Musings from Valhalla: Awkward Moments II

We are still awaiting reader submissions for your theories on who killed DOA and why, not many have read the story yet, and we have not gotten even one response from you, so your chance of winning the wonderful original artwork by Enrique Nieto Nadal is very HIGH if you submit a response  (see The Mighty Cops of Flower Ranch Part One, for further details).  The art will feature an idealized and heroicized picture of YOU and if you want, and only if you want, that picture and a character loosely based on you, will also be featured in a future story.  Imagine your character being in a Mulesblog story as perhaps a friend, rival or even ardent adversary of the Mule  (your choice).  Here are some proposed preliminary ideas Enrique has provided as samples to provide you with an idea of the awesome prize awaiting you:

you can also check out his website at: https://www.enietonadal.es/hombres/ for more samples of his spectacular work. 

You had one simple job plumber,now you went and made
 things awkward!

This is what you get with Ron Swanson working at
 Parks and Rec!

We all have friends like this!

The Mighty Cops of Flower Ranch, TX Part One

Based on the adventures of Mule, as told to:

Editor brah with his red pencil:  Stefan

Art and really dope illustrations:  Steve Reeves

With some more neat illustrations by Enrique Nieto Nadal

So not long after I moved to Texas, I got a call from Client-owner of a minor league baseball team in West Texas.  Her no-account, pot smoking, cum stain of a son has been arrested and jailed in Flower Ranch, Texas. 

Mule's Client 

 Smithers, my minion associate in the Dallas office, activates the Mule signal.

Background Info on Flower Ranch

Flower Ranch, a dusty fly speck of a town south of Killean and north of Austin is not  a place you would likely have heard of.  The Flower Ranch Police Department is known to be very tolerant of 'victimless crime' like underage drinking, recreational drug use, rap music,   and the dealing and use of Steroids and performance enhancing drugs by its members.  It is thus very popular destination for G.I.'s out of Fort Hood, as no MPs dare come there, and there are wild times and wild drugs to be had!  There has been a pipeline of Mexican Veterinary supplies (Horse and Cattle Steroids) to Flower Ranch for over 30 years that had been the choice of  many great old school Texas bodybuilders, powerlifters and athletes in the days before mandatory Drug Testing for PED's necessitated  the invention of the more expensive but non-detectable 'designer' steroids that are used today.  But to those who don't need to worry about drug testing, the older Steroids are still available, effective, and cheap in Flower Ranch.  Historical fun fact, Flower Ranch was established back in 1848 as a brothel for the cowpoke, and a trading post with the Comanche: where fire-arms and moonshine were traded for peyote and hides. 

Biggest Little Police Department in Texas

It's a big day for the Flower Ranch Police Dept.  There is a new billboard on the main highway welcoming passerbys to the Town of Flower Ranch, and the billboard features none other than the very studly and photogenic Flower Ranch Police Dept.  

This will finally put Flower Ranch on the map!

Won't that bring more unwanted attention, to our rather
profitable operations, sir?
Silence deputy, we didn't hire you for your brains, such as they
 are, but your muscles!

If these new traffic shakedowns prove as lucrative for us as they
 have other police departments, we will be able to afford our
 own SWAT Team, and I am talking  military grade!

To make sure people see it, the Police decide to  erect a road block to stop and  check vehicles for  'like papers, and things'.

"Ed, have you ever  built a roadblock before?  Maybe you should find a YouTube vid on how it's done."

Ed, you ever built a roadblock?  Maybe you should find a
YouTube vid on how it's done.

 No Sir, Sarge, YouTube always locks up on our Sears-Roebuck computer.  I keep telling the Mayor that we need to update from Windows 95.   But how hard can it be to put up a roadblock?  After all, we are really good at picking up and putting down heavy things."

Officer Sam  quickly loads his service pistol when he hears Sarge and Ed discussing the roadblock, and it isn't often Sarge gives him more than one bullet!  Running a roadblock is a hanging offense in Flower Ranch.  But hangings are a lot more expensive so it's better just to shoot to kill if they try to run.

Officer Sam loads his firearm. You never know when you
 might  need to shoot someone trying to run a roadblock, 
and it isn't often Sarge gives him more than one bullet! 

Officer Ed Butterfield arrives with Officer Sam Spinner in their squadcar at the site of the roadblock where Henry Updike of  Flower Ranch Public Works has left some barricades the town normally uses for the annual Founders Day Festival and  Parade. 'Short Stack', the sole black officer on the force arrives on his motorcycle.  Sam snickers about the Sarge sending that runt to help as affirmative action for DYELs. Sam isn't so much prejudiced against blacks, as he is against DYELs. They  get to work, that is to say, Sam and Ed do all the heavy lifting. 

Hey Sam, you  ever see the movie, U-turn?  Sam? Damn-it Sam,
 stop playing on Short Stack's cycle and get to work!

Chief says our prime targets should be young douchebags
driving expensive sports cars! City-folk!

"Fuck, the cruiser won't start.  The video games we were playing  must have drained the battery or something.   We need to move the car up to the road block.  What to do?"

O.k. we opened the hood, do you know anything about cars?

So you are saying we are two country boys, neither of whom
know anything about cars?  What are the odds against that,
 Sam?  It must be ASTRONOMICAL!
Yeah, Ed, I am thinking PLOT DEVICE!

Sam radios in for a tow for the squad car, but they tell them Old Wyatt is out drinking and won't be available until he sobers up sometime in the early afternoon the next day.  The boys have to improvise!  The dispatcher tells them they will send Rusty and Bob 'round to check on them when they are free.   Ed and Sam decide to move the car to the barricade, and as only two meatheads would think to do, they carry it.

Easy solution. OK, on three. One, Two...

OK, set her down right here...

Good job, bro....

Mighty Musclecops of Flower Ranch manning their Roadblock!

On their guard for lucrative chumps, errr I mean dangerous
fugitives!

Sam, who has always wanted to be on motorcycle patrol like Short Stack, rather than in a squad car with Ed, tries on Short Stack's helmet! Short Stack obliges of course, because Sam is rather large and intimidating, to say  the least.

They encounter Moonchild, the only hippie in the county,
student at West South Texas Agricultural and Technical College,
now being that it is in Central Texas, I don't quite get the name,
but I think Central Texas College was already taken.

Moonchild, as you might have guessed was not originally from, Flower Ranch, but was from the Liberal  enclave of Austin, and after he flunked out of the University of Texas at Austin, his mother  sent him to live with his red-neck Uncle and Aunt in Flower Ranch to attend WeSTATiC and make something of himself!  His mother, a client of mine, owns a minor league Baseball team that had been the prize possession of  her late husband. She is a  daughter of a 1960's hippy and a former trophy wife. She was beautiful once, but now her face is pulled tighter than Saran Wrap over leftovers!

"You're on a bicycle at night, son?  Is your fucking Prius in the shop, Soy Boy?"--laughed Sam.

"Don't be an asshole.  Nothing wrong with my Prius, its just sitting at home. With its FUCK THE POLICE bumper sticker prominently displayed, may I add." replied Moonchild.

"People with dicks drive a pick-up in these parts, you must have a vagina, boy!" --sneered Ed

  "I'm not driving my socially conscious Prius, because even it leaves a large carbon footprint, so I am bicycling it tonight  to do my bit to avoid further catastrophic climate change. Don't try none of your fascist red neck violence on me, bro.  I'm a member of Anarchist Action and I already have my finger on the record button of my iPhone. You violate my rights and  I will have it up on Worldstar before you dumb hicks can count to ten...."  

(Or at least that is how the two cops related the story later at the bar! Moonchild was not available for comment)

LOL, you call that a bike, son?

Now, THIS is a bike...says Ed lifting up 'Short Stack's' bike.

Fuck, Cop-Bro...you  have something this big and powerful
between your legs all day?  Daymn man...is that to compensate?

Before the cops can beat the living snot out of the kid, two townie sloots show up and seeing their cousin Moonchild, stop to see what is up.  Daphne and Betty-Lou, are also at WESTATiC, and are the most renowned of the muscle loving, cock teaser, sorority sister sluts from Kappa Upsilon Mu, go KUM! They are Women Studies majors minoring in Football players and Cowboys.

First you can pat us down and then we get to pat you down!

Hello, Ladies....what do you say we ditch the twerp in a ditch,
and go down the road in search of some public indecency?

If you don't mind me asking Officer, how much do you bench
 press and is your cock as big as the rest of you?  I am just
asking for a friend...

I think this requires a cavity search miss!

Ever seen the back seat of a cop car, Miss?
Once, when I was mistakenly arrested for soliciting, when I was
 just being flirtatious!

Perhaps I should continue your interrogation in a more discrete
 location...

Well, it looks like my brother officer has begun his interrogation
 of Daphne, so I guess I will have conduct my probing here!

The sheer bulk of  Ed on the back of the cruiser, pelvic thrusting mightily, puts a mighty strain on the rear suspension of  the vehicle. The car sways and rocks like a bridge in a hurricane.   Their mechanic is going to have to replace the springs of that squad car yet again. Third time this year!

Rob and Rusty arrive about 45 minutes later  in their squad car,  Rob and Rusty haul Moonchild away on an Operating a Bicycle Without a Seatbelt and Reckless Sassing of a Police Officer charges, and Betty-Lou and Daphne back to the station for "further questioning."  'Short Stack' also heads back to the station.

Back-up arrives to haul in the suspect and witnesses!

