Mule and Tyrone: The Strength Contest

Mule and Tyrone:  The Strength Contest
     (written by the Mule, edited by S Kane, artwork by Steve62Reeves)

(--Click on any picture to make it full sized--)

It took some planning, but finally the strength contest between Tyrone and the Mule came together.

Ty brought the chick that he had be conversing with from Tinder. Her name was Ursula.  Let's just say she had taken advantage of Myspace Angles in her Tinder images.

(http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=myspace+angle)

(Originating from the Myspace community, this term has come into common use to describe a style of photography used to make unattractive people appear attractive, often by positioning the camera at strange angles and using extreme close-ups in an attempt to hide fat and other undesired features from the camera and fool others into thinking the person really is attractive.)

As it turned out, she need not have bothered.  Ty liked big women. Hell, he liked all women but he liked big women best. Most women completely vanished underneath his bulk but he liked something he could feel underneath him. He never understood why most guys ignored them and went for the Barbie types. Still, that meant the big girls were almost always desperate to be humped and were therefore way more horny and vocal in the sack. He liked that.  And as far as Mule was concerned, Ursula looked magnificent, a veritable Rubenesque goddess.  Oversized and shapely tits rose defiantly on her chest.  100% real tits, calling out to be fondled and suckled! Her slightly flabby mid-section covered and cushioned some formidable abdominal muscles underneath that pushed out  as they tensed with anticipation. Mule knew from experience that while guys may be embarrassed to be seen out with a heavy chick like Ursula, that fat chicks are  like a moped, they may not look cool, but they can be fun to ride.

Tyrone also brought his workout partner, Jamal, along to act as spotter and judge/referee.  Jamal, like Tyrone, was a supreme physical specimen. Obviously these two pushed each other to their full genetic potential in the gym, day after day and week after week.   Jamal looked like he lived in the gym.

Tyrone for his part had let his hair grow out and was sporting some new dreds.  He was  still as swole as fuck.  A Nubian musclegod.  

The level of testosterone was heavily oppressive in the gym with  the three naked, musclebound musclemen showing off their massive fuckpoles and their muscle butts.  Their massive physiques bulged with muscle upon muscle.

Giggling like schoolgirls with oohs and ahhs, Jamal and Ursula marveled at Mule’s massive physique.  They asked to feel his biceps.  He obliged.  He could see Tyrone steaming with envy.  Mule was huge, he was good looking, and he had the total package: awesome size and height, perfect proportions and face.  Tyrone seethed.

For a few moments there was an awkward silence as both musclemen glared intently at one another.  Mule finally broke the tension by asking, “So, what’s new with you ... since the last time I saw you.”?”

"I’ve been in training even harder than usual. I’m going to show you’re not the cock of the walk anymore... humiliate you in front of everyone and knock the  arrogant shit out of you ..." Tyrone almost shouted....

“Easy sweet cheeks ...  Calm down.  You’re going to overheat and bust a blood vessel.” Mule laughed in response.


The Contest Part I :  The Bench Press

“We’re going to have three strength contests to determine who’s the stronger man.”-- Jamal said.

Tearing his eyes from Ursula, Tyrone directed his attention back to the two other musclemen. He wanted to pound her so badly it hurt, and Jamal felt the same way about the Blond warrior who had got his pulse racing, like no man, save for Tyrone, had done before.  But at the same time, Jamal was keen to see these two Titans go head to head.  Each contestant was trying to psych the other out by showing off their bodies to their best advantage without actually posing.

As Jamal outlines the contest, Ty stretches to scratch his shoulder, Mule can really see what a mountain of muscle this guy is. As he moves his arm, the huge balled bicep pushes the slab of chest muscle to one side and bunches it to a depth of six inches or more. His "little" buddy Jamal is not too shabby either with some mighty impressive guns

“The first contest will be the bench press and you each have a bench press set up ready.”

There were two bench press stations next to the two men.  The barbells on each were already loaded.  Each bar had 5 plates per side, plus clips, giving a staggering total of 500 pounds on each.    ‘500 lbs.-raw’: no bench shirts, no straps, no belts or wraps.  No jockstraps and no spotter.   Much more than any man other than maybe a few professional football linemen or elite power lifters would do on a bench press exercise.  But then, Mule was no mere man.  And neither was Tyrone.

From the look on his face, Tyrone didn’t appear to think this would take long. His massive muscles were a force of nature and his arms and legs in particular looked as powerful as hydraulic rams.

“You need to do each rep simultaneously.  Take your time so you stay together.  Whoever fails first loses this test.   Whoever loses two out of the three tests loses the contest,” Jamal instructed.

Tyrone nodded and had already turned and was moving to his bench press which was in a corner of the room. Mule didn’t have time to react and simply followed.

Each took up position on his respective machine.

Stretched out on the bench, the chests of both men were truly unbelievable in their size, bulging and rippling as they settled themselves. Tyrone confidently reached up and grasped his bar widely.  He positioned his upper body and twisted himself into a comfortable position on his bench.

Mule did likewise.

Tyrone took the initiative and started to push up on the bar,   Mule followed suit with a clang and a rattle from the stand as the incredible weights were hoisted off their mountings.  Both men’s tremendous bodies tightened into rippling mountains of muscle and the barbells swayed slightly in the air.

