Ruined by the Boxer

*thud*

*thud* *thud*

*thud* *thud* *thud*

Deep pulses ricochet off the walls. The sound of leather meeting leather. The age-old dance of combat.

Humid, sweaty air fills the gym, swirling around my shirtless body. My feet shuffle atop the boxing ring canvas while I dodge blows from my opponent. His name is Drew, and he’s a fucking animal. Tall, dark, bestial…he has a gorilla’s chest and arms. His full pecs glisten with sweat, the nipples sharp and erect. His buzzed black hair and sharp brown eyes give off a feral, frightening aura. In this sport, aesthetics are a weapon. Guys who are naturally intimidating have an advantage. They get inside your head.

Me though…I’m the opposite. I’m short. I’ve got large, sensitive eyes. Girls say I’m cute, but they never seem interested. I might be fit, but that’s not enough to win their affection. That’s why I’m here. Learning a manly sport like boxing…that’ll be a way to build confidence and get the girls I’ve always wanted.

“Too slow!” Drew swipes, slamming his glove into my side.

“Urgh!” Dull pain burns beneath the skin.

“Fight back!” He brings his other fist in, jolting my body to the side.

Over and over, his padded fists slam against my tender frame. The pain grows with each blow. I try to block. I try to dodge. It’s no use though—he’s too fast.

Too powerful.

My aching body falls to the floor, slamming with a sickening noise. The gym seems to spin while I gaze up at his hulking form.

“You’ve got a long way to go.” A smirk curls on his lips. “C’mon! Let’s try again.”

He pulls off his glove and extends a hand. I grip his wrist, hoisting myself to my feet and wiping sweat from my brow.

“You’ve gotta go easy on me, bro. I’ve only been doing this for a couple weeks.” I let out an awkward laugh.

“Nah, man. This is the best way to train. If you want to be a boxer, you need to learn fast. You need to think on your feet and never lose your cool. If you can’t do that, then maybe you aren’t cut out for this sport.”

“N-no! I’ve got what it takes. Let’s try again!”

We head to opposite corners of the ring.

The truth is that I’m lucky to be here. This gym has been my home away from home for years. My dad left my mom when I was just a baby. He bailed, forcing her to raise me and my brothers on her own. She worked long hours, and I often found myself here, lifting weights to blow off steam. This gym has it all—a rock climbing wall, an endless selection of weightlifting equipment, and the famous boxing ring.

When I was young, I used to come here on the weekends, watching the older guys battle for supremacy. It made my heart throb. The way fighters flex each time they throw a punch. The way they block and dodge. It’s raw. It’s elegant. It’s pure strength.

I want that for myself. I want it more than anything.

And so that’s how I met Drew. I approached him after one of the matches and asked him to train me. I’m in my first year at the local community college, and I’ve resolved to make some life changes. I’m working on myself.

“Alright! Go for it!” A voice rings out.

I turn and nod at the older man standing outside the ring.

“Thanks, Mac.” I smile as he rings the bell.

He’s the gym owner, and he’s been almost like a father figure to me. A free gym membership…free coaching…he’s a good man.

Drew rushes forward, jolting me from my thoughts. I step to the side and swipe, but he blocks the punch. His masculine energy is palpable as he shuffles in a circle, scanning my body for any sign of weakness.

Afternoon light filters through a window, catching his sharp jawline and sending a burst of adrenaline into my bloodstream. The sinews in his shoulders are visible. He’s so fucking lean. So ripped.

He moves in, taking advantage of my distraction.

I block his jab.

“Nice.” He steps back.

Confidence swells within me, and I race forward, throwing a punch.

He blocks again, the impact sending a vibration up my arm. Over and over, I repeat the act. Drew seems to be toying with me, dragging out this primal dance. His swipes are fast and firm, sending a rush of air whirling over my skin each time I dodge. It takes all my focus just to avoid being destroyed. Winning…that doesn’t even seem possible.

Our footsteps…our punches…they blend into an aggressive rhythm. There’s tension in the air. A man and his opponent…a man forcing another into submission.

There can only be one victor.

His fist slams into my side, sending sick agony into my core. I keel over, landing atop the floor and curling into the fetal position. I look up into his commanding eyes, my vision blurred with tears.

“F-fuck…” I force the word through clenched teeth.

“Getting better.” He pulls off his gloves and tosses them onto the canvas floor. “Be here same time tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”

He turns and walks away, leaving me staring at his broad back, narrow waist, and hairy calves.

“You alright?” Mac hops into the ring and races toward me.

“Y-yeah.” I sit up, trying to look strong. “Not a big deal.”

“He should go easier on you.”

“No…this is good. I need some tough love.”

“Well, take a break at least. Head on out back—your flowers are blooming.”

His words cause panic to fill my veins, dispelling the pain. My eyes dart from side to side, making sure nobody heard him.

The flowers…they’re my greatest secret.

“A-alright.” I rise to my feet. “I’ll go take a look.”

I dash away, heading to a tiny door in the back of the gym. Getting access to the private lot out back…this was another of Mac’s gifts when I was young.