Thursday, March 1, 2018

Mule vs The Dirtest Player in the League


Readers like you gave this story a rating of 3.8 Mules out of 5!

~Enrique Nieto Nadal~


Story by Mule, Edited by Editor Brah, Original Mule/Clipper Fight Pic by Enrique Nieto Nadal*


To appreciate this post, you will need to know a little about American Football:

The National Football League defines clipping as “the act of throwing the body across the back of the leg of an eligible receiver or charging or falling into the back of an opponent below the waist after approaching him from behind, provided that the opponent is not a runner.”

Clipping is a Personal Foul, a block from behind that is below the waist, that carries a 15 yards penalty. (Rule 12, Section 2, Article 1)  Clipping is one of the most dangerous, and potentially injurious penalties in football. Clipping has the potential to cause a wide variety of injuries to the player that is clipped. Some such injuries can be career-ending, and in some severe cases life-altering, as the player that is clipped is unaware of the incoming hit and thus has no time to physically prepare for the hit.



Every year Sports Illustrated conducts a poll of NFL players to make a list of the Dirtiest Player in the NFL.

********************************

"What the actual Fuck!!!"  I yell, as I throw my cell phone against the wall.  3rd phone I lost that way recently, and another hole in my wall to patch.  But I was justified in my anger.

That's the third one of my clients that asshole has sent to the hospital.  He took one out for the season. And his coach either can't or won't stop him. The subject of my rage has the nickname of  Clipper and that's what he does to other players in the game. He's already paid more in fines than most CEO's make in a year but he just goes on clipping. He actually enjoys injuring other players.

Clipper is a thug and a complete sack of shit.  Despite showing a lot of talent, he went undrafted out of college due to character concerns. Being busted for PED (steroid) use, didn’t help either.  But to his credit he came storming into the league as an undrafted free agent, and stood out as a first-year player for his aggressive play, as well as his ability to hit opposing players with near car accident level impact.  The rookie had the dubious achievement of being voted the no.1 dirtiest player in the league in the  Sports Illustrated NFL poll during his first year. He’s been fined eight times, suspended three times.  He talks trash, gets in everyone's face, and bends the rules as far as he possibly can.  Receivers hate playing him, he is notorious for targeting knees. and the fans of the team he's facing, hate him personally.  Even his own teammates straight-up hate him.  Just because a guy wears the same uniform as you, doesn't mean he has to be a friend. In a heated locker room fight he knocked a teammate out cold with a perfectly placed hook to the chin.  Less than a week later, he fought and KO'd the same team mate AGAIN.  The team mate wanted to run the fight back ... and redeem himself for takin' an L the first time around. But, the 2nd fight ended just like the 1st ... with a right hook by Clipper, sending his fellow player, crashing to locker room floor.





This will not stand! If the League and his team can't or won't do something about this asshole, then I will!




I am going to  need an ally to pull this off.  And I think I know the perfect one.  That Strongside linebacker that  had gone a mano-a-mano with Clipper and been knocked out twice for his efforts, is bound to still be holding a grudge.   Let's power up the trusty computer and dox that boyo.

Delashaun  BenJarvus Durousseau , hmmm, there are creoles named Durousseau back home in Louisiana, mostly around Ville Platte, shirley I can't be so lucky......




and BINGO, born Mamou, Louisiana. Played at Ole Miss...Well, looks like I will need to break out my best Bobby Boucher Cajun accent for this job.....I may have sounded more like Farmer Fran, at first!





********************************

In the  locker room, I pull the skin tight white football pants up and over my bulging jock, then reach back and pull the shining white spandex out of my  ass crack.

"You got a team jersey and helmet for me, brah?" I ask with my best cajun inflections.

Delashaun answered, and after a moment, I translated it as: " Yeah, man, but you're not playing football, bro — you're fighting a football player!"

" Nah fam, I'm not  fighting a football player, I am beating one up, with your help," I correct.

"Fuuuuk dude, you're stacked. I been in locker rooms most of my life with top tier athletes and even I'm impressed!  Even your muscles have muscles. No Homo!" Delashaun exclaims as he watches me changing into football gear.

"Thanks, bro!  That compliment means a lot  coming from a dude with your build!" I returned the compliment. Delashaun was down to his briefs getting dressed out for practice when I got there, so I got an eyeful of black muscle already.

Delashaun down to his briefs

Delashaun hands me a red cut-off football practice jersey. I examine it as I go over the plan with my ally.  "So y'all  arranged it so we just got Clipper and four brothers doing special practice now? That must have been some good bullshit you were selling.   And the four brothers are cool with this?"

Translated from the creole jumble mumble his response was: "Fuck yeah, all the brothers on this team fucking hate that racist white pretty boy,  uhh, no offense Mule.  We been waiting for someone to kick his ass.  You're chill, nigga.  Whoa, dude,  you look like  the incredible Hulk in a uniform.   I remember watching couple of Dook games on TV as a kid. You look even bigger than you did when you was playing Defensive End back in college. No wonder you didn't have any problem getting past security, you sure got the build of a football player.

Coach is in his office watching game film.   When I give the signal,  me and the other players will  step aside while you call Clipper out. Kick his butt and tell him why you’re doing it."

I smirk and nod.

"Cool," I say. “And I'm sure we are gonna to trash talk and shove each other around before the fight. You boyos not gonna try to jump in when we do, right?” I ask

Delashaun smirks, then shakes his head.  “Nah, they wouldn't piss on that crackah to put him out if he was on fire, so back to the fight — show off first, then show you’re not intimidated, then try to intimidate,” Delashaun says. “ then whip his ass.

