When I moved to Boulder. I got a great deal on a Condo. It was a bank repo. About a week after I moved in, I spot this smoking hot blonde chick that conveniently lives two doors down. When I say hot, I mean she was fine by MULE STANDARDS, so an eleven on the charts of you mere mortals. She is in her early twenties, with 44DD titties mounted on a tight fucking frame. The kind of breasts that could suckle an entire orphanage. She was as stunning from the back as she was the front, especially when she bent down to pick up some mail she had dropped. You could bounce quarters off her ass, large enough that I could palm them in my giant hands, not the flat boards most of the white chicks sport. As soon as I see her I know I got to smash that…and since I am the Mule, you are talking about a fait accompli!
As a public service, I gave any neighbors a free gun show of a double-bi
flex -popping those swole nearly 20” artillery pieces, so that eyes would be popping out of their sockets in the neighboring condos. You got to establish your dominance early when you move into a neighborhood. The cut off the shorts provided a clear view of my 28” quads, chiseled into those teardrops that bitches unfailingly lose their minds over… I turn and do a reverse double-bi, this time showing off my undulating lats that would merit choppy sea warnings, and a pair of balloon bubble glutes, that I am extremely and deservedly proud of.
So on the flimsy pretext that I was doing laundry and ran out of soap; I head on over with an empty whey protein cup and ring the bell, ready to use the "Hey I’m your new neighbor and I was wondering...."-routine. Actually, Home Depot wasn't even bringing the washer and dryer until the next day, but the bitch didn't know that and once she got a good look at me, she wouldn’t care. So she answers the door, takes one look at me, and starts frothing at the gash. She had fallen fast and hard!!! I sniffed deeply and could smell her pussy getting wetter than someone standing under Niagara Falls. She's gushes "OMG it’s like you’re photoshopped"…and I know I am in like Flynn.
I “humbly” scuff my right knuckles over my bouncing pecs and seeing that my laundry ruse is completely unnecessary, I respond "Thanks, babe. Nice tits. Look I just moved in two doors down, and you’re hot, and I’m hot, so want to fuck?" Guys like you would get slapped so hard with a line like that, that your face would be wobbling like Jell-O for a few minutes-but The Mule with all these muscular assets can AFFORD to be more direct.
She scanned my muscular frame hungrily and unconsciously she reached out with her hands and ran her fingers down the chiseled contours, exploring every cut, ridge and crevice of my physique like she was a blind woman reading braille. Across my muscular pecs her fingers roamed, like she had to measure the entire expanse with her fingertips. She squeezed my heavy pectorals like she was picking out melons at the market. Hard to blame her, my pectoral muscles hang tantalizingly off my chest like thick beef steaks, striated and solid, that got her so aroused her knees seemed to buckle a little. Then, her fingers traveled along every valley and ridge of my rippling washboard abs until she had arrived at her final destination.
She looked down at the bulge in my cut offs that looked like I was shoplifting a banana and two oranges from the fruit stand and she squeaks: "sure, come on in, muscles”. She tried to get her hands around my muscular arm to escort me in, but of course she couldn’t get them around so she just kind of hung on to the edge. I let my biceps bulge beneath her hand and her already dilated pupils widened into saucers. She was salivating and licking her lips like Pavlov’s Dog after hearing the bell, and it wouldn’t be long before her bells were all chiming like a church tower at Easter Turns out she was just as smoking hot with her clothes off, which were coming off as soon as we hit the foyer Both of us were horny as rabbits, at this point hotter than two mice humpin’ in a wool sock so we commenced with our humpin’ before we even got to the bedroom, and continuing from the foyer, across the living room, kitchen and finally the bedroom. Her magnificent tits slapping against my perfect pecs, and our loins merging in thrusts of glory.
I was surprised to discover that she has a much looser pussy than I am used to but my engorged penis is thick as a bottle as well as long in the shaft and I was still able to hit the sides. I thought maybe she had a kid recently or something like that, but it turned out she just had a lot of big dicks up there before me,(Likely named something like Jamal and Tyrone) Being stuffed with a huge dick (like over a period of months) actually will make a vagina looser than giving birth will. I have ruined many a pussy for the smaller dicked men that followed in my wake, so I know of what I speak. Anyway, I railed her with my donkey dick all night and hit it from every known angle, thrusting it in every hole known to man.