"Rob and Rusty, you take the Kid back to the station and let him sleep it off.  Take it easy on him, he seems to be a decent kid and it looks like he's already scared shitless despite his big shit talking. He's a vegan so get the skinny fuck a cheeseburger before he dies of malnutrition.   You might want to take further statements from Daphne and Betty-lou.  Sam and I have the road block for the night."

Hey Short Stack, I want to be CHiPs tomorrow instead riding
 Adam-12 with Ed here!  

 Sam: "I still can't figure out why  Night Rider won't start.  I think it might be the carburetor."

Ed: "Shit for brains, cars haven't had carburetors since the 1980's.  Even I know that."  

Sam: "Well, I don't know then...  Guess we will have to wait for Guber Towing whenever Wyatt sobers up tomorrow."

You be the jack, I will be Mr. Fix It!

Is this thing-a-me-job supposed to connect to the do-a-hickie?
Oh for Christ sake, slide out there before I drop the car on your
 dumb-ass!

Meanwhile, back at the Station, the House mother of Kappa Upsilon Mu comes looking for her wayward girls, bringing a basket of home make donuts to bribe the officers.  She finds the Desk Sergeant, who is no slouch in the muscle department, and very easy on the eyes.  Sarge takes a shine to her too, and explains that her girls were never under arrest, and had called a Uber to pick them up.  Sarge tells House Mother Alice he will be check the desk log to see which Uber they called.

See here?  Your girls were never under arrest, and called
an Uber to pick them up!  Yup, it was Fred Winston who
came, not Dorothy Mallone, small towns make things easy!

"Oh my goodness, why are those two officers fighting," shrieks a flustered Alice

I do declare, I have never seen such a vulgar and violent display

 in a place of business!

I guess you don't frequent The Brass Knuckle Roadhouse out 

on  State Road 138, Mizz Alice!

"Don't mind that none, Mizz Alice.  Happens all the time.  There is a lot of testosterone around here.  They are just fighting over the last donut. You can step behind the counter with me if it makes you feel safer."

See all safe and sound, and snug as a tick on a sleeping hound
dog!

Oh, thank you officer. A big strong man like you with all those
hard bulging muscles sure makes a girl like me feel safe and
protected, I got to tell you...

It nice to see what great shape our police dept is in. Just look at
 how muscular those two  shirtless officers are.  Although not
any more muscular than their sargent, I think...

If you don't mind stepping this way Miss, let me get you

 some of our free leaflets  on the proper use of seatbelts for your

 Sorority members. 

You know, Texas is a click it or ticket state! 

This month marks our 16th annual seatbelt awareness campaign!

What up?
Shhhh listen!

I know those pamphlets are around here somewhere!  Is that a
new outfit you are wearin' 'cuz you look mighty voluptuous
and it looks like you have some dangerous curves there Mizz
Alice, I might have to investigate further, maybe launch a probe
 into what might prove a hazard...

I would never have pegged Mizz Alice to be a screamer, and
such language, I have never heard her use anything saltier than
 gosh in all the years I have known her since she taught me
 Sunday School at the First Baptist!

Listening at the door, the two officers could hear everything. “FUCCCKKKKK!” she cried. “It’s so fucking huge!!!! I’ve never seen a cock so big in my entire life!” She had screamed as Sarge's massive meat had entered her. The Sarge's long and thick cock filled her up like even her Shane Diesel life size dildo had never done before!

"Yeah, you like that, bitch? You like that huge cock stretching out your tight little cunt?" They heard Sarge growl to the excited daughter of Pastor Wilkens.  Her nickname around Flower Ranch was "the Nun" but that was likely to change after tonight! She certainly didn't come to the station dressed in her usual attire!  She came dressed for adventure, and the Sarge, law enforcement expert as he was, was atuned to such details!

The ex-virgin let out a continuous squeal of 35 years of pent up sexual privation, that went louder with every thrust and withdrawal.  The room filled with the moans and grunts of the Sarge as he showed his incredible stamina by fucking the broad at an incredible, brutal pace.

Laughing, one of the eavesdropping cops said to the other “That’s what a real man does to a woman's pussy!  Listen to that powerful stud destroying that slut's twat."

Sarge roared as he pounded Alice even harder than before, his cock was a blur as it smashed the little hole. Sarge seemed to transform into a rutting bull. Sarge the bull  let out out a load, guttural bull bellow as his whole body shook when the bull bred the female livestock.   Sarge's bull balls retracted and the muscles in his bull cock work to pump load after load into the pussy.

Alice screamed as the force of Sarge's orgasm brought her to yet another one of her own. She could feel herself getting filled as load after load of cum was emptied inside of her. It was a cum-to-Jesus moment for the Pastor's daughter!

Lawdy!!!!!  Is this the rapture?

Now that Mizz Alice has gotten a taste for it, what do you say we
 each give her a whirl on our dongers?

 Sargent,  I can't believe how good that was. I loved having your
 huge cock inside me!  I can't believe how much I was missing
 out on!

Sarge makes some adjustments for comfort as Alice leaves
 the station.  

Sarge suppressed a grin as he watched his latest conquest, Alice the House Mother, leaving. Yet again he had  broken a bitch with the power of his monster cock. The well endowed stallion  knew few men Alice would meet in the future were ever going to be  able to match that masterful sexual performance.   Poor Alice! 

I just hope she doesn't become a stage 5 clinger as so many
 women I fuck tend to do, especially if they are virgins!

Sarge took a few moments to arrange himself after taking this fuck break.  Standing outside the door, unaware that the eavesdropping cops were now carefully concealed  voyeurs.   As Sarge adjusted his jockstrap enclosed package for greater comfort, a few pubes and his startling huge thick cock came into view.  The white jockstrap highlighted the tan anaconda, which just kept going and going as the jockstrap went lower.  From where Sarge was standing, the two gawking cops were the only ones who could see Sarge's dick.  They were getting a private show, unknown even to the Sarge. They had checked it out before, and knew it was the biggest cock in the police locker room.  Many a time while soaping up in the locker room showers they had admired Sarge's huge anaconda, just casually flopping about.  On those occasions, even as they applied body wash to their own well muscled, All-American jock, stud bodies and horse sized cocks, they couldn't help but take a long, extended and envious view to admire the naked Sarge's huge biceps, massive pecs, and chiseled, eight pack abs.  While the two nude officers may have been hung like stallions, the Sarge could compete with porn stars. Sarge's anaconda hung halfway to his knees at a thick but still entirely soft seven inches. Sarge's low hanging balls were ginormous, completing his total package.


FUGITIVE FOLLIES

Sarge has another meeting in his office, this time with confidential informant Dean O. Anselm.  Dean was a dancer over at the Rainbow Room, the only gay bar between Killeen and Round Rock.  

Dean O. Anselm: 
Dancer/Bouncer at the County's only Gay Bar,
 the Rainbow Room and confidential police informant 

D.O.A. has some info on Amadou's whereabouts
 to share with Sarge

The talk around the Rainbow Room is that Amadou will be in
 Flower Ranch tonight at the Brass Knuckle! 

Dean let's him know of a escape from the Billy Clayton Correctional Facility, the west wing of which served as the county jail.   He also has info that Amadou will be showing up in Flower Ranch, to meet some criminal confederates at the Brass Knuckle Roadhouse.  Sarge calls the State Troopers and learns a Detain on Sight has been issued.

"OK ladies," announces the Sarge.  "It looks like our boy Amadou has escaped from  County Jail wing of 'The Billy',  again.  I just got a Detain on Sight request from the State Troopers. He will probably be showing up around town shortly. They think we should focus particularly on the Brass Knuckle Roadhouse," he added protecting the identify of his informant.

"Fuck Sarge, isn't that the 4th time he's escaped this year?  If the dumb Croatian would stop getting extra time for breaking out of jail and fighting in jail he would have been out by now...".

"True dat.  But, he gets lonely for his girl or his momma.  And I guess as far as the fights are concerned, well we can hardly complain about those.  Think of all the money we made on that betting pool when we were still had the Monthly  Jail House fights.  I bought my 2016 $85,000 Ford Pickup F-450 Truck for cash, just from my share of the internet money for streaming those fights.   And Amadou was the unbeaten  Champ of Billy Clayton Correctional Facility, well, until Studd came along.  Now that was a shocker.  I never thought I would see that 6'7" 285 fighting machine lose a fight, but Studd took him down.  That was some real Thanos versus Hulk shit there.  Too bad we had to shut those fights down before those two could have a rematch.  But we were just getting too much heat, too many people knew about the fights, too many injuries had to be explained away...Now that they have those sick fucking live death matches from Nigeria and shit  on the internet, the whole underground fight business is sketchy as fuck! "

Bob smirks to Rusty:  "Sarge does like his long-winded expositions, doesn't he!"

Rusty smiles and whispers back:  "Sure does seem like lazy dialogue writing to me!"

Bob looks out toward you readers:  "Shhhhh, maybe the readers won't notice!"

Rusty snickers:  "Not likely they will, they just look at the pictures and skim through the rest!"

Bob:  "When do we get to punch or fuck something, that is the whole point of this blog right?  That, and off-color humor!"

The station works itself into a frenzy

 "Listen up, CODE RED.  Amadou was taken into custody at the Brass Knuckle, and is now on his way to the station.  Have all the on duty officers report back to the office immediately.   Al, get the tasers, the rubber bullets, the tear gas, the pepper spray, the body armor and the billy clubs.  Short-Stack, get the dart gun and the elephant tranquilizer darts from over at Animal Control."