Because If you lose, he’ll just go on clipping, probably even more than before, you know,” Delashaun says,

I shrug. “I won’t lose,” I  say, winking to my blog readers beyond the fourth wall of the story, as I clamp my right  hand on the impressive bulge at my crotch as I  continue to adjust my  bulge.  I bend down and begin to pull on my football shoes complete with cleats.

Ya'll are fightin’ in cleats?” a surprised Delashaun asks.

Yup,” I answer with a devilish grin. “That should hurt like hell.

I guess you’ll find out the minute he kicks you,” laughs  Delashaun.  "Just make sure he doesn't kick you in your big dick."

 I just grunt in response,

 I  pull the red   cut-off jersey over my head. The bottom ends just below my bulging pecs and above my rippling  muscled abs.  "Daymn, big fella.  Even your muscles have muscles...you could be a professional bodybuilder with a body like that...."  the admiring black athlete says with an appreciative whistle.

"Head out to the field.  I will let things settle down and come out in a halfa hour. " I answer, seemingly ignoring the compliment, although it made my cock twitch.

Exactly 30 minutes later, I come bursting  out of the  locker room and down the tunnel, helmeted head down, in red   cleats and a red   cut-off jersey  that showed  off my rock-hard  glistening abs.   I jog up to the field, shadow boxing on my way, passing the signs reading  "NO Access to  Field during Closed Football Practice".


As expected, the field is empty except for a small group of stretching football players — dressed in red jerseys and white spandex matching mine.

I jog quickly past the players on “my” team.  The players forget about their warm up at the impressive sight of the huge beast of a  mystery player, bulging muscles glistening with sweat, who has taken the field.   My heavily packed jock creates an impressive bulge under the skin-tight, white spandex football pants.   I dominate the playing field with just my presence, like a larger than life super hero!

"There's your man," Delashaun says, pointing to a compact, muscular blonde player stretching his legs on the field. “Call him out."  Thanks for pointing him out, Delashaun, like I wouldn't be able to pick out the only other white dude on the field, and reminding me why I'm here. 

I turn my back to "my teammates" in order to 'front' Clipper.  I clamp my bulge in my left hand and point at Clipper with my right, before turning the hand over and giving a “come here” gesture with his index finger. One hyper-masculine alpha male challenging another.

The excited  players let out an impressed, “Ewwwwwwww…” at the sight of one fighter calling out another.

"You’re gonna pay for clipping, you dirty muthafuking  punk," I  snarl at Clipper as I crack my knuckles.

Clipper looks up, more puzzled than confused. "What?!" He says, without a trace of fear  in his confident voice.

In a louder voice, I thunder: "I SAID I’m here to make you pay for your cheap clips, and I am going to break your nose while I’m at it!”  I raise my fists and begins bouncing on the balls of my feet to punctuate my promise.

Players begin taking off their helmets and form a circle around me and Clipper. Some of the players on the team start to snicker.

Clipper stands and faces me.

"Who the fuck are you, phaggot?!" Clipper shouts, his muscles tensing.

I swagger up to, but not over, the field’s halfway point and, facing Clipper.  I  raise my huge right arm, point at my bicep, then harden it as the players stare.  I flex a few times until I am displaying a 22" rock hard bicep with a mountainous peak so high, it looks like it should have a snow-cap.  




Then I turn and raise my left arm and flex that bicep till its as hard and big as a cannon ball.  Then I put my hands on the back of my helmet and flex my pec shelf before solidifying my sweat-slick eight pack. All eyes were on me, their eyes following my bouncing pecs up and down, their pupils like yo-yos. My bulging pecs dance and my abs turn into a wall of concrete blocks!




The brothers behind me  cheer and hoot as they high—five and slap ass at my astounding and audacious  display of muscle.

Clipper's eyes get  wider as he sizes up  this rival, then angrily raises his fists. I take a quick inventory of Clipper's glistening biceps and  heavily muscled stomach and his impressively stout, protruding pectoral shelf. My dick treacherously defected to Team Clipper and gave him a proper salute!





I quickly sized up the muscleman I had just called out. He was exceptionally well built, nearly my height and weight. He was in his mid-twenties, and wore a tight fitting red crop top, which, like my own, left no detail of his magnificent torso to the imagination. His huge chest, with massive bulging pecs, tapered to a slim tight waist. His pecs bulged and relaxed as he breathed deeply. His muscular thighs and buttocks were molded into his skin-tight spandex football pants. 


Clipper just stands there in red helmet, gleaming white pants that emphasised his impressive crotch bulge, and black cleats. His red jersey dangles from his shoulders and exposes his rippling, sculpted abs.  There is a hint of a smile on Clipper's lips as he sized me up. He instantly recognized that my physical development to be at least the equal of his if not better.   But as  impressive and as powerful as my mightily muscled physique was, Clipper was confident he was equally as muscled and at least as strong as me.  From the sudden shocked  silence of my cheering squad, it sounded like some others on the team held the same assessment.

Kick his ass, boyo!” yells one burly, dreadlock coiffed  brother, the loudest of the bunch. He slaps my  butt and pushes me forward. "Take him out, boy!" he shouts.

Clipper turns to face me. He sports two black squares painted below his eyes. . He flips off the burly dreadlock wearing dude that just slapped my ass.

Clipper struts to the 40 yard line and comes to a stop. Clipper looks me up and down.  I get this chill feeling  like I'm a lamb being sized up for dinner by a wolf.

I give him a hard stare back.

"I'm gonna stomp the fuck out of you, punk! I will send your big musclebound ass back home to your mama crying like a little girl, boyo” he growls.

"Yeah, well, I'm rubber and you're glue.  Any thing you say bounces off me and sticks to you!" I snap back. I burned him pretty good in that exchange. I am KING OF THE PLAYGROUND!