Turned out she liked bad boys with big muscles and big dicks; the badder and the bigger, the better. She was surprised when I told her I was a lawyer, she was more used to men whose only exposure to the law was as a defendant. She has had more dicks squirting into her than a urinal and as she put it, and in her experience a big dick = poor. Her philosophy held that the bigger the dick a guy has, the lazier he is. Not that she ever needed any of her lovers to pick up the tab: she was a trust fund baby, her family owned a ladder factory in Utah. I shattered many of her expectations, such that I raised the bar for her forever more.
So given the Mule is the archetype of her heart’s desire, she was a freak for what the Mule had to offer and it wasn’t long before like so many women before her, she was head over heels smitten with THE MULE. I was chill with that until I discovered she was a ticking time bomb. My first sign that something was amiss with her mind was the dog. She had this miserable little excuse for a dog. It was some kind of miniature poodle that was more sewer rat than dog. The thing was stupid as hell, and was not housebroken, Crazytown let that little furball shit all over her place and then would just leave it on the floor for a while. Little piles of shit everywhere. Sometimes she would put a Kleenex over the shit rather than pick it up, so there would be like a dozen Kleenexes on the carpet each covering up some shit. That should have been my signal to RUN!!!! However it was really great sex, I mean really, REALLY great sex, and you couldn’t beat the convenience, so I soldiered on heedlessly.
Turned out she was crazy, not crazy in a zany, free spirited sort of way-THAT- I could handle. No her crazy was horror movie style crazy, like she might turn into a stage 5 clinger and get all FATAL ATTRACTION on me because I liked some cute girl’s post on FB. Once a gal hits stage 5 clinger, and the crazed chick is maniacally scrolling through your phone texts each night, that story only ends one way, with her cutting off your dick while you are sleeping yelling “If I can’t have you NOBODY CAN”, So as excellent and as convenient as the sex was-I am rather ATTACHED to my cock. I decided to cool it down gently, because she lived so close and I didn’t want her blowing a gasket from Mule withdrawal symptoms. We went to friends with benefits quickly, then I completely friend-zoned her, and eventually I went to no contact.
I heard that a few months after I weaned her from my cock, she was seeing this dude Mike Z. I hadn't ever met the dude, but I had heard about him. He had got a free ride to play on the Offensive line at CU. He had tons of natural talent and god tier genetics (sounds like the Mule, eh?), but, unlike the Mule, he was lazy as fuck. He ended up quitting the team after six weeks because it was just “too hard” for him to get to practice. He partied every night, put on like a freshman 30, and flunked out at the end of his first semester. I hadn't heard about or thought about him until like a year later when I got a text from a lifting buddy that some dude named Mike Z. had broken my powerlifting record at one of the local gyms. My record had stood for 2 years with a
Which at a bodyweight of 260 made for a Wilks coefficient of 466.11 Points. This Mike Z. kid did 620/490/755 for a total of 1865 at a bodyweight of 315 so a Wilks of 471.28. I have to confess to you that it felt really bad man to see someone else’s name but MINE, go on that plaque, and I felt like going all HEY KOOLAID through the wall it was hanging on., I swore that this non-Mule record COULD NOT STAND, and that was all that I knew about the dude that was now banging psycho-chic.
|Mike Z showing his "freshman 30" and how he got it|
Fast forward to the long holiday weekend. I was going to be off on Monday, so I ended up getting to the gym late on Friday. Only to find to my chagrin that they were closing early that night. So I had a mere 60 minutes to:
A few sets of curls of 100lb dumbbells
shoulder press 120`s
dumbbell bench with 150`s
And then jerk-off my lifting boner and leave the gym
They usually let me stay late but the closer dude had something he had to do after work so I decided there was no way around it, The Mule NEEDED to get a key to the gym so I could stay late that night, and any other night I fucking needed it. Well at first I tried the peaceable way, I politely asked the manager dude and he was an asshole about it. Guess it was going to be the MULE way, a lot less peaceable and a whole lot more fun. So I offered to wrestle him for one. He had been on my case about using calk to dead lift, so we put a bet together quick. I had no intention of being beat by this chump, so I was easy on granting his side of the terms.
