The crowd clapped, their collective slaps like a huge tidal wave of noise, pouring down right to the centre. The massive number of people watching didn't faze Akira at all; his focus was honed to perfection. He didn't hear the fighter introduction; all he saw in front of him was a shirtless, mocha-skinned, dark haired warrior.

"Ready? Fight!"

Akira dashed, going for the quick K.O. To his surprise, Akira's blow to the stomach was countered by a block. This competitor thought he had this all in the bag, but his glee was to be his downfall. Akira swept the leg and knocked him out cold with a soft blow to the jaw.

"K.O! Winner: JayKay!"

The crowd leapt out of their seats, cheering for the winner. Akira politely bowed to the fans and went back to the waiting area. While walking through the tunnel, he saw Robert.

"Good job," said Robert while wearing his tight red shorts. "Whoever organised this tournament was really smart: The only way we'll meet is in the final."

"I see you there," replied Akira.

"Looking forward to it."

Before walking away, Akira paused and said: "Your mother is good-looking, very."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!?"

Akira was surprised; he thought all the teens in America complimented each other on their good-looking mothers. Turns out that Mike wasn't being truthful to Akira about this aspect of American life.

"I, umm, ah...nevermind."

"Yeah, yeah," Robert punched his fists together, "No one talks about my mom like that! I'm coming for you!"

Akira walked away, finally figuring out that most of what Mike told him was total B.S

***

Akira's semi-final foe used a different tactic. He, the regional champion of Monaco, dove right for Akira's legs and took him down. The crowd gasped: Akira had finally shown vulnerability.

"I got you now!" said the young French teen.

It wasn't a long advantage: Akira kicked the teen, sent him flying, stood up and hit him with a scorching uppercut. Akira was on to the final.

"All right, here we are: the two best competitors in this competition face off – against each other!"

Robert was bouncing on his feet, eager to fight. Akira, finally within distance of his so sought after hot bubbly prize, was in a state of calm, waiting for the match to begin.

"Ready? Fight!"

Akira dashed forward, as did Robert. Akira went for his now-trademark blow to the stomach, but was stopped by something he'd never truly felt before: a crushing, hot, burning feeling that made his bones rattle: this feeling was pain. Robert had countered Akira's dash with a devastating knee to the face.

Akira rolled back, grabbed the floor and stood himself back up. This first real taste of pain may have made some lesser fighters doubt themselves and ready to quit– but not Akira. He looked into the crowd and saw his mother, her beautiful elegant face filling him with a warm glow, her delicious breasts packed so tight into that white dress, melting away the hurt. That glance drove his energy bar right back to green, back into the fight.

The two competitors swayed around each other, each waiting for the other to make the next move. Changing tactics, Akira swayed side-to-side, inching forward in a slow, deliberate manner. Robert threw punches and jabs towards Akira, using his long, limber frame to keep Akira at bay. While stuck in this stalemate, Akira studied his foe, looking for an opening. The answer came to him when he avoided one of Robert's kicks: Akira noticed that his opponent's arms and legs were thinner than his own, plus. while Robert was taller and older, he also looked to weigh less than Akira. He had his solution.

Akira dove towards Robert, taking one of his blows right to the face. Akira stood his ground, grabbed onto his rival's midsection and took him down to the ground. From there, Akira got the mount position and started throwing hard blows to Robert's face.

"Oh, it looks like America's champion is on the receiving end of a brutal beatdown! If he doesn't find a way out soon, this will all be over."

Robert wasn't concerned: "Pfft? This? This is nothing!" he bucked his hips up, hit Akira with a palm strike and sent him flying away. Akira managed to get on his feet, but not before getting hit with a jab, jab, jab, spinning kick combo.

Akira was beaten, bruised, battered, yet standing. David and Mike were genuinely worried for his wellbeing, seeing the taller teen as just too much for little Akira. His mother expressed concern, but not full-on worry, oh no, because she had faith.

Akira stood his ground, waiting for his enemy's move. Robert came dashing towards him, ready to hit the winning spin kick. Akira clenched his fist, putting all his power in one final blow. Time slowed down: Akira knew he had only one chance to hit this move. Right when Robert turned, Akira saw his opening: he ducked under, spun, dodged the kick, raised his fist and hit Robert right on the jaw. Sparks flew out, small fizzy jolts of light around the two warriors. Robert swayed, swayed, then fell like a tree: timber went the lanky American. Boom.