 I hear my boyos hesitate for a few seconds, but then hoot and cheer my witty comeback.

Clipper snorts in disgust.  Then walks closer to me, and spits on the grass.

I'm going to roll you, you pussy bitch!" Clipper says, voice dripping with confidence. "Let’s go right now! Football stance — see who knocks who over!

 The  top-tier athlete doesn't wait for an answer from me to his challenge, and instead lowers his body and puts his right arm down into the ground, setting his legs and getting ready to jump, looking up at me  to see if I am  going to match his football stance.  I give a sideways glance to the eagerly watching team mates,  then smile and nod.

"Come on.  Let's see what you got, soyboy!!"  I growl in acceptance of the challenge issued.

As the players cheer, I snort and spit, narrowly missing Clipper.  Then I lower my body and also put my right arm onto the ground, setting my tree-trunk legs.  Now both bulls are faced-off  in a three-point stance. Our muscled asses  flex in anticipation under the skin—tight spandex.


Like two bulls about to lock horns,we are faced-off in a
 three-point stance


I know how this drill works. In a tackle, whoever gets lower is gonna win. It's all about your center of gravity.

Delashaun begins to call it. He shouts: "Ready... set... CHARGE!"

With the force of a head-on collision between two trains,  we collide. It feels to me like this train wreck has shifted into slow motion.  


We collide with the force of a head-on
 collision between two trains!


Clipper drives his shoulder into my muscled gut with all the power  of a locomotive, as his mighty legs drive him forward.  A huge blast of air, mixed with spit, flies out my mouth, along with a loud as King-Kong ape-like grunt as I am impaled by the big shoulder.  UHHHHHHH!!!!  Clipper is slightly lower than me so when we hit  he  stands me up, then drives through me, sending  me crashing onto my ass in the grass.  Clipper had won the play and knocked my ass to the grass.

Clipper turns around to smirk at your humiliated Mule. “You hit like a little  girl, bitch!” he laughs, then snorts and spits into my face as he towers above me.

"Get up...I am just starting to punish you!!!" he demands.

The watching players  have gone silent.

I angrily scramble to my feet.

"THAT's how I like to play… if only there were fewer pussy rules in football..."  Clipper taunts the  disappointed watching players.

With my big  chest and sculpted abs heaving to replace the air I had lost, I  glare at Clipper  and pull my helmet off, throwing it on the ground. Then I put both hands on my jersey’s collar and rip it in half, revealing my glistening, muscled chest. I throw both pieces to the ground and once again the players  cheer. I quickly begin to flex my muscles in an effort to restore some hope to the players that were pulling for me, and to  intimidate  my foe.


I flex my muscled chest and bulging pecs  to restore the
 confidence  of  the players that were pulling for me, 
and to  intimidate my foe


Clipper steps back and pulls off his helmet, revealing a magazine-model  handsome face with piercing blue eyes and a blonde faux-hawk. He throws the helmet to the ground, then pulls his jersey over his head, revealing his own muscular torso. His jersey joins his helmet on the ground.


Clipper is built like a stud.  His physique is
 ripped and shredded and stacked with bulging muscle.
 He is like a Greek muscle god with a blonde faux-hawk

"Fuck" I think.  "This stud is built!" as my eyes take in his stunning physique.   Despite his other character flaws, Clipper was known as a dedicated warrior in the weight room. His bulging muscles bore witness to  all the extra hours he had spent  lifting iron.   His muscles were  astounding in their size, thickness,and definition. I was bigger, I was heavier, but his physique was just incredible. Ripped and shredded, with hose sized veins crisscrossing his body like a road map, his tanned bronzed flawless skin gave him the appearance of a Greek muscle god.

"I enjoyed the little "gun show" you put on earlier, pal. Here's my  entry. I hope I'm not too late!!"  Very slowly Clipper flexed his right arm for me. Right before my eyes, a huge mound of rock formed and grew into a solid-granite mound. 


Clipper's entry to the 'gun show'! His bicep was an over-sized
 cannonball of  iron muscle that grew into a solid-granite 
mound when he flexed


As big as my own, It was an over-sized cannonball of  iron muscle, rippling with veins, pulsing with muscle fibers. My visual tour of his muscled torso continued to his chest. It was solid and hardened, as if it were made of the same iron as his arms. My eyes moved slowly across his muscular chest, taking in  the deep cleavage between his striated pecs

 Clipper interrupts  my survey of his Grand Canyon wide chest .  "You Admiring?" he asks with a cocky grin.

And now that you know who and what you are dealing with, you better  show me some fucking respect or else  I will beat you even worse than I already plan to! Got it, soyboy?” cocky Clipper continued.

 I growl my response to  Clipper. "I shattered the nose of the last football punk I fought and I'll break your nose too, you pretty boy bitch! A broken nose won't keep you from being able to play, but it will make playing pure misery!"

"Looks like we better let these studs work it out mano-a-mano," Delashaun says as the players back away to  give Clipper and me plenty of  room to fight.

"Let's make this easy, Big Guy." Clipper says with a grin." You look like a big strong dude. And I'm a big strong dude. And we both want to know whose muscle is stronger.  So let's fight using just pure strength. No fancy MMA shit or cheap tricks!  You think you can win without them, muscle boy?" Clipper proposes. 

"Yeah, I'm down for that!" I respond. "Head on, face to face. Let's just beat the shit out of each other.  Simple as fuk, bro!" I say with a grin of my own as I accept the challenge and the terms!



