Patron Reward: Genderswap Dva vs Tracer (Patreon)

Some quick boy on boy boxing gone sexy. Also not requested by our usual genderswapping patron, either! I've got some bigger stories building up and little ideas starting, so always feels nice to have something bite sized like these requests I can wrap up in a day of mild focus.

Overwatch had reached a point of relative calm and peace. The main team was between missions, which left them with some down time. Dva was content to return to the boys’ dorm and get back to his gamer lifestyle, but Tracer had burst into his room announcing that he had other plans.

The boys entered the gym, though Tracer did so with much more spunk than his younger teammate. Dva kept checking his phone while begrudgingly following Trace’s lead.

“Believe me, mate. You can’t go wrong with picking up the basics of CQC. You can always rely on a gun out on the battlefield,” Tracer lectured with a proud look on his face.

“Uh, I totally can. I fight inside a giant mech suit,” Dva explained in sincere disinterest.

“But you keep blowing it up. Then what?”

“Then they send me a new one. Besides, melee’s alway getting nerfed for damage so why bother?”

The boys were dressed in some tight trunks and comfortable tops. Tracer had his in yellow and black like his usual bodysuit, and he wore his thin plastic visor as always. Dva wore his trademark pink, complete with his antennae-like headset. He was hoping the workout would be easy enough for him to play some distracting music to block out Tracer’s accented advice. Tracer clearly wasn’t having it as he reached the boxing ring. The speedy Brit grabbed and hopped over the ropes with more energy than Dva liked to exert in a day. Tracer smiled back at him and stepped backward into one of the corners. He stripped out of his top, showing his lean and tightly muscled chest off. The automated ring scanned him and the turnbuckle hissed, popping out a pair of boxing gloves that matched his trunks. Tracer only had to fit his hand inside them before the automatic fasteners sealed them tightly around his wrists.

“Come on. Just give it a go for a round or two. Let’s see what you got,” Tracer invited, trying to spread his contagious enthusiasm into the lazy teenage gamer.

Dva groaned and peeled off his hoodie. He was slightly thicker than Tracer, but much more muscular than the Brit would have guessed. The Korean boy clearly got more of a workout than one would have guessed from piloting their mech. He rolled under the ropes and held up his hands, letting the ring attach his hi-tech gloves.

“Ok, fine. How we doing this?” Dva sighed.

“Let’s not get too technical right away, yea? How about you just focus on hittin’ me and knockin’ me down?”

“Whatever you say.”

Tracer approached Dva’s more sluggish pace, staying light on his feet as always. His boots barely seemed to touch the ground, even without using his time traveling device. He bobbed and weaved, building up some momentum while keeping Dva guessing on where he’d strike from.

“You gotta keep your eyes on your opponent. They’ll try and slip past yer guard, but they’ll have to come at you eventually. You just wait ‘em out and-”

Tracer’s advice was abruptly cut off when he went in for a hard jab to Dva’s face. The pink-clad Korean boy saw it coming and with a quick shift of his gloves, parried it away.  Tracer’s visored eyes widened in surprise.

“Yea, I get that,” Dva replied blandly.

“It’s just like in the fighting games. Let the speeders come to you and then get ‘em while they’re in their recovery frames.”

Tracer got a prime example as Dva swung a short, hard hook up into her abs. The British boxer huffed loudly as he was slugged in the guts, doubling over instantly from the hard counter. His hornet-yellow gloves went around his stomach, coughing hot air and spittle over Dva’s chest.

“Yea, the speedsters usually can’t take much of a hit in those games either,” Dva lectured back at her.

His pale, buff arms tensed, the muscles bulging just a moment before one shot out and caught Tracer in the chin. It popped him back to a mostly upright stance before a barrage of punches pounded his face and chest, knocking him around as the gamer pleased.

“But it’s always about your combo game. Don’t give ‘em the room to breathe!”

Dva was suddenly teaching Tracer a lesson as he moved in closer, pounding the British brunette backward. He stumbled drunkenly, seeing stars with every leathery impact of the mighty pink glove. Tracer was heavily dazed, but he had the fleeting recognition that if nothing else, Dva was finally getting into the workout.

Dva was even almost breaking a sweat by the time he smashed a glove into Tracer’s jaw. The skinny speedster spun on one foot, turning all the way around before he started to fall. He caught his arms around the top ropes, though it was entirely out of blind luck. He had lost any control over this match as soon as Dva had started swinging. The ropes and Tracer’s body both sagged under his light weight, which lowered his face at the perfect height to get stuck between Dva’s pecs. The gamer boy stepped up close, his firm body trapping Tracer in the humiliatingly weakened state. Judging by the firmness behind his trunks, he was loving it.

