Shokan Mombat 2: A Date For Prombat

This has been in mind for a long time, but damn, what isn’t for me? The original story of parent teacher conferences turned four-armed mom fight gets a surprising amount of attention, and exploring a culture that’s big on murder was fun. Going into how a regular teen growing up with super powerful classmates that value your combat grade over everything else but has a super supportive murder-mom and no real context on what being human is like. Again, never played much of Mortal Kombat, so I’m winging almost all this culture and biology stuff.

Slight shift in the content from the first; first was mom fighting for his honor, now it’s our boy Urik getting the guts to ask a girl out, which was established as involving a sparring honor duel to prove your worth to the potential mate.

It must be something in the air at this time of year, because it seems like every Shokan is in the mood. Maybe it’s because the volcanoes in the distance have died down, or that the warcrafters use the lull to fix the perimeter walls, or because prom is just around the corner. People just start projects, cook and clean more often, or more often, just start flirting.

It was weird at first, but I’m glad that my mom started dating my educatress. Her and Taraka have been getting along great after their initial clash over my grades, so I’ve learned to read the room. I know when it’s time to excuse myself off to a friend’s house or my stone, effectively soundproof room. It was nice to see mom happy with someone after living alone with me for so long, but it started to get me thinking about the same thing. I've had my share of crushes in my early years, but I’d never actually gone so far as asking a girl out. I wasn’t sure I could survive that kind of test, especially against the more violent and therefore genetically dominant females. 

There’s always a trial by combat when you ask a girl out. It’s just natural. You have to see how you gel and get along, and that they’ll be strong enough to bring honor to your potential mate. It’s tradition and I get it, but it doesn’t make me good at it. I’m still one of the worst in my class when it comes to hand to hand kombat. 

It was how my mind and heart had settled on Sazeta. There was a practicality to a lot of shokan social habits, and crushes came with that as well. She was cute, looking closer to what a human would consider feminine. Her muscles were lean and tight, making her barely twice as buff as me. Her breasts were broad and heavy, something that was still motherly in our culture but also had carried an air of weakness and sluggishness. She wore loose scholar robes, a few circling bands of silk that draped over her the curves of her shoulders, breasts and hips. She stood another foot taller than me (again, fairly short for our kind) and her red eyes were wide and beast-like rather than the usual narrow and serpentine. Her speckled, yellow-brown skin was thick but smooth, and her wispy black hair hung in long, willowy strands that shifted around her face. 

In shokan terms, Sazeta was kind of a nerd. The four-armed amazon spent a lot of time in the keeper’s chambers, a room where they kept the lorescrolls that recorded great battles and the lives of the strongest fighters. It certainly didn’t keep her from beating some of our classmates’ heads until they cracked the arena floor with their skulls, so it wasn’t like I could just sweep in and get an easy win on her. There were scrawnier or younger game I could go for, but there was no sport in that. That was why I started to visit Mokab’s house after classes for some sparring. He was an old buddy I ate lunch with everyday during my first school year, and now he was a star on the grappler’s team. I figured some last minute cramming might let me live through asking Sazeta out long enough to see if she said yes.

We went through a week of that before I felt like I was as good as I was going to get without another year behind us. Shokan weren’t the types to wait around, because you never knew when someone had to move to the next town to support the neighboring clan. Or die during training. Or die during a sudden invasion. Or die invading someone else. Point is, life is short and brutal, so grab life by the sub-arms and steal its bones as a trophy.

I showed up at the keeper’s chambers up in my good shirt and comfiest pants. Stuff that would leave a good impression while staying practical. Sazeta was there as cute as ever, all four muscular arms sorting through lorescrolls and tomes on the table. I sucked in a deep breath and went up to her.

“Hey, Saz,” I greeted casually.

She looked up at me with her big, dreamy red eyes and nodded. “Oh. Hi, Urik,” she said with a little smile. We had one of those “wave as we passed” relationships. Knew each other by names, hadn’t really made a move to anything beyond vague friendship.

“I was wondering if, uh… did you wanna spar?”

Sazeta stopped her work on the spot. She looked back up at me (not very far, mind you, even with her sitting down) as the specks on her cheeks darkened. Sort of shokan blushing.

“Oh, uh… why?”