Jamal and Ursula came together to watch as the wide “V” backs of the two muscle giants tightened and thickened with the effort of pressing the bar upwards.  Seeing all of this muscle power in action was turning them on even more. Ursula looked the men over. She hadn't seen so much muscle before in one room. She'd happily take any of them. Jamal felt the same way!

Jamal’s eyes were fixed now on Tyrone. He watched as he slowly, very slowly lowered it, inhaling all the air he could. His chest was expanding. The bar kissed the middle of his pecs and in the same motion he began to raise the mighty weight.

A fraction of a second behind, Mule also lowered his bar down to his chest. His pec muscles also bunched and rose to meet the bar.  Jamal’s loins lifted in appreciation of the display of muscle and power exhibited by both of these musclegods.

Both men’s backs tightened further and their latissimus dorsi hardened, rippling with power.  The definition of their back muscles would have blown anyone away.  Just insane muscle. Jamal bit his lip, trying to stay focused on being a good referee.

Arms rippled; chests quivered; lungs froze; eyes squinted.  And finally, they both exhaled and with great control, raised the bar back upward, as they did so, the lats of both men flared wide once again, and two enormous “V” shapes dominated the gym.

They began to lift in unison

Jamal heard Ursula groan and he knew exactly where she was coming from: to see one perfect specimen applying the power of his muscles in this way was awesome but to have two doing it in competition was truly spectacular.

For an instant he was jealous. He knew that Ursula was driven wild by Tyrone’s size and power, and would choose to be fucked by him any day. He himself wasn’t sure where his admiration for the big man ended and lust for him began.

The second rep was just as methodical, just as powerful.  And the third was the same.  Neither muscle monster seemed to have any problem at all lifting this unheard-of weight.  It truly was a muscle show to end all muscle shows.  

But on the fourth rep, Mule noted that he was having to slow down to match his pace with Tyrone’s.  The dark giant seemed to be tiring!  He had to take a few loud breaths before he attempted the fifth rep, and Mule could hear him struggling slightly.

By the sixth Tyrone’s arms were covered with sweat. Drops ran like rivers along his paper-thin skin, following the crisscrossing veins of his forearms. He finally raised the bar fully. The plates trembled on the bar when they approached the maximum height. His face was showing strain now as he raised it, and his breathing was louder too. Now he was nearly shouting as he inched the bar higher. The weights were trembling on it, hitting each other. At the end of this rep, he paused for a second.

But on the seventh rep, it ended.  Tyrone was straining hard. His head was shaking a little, his jaws clenched to the max, his teeth visible. The man was now screaming in order to find the ultimate strength. The bar was rising slowly. All the muscles of his body were totally flexed. He moaned and hissed loudly as he pulled, writhing and quivering.  He could only get the bar midway up.  He froze there, unable to force it any farther.  He wrestled with it-- his huge arms struggling with rippling effort.  He must have held the bar in that position for five or six seconds, unwilling to admit defeat.  But it was to no avail.  Jamal jumped in, helping Tyrone wrestle the bar onto the supports.

Mule, although not on a picnic of any kind, had been handling the weight okay and the fact that his opponent was weakening had given him added impetus.

He had in fact stopped while Tyrone’s huge muscles had battled against the iron dead weight. Now, with Tyrone done, in a slow, slow motion he raised the bar above his head. His eyes were following the bar as it rose. When his arms were totally straight, he lowered his head forward and began to lower the bar. All the motion was in control. His power was ultimate, not showing any trace of tiredness. His huge lats flared on the side, growing in power. No one else in the room was moving. They were totally mesmerized.

Mule felt his cock stretch even more. Each rep was accompanied by a loud shout, guttural and harsh. Finally,  he heaved the bar onto the supports with a loud clang. Mule had completed the repetition handily-- if not with ease.  He wanted to conserve his energy for the next test of strength.  Otherwise, he could have done another.

He moved his mighty leg over the bench and faced the others. He took the white towel which was hooked over the stand and put it on his large chest. He wiped the sweat from his huge pecs and did the same with his arms as he began to walk towards Jamal and Ursula. He threw the towel on the ground. Pumped from the exertion, his arms were incredible. They were fully flexed now, totally pumped. His body was not showing any trace of fat. He was so big and at the same time so lean. His chest was amazingly thick.

Mule turned and looked at Tyrone, who was leaning forward, panting.  Mule hid any sign of satisfaction or smugness.  He knew this was far from over.  Tyrone recovered and stood as well.  The satisfaction Mule got from his win on the bench press contest remained hidden as he found himself standing next to the larger giant once again while Ursula and Jamal congratulated Mule on his win.

Mule glanced again at Tyrone, who didn’t return the look.

“Impressive…” Jamal continued, “…let’s see how strong your legs are.”

Mule’s felt an unaccustomed flash of self-doubt.  If there was one area of Tyrone’s body that was particularly intimidating it was that pair of redwoods that comprised his legs.  Mule found himself looking down at Tyrone’s legs again, and yes-- it was confirmed; those babies were big.  Tyrone now allowed himself to look at Mule, and a very slight smile formed at the corner of his lips.  If Mule had to concede anything, it was that this gorilla had him beat in the leg department. Man, those legs were as thick as most men's waists. Mule's mouth just may had finally written a check that his ass couldn't cash.  Tyrone just stood there sneering.

Continued in "The Contest Part II :  Squats"

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