Since the closer dude had left, the manager and I had the place to ourselves and got right to it. The manager teaches the kickboxing, class but since that’s all women and biznASS men I figure he don't really know shit. Turns out he was a little tougher than I was figuring on... but the Mule likes a challenge, and to make a long story short- I still got my key. He mostly used his kicks on my big legs to slow me down... tried to dead leg me figuring once he had my legs stiff and cramped up then
Driving home my legs were throwing fits like I had done DOUBLE LEG DAY. Still I had obtained my objective, and dominated an athletic male in the course of the my quest- so all In all a pretty sweet victory, and I recover pretty quickly... guess I get that from football... it’s like being in the equivalent of a car wreck on Saturday, but you’re back at practice on Monday. Sure my legs were black and blue by the next morning and sore over the long weekend-but I BEAT the motherfucker, and that lasts longer than the pain. Like the expression goes, pain is temporary, glory is forever, and chicks think scars are cool.
|I just went to my jeep in my tighty whites|
I am virtually at my jeep when my neighbor’s door opens and out runs her miserable little almost-a-dog with this ox-the size of a mountain lumbering behind him.... oddly enough the Jolly Green was also in tighty whites.
I pull the standard bro play when something weird happens and give a nod and a grunted "sup?" and he gives the expected nod back… it deflects the awkwardness ‘cause obviously we didn’t expect, in our nearly naked states, to run into anyone else, much less each other. Obviously this is Mike Z and it clear he knows from my rep around the neighborhood, that he just encountered THE MULE.
We instinctively size each other up, as always happens when alphas encounter another alpha (and potential rival). He is obviously impressed by my chiseled as fuck body- and he is not the sort to be easily impressed by another guy. I must confess I was also impressed, not by the quality of his physique but the quantity....I did gasp a “damn” at his gargantuan mass. Mike is a legit 6'5 maybe 6'6" and 315 lbs. - just as billed. So while both of us are Titans, I stand like Thor, with a defined godly physique and he is a giant relying as much on his sheer mass, as on his muscle. Both of us filled our tighty whites in an impressive fashion.
|6'6" 315 lbs|
|Mike Z clad in his tighty whites|
At this point I am turning green in HULK SMASH anger, my vascular muscles bulging and straining against my skin as I fume "That wasn't a question, you stupid Sasquatch!"
Now Mike by virtue of his size and bulk, had only faced empty challenges for years, and expected me like so many others before me, to stroll away in shame and humiliation. And fueled by the arrogance of such experience, he derisively snorted "You gonna make me?”
And he heard words he had not heard in many years: "I, sure as fuck, am..."
We square up to throw hands, this fight is now on, and nothing short of total submission will do. Two giants circling each other, clad in nothing but our Hanes briefs. The body goes into overdrive during the onset of a fight, adrenaline, norepinephrine, testosterone and a rush of endorphins create a state of excitement, arousal, and euphoria in the combatants. Both of our giant cocks swelled against our Hanes. Still while Mike’s body geared up for battle, his pea-brain had not quite accepted this was all really happening. His face contorted into a mixture of concentration and surprise. Was I really going to challenge him?
He was clearly out of practice brawling because he telegraphed his rush and walked right into my famous five punch combo. For those not familiar with this destructive whirlwind, it consists of a right hook to the jaw, a left jab to the jaw, a right thrust of my iron fist to the abs, and a wrecking ball left smash to the ribs followed by the coup de grace of a right uppercut. Nearly all who have encountered its full fury if they were still conscious, were striking their colors and hoisting the white flag from what prone position they landed in.
I encountered two things during my fiendish assault. My first surprise was when I hit him in the gut and my hand sunk through the blubber up to my wrist before connecting with what I had not foreseen, a muscular wall that felt like I was hitting armor plate. Looking back, I should have expected with a 755 deadlift he was going to have some bricks under that fat layer
My second surprise was he was still conscious, and my fists were throbbing in pain. He must have an iron jaw.