Meanwhile, back at the roadblock...


"Fuck, here it is almost 2 am and  90 fucking degrees with bugs everywhere, got to love Texas in August.  I know I'm on duty but I am still taking my shirt off,  we haven't seen anyone in hours and its too fucking hot not to get comfortable.

Fuck the dress code,
it's too fucking hot out here not to get comfortable

 Not to mention,   I'm still as horny as fuck from those sorority chicks earlier tonight.  My cock's been hard as shit for over four hours now.  Maybe I should seek medical attention like they say on those TV ads?  You got any ideas, Ed?"

You know, hot weather makes me super horny!
Me, too!
So what are we going to do about it!

As the two bare-chested  cops mutually admired the hard, muscular physique of their fellow officer, they could practically sense the electricity in the hot humid Texas-in-August air. The cheesy porn movie-like music from the local country western station that is playing over the Patrol Cars radio drowns out the Police Radio, and thus the dispatcher's call for them to return to the station to assist when Amadou is brought in, is not noticed by the pair of muscular knuckleheads.

We have to stop meeting, like this...
🎵 wompity womp whaaa wooo whaa 🎵

I can't quit you Ed!
Me neither, Sam!🎵 bippity braah whaaa whaa🎵

🎵 wompity womp whaaa weeah 🎵  (musical crescendo)

We can leave this off the night's action report!
Ya think?
🎵 wompity womp whaaa whaaaa 🎵

Pussy is great and all, but man-pussy tempts me more!

Hot fucker.  Do you like to play rough, Sam?  'Cause I like to
play rough...
Yeah, I like to play rough, Ed.  So let's do it...

Sam easily dominates Ed.
"Is this rough enough for you, Partner?"

Stepping back, Sam's right hand grabs Ed's throat and with a quick, clean jerk, lifts the muscled law man overhead.  Sam's bulging muscles pop. Then Sam takes two steps forward and slams Ed gut-first over his outstretched knee.  

illustration by Enrique Nieto Nadal

Sam's right hand grabs Ed's throat and with a quick,
 clean jerk, lifts the other muscled law man overhead.  
Sam's bulging muscles pop as he holds his partner high. 

Ed is doubled over on the ground, retching between agonized sobs and groans and clutching his stomach with both arms. Sam has won this match hands down! The alpha male Sam has dominated Ed, the weaker muscle stud.  The humiliated Ed is intimidated by Sam's muscles and confidence.

Ed is on his knees holding his stomach and retching after
 Sam's devastating gut buster.  Sam stands over Ed with his
 arms raised in triumph.  

Sam had his arms raised in triumph, letting the defeated Ed admires his huge biceps, massive pecs, and chiseled, eight-pack abs. And Ed, the loser, pays the price of defeat! The clear victor mounts his prize then and there.

Ed is forced to bend over the patrol car open door.

Ed is forced to bend over the patrol car open door. Sam pushes the front of his uniform down, then frees his big rock-hard cock from his required police issue jockstrap.  His long  thick cock slaps against Ed's ass cheeks. Sam then rubs the heavy meat up and down Ed’s ass crack as pre-cum bubbles from the head. Sam’s hands move around Ed’s torso to play with his jutting nipples and to squeeze his thick muscle pecs of his big chest.

San nuzzles the back of Ed's neck, then the stronger man powerfully pushes Ed’s upper body until he's bent over the open car door, exposing his asshole. Expertly shifting his hips, Sam positions his cockhead directly over his muscled partner’s sphincter. Slowly but steadily, Sam  pushes his long thick cock in until the low hanging bull sized testicles of both men are touching.

Sam snaps his hands on Ed's hips and snarls: “You lost , Partner! And now prepare to get fucked." The combat and the sight of Ed in this helpless position clearly aroused Sam. His dick was now hard as steel and stretched an ample 8.5" inches.

Sam holds Ed's hips and forced his rod in. Ed screamed as Sam plunged deeper and deeper. Sam yanks his cock almost clear of Ed's ass, pauses a beat, then slams it in deep, followed by violent, rapid pumping punctuated  by periodic slaps across the top of Ed's ass.

The two powerfully built cops grunt and growl while sweat beads, first on Sam and then on Ed, then rolls down their bulging muscles.

A groaning Sam between gasps of air, hisses to a moaning Ed:

“I know you're tough; I know you're strong, but now you know I'm stronger - you know I can fight you; you know  I can beat you; and you know I can fuck you and make you LIKE it. We’ll have to make this a regular DATE, you and me!” 

I can fuck you and make you LIKE it. 
We’ll have to make this a regular DATE, Ed, just you and me! 

I arrive at the road block a few hours later in my jeep.  I am wearing a white wifebeater and jeans and when I identified my business as a lawyer representing a client in Flower Ranch, I immediately raised good ol' boy suspicions with the musclehead cops, and frisked for:  "not looking like any sort of lawyer I ever done seen!" 

Lawyer, my ass!  You are one of them off duty soldier boys out of
 Fort Hood, aren't you boy!

Now why they think anyone would impersonate a lawyer on a lonely state road in the middle of goober Texas, when there was no pussy around to impress, I cannot say.  I even flashed my business card.

My business card is embossed and printed on both sides, that 
usually impresses yokels, but not this time.

The cops google to see if a person can be arrested for 'suspicion of claiming to be a lawyer when he doesn't look like a lawyer'  but they can't find anything on google. They were about to arrest him on some standard trumped up charge, arguing whether it should be a #5 or a #7 when your quick thinking Mule gives them some Houston Texan skybox football tickets I carry for bribing local authorities when needed.  I take a quick look at the patrol car, and explain to Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumber, that to start the car, it needs to be in park.  Having "fixed" the car, the grateful meathead cops give me a ride to the station!


Leaning with my hands on the squad car and my legs spread far apart, Cop Ed starts to follow his frisk procedure once again.

"Sorry I got to frisk ya, Mule-buddy, especially since you fixed our car and gave us that hook up with the football tickets, not to mention that autographed JJ Watt Jersey that I swear to god I am going to wear every Sunday every football season till I die! It's just a rule before you can ride in the car...." I hold my tongue and do not comment that I was just frisked, realizing the big brutes probably can only hold one thought at a time in their tiny brains. I have to say, Ed was more handsy than a horny TSA agent, if you know what I mean, and I bet you do!

"No problem, Ed. Some of my best friends are cops..." I lied convincingly. 

Starting at my bare forearms the cop runs his gloved hands down my thick arms, grasps my big biceps and squeezes, continues down to my arm pits and then around to and under my snug wife beater. A solid check of my big firm pecs and a squeeze on the nips insures him that what he's feeling is all me, it just looks like I am wearing body armor  under my shirt. Following the contour of my yard-wide outstretched lats, the cop frisks my jeans waistband, lower back and rippling rock hard eight-pack. "Whew..." he whistles appreciatively.  "You are one stacked motherfucker. Your abs are sic, dude,  as hard as concrete. The hardest abs I ever felt!"  

I just smile, I have heard it all before.  Moving lower, he pats down my thick quads and steel cable hamstrings, down my right leg over my big calf that barely fits into my boots, then up the left leg. There can be no doubt he is admiring my Herculean physique, as he feels me up, appreciating what he feels as only another bodybuilder can.  Almost satisfied he needs to finish the pat down, placing his huge paws on each of my ass cheeks then slowly runs his left thumb and forefinger up and down the crack between those two massive glutes. Satisfied so far the cops hand reaches up between my legs and grips my prize bull sized balls in my fraying jeans, a slight squeeze and then he moves both hands to the front, where finally his right hand grips my long thick cock that is nestled to the right. I pass the inspection, in fact it looks like Officer Ed and Officer Sam have sizeable steel hard boners that their leather uniform pants are having to fight to contain. 

Frisking numero duo: Is that a gun in your pocket officer, or
are you just happy to be frisking me AGAIN!

Click it or ticket it, Mr. Mule, you in Texas, son!

Amadou arrives at the Station

Sarge:  "Listen up, as I said before we are in CODE RED.  Amadou is in custody and on his way to the station.  Have all the on duty officers report back to the office immediately.  I know Special Police Department Consultant  Studd is off-duty but find him and have him come in asap.   Al, get the tasers, the rubber bullets, the tear gas, the pepper spray, the body armor and the billy clubs.  Bob, get the dart gun and the elephant tranquilizer darts from over at Animal Control.  Sid, find the You Tube clips from  The 300"

You two with me...this is an all muscles on deck situation...

The Unbreakable Blue Wall...or so they tell themselves....

No jail can hold me, Texas Five-O!
Simmer down, we got you this time Croat-gloat!

You think so, PUNK!

Oh yeah, I'm sure, you are not so tough!

So Amadou, we meet again! With added charges!

No podunk Mayberry jail can hold me for long! If  'The Billy' 
couldn't hold me, why do you think this pipsqueak station can?

I have a plan, and the plan will end with a lot of bruised and
bloody cops lying on the ground unconscious!

Simmer down Amadou, or plan on me having my boys taser you
 until you light up like a bulb!

As Mike Tyson said: "Everyone has a plan 'till they get punched in the mouth."

Chaos breaks out in the station!

WWE Main Event Live from Flower Ranch only on P.P.V.!!

Care to lay any bets on the outcome?  I'll put a Grand
 on Amadou!

Amadou shrugs off a kidney punch...

Then he shrugs off a shot to the abs...this guy is one tough
mofo!

Amadou  is Am A Dou ing it...