"K.O! Winner: JayKay!"

Confetti shot out around the arena, giving everyone a startle. The operatic victory music played. Akira had become the champion!

David and Mike stood and cheered for the victor.

"Oh my god, that was amazing!" shouted David. "How did we win? How!? Wow!"

"That's my bro right there," said Mike to random spectators, "My dad is dating his mom, he's my bro, I trained with him, you know, helped him out with some stuff, basically taught him all those moves."

Yumi smiled, proud of her son – and now fully justified in giving her reward.

Tired, battered, yet humble, Akira put his hand out to Robert and helped him up.

Robert smiled. "Man, first loss, wow, wow...I can't believe it."

"Good fight, good fight," said Akira, "You real fighter."

"Thanks, "Robert shook hands with Akira, then turned his back and whispered to himself, "I can't believe I lost, damn it, damn it! I won't get any from Mom now, damn! Man, that kid is strong, big too...Maybe I need to get bigger."

The tournament organiser came on stage, holding a trophy and large novelty check.

"Here you go, you earned it!"

Akira took the trophy, but handed the big check back to the man. Akira then handed a piece of paper to the organiser and said, "Charity."

The man looked at the paper: written on it was the name of a nature preservation organisation.

"You want to give all the money away?"

"Hai."

The man was stunned. "...Unbelievable...," he got on the microphone and addressed the crowd: "This young man is giving all his prize money to charity! Well, we should expect such generosity from someone wearing this King mask. Let's give it up for this great, great competitor!"

The crowd applauded him, Akira bowed in response. Akira was not especially charitable; he was just going by his mother's orders. Besides, it was not the money that motivated him to this championship, it was something else and, finally, that wish was about to be fulfilled.

***

Final Chapter: Payoff

It was night. Akira was in a five-star hotel bathroom, naked, sitting on the edge of a bathtub. The water was running, the room was steaming up and getting very, very warm. He'd won the tournament, was able to avoid the media brouhaha and, now, was waiting for his wish to be fulfilled: naked bath time with his super sexy mother. His bare feet rubbed against the damp marble floor, battle wounds still raw, his instrument a shade of red just from the thoughts of what was coming.

After a five minute wait, which to Akira felt more like hours, she came in, fully nude, not a stitch of clothing on her body. While walking through the steam, her creamy smooth skin, delectable full breasts, and trim, smooth, moist vagina, all came into view, progressively sharper and detailed with each footstep.

She adjusted her neatly tied bun, then, smiled at her son. He looked up and gazed at his mother's sublime being.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

His mouth would not open, he simply nodded.

Yumi then put her hands on the edge of the tub, giving her son a great look at his mother's round behind. She put her hand inside the tub and swayed her arm in the water, performing some kind of purification ceremony. Once she was done, the water gave off a soft golden glow.

"I'll go in first." Yumi stepped inside the bathtub.

Akira waited while his mother stretched herself out in the tub. He could feel his heartbeat, his body trembling with nervous excitement.

"Come on in," she spread her legs apart, "Sit in the tub with me; put your back to my front."

He calmed his nerves, put his foot in the water, then his other foot and sat down. In that snug little tub, he felt his back squish against his mother's soft breasts, her legs cradling his, a feeling of warmth, heat and hot, hot pleasure.

Yumi rubbed her son's cheek with her delicate fingers, her mouth just behind his ear. She spoke softly, "You feeling good, Akira?"

"So good, Mother, so good, nothing hurting at all," the water seemed to have healed him of all battle wounds and scars.

"Good, good, you earned this." she grabbed the soap, lathered her hands and rubbed it on his arms. That feeling of her hands over his skin sent a shiver through him.

"Ahh, ahhh, ahh, Mother."

Yumi pressed her hands on his chest, reading his beat, able to feel the blood rushing around. She sensed that he was ready. The water was just right and his member was raging a tornado inside the water. It was time. Yumi slowly slid her right hand down his thigh, wrapping her hand around his cock, one finger at a time. At first her grip was loose, to let her son get used to the feeling, but when she felt him stiffen, harden, she knew her son was ready for more: With a rock-squashing squeeze, she started tugging.

Victory is what it felt like, like a glorious heavenly prize going through his veins. Now, finally, after all the hardships he had to endure, Akira finally felt that emotion he'd so sought after: that unchained furore of sexual energy bursting out from within, his mother steering him with her expert handling.