He gave his gorilla sized head a shake, cracked his thick football player neck, and rubbed his lantern jaw while he spat out some blood and gave me a red tinged smile. "That was NICE...”- he said mockingly “but this is gonna be nicer... ‘Cuz it’s MY TURN. You get to sample MY strength as I beat you to a pulp... I easily weathered your five punch combo, now let you show you MINE- I am not going to bring you to your knees, I am going to fucking send you to the hospital.
He was playing with me like he was Muhammed Ali in the ring although he looked more like Joe Frazier, he was circling and feigning attacks as he landed insult after insult trying to work me up to a bestial rage so he could play me for a sucker and pound me like he was tenderizing steak. “Let me show you the power of a SUPERIOR male, just as I took your record, I am going to take every ounce of pride you possess” shuffle, feint, smile,” He was showing himself to be far more dexterous than I had imagined. "I’m not just going to defeat you... I am going to beat and humiliate you....by the time I am finished you won’t feel worthy of using the Men’s bathroom!"
Mike put his hands up in the classic boxer stance as he bounced on his feet back and forth. He faked a few jabs then I rushed in to wipe that smug off his face, but this time it was he who was lying in wait and his big fist lasered in on my jaw like one of them smart bombs…. It hit my jaw like a sledge hammer on an anvil… and sounded like a gun shot when it landed. I felt like my handsome head was gonna fly off my shoulders.
I heard him holler "ONE!!" over the bells ringing in my ears and star shaped flashes obscured my vision so it I could not see his big fist winding back. I was still seeing stars when I heard "TWO!!!!" and a blurry massive fist appeared suddenly before my face and there was another CRACKKK as my head flew to the side and my body with it, so I guess my head was still attached....
I tried to maneuver away from the punishment, but my sore legs from the fight with the gym manager came into play and I couldn’t move out the way in time, I felt like I was powerless to move and too stunned to defend myself with my arms, It was like I had become his personal punching bag, and was helpless before his rain of blows.
"THREE!!!!!!" and both my legs left the ground and I went flying following my head... only thing that stopped me from going into orbit was my back hit my jeep... I felt like my head was underwater and I really could not understand the torrent of taunts he unleashed along with the punches. My head was spinning and I could barely see his fist flying toward me like a high speed train as I managed to make out of the cacophony of warbling sound, his cry of FOUR! Then came the sickening crash of the impact of his fist, and the blow resounded through my body from head to toe. I felt my legs start to give out from underneath me.
I was so punch drunk that I never heard him say the "FIVE" for the next punch, but instead I felt the blow and suddenly was going up in the air apparently headed for the Moon. I realized I was suddenly jerked back and was finding my battered and semi-conscious body moving up and down, and it was only on the fifth iteration, that I realized in an impressive show of raw power, this gorilla was overhead pressing the wreckage of my 260 lb. muscular body. From an altitude of nearly 10’ I heard "BOMBS AWAY" as I was body-slammed on the hood of my own jeep. I hit that fucker so hard my body left an impression on my hood and I later ended up getting the hood replaced after making up some bullshit story for the insurance company. The slam stunned me, but I still vaguely realized the big lug was wedging my feet at the windshield wipers and had my torso hanging limply down in front the grill. I knew the contorted state well from inflicting it on a number of adversaries, I was in a fucking "tree of woe" hanging upside down on the grill of my jeep.
I had regained enough of my senses to start and do a hanging sit up to get out of the tree of woe, but the giant ape was having none of it, and he put his left paw forcibly into the center of my chest and stopped me....Mike then took his right index finger and sensually outlined each cut-as-diamonds muscle of my chiseled abs. Clearly he was fascinated by and admiring of the extraordinary physique that he now had at his mercy. At least there was a brief reprieve from the beatdown!
