Patron Reward: Monster Prom Swap Bopped (Patreon)

I did a short compilation as a reward a while back of what if Monster Prom, but everybody was genderswapped and into boxing. Got the loose request of a Vera run (the medusa, and my general fav), so decided to mess with the game's format a bit in writing this loosely related storyline. In case you didn't know it, the games keep making you choose between two options where you need to pick the one that best matches your highest stat, with each choice raising or lowering your stats depending on a lot of shit.

I haven't played it in a good few months, but really should get back into playing the Monster ___ games again. Just tend to be so busy or unfocused I don't know if I'm ready to commit to a long streak of reading some good-ass jokes.

You spend your morning wandering the halls, hoping some randomly generated event would happen to you to help kickstart your love life.  As fate would have it, that’s exactly what happens as you come upon Verran and Paulie talking by their lockers.

Paulie: “And that’s how I killed a guy and got disqualified!”

Verran: “Pathetic. I hate when sticklers find reasons like that to stop the fun.”

Pauline: “Oh not because of that. Just from how I did it. Apparently you need to be corporeal when you fight somebody. And we all know that I only use my ghost bod for drugs and fuckin’, and even I barely understand how I pull that off.”

Paulie is dressed like a beach bum as usual, all muscles and charmingly light facial hair on his blue skin. Verran was a gorgon, tall and fit and hot as hell. His green skin was paler than his serpentine hair, and his carefully maintained body filled his business attire nicely.

Paulie: “Which is why you should totally join up! You’re corporeal all the time.”

Verran sniffed and thinks about it.

Verran: “I suppose that IS on my resume… what do you think?”

You realize the green hunk has noticed you standing too close to smell his snaky hair! What are they even talking about!? Think fast if you want to score any brownie points here!

>you chose “It sounds like a nice way to make a quick buck.” Verran approves!

Verran: “It does, doesn’t it? Okay. I’ll meet you at the gym tonight, Paulie.”

The two of cool monsterdudes excuse themselves. You weren’t invited, but now that you’ve endorsed it, you feel obligated to investigate…

---

You head to the gym just as school’s closing up for the night. You see Paulie go underneath the bleachers and pull a gigantic lever that opens a secret passage. You’d seen it plenty of times before, but somehow you never thought to pull it. So that’s what it does…

You follow the guys down at a safe distance, making sure you’re out of sight in case you weren’t invited. You hear rowdy shouts and a lot of leathery thuds. You descend the secret staircase and find the rumored secret boxing ring hidden in the sub-basement! It makes sense that they’d keep it a secret. The sports they expect you to play in gym class are way too violent to stick to as many rules as something as complicated as boxing.

Not that they’re sticking to very many. You see a cyclops and a barlog gloved up and going at it in the ring with a bunch of other students cheering, betting or calling next. The fight goes on a few more seconds before the cyclops catches a black eye that knocks him silly. With his one good and only good eye swollen up, he’s quickly put down. You spot Verran and Paulie quickly from there, with Verran collecting bets from the other students. Once again, his steely red eyes pick you out of the crowd.

Verran: “Oh. It’s you again. Did you come to fight or to bet?”

Paulie: “Please. They don’t look like they’re Bold to get in the ring with some rando.”

That’s true. You’re not strong enough to take on someone strong enough to take out a named NPC. Maybe a background character, but not a heavy hitter like them. You should make yourself useful to change the subject.

>you chose “Why not fight for yourself, Verran? That way you can control who wins the fights.” Verran approves!

The serpentine stud looks pleasantly surprised by your idea.

Verran: “Now there’s an interesting thought! I could throw my fights or sabotage opponents to play the odds to the max. You’ve got some good ideas, player.”

Verran: “I better make sure I’m not too rusty… I’ve been relying on corporate subterfuge and poison for too long. Why don’t you meet me here tomorrow morning so I can get in some practice?”

It feels like a loaded question. On the one hand, Verran is way bigger, stronger, and more popular than you are. Even in a spar, they’d be a hell of a challenge. On the other hand, you’d probably see Verran with his shirt off…

You: “I’ll see you there!”