...laying out the officers who were double teaming him... the Boys in  Blue need some reinforcement

Sarge jumps the counter & it's Sarge to the Rescue

Hold on boyz, help is acoming!

Titan against Titan as Sarge locks up with Amadou!

Officer Bob holds Amadou long enough for Sarge to get to his TASER 

With Bob joining in, Sarge gets a hand free and  pulls the TASER off his belt.  "Nemoj me odbaciti" (Don't Tase Me, Bro!) Amadou pleads in  Croatian.

AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHGGGG!!!!

I'm gonna fucking shove that TASER up your ass for that, Sarge.  
Really Amadou, and here I thought we were friends...ha ha!

Bro, and by Bro I mean never my Bro, the only thing going up a
ass around here is gonna be my big dick going up your
Croatian shit hole.

I told you this would happen!, laughed Amadou
It's not going well for the Home Team. The Boys in Blue are
 getting decimated.

Ed and Sam arrive with Your Mule

Whoa! It looks like you boyz are getting your butts kicked!

Hey, you big Ox, that's my newest friend Officer Ed, you just 
popped in the jaw

It's not going well for the Home Team. The Boys in Blue are getting decimated. It's looking grim when Ed and Sam arrive with me, looking for my client, Moonchild, although I keep referring to him as Moon rocks!

Surveying the destruction,   I laugh.  "That's one big sombitch and he's kicking everyone's ass in a whole station full of cops!"  Reminds me of myself in my college days.

I'm not as impressed with this haymaker throwing ape as the collapsing cops are. The big gorilla  has no defence, all he's got are just looping slow telegraphed punches, no jabs, no combos, no elbows or knees.  If these cop clowns have so much trouble with this low-rent tough, imagine what would happen if Big Bad Bo came to town, and they tried to arrest him!  Mmmm Bo!

Bo as a regular traininng and sparing partner is one of the
 benefits to moving to Texas!

Among other things...

mmmmmm Bo....

I need  to snap out of this, this adventure could prove just the
 opportunity I need to reclaim my man-card!

Since I train tap out, I beat the shit out of big mofo's like this dude all fucking day. I've been in street fights, cage fights, cage fights in the street, and a street fight in a cage.  Just a few months ago I was in Canada where I battled a pack of wolves with rattle snakes in their mouths and more wolves on their backs.

(See Lumberjack story for further adventures I had on that trip)

But I am still tempted to knuckle up with this fawking huge and swole  muthafukka.  Ah!, there is nothing like having the skills to pin a big  man to the ground against his will. And like baby Jesus said in the Holy Bible:  "Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfuker in the valley."

I got to admit, I was tempted to deliver one of my Muay Thai kicks to the muscle-heads face, and send him to the Emergency Room.  Or maybe Leg kick, takedown, overhand right, and it's good night. Amadou.  But I am on the clock right now, billing all this to a Minor League  Baseball Team Owning, heavily botoxed, aging sourpus.  Yup, I'm  working here!  So, I better not get involved. See contrary to what frequent readers of this blog  may think, I don't run around picking fights... I just have a personality that draws animosity.

As I'm watching, Al and Sam jump into the fray.  Both go down to the flying fists of  Amadou instantly. 

Then I realize that at this rate, there will be no one left conscious to help me get Moon Pie out of jail!  I am thus FORCED to intercede on behalf of my client!!!  

Not only does Amadou have sloppy fighting techniques,
but he has a glass jaw a well!

A glass jaw and a big Mule fist flying in a powerful punch
means Lights Out for Amadou!

Normally I would be disappointed by such a speedy fight...

illustration by Enrique Nieto Nadal

I deliver a carefully calibrated uppercut to Amadou’s jaw, 
sending the muscled fighter flying!

Normally, I would be disappointed by a quick victory, but I have jailed punks to spring and places to be, so an expedited fight serves me well, here!

I knock Amadou the Fuck Out!

Amadou was slow as fuck and never got a single hit in. It only took me about 5-6 hits to drop his big ass.   My legendary 4 punch combo and an upper cut, the Flower Ranch Police Dept will be talking about for years was all it took me to put the beast down. He went down like a sack of potatoes.  He was out cold. I kicked him hard in the gut just for good measure.

Excuse me, Mr.Mule, I'm Moonchild. I sure hope you're the
lawyer my Mom was sending. I must say you made a hell of a
entrance, Sir... he said in a high, reedy pipsqueek voice!
I sure am your lawyer, Moonlander, now let's see about getting
you outta here!--I replied in my gruff tenor!

Whoa, did you see that!!!  That fake lawyer knocked Amadou
the fuck out with one punch, Bro!

Sam:  "I think that went pretty well, Ed. We got things sorted, with help of that pretty city-boy! Man that was like a  prime Mike Tyson uppercut he put on Amadou.  I thought he had knocked Amadou's head right off his shoulders when I heard that punch land.  It sounded  like a cannon going off."
'

Only person I have ever seen that can punch like that fake
 Lawyer is Studd. I would like to see those two square off
muscle to muscle, noted Ed

Sarge:  "Forget that.  No fighting. Remember the Feds are watching us for that shit.  Maybe some other contest of strength?  I got the impression that Jacked City-boy is not the sort of alpha male that can ignore a challenge..."

It's been real, it's been fun, but we got to get back to being a
Police station!

The sarge explained his refusal to allow the fight,  "Can't have prisoners or other civilians  fighting  for our amusement anymore  'cause been some injuries  and  legal problems..."  He glared at me when he said that, having learned I claimed to be a lawyer, and clearly take the claim more seriously than Sam and Ed did.   

"We need an alternative contest to satiate the competitive spirit and on which those who are inclined can lay bets!"  The cops do not seem entirely satisfied.  I try to press for information on my client, but the cops seem more interested in the contests than engaging in any police business. 

Sarge explains:  "Remember, we got liability issues that keep us from having fights.  Too bad cause I got one of the best underground fighting studs in the entire state here tonight.  Amadou, who I got locked in his favorite cell and is sleeping off some tastering and pepper spray, and a right uppercut from that Lawyer feller.  So, We can't have a fist fight, but we can do arm wrestling.  No injuries like in a fight in arm wrestling.

"I don't know Sarge," I explain, "The last human I had a arm wrestle with was a bouncer in a bar in Oklahoma. I broke his arm. He also had to have orthopedic surgery on his shoulder joint. And he ended up with a metal rod and nine screws in his arm. I felt so bad about how it turned out that I donated $2000 to his 'GO FUND ME' page to help pay his medical bills. Actually the dude was a total asshole, and I didn't really feel sorry for him, but I was trying to impress his hot girl friend with my generosity trying to get her to blow me. But anyway, my point is that you can still get pretty messed up arm wrestling. We weren't allowed to arm wrestle when I was playing football - team rule. Too many injuries."

Sarge: "Huh, good to know.  I guess we can scratch arm wrestling from the list. Uhhh, did you say he was the last human you arm wrestled with ...????"

Me:  "Yeah they was this arm-wrestling bear named Baloo that I met in Alaska a couple of months ago at this Lumberjack contest, its sort of a long story, I would be glad to tell it to you over a beer and a steak some evening....my treat of course...and now how about we take a sec to talk about my client...?"

Ed: "Excuse me, Sarge, but I think I got a suggestion.  Mule here has got a set of abs on him like steel armor plate on a fucking battleship. How about....."

" ...A Gut Punching Contest!!!"  Sarge finished the sentence for Ed.

"and my client?" I interjected, being the ace lawyer y'all know me to be!

The Sarge smiled a snarly grin:  "If you win, we release your client and drop all charges..."

"and if I don't?"  I inquire, wanting to be apprised of all my legal options.

"Then things will get more complicated ..."

"Seems legally legit,"  I thought sarcastically.

After the State Troopers come to haul off Amadou back to 'The Billy'  (Billy Clayton Correctional Facility) 

and finally we are free to go in the back and conduct our contest.

Studd

Studd is an ex prisoner and occasional confidential police informant. He is also a "special consultant" to the department, which means he is often called on to work on special projects related to the town's criminal activities that the police want to keep a distance from.   He claims to have turned his life around after having accepted Jesus through the prison ministry of 'Wrestling for Jesus in Jail'.  His cover story and Texas accent are impressive and have fooled the yokels.  I could, with my keen powers of observation, tell there was something off about him.

Police Department Notice Board 

Studd turned his life around after having accepted  Jesus
 through the prison ministry of 'Wrestling for Jesus in Jail'

 Unknown to even the Sarge, Studd is actually British Agent  Lt. Commander Humbert Stedmann Smoot-Hawley,  formerly of her Majesty's Royal Navy Seals, and now a deep cover agent of MI6.1, assigned to INTERPOL's  anti-underground fighting task force, which investigates links between underground fighting and the financing of terrorism.  They haven't actually found any links yet, but are like OJ looking for the real killer in their dogged determination.

The sargeant explains the rules:
"You won’t fight, exactly. You’ll take turns gut punching each other…”   I shift my weight slightly, intrigued, by this development.

“The first one to go down and can't get back up,” Sarge says. “ The one who can’t continue, loses.” Sarge smirks. “Speaking of going down…” he says quickly. “The loser will blow the winner..."

“WHOA!” Mule and Studd both yell, alarmed,  muscles flexing.  "Steady, there Sarge! That wasn't our dealio " I add.