“Is this all it took to shut that big mouth of yours? It was so easy! I should have done that a long time ago,” the Korean snickered.

Tracer tried to speak up but was cut off by a fresh glove punching him in the cheek. His head bucked to one side, groaning and spraying a thin streak of drool after him. His eyes rolled behind his visor, and he looked ready to fall to the mats when Dva grabbed him by the chin. His glove forced him back upright (more or less) to face him.

“I didn’t say I was done with you yet,” Dva purred confidently.

He braced Tracer against the ropes before pressing himself bodily against him, locking him in a shockingly deep kiss. Tracer’s eyes went from barely open to wide as even Dva’s tongue dominated his own. It slapped and pushed the Brit’s around as Tracer was pressed back into the ropes, trapped by the kiss as Dva snuck in more short, dominant punches into his sides. It made him moan into the kiss as if he loved being beaten, and it was getting harder and harder to argue with the erection tenting in his trunks.

“What’s wrong? Not the kind of workout you were looking for?” Dva chuckled, licking some of Tracer’s drool from his lips.

He bent over and took his time stripping the trunks down Tracer’s legs. His weary body put up no resistance until his hardon bounced freely out into the air. He was too sweaty and exhausted to try and stop Dva, who knelt down and snapped a quick jab into Tracer’s dick.

“Nerf THIS!” Dva gloated as Tracer grunted hard.

His cock flopped back and slapped against his abs, leaving a smudge of precum against his belly. He groaned and sagged even further, only hanging on by one arm now like a broken puppet.

“Oh was that too rough? Forgot I had to pull my punches with a skinny bitch like you!” Dva teased. “Why don’t I even the odds?”

Dva stepped back and dropped his own trunks, kicking them away in a little bit of showing off. Tracer could barely see straight, but even then he could see that Dva’s cock was bigger than his. The Korean boy stepped up and bumped the head of his dick against Tracer’s. The brunette Brit winced as his aching body throbbed with pleasure, the frotting proving to be the only positive feeling he’d had during the whole match. The contrast made it even more intense as Dva grinned, pumping his hips so that even his boner was beating Tracer’s back against the ropes.

“Come on, Trace! Is this easy mode? I’m not even using my hands and I’m beating the crap out of you!”

Dva pulled back a half step and thrust in hard, ramming his cock in between Tracer’s balls and right up the length of his cock. It struck like an uppercut with his dick, making Tracer give a startled cry and shudder all over. The firm thrust broke his struggling mind and libido as Tracer came, squirting his cum over his belly and the mats. His eyes fluttered vacantly as he fell to his knees, just to get caught by Dva. He grinned smugly at the stunned speedster, one arm holding him up around the neck while the other brought his glove down to his cock. Tracer was starting to go soft, but that quickly reversed when Dva’s glove grabbed his dick between its mitt and thumb.

“Don’t tell me you’re going down already, champ. Why don’t you stay up for a couple more blows?” Dva purred into Tracer’s ear.

He kissed and nibbled along his neck and muscled shoulders, not that his muscles did much for him now. Tracer just panted and moaned, helpless in his grasp with any remaining strength sapped away by the gloved handjob. Feeling Dva grinding against his toned bubble butt just made it more humiliating and arousing until Tracer was moaning like a bitch in heat rather than a practiced boxer. He shivered once again, easily milked by the dominant gamer and shooting his load over Dva’s glove. The Korean boy grinned and finally let go, letting Tracer crumble to the mats like a ragdoll. He moaned as his eyes rolled and his own cum soaked into his skin. Between the beating, exhaustion and orgasmic bliss, he finally passed out with Dva planting a boot on his chest in triumph.

“Not bad for a first timer, huh?” he boasted to himself, flexing one arm and kissing the bicep.

He had a last minute idea and went back to his corner, fetching his cellphone for one more big finish. He sat down on Tracer’s face, his balls resting on the KOed loser’s face and boner poking out over him. He held up his phone and did the best peace sign he could with boxing gloves on as he jerked himself off on Tracer’s gawking, unconscious face. The selfie flashed, catching the moment his cum hit his opponent’s face as he stuck out his tongue with a winking “Nerf this!” for the camera.