Verran: “Perfect. Don’t be late and make me come drag you there myself.”

At least he’s looking forward to seeing you…

---

You head into the gym right on time, well before class and dressed in the trunks, sports top and boxing gloves that Verran had left at your house. You’ve learned to stop knowing how the manipulative medusa knows so much about everyone at Monster High. You go to the secret ring and are blown away when you see the shirtless green go-getter waiting for you. He’s in dark blue trunks and black and gold gloves that match his boots. For a rich boy, Verran has always been a busybody and a workaholic. It shows in how absolutely ripped he is, from his broad pecs and sculpted pecs to his rounded biceps. You’re surprised the assorted snake tails that make up his hair aren’t buff!

Verran: “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s get physical.”

Verran has a way to make even threats sound seductive. You blush as you crawl your way in through the ropes.

>you chose “Come out swinging!” Not so bold! :(

With Verran’s invitation, you decide to try and impress him. You take a few shuffling steps, imagining you’re doing some sort of footwork before you come at the gorgon goon. You pelt him with a few clean body blows, making his pecs bounce as they ripple through his body.

It would probably be more impressive if they hurt Verran at all. Your gloves bounce off his tight muscles as his red eyes stare you down. He keeps a gloved hand on his hip, watching you with a slowly forming smile.

Verran: “My turn.”

Verran shifts his boots across the mat with what must be what actual footwork looks like. He throws his full weight into a gut-busting punch, clobbering you in the guts so hard that you’re lifted off the mats. It feels like his glove goes right through you, but you double over and can see the black leather crushing into your tummy. You crumble back to your shaky feet, clutching your stomach and stumbling to try and stay upright.

Verran: “Silly little punching bag. I brought you here to fight, not to dance. At least you’re trying to make yourself a moving target now.”

You’re too winded to make a narrative choice, let alone reply. Verran finds another use for your mouth as a glove holder as he socks you right in the kisser. Your head snaps away from his punch, guided around by his gloves as they start striking you faster than you can register. The stings are dulled by the numbness it shoots through your brain, and the surprising tingle they send from your dazed head right to your groin.

Verran hits you with a huge hook that sends you spinning completely around. You spiral like an out of control top before you flop over backward, draping your arms over the ropes to accidentally catch yourself. You drape there like a scarecrow and seem to be just as capable as one when it comes to boxing. Verran hooks a gloved hand underneath your chin, lifting your listing head up to face his handsome visage.

“About as effective as a heavy bag… but at least you look better than one.”

Even in your knocked silly state (or maybe even because of it), Verran’s backhanded compliments make you blush harder than usual. He still doesn’t hesitate to unleash a barrage of punches into your chest, hitting you hard and fast to batter you back into the ropes. Your heart skips a beat between the sudden beating and the feel of Verran actually touching you, even if it’s through a couple inches of rough leather.

The gorgon slams you with an uppercut, catching your chin with his perfect bod and perfect form. It snaps your head up and back, breaking you away from the ropes and crumbling towards Verran. You fall to your knees, already seeing stars as you flop to the mats. You land face down and ass up, your stiff knees all that’s there to catch you. You groan and start trying to push yourself up as Verran starts counting you out.

Verran: “1… 2… 3… ugh, this is taking too long.”

The ever-efficient snakey stud grabs you by the hair and drags you up to your feet.

Verran: “How are we going to spend our quality time and get my reps in if you’re going to go down like some lazy loser? I’m going to get my mileage out of you if I have to tie you up just to keep you standing.”

You try to will yourself to fight back for Verran, but all your body seems to want to do is get turned on. One of the snake tails that make up Verran’s hair reaches out and loops loosely around your neck. The seductive stroke is especially deceiving as he wallops you with a firm straight to the face. You fly backward, just for the snake to reach its maximum length and bring you bouncing back into Verran. He has another punch waiting for you, pounding you back and forth in front of him like a living tetherball.