The  Sarge waves at us dismissively: “So the loser will blow the winner....;"  I again begin to speak but is cut off. “There shouldn’t be any punches other than body blows involved in any of this,” the Sarge says.  "We don't want any bashed in faces, black eyes, or broken bones.   We need to chill on our fights here so no bruises that can't be hidden with a tee shirt."

I look at Studd and he just glares at me like I am a bear he is sizing up for a rug.  No help from that quarter.

 “So for that reason, the focus is on sensuality AND  controlled violence, so feel free to… uh… enjoy each other before, during and, if you’re able, after the winner is determined"

The store room is located behind the cell block. Its original purpose was the shower room for the prisoners when the jail was used to keep prioners long term (up to six months), and the cells were full of prisoners. But court ordered changes in treatment of prisoners, opened new economic opportunities. Several years ago a group of politians and businessmen got together and built a new privately owned Prison. A few years later, when incarceration rates began to fall, and with it the profits being made by the Private Prison owners, a new law was quietly passed and all the local jails in the 3 county area were required to transfer any arrestees to be held more than 24 hours to the Billy Clayton Correctional Facility.

Now used as a storeroom, the room is still has a big iron bar door since the big guns used to be locked in there. But now the shelves that used to hold rifles and semi-automatic weapons only hold light bulbs, batteries and a myriad of other supplies.

Sarge slipped out of the room, slammed the iron bar door and locked it. “We wouldn’t want you boys to be interrupted, now would we?” he said with a sugary sweet tone of voice.

We wouldn’t want you boys to be interrupted, now would we?

Studd looked younger than I was expecting. He looked to be about 24 years old. A young and good looking muscle-guy with the confidence that comes from that. He was my height and was as thickly muscled as I was. He had powerful biceps, a narrow waist and massive chest and thighs. Overall, we seemed to be fairly evenly matched. 

"Blimey, but ya'  a bloody huge bloke, Mule." Studd said, with his eyes locked on me like a predator. "So ya wanna give up t’me now? Or d’ya want me t’make ya my beetch in fronna all these men? They're ganna lav it!"

I gave the tatted up muscleboy a puzzled look. I was trying to make out what Studd had said. His odd accent left me deciphering my opponent’s words laboriously. That sure wasn't any Texas accent, I had heard before. "Too late to back out now, mate."

I'm confident.  My jacked up muscle fibers are like organic body armor.  When he hits these bricks I call abs with his fist he's going to break a hand and die. “Bring it. Let’s do this.”  I reply.

My jacked up muscle fibers are like organic body armor

Both fighters, eyes locked, with low  murmuring from the watching cops. I quickly eye Studd’s sweat-soaked, muscled torso. His big chest is heaving. His biceps are popping. Damn. He's a sexy fucker. Studd's eyes slide over me, watching the way my muscles move, the way my cock is beginning to rise in my jeans, the way the subdued light glints off my sweat, and smiles. I am smiling also.

Oil each other up!

"Oil each other up!", Sarge commands, pointing to a can of extra virgin olive oil on the floor.  Sure, why not, I think as I pick up the olive oil and I begin to oil Studd's powerful torso.  Studd's chest swells at my touch. He lets me work on his chest and shoulders, feeling my strong hands pressing firmly against his muscled body. I next am oiling Studd's abs, all the way down, including his Adonis belt and the abs below his navel. My muscles pumping, I begin running my right hand over Studd’s rippling steel muscled stomach. "YIPES," I think, but outwardly I am steely determination and menacing intimidation, “I’ll… UNGH!... break this shit,” I say, with a low growl, my muscles flexing. As I oil the lowest abs.

Time to oil up my target, so it is all bright and shiny when I
destroy it!

Look at these abs Studd the Dudd, because if you think you can
 destroy these, that is a negatory on that, Spudd!

I don't know where they buy this Texas Corrections olive oil, but
 it smells like more like kerosene than olives!

I hand the bottle of oil over. Instead of applying the oil to my formidable torso, Studd steps back and slathers an excess of oil on his own pecs, then steps forward to rub his pecs against mine while his hands pull me in tight with hands on my muscled bubble butt. Studd's sweat-and-oil-slicked pecs press into mine. We are now nose-to-nose as Studd slides his hard, oiled pecs against mine.  

I hand the oil to Studd. Instead of applying the oil to my 
formidable torso, Studd steps back and slathers an excess of 
oil on his own pecs, then steps forward to rub his pecs against
 mine

"Blimey, those are some rock hard bollocks ya got there, Mule. Maybe ay’ll bugger y’arse after all. Whatdya think?" Studd laughed.

You talk tough Barrister-boy, but this guy here is
ACTUALLY tough! This will be over quicker than a crumpet
 at tea, you gobby blighter!

Feel these muscles mate, and weep for your future as an invalid!

But on the bright side, you can lawyer just fine from a
wheelchair!

I grunt at Studd's as Studd caresses my flexing ass. Studd's hands knead my ass then move up my wide back, caressing the thick back muscles as they flex under his touch. As his hands reach my shoulders, I moan, then instinctively clamps both his hands together under Studd's hard ass, pulling the other muscleman's  body toward my own, muscle pressed to muscle. The small audience again murmurs its approval. 

I'll put 200 on the fake lawyer!
I'll take that bet, Studd is going to wipe the floor with Mr.
 Phoney Baloney!

 Studd's hands work down from my pecs  to my rippled, deeply craved abs, Studd looks into my eyes. He whispers: "You're beautiful,  mate!  What, I wonder, will it feel like when my fist sinks into your muscle gut?

Studd's right hand goes around my head and tries to bring our lips together. I  jerk my head back to avoid the kiss. "Fuck you!" I growl. "You'll find out what a gut punch feels like soon enough, FUCKER!"

I smirk and take a step forward. I place my left hand on Studd's right pec, then starts circling his thumb across Studd's nipple. Studd's abs harden at the first touch of my hand on his right pec. He holds his abs tight as his nipple spikes to a bullet to my working fingers.  In a low murmur, I say: "You want to know what a..." I fire my right fist in an upward arc toward Studd's stomach, the sound of  my fist slapping against flesh echoing off the walls. "... GUT PUNCH feels like... BITCH?!" I say, still smirking. 

With Spiderman like reflexes, Studd powerfully tenses against my blow in time. He flexed his abs into a cobblestone wall of muscle a second before my shot to his mid-section landed. Studd grunted like a Silverback gorilla and was forced back a step, bent over. Still bent over, he takes a couple of deep breaths, then straightens up slowly, stretching his abs as he does and looking unharmed.

Studd flexed his abs into a  wall of rock hard  muscle  before
 my shot to his mid-section landed

Studd grunted like a Silverback gorilla and was forced back
 a step

Bent over, he takes a couple of deep breaths, then straightens
 up slowly, stretching his abs as he does and looking 
unharmed.

To my shock, I fared worse, even though I was the one that was punching! It was as if I had hammered my punch into the tree trunk of a huge oak. The recoil shuddered back up my arm. The tattooed muscleman's rock hard stomach declared it was more than ready for anything that I could throw. The force of my own punch pushed me back a foot. Pain ricocheted back up my arm, forcing a grimace.

Jeez, but hitting this guy is hard on the fist, I thought.

"Jeez, but hitting this guy is hard on the fist," I thought. I hadn't expected this buff stud's abs to be so solid. Studd smiled at my the look of shocked pain on my face as I felt the jarring pain from his rock-hard guts and stared at my fist in disbelief.

 "You got a strong punch, mate," Studd complimented me quietly.  "I am actually gobsmocked that a minted plonker like you has any aptitude at bit of argy-bargy!"   

"Damn," I thought, "Studd talks just like Artist-brah!"

You got a strong punch, Mate, Studd complimented me
 quietly.  

Hearing the compliment, I replace the look of shocked pain on my face with a good-natured smile.

"You're tough. I gotta say," I returned the compliment to Studd, still smiling.  "Punching that muscled torso of yours is like punching into rock! I'm going to enjoy seeing how long you can keep that up!"

Appreciative laughter broke in the crowd behind us. The crowd applauds as I step back and place my hands on my hips, bracing myself and waiting for Studd to take his turn.

In a show of good sportsmanship, we fist-bump with our right hands. But as his right hand slides away, his left fist slams into my belly button. Studd's smile turns to a smirk as he watches Your Mule react to his punch. Caught by surprise, I don't tighten my ab muscles into a wall of rock in time. SMACK! I'm not prepared for the raw power of Studd's punch that goes deep into my gut, forcing a pained grunt from my lips as I begin to double up, my head momentarily on Studd's shoulder.

I'm not prepared for the raw power of Studd's punch that
goes deep into my gut...

...forcing a pained grunt from my lips as I begin to double up,
 my head momentarily on Studd's shoulder.

Looks like you felt that, Muscleman

'

I know exactly what I am going to spend that $200 on when
 Studd wins!

Trying my best not to show how much that had hurt, I grinned and with a great amount of false bravado, said: "That's it? That's as hard as you can hit? I have to say I'm a little disappointed, I was hoping for more of a true challenge. You hardly seem to be the competition I was led to expect."

UHHHHHHH...
That's it? That's as hard as you can hit?

"Oh, I won't disappoint. Let's go, Mule. You punch me, then I punch you. Let's see who is the last man standing!"

"My abs stand up against the battering of every so called strong man who dares trade punches with me. No matter how big or tough they thought they were, every one ended up doubled-over at my feet," I replied, confidently.

The exchange of gut punching started, and the dialogue for the next few minutes went something like this:

Me: "HA! How did that feel, brah?"

Studd: "But no way am I gonna let some brawny barrister get the better of mmmgh..."