I can understand how he was hypnotized by their perfection. I am justifiably extremely proud of my abs. I got numerous compliments on them. Imagine ridges so deep I can wedge coins in them... after I jack off I let my spuzz flow through the creases of my 8 pack-using ‘em as "cum gutters"... His admiration for my sculpted abs turned into angry envy, as his brow darkened again “You like your abs, huh Mule?" he said, and punctuated the statement by slugging me once in the gut. He hit me so hard that my diaphragm screamed in agony and the shock wave shot up through my trachea and poured out as a traumatic grunt. The punishment had resumed- Mike delivered seven more battering blows-for an eight count, one for each hard abdominal muscle that I had spent years perfecting.
"You," he grunted in between blows, "are... gonna... be... my... BITCH!" Each of his staccato grunts was matched by an even louder one from me. I felt like my body had been broken on the wheel. Once I was totally wrecked he stepped back... grinned down on the helpless ruin of the Mule that lay utterly at his mercy. He pulled his tighty whites down and put the elastic under his ball sack and thrust his fists into the air in triumph as he showed me his fucking hard cock as if to declare the supremacy of his manhood and his utter victory by such a display.
Clearly he was nearly as well-endowed as I was Then as if to add insult to injury he let his massive python sway back and forth before my eyes, as if to let me soak in the reality of my humiliation… bitter as was the state of affairs, I had to admit his engorged manhood was an impressive sight. His horse cock was almost as long as my own 9"-er and as thick as a beer can, no wonder that crazy neighbor chick told her friends that it hurt as much as mine... but in that moment, I didn't really look at his manhood as anything but a weapon against me . As if to illustrate this, He steps forward, and uses his rock hard cock as a club as he bitch slaps me across the face so hard with it that my lips begin to swell and bled.
Then like a cat predatorily playing with his dinner, he stroked the palms of his hands slowly across my sweaty and blood- soaked pecs and down my long, rippled abdomen. From my upside down view I could see the concentration, cruelty and craving on his face as his hands slid wetly up and down my torso . The fight or flight part of my brain had clicked on at initial stare down, and now my warrior boner was fully engaged, my own tighty whites tented as my cock swelled unbidden-reacting to the fight hormones. I was as hard as an iron pipe! It angered me that he would see this, draw the wrong conclusion, adding only more to his sense of triumph and more to the flow of serotonin, adrenaline and testosterone through my body.
Abruptly, he lifted his hands. Locking his gaze with mine he smiled devilishly he slowly curled the fingers of his massive right hand into bear-like claws. Finally, he plunged his right claw down into the sculpted abdomen beneath him whispering that “my victory won’t be complete until I make you BEG for it to end!” .
The fat bastard was salivating like a rabid hound, as he pressed the bear like crush, the right hand dug down to his middle into my abdomen as his left arm was swung over to support my weight My abdomen was on fire with the excruciating pang and I could see the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he intensified the torture....digging into my internal organs as he penetrated what I always imagined to be my indestructible abs....he just kept digging deeper like he was gonna rip my goddamn liver out .... My hips bucked up and down. My legs kicked aimlessly, my body almost wiggled entirely out of his control as I frantically defied every raw nerve in my body that at this point was demanding that I submit to the inevitable and end this agony. I was being crucified on the hood and grill of my jeep.
I felt an energy of sheer determination welling up from some buried corner of my being. No doubt the product of the high levels of combat hormones saturating ever part of my body. It was as if I was Popeye being handed spinach at the very threshold of obliteration. My bright red abdominal muscles rose and fell quickly as I breathed deeply, trying desperately to recover. My tormentor was oblivious to the transformation coming over me and felt secure in his ultimate victory. . To his understanding, all resistance had ceased and he brought his hands up behind his head lacing his hands on the back of his neck and popping off his 22" fatceps while he cooed for me to beg for this all to be over. His cock was unmistakably hard, straining the very tensile strength of his tighty whites.
Not hearing me utter the expected words, Mike lost patience again and stepped in to resume the savage assault, when he leaned in, like the stupid ape he was, and foolishly came within range of my counterattack. He was caught completely off guard when my knees kicked up off the car, something he figured I was incapable of at this stage. I caught his big gorilla head between my 28" quads of death. His head was caught like a car at the junk yard being caught between the vice-blades of a car crusher. I exerted so much force, that I felt I was about to crack his thick skull open, but he bellowed like a bull being castrated and staggered back. I grabbed the bumper as he did, and with my new found leverage I was able to drop him to his knees. He started to pound his two big fists desperately at my legs and once again the bruises from the fight the Friday before came into play and I released my leg scissors.