You’re left rebounding off punch after punch until you come bouncing back and the thick strand of hair releases you. You go flopping at him like a limp puppet, but he doesn’t have a glove coming at you this time. Verran just raises an arm and flexes, leaving you to land pathetically on his bicep. It’s even hard enough as he flexes that your face is jarred by the impact like it’s another headshot.

Verran: “If you’re just going to stagger around and moan, I’m not even going to need my gloves for this one. Maybe I’ll save it for a real opponent.”

Verran flexes his bicep, bouncing you on the muscly mound. It tosses your limp head and neck around casually until your drooling face leaves a clear stream running down his arm. When your head tips over to face Verran, his hair starts to writhe. Several of its serpentine strands rise up and strike out at you, jabbing you with their blunt tips. Even his hair is able to beat you senseless in your weakened state, knocking you around without even raising a glove. The last one whips up at you for another miniature uppercut, jarring you into dropping off Verran’s bicep. You drop into him again, flopping over with your arms draping over his broad shoulders. Your head rests on his chest, moaning for all sorts of reasons. You’re so exhausted that you can’t help but appreciate his muscled body holding you up. Even if it’s the source of all the soreness and dizziness you’re feeling.

Verran: “Pathetic. I’m barely even breaking a sweat.”

Still, Verran smiles and runs one of their gloves over your side. After your one-sided beatdown, any affectionate touch feels amazing right about now.

Verran: “You do know how to stroke an ego, though. Since you’re clearly so into this, I think I can spare you a little favor… but only because it’s part of the practice session. Ready for something a little more… intimate?”

You’re willing to accept the small favor. Hell, you’d accept anything from Verran at this point. You’d accept being his personal stool to sit on between matches!

Verran does the next best thing and nails you between the legs with a sudden knee. You groan and lean harder into his beefy body as your gloves go right to your groin. It pulses with pain, but much like the rest of your body, the aches fade into a pleasant throbbing. You find yourself rubbing there longer than you really need to as you groan by Verran’s ear. He smirks and smashes a black glove into the same spot. Your own clingy gloves are way too weak to stop him as he hammers your junk, sending another shocking burst of painful arousal through your system.

Verran: “Another weak spot… you’re just made of weak spots though, aren’t you? Or is it that I’m your weakness?”

The sexy snakeboi grabs your neck, tucking and squeezing you in a headlock between his big pecs and bicep. It’s a beefy little piece of heaven as he holds you close and bends you over to keep rapidly punching your crotch. It starts to feel like he’s going gentler on you, but that may just be your kinky body starting to enjoy it. The repeated blows make the glove grind and bump into your goods as if Verran’s trying to get in as many as he can before a referee spots him. There is none, of course, so it’s just for their own amusement in the end.

And yours, as it turns out. You find yourself trembling in what could be mistaken for a nauseating amount of pain but it’s closer related to your arousal soaking through the front of your trunks. You had always wanted to spend more time with Verran, but getting your ass beat and bullied by him has been a surprisingly welcome option. Maybe not THAT surprising, given that you knew what you were walking into, but the smell of his gloves and his sweat will haunt your dreams for years to come.

Verran drops to his knees for one final sucker punch to the junk. You babble out a few short, nonsensical syllables as you crumble to your knees in front of him. You start to drop when he catches your chin with the knuckle of his glove, making your gawking, eye-rolling face trail your drool over it like you’re his personal glove polisher.

Verran: “It’s been a while since I got to actually get my hands dirty… or my gloves, at least. I guess I have you to thank for reawakening my urges to put them to good use. Well done, my punchdrunk little pet.”

You at least manage to crack a smile before Verran lets you drop to the mats like an old towel, finally allowing you to black out into your orgasmic KO.

Verran still calls upon you every so often when they feel like practicing (or at least just wanting to hurt someone when they don’t have a match booked). He makes a small fortune, which goes nicely with his existing big fortune. And you… well, you don’t exactly have a date to the prom, but you do have a hot popular boy bully who will beat the stuffing out of you at the mere suggestion of it. And maybe it’s the horny concussion you received, but you’ve decided that’s what really matters.