 The players watch intensely as the  two musclemen crouched and began to circle each other slowly, fists raised.  We were both snorting and pawing at the ground like a couple of bulls.  The players cheer me on. If having his own teammates pulling against him is hurting his feelings, he sure isn't showing it.  If anything, it seems to make him even more determined to prove who is boss.

 Clipper charges forward and fires a brutal right uppercut into my muscled ridged 6-pac  stomach, the thud  of fist against muscle causing some of the watching players to wince. UHHHHHFFFF!!!! My body is lifted slightly upward by the attack, forcing a grunt  from me, as Clipper immediately fires a left uppercut that again slams hard up and in to my abs.  My abs held, but even I won't be able to take too many body shots of that caliber.   The dudes got fists like fucking sledgehammers. Delashaun, watching closely, shakes his head and thinks the same thing.  Mule needs to do something, he can't just keep eating those incoming fists of steel.

Clipper has managed to get inside  my guard and is lighting me up with body blows.  I  take advantage of Clipper's closeness by clamping my hands behind his shoulders and yanking him toward him as I drive my  right knee up, powered by my 28" quad, into  Clipper's rock-solid stomach. Clipper grunts in pain but immediately returns the embrace and fires his right knee into my reddening stomach, then pulls me forward and drives his left knee even deeper into my abs.  I instinctively cover my bruised stomach with my  right arm and back away from my opponent.

Clipper grins, obviously satisfied that he got the best of me in that  exchange, too. Apparently being something of a mind reader, he took the momentary break in action to slap his big right leg, flexing his leg and shaking out his huge quad like a pro bodybuilder. "Surprise, big boy. I got legs too, baby. Just as big and as strong as yours... 28" of  killer quads that I will be using to kick and stomp the shit out of you.  You should have done a better job of scoping out your target, moron. You are about to  learn that I'm just as muscular and as strong  as you are, you stupid  motherfuker!"

 Clipper and I raise our fists and again begin to circle, muscled chests heaving. "Fuck," I think. "This dude is no slouch. I need to step up my game. Those fists and knees of his really hurt...Clipper is a tough motherfuker  and fast...and from what he has shown so far,  as strong as fuk!  And fuk if he ain't right, his arms and legs are nearly as big as mine. I should have studied my opponent first., and analyzed  his strengths and weaknesses.  But I didn't, and it looks like Clipper is a much tougher opponent that I was expecting him to be!  I got my work cut out for me for sure!"

We are both  dripping with sweat, as the hot late afternoon sun beats down on the football field.  I take a  step forward with my left leg, then I fire my right cleated foot into Clipper's stomach, cutting the flesh and forcing a grunt out of pain while sending him stumbling back. I start to hear cheers, but the sound is cut short by Clipper's well-executed (and illegal) cross tackle  that  targeted  both my knees, hyper-extending them slightly.  I let out a cry and crash hard onto my back on the artificial turf.  

Clipper's face is to the side of my  knees. Just as some of the players begin to boo Clipper's illegal and dangerous tackle I pull both of my knees up to my sweat-slick chest and fire both of my cleated feet toward Clipper's stunned face. Clipper manages  to dodge the kick as my right shoe barely grazes his left cheek. Clipper scrambles up to his knees, then raises his left fist and pounds it like a hammer into my reddening abs. *OOOF!*  I gasp in pain and instinctively pull my knees up to my chest.   

Clipper seems determined to punch his way through my armor plated abs.  He may just do it, my abs are weakening under the  barrage of  brutal punishment he is inflicting. I'm having trouble maintaining  my protective flex.   My abs can't take much more. I'm going to need to end this fight quick.

Meanwhile, Clipper has quickly scrambled up my torso until his knees straddle my hips, then rears back his right fist and send it smashing hard toward my mouth, but misses as I move my  head to the side  in anticipation.

Clipper, obviously pissed at missing, now pulls  his right fist as far back as he can.  "Let's see you slip my right fist again, asswipe.  I'm going to punch you in your fucking whore mouth so hard it will knock your teeth out!  I'm sure your boyfriend will love that when your sucking his cock!    Ever picked up your teeth off the ground with broken fingers, cocksuker?"  

But he sends too much time talking his shit.  I twist my upper torso to the left while raising my right elbow, then spin back, smashing my elbow into Clipper's nose. Clipper nose gets tagged and he snaps his head back more in surprise than pain. "Let's try that again," I think, calmly.  I now twist to the right, lifting my left elbow, and fire it toward Clipper's nose but miss as his peak athletic reflexes rear his head back just in time.

My ab muscles flex as I roll my upper body up and quickly grab the  blond hair atop Clipper's head in my left fist, then pull Clipper's face downward as I fire my right fist upward toward Clipper's mouth.  Clipper's head snaps back from the impact of my fist splitting Clipper's bottom lip. Clipper dabs at his bloody lip with the back of his hand and makes the mistake of examining the blood as my upper body, still lifted as if performing sit-ups, sends a brutal right fist smashing into his left eye, sending him crashing onto his right side in the grass. "Yeah, get the fuck off me, you stupid kunt!" I growl at him. I hear Mule team cheers, as I scramble up to my knees and immediately mount Clipper who is now cupping his swelling eye. I yank Clipper's hand away from his eye with my left hand and raise my right arm. 

Then I use my full force to drive my right elbow smashing down deep into Clipper's swollen left eye. Clipper screams.  With my glistening chest and abs heaving, I rear up and  look down at Clipper, who is now curled into a fetal ball, cupping his damaged eye with both hands and moaning. "Finish him," I hear his team mates shout. I hear Delashaun interject another shout."Break his nose, like you said you would...."