“Just… cuz y’know,” I fumbled. “You’re cute and smart, and really deadly. I just thought you looked like a super fertile mate today, so… yea. Wanna go a few rounds?”

Her spots got even darker in embarrassment as I laid on the sweet talk. I understand that shokan and human courting is way different, not that I’d really know.

“Oh. Well I was just reading about the origin of the eastern war clerics, but… yes. I’d love to,” she replied in her low and sheepish voice.

“Great!” I answered with a grin. I had expected us to step outside but one of her arms shoved the table aside while another swung the chair next to her at my head. I let out a quick curse as I ducked under it and kept my skull intact. Turns out that basically everything in the keeper’s chamber were in reinforced covers on tough leather pages. They weren’t going to get banged up that easily under a war-loving race like shokans.

The lore keeper watched us with passing interest but most of his hands kept at his work. He certainly wasn’t going to break up a couple of flirting kids like us when he had work to do. I scrambled back on all fours as her chair slammed into the floor where my fingers had just been. I stepped on top of it, preventing her from lifting it again as I threw an uppercut into her cutely chiseled jaw. Sazeta’s head bucked a little and I hit her with a second shot to the chin before pulling back, my fists still up and ready as her heavy hand swung where I had just been.

I’ll be the first to admit I suck at fighting. I’d probably be able to tear a normal human my age in half, but I live in a world where everyone has bigger, stronger, and more arms than I do. I spent plenty of days staying after class with our kombat teacher, assuming I wasn’t too injured to do makeup courses for all my losses. I was still in the lower end of my class, but I had gotten used to learning how to fight in a world where everyone was stronger than me.

Sazeta was still smarter than me when it came to tactics and she stopped trying to brute force me. She growled and shifted to a lower stance, making me an easier target while limiting her mobility. She moved in with her arms spread out like a muscular net, so I lunged in and threw some punches at her chest to force her to react. I sent her breasts jiggling with the blows and retreated quickly, blushing from my first real time punching a girl’s boob. They say everyone remembers their first time.

Still, her lower arm caught my ankle and got me to trip up. I stayed standing but her fist was nearly twice the size of mine as it crashed into my face, sending me stumbling even harder. Sazeta caught my shoulder with a third hand that brought me back around for another blow, blurring my vision as I let myself hit the floor. It felt better than staying up where she could grab me some more. I rolled away from her stomping foot as I tried to keep from getting too dizzy in the process, kicking into her legs that at least slowed her down.

Sazeta kept her posture low to reach me with all four arms. I’m not as strong or tall as her but I have a little more mobility with my leaner human frame. It let me break into a low sprint back at her, risking moving before my feet are properly planted and launching myself into as high a leap as I could manage. It let me cut in past her grabbing hands and knee her squarely in the jaw, disorienting her as her head snapped away with a spray of spittle.

I went into a sloppy landing before I turned and threw some kicks at the back of her knee. It took several rather than a single smooth sweep like my kombat koach would have preferred, but beating on the joint finally dropped her to all sixes (4 arms; remember?). Sazeta was looking rattled from the hit to her jaw so I mounted one of her lower arms and threw all the power I could into some shots to her ribs, hitting the less flexible part of her midsection between her right arms.

Hearing my crush’s grunts of pain were honestly exciting. The shokan aren’t technically sadists so much as we looooove bloodsports. Most of our culture’s built around fighting and competing. If you’re hurting the girl you’re flirting with in fair and honorable kombat, it generally means you’re doing really well with her. You’re just establishing yourself as a potent mate.

I got in plenty of shots before her free hand caught me by the leg again. I’m not used to guarding my feet at my height (unless I’m being lifted over someone’s head), so it’s a definite weak spot of mine. Sazeta yanked me off her other arm and grabbed me with her upper arms as she pinned my arms to my sides. An unfortunate position I’ve been in plenty of times with my natural handicap. She held me against the wall, breathing heavily with some blood on her lip and just sort of looking hot in general. Then she smashed into my guts with her lower arms. It beat the wind out of me but I leaned back against the wall. Pulling her hair for leverage, I kicked her in the face with my sole. It knocked her head away once again, but she just squeezed my arms harder until my joints cracked. She let out a roar as she lifted me over her head and spiked her through the nearest table, leaving me to wonder how much of the snapping was the wood and how much was my spine.