Me: "UURRH...! Heh, yeah, OK, OK...that was good.   You're strong, Studd, I will grant you that! Good! That just means I won't have to hold back." 

HA! How did they feel, brah?

OOFF!!! Nice punch, bro!! But this is Nicer!

New bets are placed!

You're strong, Studd, I will grant you that! Good! That just
means I won't have to hold back.

A series of blows are exchanged!  The sounds of fist hitting solid muscle echoes off the concrete walls, along with alternating grunts and groans that sound something like this:

Studd: "NNHHHH..."

Me: "GGGGGGA..."

Studd:"URRRHA..."

Me: "AAHR..."

Studd: "GHAA..."

Me:"NNNR..."

Studd:"RAAAH..."

Me:"GGAN..."

I lurched over Studd's sledgehammer fist each time it hit, my face scrunched in pain. Hitting me was like hitting an oak-but Studd was now chopping that oak down. Pain shot through my gut and through my whole body everytime Studd drove his fist into my abs. Sweat poured in thick streaks down my sculpted torso like a waterfall as Studd continued to work me over with one solid hit to my muscled gut after another.  

We both grunted with pain with each blow. Both of our muscle-packed bodies were slick with a thick sheen of sweat and to the thud of fist hitting muscle was a wet slapping sound. Each punch seemed to get harder and harder, and every grunt of pain was louder and more guttural than the last.

The Fake Lawyer is tougher than I imagined, this is shaping up
 to be a good show!

Studd realizes he is going to step up his game if he wants to
 win, this is not like the local yokels!

Granted, spectator Sarge is low key rooting for home boy Studd, particularly as he has a Franklin riding on the outcome, but setting that aside, objectively to Sarge it appears that I am getting my overly muscled rear handed to me on a plate.

Barrister dude can punch, but does he have the stamina for such
 a contest, wonders Studd

But no way am I gonna let some brawny barrister, beat ME!--
Studd thinks, focusing his anger.

I wonder: What I have gotten myself into, and I wonder how 
often I  wonder, this!

Shall we double the bets?

Time for me to adjurn your case, barrister-boy, time to plead out
before you bleed out.

Heads up, Sarge. I'm about to drop this big boy like a sack of
 shit.  Stop jacking your cock so you don't miss it 

Suddenly, my knees give out and I crash onto both knees on the hard floor.  I had dropped to my knees, heaving. 

You might be a hot shot at the firm, but this is my
court, Mule, and my justice is swift and painful!

It looks all over, and the fat lady is stepping forward to sing...

A surprised gasp followed by cheers erupt from the small watching audience.  Your Mule's head remains bent forward, my back arched painfully as I try to take in some air, painfully, slowly while still on my knees in front of Studd.  Studd grins and in a humiliating act, ruffles my hair almost affectionately.

Angrily I snap my head away and begin to rise to one knee.  I wince, clinching my jaw, and then quickly if painfully rises to his feet.  I don't pause, I immediately step forward into Studd while at the same time pulling my right fist back.

I step forward and snap my left fist on the back of Studd's head, pausing a moment to glare at him. I then lean forward, and send a quick lick up the left side of Studd's face and, tensing my right bicep, fires my right fist forward into the fighter's gut. Studd tilts his head to escape my tongue, then feels this muscle boy's body tense, and so tenses his own gut. My fist bounces off Studd's abs, but he's ready and stands his ground. Studd takes a moment to unclench his abs, then takes a breath and steps back. His left hand moves to caress my right pec, squeezing and kneading the muscle while he watches my eyes. He leans forward, bringing his lips toward mine, then slams his right fist into my gut, followed by pressing his lips to me. I glare at Studd as he kneads my pec, tightening my stomach muscles. I tilt his head back as Studd's lips near his own, Studd's fist thudding hard into my already reddening abs, rocking my body and forcing a gasp from my lips. The watching crowd chuckles at the attack as I thrust my face forward.

Studd tilts his head to escape my tongue, then feels this muscle man's body tense, and so tenses his own gut. My fist bounces off Studd's abs, but he's ready and stands his ground. Studd takes a moment to unclench his abs, then takes a breath and steps back. His left hand moves to caress my right pec, squeezing and kneading the muscle while he watches my eyes. He leans forward, bringing his lips toward mine, then slams his right fist into my gut, followed by pressing his lips into mine.
  
I glare at Humbert (Studd) as he kneads my pec, tightening his stomach muscles. I tilt my head back as Studd's lips near my own, Studd's fist thudding hard into my already reddening abs, rocking my body and forcing a gag from my lips.

The watching cops chuckles at the attack as I thrust my face
 forward...

The watching cops chuckles at the attack as I thrust my face forward, the lips of both us musclemen colliding. I press my lips against Studd's. Then my tongue slips into Studd's mouth and presses Studd's tongue down. After a moment, I pull my head back and fire my left fist into Studd's six-pac. Studd rocks his head with the sensation of my exploring tongue, but the moment I pull away, Studd tightens his abs. My fist slams hard into my opponent's gut, forcing the air out of him. Studd takes a deep breath, then smiles. 

He steps forward, both hands sliding behind me and down to his ass, pressing our cocks together. Studd's head moves forward to nuzzle my left ear. He breathes on my ear. Hot. Oh fuck. I feel his tongue. Licking me. Tickling me. Tasting me. Fuck. The erotic shit distracts me.

I like the way you kiss, tough guy, Studd says quietly.
It has a nice kick at the end... 

"I like the way you kiss, tough guy," he says quietly. "It has a nice kick at the end..." Studd pulls back, his hands sliding to play with my pecs. Studd’s right hand comes away and he watches the way my abs harden. His right hand goes back to playing with my powerful pecs and his left hand comes down. Again, my abs harden. Studd's left hand moves towards my pecs, then suddenly forms a fist and slams into my gut.

The feint works, Studd's fist slamming hard into my abs that are quickly turning an angry red. Another pained grunt escapes Your  Mule's lips, my body rocked hard, sweat raining down, but my knees hold. I glare at Studd then steps forward, clamping both arms around his muscled opponent’s torso and squeezing his ass cheeks, then caressing them. My sweat-and-oil-slick pecs press against Studd's and I begin to nuzzle the fighter's neck. I begin to run the  fingers of my right hand over Studd's abs, looking into Studd's eyes and lightly kissing his lips, then sends my right fist smashing up into fighter's hard gut. Studd gazes back into the angry blue eyes, and smiles. The rough leather slides over his aching abs and then pulls away. Studd braces and my fist slams in hard, rocking Studd. Studd takes another moment to relax and take a deep breath. The ache in his reddening abs is constant but controlled. He moves toward me, his arms hanging at his sides. He brings his left knee up to nudge and caress my  balls, then slides the knee upward along the back of my stiff cock.  

I quiver and Studd's right fist slams into my muscled  gut. I keep my aching abs hard, Studd’s fist bouncing off them put still inflicting pain that I suffer in silence. Your Mule, unsmiling, fires my left fist toward, but stops my fist millimeters short of contact.

I smirk and continue  faking the punch once, twice, three times, then sending my fist flying into Studd’s stomach and upward at the fourth jab. Studd's abs flex just in time.  Studd breathes deeply, then closes in with this muscled stud, his lips nibbling at my right ear lobe.  "You're learning, tough guy," Studd whispers.

"Shut up, asshole!" I growl. Studd's right fist slams into my gut just as I close my mouth. My body rocks and I instantly fires a right fist into Studd's stomach. Studd's body is jolted by the sudden comeback. He shakes his head and takes two deep breaths. Smiling, Studd slides around Your Mule, his left hand trailing along my deeply rising and falling pecs, his right hand  sliding over my broad, muscled back. He bends forward to nibble at the back of my neck, his cock grinding against my ass. I jolt forward and spin around, planting my hands on Studd's beef steak pecs and shoving Studd back.

"Fucker!" I snarl.

I glare. Studd  slams his fist into my stomach. I let out a yelp of surprise. "I guess that hurt!" Studd quipped,   producing laughter in the audience.

 My chest heaves in rage as I step forward and clamp my left fist into the hair on the back of Studd's head. "You're gonna write your own death warrant, phaggot!" I spit out, then bring my right fist up quickly next to Studd's abs. I measure him up carefully, then  I begin feinting and throwing fake jabs, not actually connecting but my feints make Studd have to tighten his abs each time. Once, twice, three times, four, then relaxes, fires it short a fifth time and then finally send my  fist punching into it on the sixth jab. Studd's abs are almost ready for the fist that finally hits home. Studd breathes deep, flexing his aching abs, then moves toward Your Mule. Studd leans forward so his breath tickles my left ear.  "You’re sexy when you're mad, tough guy," he says, then slams his right fist deep into my abs.

I make a strangled grunt, his right lifting me off the ground, before I crash down onto my knees, my face falling forward into Studd's cock. Studd sinks to his knees and presses his lips to me. The watching crowd applauds the attack, then laugh at Studd's attempt to kiss. I yank his head away, my eyes watering, one armed draped protectively over my aching, purpled stomach. I makes a few strangled chokes, then slowly, painfully breathes in trying to shake the pain out of my head.