I throw a thunderous left to Clippers jaw. But Clipper is no
slouch! He has taken my best shots and is still fighting. The
 muscle man is almost as strong as I am, and  is giving me a
 run for my money! I'm wearing myself out but I've got to
 keep on the pressure on if I am to win!




I instantly fire my right fist toward Clipper's nose, but miss as Clipper rotates around, and ducks under the wild punch. Clipper then stands upright and drives an uppercut into my  chin. I take the full brunt of the punch, head snapping upward, a splash of blood from my mouth spattering up my face, as I stumble back two steps. OWW...didn't see that coming.  Everything was spinning, the punch had rocked me.  





 I heard an appreciative OOOOHHHHH from the audience, who knew a good punch when they see one.  So this tough brawler has some fight left in him after all. What does it take to make this fucker back down?!?

 I quickly shake my head clear, sweat flying from my hair as I do.  I bounce back a couple of steps, then rear back my right fist and, tensing my muscles, send it flying toward Clipper's nose. The punch connects as Clipper's head is snapped straight back, the fighter falling onto his ass. Clipper is quick to scamper back to standing as blood trickles from his nostrils. Fists raised, he slowly circles me, His team mates have to begrudgingly admire the amount of punishment this dude can both take and inflict.  He may be an asshole, but when it comes to toughness, he can bring it!  At least it doesn't sound from the cheers like there have been any defections from Team Mule to Team Clipper yet.  Barely had that thought left my brain, then Clipper fires his foot, cleats first, into my rib cage. I try to dodge the kick but I end up taking most of it, sweat spraying. I take advantage of the distance to return the favor, firing my cleats into Clipper's rippling six-pack.

My  cleats are driven deep into Clipper’s abs, leaving cuts.. The  fighter again crashes to the turf, getting knocked on his back as he cries out with a grunt of pain on impact and a moan after the fall. As his teammates explode into cheers,  I run forward and plant my feet on either side of Clipper's bloodied stomach. I rear back my right foot and send it smashing into the young athlete's nose.  Blood explodes from Clipper's nose and spatters up my white football pants as the team mates wince at the vicious attack.


I fire my big  right fist into Clipper's face snapping his head 
back when it connects!


I pull the muscled fighter off the turf by his hair. He fires his own knee attack toward my stomach, as I bring him up.  I just  smirk and easily deflect the knee. Still holding  Clipper's hair with my left hand, I pull back my right fist, and send it flying toward  Clipper's nose.  He skillfully avoids  my right fist, as it soars past his head. With my long muscle packed  body fully stretched  wide open before him,  Clipper plants himself and sends his hard right knee powered by his amazingly powerful 28" quad up and into my stomach.

OOOFFF!!!  The knee to my gut  bends me over as air and blood explodes out my mouth. Flexing his chest and bicep muscles, Clipper  moves forward fast and fires a second knee deep into my muscled  stomach, adding to the destruction to my once invulnerable  washboard abs  oooOOOFF!!  This time I am folded almost in half.

"You can't say I didn't tell you exactly what was gonna happen. " Clipper says calmly;  I showed you my big quads and told you I was gonna kick your ass with these 28" legs of mine.  My football player legs are As big as your bodybuilder legs, and just as strong....They will be the instruments of your destruction. I will make you worship my fucking legs when we are done.... "

"...UHHH...my fucking abs... he knocked the wind out of me with those knee lifts to my gut..."  I need some  time to recover!

 Seeing my worked-over body  rendered momentarily helpless, Clipper moves in to take advantage. Grabbing me by the hair, Clipper delivers 5 quick punches to my  weakening gut.  The power of his sledgehammer fists was lifting my 260 pound frame clear off the ground.  Outrageous pain erupted from the explosions that were systematically destroying the muscle that once defended my brick-wall abs.  "AIR!  I gotta get air.  I .... can’t .... breathe!  Damn it!  The first rule, if you can’t breathe, you can’t fight.  I’ve got to get away, protect myself and get time to recover."  I think, forcing myself not to panic. 

Clipper  suddenly  and easily picks my 260 lbs up  body slamming me to the ground with an earth shaking  'THUD'.  I am laid out like I just got sacked by the entire Defensive line!  While I am laying there like I have been hit by a Mac truck, I could faintly make out the mountain of  muscle standing above me, just before Clipper delivered his full 250 lbs weight behind a knee drop deep in the center of my unprotected stomach. Having been weakened from the power of  Clipper's ferocious fists my washboard abs buckled and offered no protection as what little wind I still have in my body is taken out by his hard  knee drop.  Clipper's strategy of having targeted my abs and core throughout our fight is now paying off for him.  I may not have had any weak spots when we started this fight, but Clipper has succeeded in making his own chink in my Mule muscle armor.  Clipper had concentrated incredible force on working over the  muscle that defended my brick-wall abs. Now my once picture perfect abdominals are coated in colorful welts and bruises, wrecked by the damage the powerful athlete had delivered.

 Clipper's on fire as he follows that up by straddling and  and then mounting  me. The now dominating Clipper is sitting on my mid-section, daymn, even his ass is rock solid muscle.  I don’t think this guy has a weak point!  Suddenly it's raining fists as he sends a left, right, left into my chest and pecs!  Clipper then does some posing of his own over my laid out body, "You had your fun, BOY!  My turn now.  I will beat you to a pulp!" he says as he flashed his best I’m having fun now’ smile.

"Fuck, he's kicking my ass!" goes through my brain as I desperately try to clear my head and come up with a better strategy to win this fight.  So far, "Let's just beat the shit out of each other!" seems to be working better for Clipper than it has for me!