I was in sort of a blur as her arms worked quickly around me. She lifted and shoved me between them until I felt something soft against the back of my head. Then I stopped breathing. I let out a wet gag as I realized she had squeezed me against her firm body, head resting on her tits as her arms pinned my to her while a strong hand squeezed m throat. She rolled her bigger body to be on top of mine, pinning me under her so I could feel her muscles bulge and her body heat radiating against my back. Probably one of the hotter moments of my life…

I was barely conscious when Sazeta let me go. I took in a rough-sounding wheeze, but at least I was breathing again. My brawny crush moved to her knees and I felt her prop me up with one arm as my eyes watered from the latest brush with death in my life. These courting spars tended to go until someone stopped, which varied from case to case. Like I said, there’s the queen bee at school who has killed and eaten some especially disappointing suitors.

“That was impressive!” Sazeta praised. “You were like a sharfly back there.”

“Oh you were amazing,” I gasped out. With my body struggling to breathe, my actual flirting probably wasn’t on it’s a-game. “You’re much faster than the other girls and you really know your holds. So did you want to go to the prom?”

Nailed it. Sazeta adjusted some of the hair I’d been pulling, brushing it back over her shoulder. She paused and tucked her breast back into her top as an afterthought. She might have been blushing. That might have been the blood pumping from our last couple minutes of hardcore brawling.

“I didn’t have any plans,” she answered sheepishly as she thumbed some blood from her nose. “I think that’d be really fun. I mean… you fought honorable and fierce, warrior.”

She said the last part like she was quoting something, and it sounded like something I’d read in a scroll once during class. I hurried up to my feet and gave her a quick bow. 

“Thanks so much! I’ll always remember our duel and honor your efforts,” I said in the most formal response I could on limited air. Sazeta smiled and leaned over, giving me my first kiss in the half-trashed library. It was quick and firm, but boy did it blow my oxygen-deprived mind. I blushed for non-exhaustion-based reasons as she smiled wide, clearing her throat quietly. She delicately spit out a bit of blood into a corner.

“So I’ll see you then.”

“Yea,” I said with a cracking voice. I’d actually asked a girl out to prom. I wanted to laugh and scream and run around, but I settled for a visit to the medicine master’s office.

---

Proms are one of the tamer events in a shokan’s life. It’s meant to honor the fallen and the spirits that will decide what we are to become. It makes taking a date more significant considering it’s our futures being judged by the primal spirits.

Mom is delighted with my performance. She fussed over me as she helped with my ceremonial bodypaint, leaving me sitting in my loincloth as she rambled about her own prom. My heart’s racing as her big palm finally pressed a three-fingered handprint on my chest to mark my lineage. Streaks and patterns of red and yellow were all over my body with a few thin white lines going down my cheeks.

“You look strong,” mom said proudly. She cupped my head and kissed me for good luck before breaking into a smirk. “Try not to blush so much. It clashes with the ash paint.”

The prom itself was much more my speed. Lots more standing around than most days of my life. A few of the students break into brawls but they’re quickly thrown out by the mentors.

I talked with Sazeta, who was slightly more dressed up than before. She changed into a brighter purple garment for good fortune, and her muscular arms were dotted with stamps of old symbols. She knew a lot about the traditions behind prom, and she talks about them at length throughout our conversations. It’s an interesting subject. As she pointed out what symbols and garb people are using for what meanings, I eventually realized she’s rambling because she was just as nervous as I am. It ironically gave me a little boost in confidence.

The peaceful gathering ends all too quickly as we start walking home. Most of the students are eager to get out and stretch but Sazeta and I take out time leaving. We both like the calm and quiet atmosphere. It was finally a place where my crappy kombat scores aren’t a factor.

It all gave me the confidence to hold one of her lower hands. She paused in her talk about Ganga the fire spirit and one of her upper arms itched at her hair, but she squeezed my hand back. Her fingers were thinner and more delicate than my mom or the other shokan, her relatively weak build feeling closer to my own. Her upper arm wrapped around my shoulders to pull me closer to her, bumping my nearly naked body against her.