I rise up, winching, still on my knees and fire a right  uppercut to Studd's abs. Studd's body is jolted by the unexpected power of my response.   As he rocks back on his heels, Studd fires his own fist into this muscle boy's abs. Sweat flies off as he punched me back onto my ass, all the while wincing in pain, the broken blood vessels under my brutalized stomach, turning a darker red.  The assembled cops cheer the attacks. as I again shield , my throbbing abs with my left arm, then scramble forward and fire a punch into Studd's gut. Studd folds over it. The punch force a gasp from Studd and as air rushes back into his lungs. Studd goes to hands and knees, head hanging as he coughs and then draws a deep breath and stands, wincing slightly.  

The British muscle-man wobbles slightly, shakes his head, then jabs a finger at me, urging

Studd releases my arms, smiles, and then fires his right fist into my purpled gut. My body shakes and I wince in pain, but remain standing and silent. I step forward, pressing into Studd's body, then clamp Studd's chin in my left hand and lean forward. "You better pray to baby Jesus you lose quickly, fucker!" I snarl, then press my lips hard into Studd's, my knee rising slowly and gently rub the muscled fighter's big ball sack before sending my right fist up into his stomach.

Studd's body jerks with the impact but absorbs it. He opens his mouth, inviting my tongue inside, while his right hand goes behind my head, keeping us close. I spit into Studd's face. The crowd gasps. Studd slowly wipes the spit from his face and shakes his head. "You're strong enough to win, you're even stronger than me,  Mule," Studd says quietly as his right hand tucks under my chin, and the two musclemen stare eye to eye. "But I am winning all the same!" he added with a sly smile.

With eyes still locked, Studd's left fist plows into my stomach. I grunt, my stomach radiating pain like flame. I stagger back, my knees starting to buckle, but I stand firm. I glare at Studd. My body is  sweat-soaked muscle. I take one painful step forward, then another, then through his pants, I lightly clamp Studd's scrotum with my left hand and starts massaging the two jumbo egg sized testicles in the nut sack. Studd's breathing quickens.

I shake my head, then fire my right fist, stopping it short before instantly pulling it back and firing it into Studd's stomach. Studd groans with the pain and steps back, both hands going to cover the ache in his hurting gut. Mule's cock twitches at the sight of his hard-bodied opponent in pain. Studd's left hand slides between Mule's legs, playing with the muscle boy's balls through his trousers, before reaching up toward my engorged cock outlined nicely by my tightening jeans.

Studd's eyes look into mine and he bends down, his mouth licking at my swelling left pec, then sucks gently on the nipple. My cock again begins to swell as my jaw sets in anger. Studd's tongue works up between my sweat-slick pecs to the base of my thickly muscled throat. Studd's right fist slams into my gut. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid, my injured ab muscles trying to harden, doing so just long enough for Studd's fist to bounce off, but still inflicting pain into the abs, the blood pooling under the skin turning my stomach to an increasingly angry purple. I again waiver on my feet then stumble forward, my hands reaching around behind Studd, our lips touching, looking into each other's eyes.

'

We stare each other down, hostility masking our pain!

Studd's lips part. I rubs both hands up and down Studd's ass cheeks, then pull my right hand back. My tongue enters the muscled fighter's mouth and the two muscled titans kiss long and deep. My left hand slips up and down Studd's muscular ass cheeks, whch are stretching the fabric of his pants. Studd's ass flexes in response to the fondling, his head rocking with my probing tongue. In one simultaneous move, I squeeze down hard left hand on his right ass cheek, while my right fist fires up and into the other muscleman's injured stomach.

Studd's arms go around me, pressing the hard-bodied males into each as he struggles to breath.  Studd's head bows, sliding against mine. The crowd cheers and laughs as the young muscleman works to take a deep breath, then groans when he flexes his aching abs. The sweat from the two musclemen mixes and drips in a  pool on the floor. I lean against Studd, clinching in an effort to regain my breath and energy. Studd looks deep into my green eyes. 

Studd looks deep into my green eyes. 
You're amazing… Studd's says in a breathy whisper. 

"You're amazing…"  Studd's says in a breathy whisper. His right hand caresses the back of my neck. Slowly, Studd pulls away from me, steadies himself then throws his left fist into my gut. 

Sweat sprays as my body is rocked hard. I fall into Studd, the opposing fighter holding me upright, but I quickly stumble back and begin to breathe in painfully, slowly. I move forward and again clinch with Studd, pressing muscled pec to muscled pec. I looks into Studd's eyes for a long moment,  and then fire my left fist into the other musclestud's bruising abs. 

Studd's eyes close, he stops breathing, then a ragged breath inflates his lungs and he holds onto me. Studd's eyes open and he gazes into my half closed eyes and smiles.

"Now listen to the-iss sweetie," Studd whispered into my ear. "Ay just want to let y’know ay can end thees anytime ay want. But ay don't want to." I could feel the warm breath coming out of Studd's lips right next to his ear. "Ay’m goin’ t’have some fun with ya. We aren’t goin’ t’give the audience a half-assed match tonight. Y’understand?"

Studd’s right fist slams into my gut. I grunt in pain, my knees buckling. I begin to slide down Studd's torso, crashing down onto my right knee. Some in the audience cheer Studd's vicious gut punch. My head drops forward, my forehead pressed against Studd's left thigh as I breathes in ragged breaths. This injured fighter yanks my head back, and sees I am face to face with Studd's bulging package.

Studd stood with his fists clenched at his sides staring down at me, his muscular abdomen expanding and contracting significantly as he prepared himself to finish me off.  Studd paused to acknowledge the cheer of the crowd with a nod, a wink and a grin.

"Up," Studd said as he waved his arms upward, prompting Mule to climb. "C'mon... get up," he encouraged.

I had no choice. Unable to rise without assistance, the only way for me to get to his feet was to use Studd's body for support.

I began to slowly and gingerly scale Studd's mountain-like body. My face was red and his eyes glassy and distant, and I breathed through puffed cheeks to ward off the pain. I started at Studd’s gargantuan quadriceps muscles and the framed outline of the magnificent piece of meat between them. It  was fitting it was that such thick quads would have such a monstrous  cock between them because a dick of normal length and girth would look completely out of proportion compared to the size of Studd’s enormous legs.

Studd spread his arms, inviting me to continue my ascent. "Come on mate, don't quit on me yet,  you can make it!" Studd encouraged, as he waited for this battered and dazed Mule to rise so that he could finish me off.   I clearly was struggling to finish his climb.   It was also clear to the audience that I was losing.  Studd was going to continue to brutalize his equally muscled adversary until I was no longer able to throw another punch.  He  would just keep knocking me back down every time I got up.  But by the looks of things, I won't be getting back up after the Studd's next shot, anyway.

"How about you put on a kettle, governor, for after I knacker this wazzock's arse...and dross him arse over tit, this falderal should be over in a wink, mate,and I could use a cuppa!" Studd announced, to the Sarge, but all the cops just looked at each other and said.  "Huh?"

Next I reached Studd's chiseled abdomen, resting my head against it for a moment, riding it up and down with Studd's breathing. Then I reached up and grabbed hold of the solid pecs of my rival, dragging  myself  across  Studd's long torso and bullet hard erect nipples.

Finally, I reached the thick shoulders and neck of the hunky herculean muscleman, using them to pull myself to my feet.

It's my turn to throw. I know that Studd's next shot will likely finish me, so I have to make my shot count!

I look into Studd's eyes and see nothing but self confidence and assuredness.  I put the last of my power into a right-fisted punch to Studd's gut.  BAMMMMMMMMM.  Studd tightens his aching  abs into a wall of rock just before Mule's fist hits.  

Studd took a wide stance with his hands on his hips, bracing for my punch. We both knew this was going to be my last punch and my last chance to win...

 I threw my toaster sized right fist into his gut. I put my whole body into that punch.  My entire 263 lbs of muscle, all of the strenght of my big powerlifter legs, arms and shoulders were behind that punch.  I used every bit of power I had left in one final "Hail Mary" blow.

My blow caused the mountain of muscle to grunt like a silver back ape.  His eyes bulged and spit and air flew out his mouth. He bent in half over my fist.  But when I extracted my fist, despite my having thrown my most powerful blow yet, Studd did not end up curled up into a fetal position at my feet, clutching his destroyed abs, groaning and unable to rise.

Instead,  Studd took a few deep heavy breaths. Then slowly he straigtened back up.  He rubbed his belly, that was already showing ugly dark bruises, as did mine.  His chest and abs were heaving to replace the air that I had knocked out of his body.

Meanwhile, my own anvil sized fist striking Studd's still rock hard gut felt like I had punched a mountain. The recoil from the force of  my own punch shuddered back up my arm, sending a jarring  pain ricocheting back up my arm.  I hadn't expected Studd's abs to still be so solid.  Studd's rock hard gut had just declared that it was still able to take anything I was able to throw.

Then  speaking between breaths as his abs heaved to get air back into his body, Studd spoke.  "That was a good punch Mule.  Your hardest one yet.  But it wasn't hard enough to get the job done." He emphasizes his point by flexing and slapping his own cobblestone-like abs with the heels of his fists.  Pulling me close, Studd placed his lips against my right ear and whispered,  "Get  ready to feel the power of my killer fist as it rips through those thick abs of yours like cardboard....."

In response, my back goes ramrod straight. I look and sound confident, but  I know and Studd knows that the game is just about over.  I won't be able to get up after another shot.   One more punch and Studd will win!

"Just do it, motherfucker" I snarl. I slap my own stomach, which is  blood-red and already showing some nasty bruises.  I suck in a deep breath, and flex my aching gut. "Take your best shot and let's get his over with..."

Studd nudges and then rubs my abs with his massive fist, carassing and measuring his target. "Ok beetch, playtime is ova’." 