Our audience watched as the "White Knight" that was supposed to teach their Captain a lesson gets his ass handed to him. Clipper's team mates are begrudgingly beginning to appreciate just how tough and determined their team captain is.  He has taken a hell of a beating but it is looking like he is still going to pull out a win!  Clipper is still a racist POS, but he is earning a lot of respect and creds from his own team by what he is showing today.  He's making a comeback after that other white boy had beaten the shit out of him. There is just 'no quit' in Clipper's DNA.  Whatever else Clipper may be, Clipper is a warrior!

Clipper  gets up knowing that I've taken a lot of damaging hits  and that he's  turned this fight around!  I now realize the full extent of this young jock's  power and his fighting heart!

Clipper put his size 14  cleated foot on my heaving chest to keep me on the ground. "Yeah, bitch! Check these biceps out! I bet you weren't expecting abs and pecs like mine on a football player!" The young powerhouse QB flexes his well cut physique for the big man, your Mule, under his foot. I had to admit, Clipper's muscle packed  body was impressive -- on the same level as my own!

"You dared to come to MY home stadium and challenge me?  I own this place, fucker, and I protect it.   Thought you'd come in and throw your weight around.  Not so much fun when I'm throwin' your weight around, is it?  I am gonna show you some real 'home field advantage now..."  Clipper speechified for my benefit. Even a couple of his hostile team mates had to fight back an urge to cheer.  That sure sounded like one of those  good rousing and inspiring  half-time speeches  that the Coach delivers in the locker room when your behind at the end of the first half.

Clipper pulls at the strings of his football pants, lowering them down his body, then pulls out his huge fat, soft dick.  “You're mine, bitch!” It was an impressive cock. His teammates had seen his "warrior hard-on" in the locker room and showers after every game and practice and it was the biggest cock on the team.  The huge meat between the legs this young jock stud stallion  was long and thick and even bigger than  my own horse-sized manhood.


Clipper aims his huge cock and  began to piss on me, the defeated strongman now laid out on the ground, in a golden shower. I  felt the rush of the hot stream of liquid pour over me as the QB Stud  hosed the muscle head football player whose ass he just put down with his dong-zilla sized manhood.  It sounded like a racehorse pissing on a flat rock as Clipper emptied his bladder on the beautiful pecs and sculpted abs of my muscular physique  in an ego-crushing act of degrading humiliation.

 Clipper's team mates  behind him watch, more in awe than in disappointment,  as he marks me as his property with his primitive act of alpha male domination.

"Okay, cocksucker...time to suck MY dick. You give me any trouble and I'm gonna hurt ya." Clipper raises his fist  and flexes his pecs over his beaten foe to emphasize the point.  Sucking another man's cock is the ultimate act of surrender for an Alpha male.  Once   Clipper turns me into his cocksucking bitch, there will be no doubt  to all the players watching that he, Clipper, is the manliest, most virile and strongest!  The true Alpha male of the football team!
.
Livid at the thought of my humiliation of receiving Clipper's golden shower, and of  now being forced to suck his cock, especially in front of a audience of fellow athletes,  I pull my right arm back and fire it up in a wild uppercut toward Clipper's ample manhood. My fist connects with his low hanging  bull-sized balls.  With a bellow like a bull being castrated, he cries out in agony and  backs up nearly paralyzed from the pain coming from his smashed big bull balls.  He grabs  his crotch to  protect his stud gonads from further damage. Not giving Clipper any time to recover  from the nut shot,  I scramble to my feet.  Holding his pain racked balls leaves Clipper's stomach open and exposed.

My  uppercut slams up-to-my wrist  deep into Clipper's stomach. His legs give out as he drops to his knees in front of me, his face falling forward into my bulging crotch, smearing blood across the white football pants he clamps his big arms around my tree trunk legs for support.  I shove Clipper backwards, sending the weary  fighter crashing, rag-doll-like, onto his back.

I move forward, pinning Clipper's shoulders to the ground with my knees, then look down and smirk, blood dripping from my lips onto Clipper's face. "Your gonna  lose, punk!" I shout, then I fire a right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Clipper squeals in pain and tries to buck free from my pin, but to no avail. My chest and arm muscles peak as I  fire off another right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Blood begins rolling down from each nostril and down either side of Clipper's face as he stares up at me in  wide-eyed in fear.  "Damn it!" I snarl, legitimately annoyed at failing to break my opponent's nose.


I plant my feet on either side of Clipper’s torso. I grin at the players and look down at my foe, then quickly untie my bloodied white football pants and, reaching down with my right hand, scoop out my own horse-sized  cock and bull balls and hang them over my waistband just as Clipper had done when he gave me a golden shower  earlier. As the players  scream themselves hoarse, Clipper woozily sees three anaconda-sized  cocks aimed at his face instead of one.

I put my hands on my hips and begin to spray piss like a fire hose on my  downed enemy. It was like a fire hydrant had been opened.  As I hosed my foe  down with my King-dong sized manhood, I swayed my fire hose a bit, piss belching out of it.

With a cocky grin and flexing my mighty arms, I continued to rain what seemed like a gallon of his piss down on the groaning Clipper. Shaking the last of the piss out of my horse-cock I slowly  tucked my  long thick dong back down into  my football  pants and then with a struggle pulled the spandex  back up over my huge bodybuilder ass. "Ha!" I think, "I can play water sports too!"

With that I turn to pose for my new pals, but I see they are looking and pointing at something behind me.    I turn back to face Clipper only to find that the big man has already  gotten to his feet!   "Daymn,   I can't believe he has taken my best shots  and is still able to stand up! This muscle man is actually giving me a run for my money! What's it going to take to stop....BAAAAAAMMMMMM!  I don't finish my thought because my  face is met by Clipper's big left fist with a 'SMACK' square in the jaw.  I am glad my  firm has a good dental plan!