“So… do you want to use a tent?” she offered quietly. My heart skipped a beat at the implication. The shokan were a pretty public race that ran on adrenaline and instincts. In a pretense of modesty, “mounting tents” were left around the village for whenever you had any private urges in public and weren’t in the middle of a mating duel.

“Yep!” I answered once my brain started working again. I huddled up against her muscular side that I’d been beating on a few days before. I felt her give a soft gasp as she seemed to remember the same thing and picked up her pace towards the nearest tent.

The room-sized structure of hides and wood was bare beyond a couple blankets over the lifeless dirt. We close its flap behind us and I do my best to remain the aggressor in the relationship. I hold two of her arms and kiss her as the taller girl sighed against my lips. All four arms get to work grabbing and pinning me to the ground, my loincloth getting tossed away in a moment.

I’ve cuddled with mom before but being properly mounted by a shokan was a new experience. Most of our clothes are made to be changed or removed quickly while staying secure in the heat of battle, so we’re naked with minimal effort. Her thicker skin is smooth in its rough grinding on top of me, muscles bulging in her urge to feel and rub against me. I explore her body as I learn to feel the subtle differences of where her skin is spotted or not, and grope around the firm heavy breasts with her rigidly hard nipples. 

For all the thick skin and pain tolerance, softer touches are just as effective (if a little shocking) to shokan. As hard as I was from her kissing and rubbing, she was moaning from my light caresses. We were loud enough that passing students and tribesmen hooted or shouted encouragement as they passed by. They didn’t need to know who was in the tent to cheer on a mounting tent, and we’d share small laughs at the rowdier comments before carrying on with renewed vigor.

It was pretty clear Sazeta didn’t quite know what to do with her extra hands. They end up just bracing over my head as she rides me with her heavy hips and I variously hold her thighs or fingers. It’s a loose, wet fit but I can’t complain at my size. It still feels amazing as he grunt and grind together. I keep thrusting back as hard as I can manage in my pinning position, keeping up the playfully competitive spirit of our duel from earlier in the week. I squeeze and scratch at her breasts, practically unable to hurt them so she just ends up gasping and shouting from the mildly rough treatment.

It was obviously my first time. I didn’t last the longest but gave all I could against the heavy hips bumping against me. Not unlike our duel, so maybe that’s fitting. I still thrust into her hard and I lose my load inside her, but her tender insides squeeze around me as she groans deeply. She presses her toned body into me, clinging to me as I’m buried in the taller girl’s tits and abs. Sazeta squeezed me in a tight embrace, and with her boobs smothering my face I’m reminded of the end of our battle once again. I even had some of the same bruises left behind by my strong and heavy lover.

Her muscles tensed and her hips pumped against me as my mate gushed a short wave of warmth over my lap in the wake of my orgasm piercing her defenses. Her iron thighs closed around my legs to keep my trapped inside her until she was finished gyrating against my shaft. I just paced my breathing as my head swam in the pleasure of my orgasm and her lean but dense body.

“Good prom?” I asked, my voice a little muffled under her mass of muscle.

“Good prom,” she said breathlessly, despite being the one on top of me. She finally moved her pussy from mounting me, just to lower herself and kiss me again. Her naked breasts and muscles had smears of red where my warpaint had rubbed off on her in all our sweaty grinding. “Consider me courted, warrior.”

We giggled like the deflowered virgins we were and curled up together in the tent. We used one of the scrap cloths to clean most of my bodypaint off her to minimize her embarrassment with her parents, finally walking her home. We had another short but heated kiss before I walked home in a lovestruck daze.

Of course, mom was there to grab me as soon as I came home. I was used to her being a little clingy and hovering closeby from having the most fragile kid in the tribe. Now she was all smiles and laughs as she squeezed me tightly and ruffled my already messy hair.

“My little conqueror!” she praised loudly as she spun me around off my feet. “I want to know everything! Your first dance, what you talked about… every grunt and moan you got out of her, you mate-slayer!”

“Mom, come on,” I laughed back as she squeezed me tighter. I couldn’t shake off all that enthusiasm. I ultimately caved as I spent the rest of the night eating a late dinner with mom as she grilled me for every sweaty detail. It was hard to imagine otherwise, but I was still glad to hear she was proud of me.