"That's going to cost you," I snarled, rubbing abs. For the first time since our combat began, I saw him shake his big stupid head trying to regain his senses as he rose unsteadily to his feet. I seize the opportunity and throw my shoulder-first football style block blow into Mike. He's jarred, his face droops into a particularly oafish expression as if a number of circuits are down, and I grabbed him around the waist and executed a belly-to-belly soup lay, his 315 lbs. bulk smashing into the concrete with a huge thud. Using my athleticism, I monkey flip to my feet. You can hear Big Mike's labor breathing as he struggles to his feet. The big fucker is gassing out. Those big muscles require a lot of oxygen and fuel to function and his vast stores fat just doesn’t burn quickly enough, to be of assistance. The light comes on in my Mule brain as I realize all I got to do is drain his tank, he has no endurance! His big barrel chest and thick belly were already heaving as he is tried to get some air back into his lungs.
I flung my right arm back like Thor reaching for his hammer Mjölnir; as the God was reborn before his terrified, moronic slack-jawed visage. Mike desperately pounded a few solid shots to my exposed abs. This time, I was ready, and despite the pain, I was able to flex my abs into a wall of rock just before the blows landed so that they did little more than vibrate my mid-section. Yeah, with each passing moment it became clearer that the out of conditioned fat muscle fuck was weakening already. My arm had remained raised and I curled my fingers into a mighty fist and brought the hammer down, slamming deeply Mike’s traps. As Mike rose, I caught him with a couple of hard blows to the kidneys. Then I hit him with a roundhouse right into his abs that totally doubled him over.
He fell to his knees as he wretched, almost vomiting onto the concrete. I stepped into him with a leg-lift that straightened him up just enough for me to let out a roar and connect with a right to the top side of his head. Mike's body seemed to turn instantly to jello. The blow had hurt him badly. I knocked the fight right out of him. For the first time in the fight I saw fear in his eyes, and it was sheer terror. He living up to his rep as a pussy and a quitter when the going gets rough.
He was on all fours looking up at me with pathetic, pleading, tear filled eyes. . Smilingly victoriously, I struck a front double bi of triumph in front of my fallen, humiliated opponent. "Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and you don’t look so formidable after all. Save yourself more punishment and admit your defeat at the hands of the Mule..." I demanded. Lacking the fortitude and determination of the Mule, he caved like a house of cards. A couple hammer blows by an opponent had turned his victory into the ashes of defeat. I waited for my battered and dazed rival to rise so I could continue to brutalize him. "Come on and get up Mike, I’m just starting to punish you...I'm not going to just defeat you, I am going to annihilate you, the way you sought to destroy me" But there was no more fight left in him, a stripe of yellow metaphorically rose like the mercury of a thermometer up his back as his hauteur gave way to utter cowardice. For the first time in his miserable life, he had met his comeuppance. It had not taken much to turn this bully into a pansy, never having been challenged to work thru adversity, he was not only physically defeated but mentally demoralized. His once mighty cock grew as flaccid as the rest of his body, as his emasculated brain signaled his body to be awash with estrogen.
"Ugnnhh…Please...no more...you win... I got nothing left, I can't even get up, you have beaten me...." he sobbed like a baby between the puppy dog whimpers of his pleas for mercy.
“Dayum, if I had known it would turn into a wuss that easy I would have toyed with him some more," I think. I enjoyed humiliating and destroying this huge beast. "Get well Mike" I tell him "I am looking forward to another sparring session with you!
"In the meantime, don't forget to clean up that dog shit." as I pointed to the pile still by my door. Still on all fours, he fretfully watched my massive back recede as strutted to the door of his condo, pulled my tighty whites down in the back, squat and take a dump on the doorstep of their unit. Pointing to the log I left on the porch, I smiled and said: "And you can clean that up while you are at it...."