Still woozy, Clipper follows up with another wild right cross that misses by a mile.  I clamp the back of Clipper's head, then, holding my opponent's head in place, rear back my own head and send a brutal headbutt smashing into the football  fighter’s nose. Clipper's nose finally breaks with a loud snap and blood explodes down his face, gushing over his  mouth and chin and knocking the beaten muscle stud  out cold.

 The watching  players mouths drop open in shock and awe. “SHIT!” a couple of them exclaim. One of the watching players whistles. “You knocked him the fuck out!

"Nice job, killer," Delashaun says. "I thought he had you when he mounted you, but you came back strong and got the job done."

 "I wasn't about to get my butt kicked after going to all this trouble," I say, turning and spitting out the blood from my lips. "You could have warned me though, I know you said he had muscle, but you didn't tell me he was the  fucking Terminator!"

"Yeah," Delashaun says with a laugh. "I may have held back a few details.  But I figured if I said too much, and you really knew what your were gonna be facing, that you wouldn't come to fight him!"

The players are still looking at the blooded, piss soaked, still form of their team mate. "We gotta get some photos of this beat down!" one  shouts.  A helmet is clamped down on my head as another one is slipped  on the KOed Clipper. I am urged to teabag him, but I demure feeling that I had done enough.  It was a hard match, harder than I had expected. but all that mattered was that it ended with a decisive victory by yours truly.    Cell phones began snapping pics of my victory pose over the wrecked Clipper.

"I think he gets the message.  Now I need to take him to your coach to make sure HE gets the message..." I tell Delashaun.

"Yeah," Delashaun says. "Coach is a good man. I don't know what he didn't do something about Clipper himself.  When I asked him and all he said was 'Son, I have been around for a long time.  This Clipper problem will all work itself out with time."

With my face bloody and my chest heaving in ragged breaths, I bend down, and with my  glistening muscles straining, I lift the unconscious Clipper up into my arms. I look like a victorious Roman gladiator, as I carry Clipper  off the field on to the Coach's office.  I enter without knocking, stop, then drop the unconscious  Clipper on the Coach's floor  like a sack of shit. "Your boy is now done clippin’!"  I growl, chest heaving. Clipper’s coach  looks down at his star player, and just nods. “Yeah,” he says, surprisingly matter-of-factly. "I figured some 'white knight' would come along to take Clipper out eventually. I was wondering why it was taking so long to happen.  I hope you beat the asshole out of the mean fucker!"

With blood flowing down my chin and neck from a split lip, I rubbed my red-and-purple blotched stomach with my right hand. I was hurting head to toe but my abs was where I was really feeling the working over I had gotten.  Clipper had wrecked my abs so bad I wouldn't be able to tie my shoelaces for a week.   Then, wiping my bloody lips with the back of his left hand, I lean over and spit into Clipper's face.  "If not, let me know and I will come back and beat him some more."

"Mind if I take a shower, Coach?  We had a pretty rough practice, today..."

"Sure, son. It looks like Clipper didn't go down easy.  He fucked you up good.  Use my private shower area.  It's got its own whirlpool and steam room. and you look like you could use some time in both. Clipper is a strong, tough mother-fucker. You might have been able to pull out a win today, but it looks like he made sure to give you plenty to remember him by.  In fact I think I will join you.  I got an interesting  story about how a young Brett Favre handled his own 'Clipper' problem  that I think you will enjoy."

The Coach turned out to be a cool dude to chill 
with and we really hit it off!


After we showered, as we toweled off,  I was again checking out the big musclebear.  I had been scoping out  this big brute's brawny physique while he had been soaping up in the shower. It felt like Coach filled up the  small shower area with his massive bulk. He lifted up his arms and gave  a double bi flex, the smooth cannonball-sized upper arms popping up. Coach's upper arms were gigantic,  and while they lacked the cut like diamond sharp definition of my guns, they were nearly as big as mine. 

I continued to size up the the huge brute in front of me. Coach dropped his arms and took a step closer to me. He grabbed my hands in his big mitts and pulled the palms of my hands to his massive chest, placing one of my hands on each of his pecs. I instinctively squeezed the mounds. The big protruding slabs were solid fuk'n muscle! All of a sudden they bunched up in my hands, increasing in size and hardness. I gasped as Coach flexed up. I could feel that the heavy beefy pecs were  as big as my own shredded pec-plates.

Coach again lifted his swollen muscled meat packed arms, and brought them up for a double bicep pose. His roid gut pushed out and his pecs, the size of an encyclopedia, spread over his chest.  His musclegut extended even past the big beef steak sized pecs hanging off his chest.  The thick vein just below his bicep bunched out to the size of a garden hose. The barrel sized bicep heads pulsated as he brought each bicep to his mouth, licking them. Coach stretched out his arms again, his triceps looking like two prized hams hanging there as he slowly brought them up again, the bicep almost being crushed by the forearm. “So, what do you think of my body Mule?”

“You’re a fucking freak man. ..” I stammered as I  looked at Coach... “Sorry dude…it’s just that your body is so fucking … fucking unreal…I mean, fuck!”  I was talking with my eyes wide in amazement. 

Still Standing naked in front of me, the freshly showered Coach brought his arms out to his sides and up into a front double bicep pose while inhaling and expanding his huge chest. Coach’s arms were freshly pumped with a film of water still dripping off the head of each swollen bicep. The numerous veins running across the bicep swelled into a jumbled knot in the forearms and fading into his wrist. His massive heavy pecs protruded skyward while the spike-like nipples nearly pointed downwards, with his thick rock solid roid gut sticking out as far as his massive pec shelf. Coach looked huge and impressive.

Coach turned in a full circle his massive arms pointing skywards making his triceps hang like two huge beehives. I went ballistic over this simple muscle pose. Coach followed that up with his double bicep pose that made his huge peaked biceps swell upwards. Those thick-corded veins looked like flowing rivers of muscle blood as they criss-crossed throughout his body. His chest pushed outwards and upwards, those bigger than life thighs of his tensed up showing deep cuts and striations that rivaled any master-level bodybuilder out there. As he turned around his back resembled a mountain range but with more peaks and valleys. The Christmas tree in his lower back faded down into his huge muscle butt that stuck out like two basketballs glued to him. The seemingly hundreds of steel corded tendons and muscles ran down his hamstrings and formed a huge football sized pool of muscle that comprised his calves. Coach then brought his arms down and to his side as he inhaled his massive chest and swelled up to barrel size with a side "hide-your-belly" chest pose. He held that pose while slowly turning around, letting me gaze again at the huge slabs of muscle jutting out from his chest.  

I was still gawking as Coach brought his two huge paw like hands together, clasping them in front for a mind-boggling most muscular crab pose. The deep striations in his chest looked like deep valleys as they cascaded into his thick roid gut. His massive biceps swelled as hey almost touched each other with their pump and his thighs that were thick with mature muscle swayed and pulsed as he tightened them. Then Coach went to his front relaxed pose.

I was taken back when his saw the sheer size of Coach’s muscles in their now pumped up "relaxed state". With Coach’s arms in the air, his bicep and tricep separation was amazing. His arms looked like a giant hams attached to his body. Even unflexed, the size was staggering as his arms looked much bigger than they actually were. Each of Coach’s thick pecs, just hung off his chest, his mass of meaty pecs so huge that his underturned nipples almost pointed straight down due to gravity. Coach’s rib cage heaved with each breath that he took. Then he made himself tight with a hard flex of his abs, his thick six pack of  speed-bump size abdominal muscles, popped  out from his thick roid gut.

Coach brought each massive peaked bicep head up his lips as he licked and kissed them -- self-worshiping his own power. The pleasing grin on his face lit up the shower room while every muscular inch of skin on his brawny body dripped with power.

"So how about it, Mule.  You up for a  sixty-nine? Or do we fight and I make you..." Coach asked almost casually, as he continued to flex and lip his own massive biceps.

A few minutes later I was naked on the cot in Coach's office,  with Coach on top!  We both took our positions to commence the 69. Coach was on top of the younger muscleman, and  swirled his hot tongue around the my huge cockhead, bathing it with his flowing saliva. In a moment of acute passion he pierced my wide slit with the tip of his tongue.  I groaned as his tongue entered my urethra and rubbed the intensely sensitive tissue. As I continued to emit animal growls the older strongman  brought his slobbering mouth down on my long and throbbing fire hose of a cock. With his lips clamped tightly around the steel pipe he very slowly lowered his mouth until he felt the crown penetrate his throat and his stubbly chin connect with the my bush, which by now was sopping wet with pre-cum. 

Coach shoved his own thick tool down  my throat. A lengthy 69er ensued as our scorching bodies writhed against each other, muscled chests against hot rippling abs. We were two sweaty bulls, with our muscular bodies glued together, rolling over and over, back and forth, grunting like wild boars. Both of us studs reached between our bodies and began pulling and twisting each other's erect and swollen nipples. Coach's enormous round asscheeks jiggled with each downward thrust down the my throat. I heaved back by flexing his muscle glutes of steel.Rolling around on the bed like we were mating.  We were two ravenous stallions, that changed position several times, never once releasing their captive manmeat as were fucked each other's slurping mouths, all the while grunting and growling in sexual abandon.
Suddenly, with Coach back on top, our two bodies became rigid as our bloated testicles could no longer contain the hot semen and released the white lava through our piss chutes. Both of us men gasped as the first jet of jock-juice exploded down each other's throat. 

Coach jammed a finger up my smelly butthole forcing my thick nuts to empty their baby seed.  He ate my hot load while I sucked on his thick manflesh.

An enormous mass of sweaty flesh and muscle jerked uncontrollably with each eruption of the white lava.  Coach continues to  finger fuck my asshole hard, making sure he drained me completely.  The sneaky cocksucker had invaded my jock bottom with out warning and was now opening my shitchute with three fingers, like he was getting my hole ready to be dog fucked. There seemed to be no end to the supply of hot milky spunk and we both swallowed as much of it as we could as we groaned with pleasure. As the tide finally subsided I went around to embrace Coach. We exchanged a deep French-kiss snowball, mixing our love juice inside each other's mouth and lapping the jism that had run down our chins.  Coach stuck his fingers under my nose and then into my mouth, so  I smelled and  tasted my own ass juices and my intoxicating man scent.  My own man scent turned me on, my cock went rock hard again as the smell  put me back into heat. The urge to mate was irresistible, it was driving me mad!

 Completely satiated and satisfied, the two hunks fell into a deep sleep in each other's massive arms.

End Note:

After the fun with the coach, while Clipper was suckling on my Goliath of a donger, I signed the chastened bully with legal representation by my firm!  His old legal representative, not knowing that come to Jesus moment my beatdown had brought  to him, were glad to see the backside of him, so those bruises paid off! Hey, ALWAYS BE CLOSING, amIright?

***************************

*The above original pic was done by Enrique Nieto Nadal  Make sure to check out his website http://www.enietonadal.es/

and remember that he is available for private commissions at an extremely reasonable fee.  He can even include you in the pic if you wish.  Contact him at nieto.enrique6@gmail.com if you are interested!  


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