Looking me directly in the eyes, he  sees my big green eyes fill with defeat and self doubt. Studd smiles, then takes a deep breath. and draws back his right fist. Studd fires his right fist and drives it forward, nailing an amazingly powerful right hand straight up to my upper stomach. 

Studd's fist smashes into my body with superhuman force as though thrown by a fucking Hercules. 

The mighty right fist penetrates the steel armor of my abs and  goes deep into my gut.  It felt like his fist and arm went into my body half way up to his elbow, rearranging my internal organs as it did.  The air exploded out my mouth and spit went flying as the air was driven from my lungs.  I was stunned as I was impaled by his fist, as my eyes bulged out of their sockets and my whole body went limp from his devastating power punch. Using his leg strength and upper body power his now embedded fist lifted my feet and my  257 lbs of muscle off the ground. Outrageous pain erupted from the explosion that destroyed my entire midsection.  My whole body jackknifed on Studd's outstretched arm. I grunted loudly as my abs caved in around his fist. I was held doubled-up over Studd's head for a moment.  It felt like the momentum of Studd's fist drove my abs into my spine.

Outrageous pain erupted from the explosion that destroyed
 my entire midsection.

With his fist still imbedded in my
Solar Plexus...

 ...convulse once, sweat flying, then twice more before gravity
 finally kicks in and I fall back toward earth

With his fist still imbedded in my Solar Plexus, I convulse once, sweat flying, then twice more before my body went limp and I became deadweight. 

illustration by Nieto Enrique Natal
OK, play time is over Mule!
Studd fires his left fist, smashing it deep into Your Mule's
thickly muscled six pack, breaking down my concrete abs!
OOOFFF!!! Your stunned Mule grunts as I double over.

Gravity finally kicks in and I fall back toward earth. I crash limply with my full weight slumped in Studd's powerful arms.

Our sweat-slick flesh causes cause me to begin to slide off Studd.  As I do, Studd's arms go around me, holding me close. I am held upright by Studd  with my chin resting on his shoulder, my eyes shut tight in agony. "You lost, cocksucker..." Studd whispers in my ear, only loud enough for me to hear, before sticking his tongue into my ear. 

Sarge is overcome by “emotion” and clutches his equipment and steadies himself on Bob’s sturdy shoulder….Sarge was totally turned on by the muscle destruction now, his donkey cock longing to bust through his police uniform. He begins to rub his fat cock.

Then, Studd shouts, this time loud enough for all to hear: "Fuck yeah, now that's the way you get the job done...." I have two more convulsions as he withdraws his fist out of my gut. No longer impaled by his fist, I drop and slide down the front of his muscular body as my big body simply stops functioning.

I have two more convulsions as he
withdraws his fist out of my gut

No longer impaled by his fist,
I drop and slide down the front
of his muscular body... 

...as my big body simply stops functioning

"How did that feel, Bro? You ready to go again…or ay'm  done with ya for now...?" Studd says calmly, as he caught his breath and adjusted his hard cock. Then he puts out his hand to offer me a lift up. Through clenched teeth, between pained breaths and dry heaves, I growl: "I'll stand when I'm fucking ready!" I growl, still on my knees. Spittle dripped from my lips when I spoke. My whole body was feeling defeat. 

I try to get up, but I can't stand upright.  My legs buckle and  I fall back on my hard muscled bubble butt when I try.  My gut is heaving and gaspin' for air, and my muscles are no longer doing what my brain is telling them to do. I'm fucking wrecked! Studd had put me the fuck down!

"Mule is down for the count!, He isn't getting back up.  It's over!  Mule loses....and Studd wins!!!"  Sarge announces, and a cheer goes out for the winning Studd by the watching cops. Sarge collects his winnings, and decides to call it a night.  "Make sure the pretty boy completes his mission, Ed," the Sarge directs as he leaves. He heads out of the station, counting his loot, and contemplating what additional charges he can charge Moonchild with, to manipulate Your Mule into more contests.  Alone in his pick-up truck, he jacks off to visions of Studd v. Mule. 

"I’m feeling proper chuffed with myself, that I won that. I know you're feeling gutted after that loss, but if it makes you feel better, I am absolutely knackered myself." Studd tells me, while lacing his fingers behind his head and proudly flexing his etched and vascular  abs (including the knuckle-sized bruises already forming on his skin) posing and showboating for the small, but enthusiastically  cheering audience. His heaving breaths only accented his musculature.

You lost, Mule

OK cocksucker! Take my John Thomas in your 
mouth, and please me, Mule!

Any teeth I feel, you lose, understood, cocksucker?

Beng in total control of his defeated foe was an incredible turn-on for Studd, and he was going to enjoy it to the fullest. His cock was thickening, growing again.

“Take my John Thomas in your mouth and please me, Mule!”  The winner told me. "So much for foreplay." I thought with a smile. Studd didn't have to threaten me – he knew I was a man of my word and I would comply.

I was a man of my word, and I would comply!

 I suspected that his loins had been in some rather unsavory
 places, and I would need to go to a doc and get a shot
 for every STD under the sun, so a lot like my college days!

I got down to work! It is a dirty job, but someone has to do it!

'

Up for air!  Must not visibly gag, or the slimeball wins
AGAIN!

Back on task, oh the things I do for clients!

And I did comply. I opened my mouth and licked his imposing cock head, then worked my down the long, thick shaft and when I came up for air, I began work on his prominent scrotum, and started licking the victor's huge sweaty ball bag. Studd lowered his body further and I took one of the egg-sized nuts in his mouth, twirling my tongue under and around it.

“AWW FUCK MAN… FUCK YEAH…THAT'S THE WAY TO SUCK MY NUTS!” Studd was complimenting my tongue action. Blood rushed into Studd’s cock returning it to its full size. Then he told me to hold one huge nut in place with my teeth.  As I complied, Studd raised his long body up a bit, stretching the cords holding his testicle in his low hanging nut bag, driving him totally wild.

“OH FUCK FUCK FUCK! THAT’S INCREDIBLE!” He groaned. His cock was hardening even further, so much that it stood flat against his belly, the most erect it had ever been.

I sucked on Studd’s balls like this for several minutes, and Studd’s hard-on was like a lead pipe. Studd took a step back, towering over me. His quads and hamstrings quaked as he stepped back – they were enormous!

I looked up at the tattooed and mohawked Hercules, the thick purple pole of his huge cock was standing straight up against his gut. “Fukkkk!” I thought, as my own unsatisfied cock popped up at the image of Studd’s masculinity and power. Studd's body had proven to be superior to mine. Studd noticed my swelling cock and decided to put on a show for me. He towered over me and flexed his body into a most muscular pose, then a side triceps, then a double biceps, a crab and finishing by bouncing his pecs in an amazing display of muscle control.  I immediately set to work on  his ever growing donger.

"Squeeze my balls.  Stretch out my nut sack. Make my big low-hangers  hang ever lower. Yank it hard, Make it hurt  like your ripping em off me..the more it hurts the better,,,make me scream like I'm being castrated..."Then Studd's head goes back with a loud, agonizing groan. His bulging muscles peak and he begins to roar, his body shaking, his explosion of cum shooting down my throat as Studd's head rolls back and then snaps forward, his moan of ecstasy drowned out by his own roar. Studd’s body jerks, jetting spasm after spasm of cum.

The first stream of cum spewed into my mouth and throat. I coughed and struggled as the second wad blew in. Studd didn’t like me to struggle, so he grabbed both sides of my head and manipulated it on to his pumping dick to maximize his orgasm. A third stream of cum… even bigger than the first two, spurted down my throat, followed by smaller fourth and fifth streams of gizz. Some of it escaped my mouth and drizzled on the floor, but most of it I had to swallow.

A seventh spurt… “uunggh…. Uunnggh… unnnggh… uunnnGGH … UNNGGH… UNNGGH!!!” UUNNGGH!!!!!” Studd moaned as his nuts erupted. He pulled his dick out of my mouth just as an eighth wad came out, hitting me in the eye. Studd milked three more squirts from his hose, then dropped his arms and sighed.

“DAMN! That was good!” Studd exclaimed. I was tired and aching and my knees were in pain from kneeling on the hard concrete floor. I was coughing and spitting out the cum in his mouth that he hadn’t already swallowed. “You have one hot mouth, Mule-bro. I wish you were my regular cocksucker!”

When it is finally over, Studd slumps forward, dripping sweat, exhausted, then slowly pulls his cock out of my mouth. The remaining cop spectators depart, slapping one another on the backs and the buttocks in shared masculine camaraderie.  Studd struggles to continue to stand, his sweat-slick massive chest heaving, his cock still erect his chest heaves in ragged breaths, his eyes still closed, his jaw clinched tight.  It looked like I had stretched his ball sack half-way to his knees.  Looks like he enjoys pain.

Meanwhile, I am thinking about how getting my client off now had  become much more complicated than I had ever anticipated, when you are possessed of such a great legal mine as Your Mule, you remain focused on the primary mission!

Later, I had a confidential chat with Studd as we are getting cleaned up in the police locker room.

 “You’re tough.” Studd finally says, breaking the silence as he and I are about to hit the showers.

“You too" I reply. "And intense. I didn't even have time to recover from  one punch before you were throwing another.” 

“That was the plan.”  Studd laughs.   "And it worked. Afterall, I won, even though your stronger than me"

Both of us pull off our remaining clothing, revealing two hard-muscled bodies glistening with sweat, both nude with large cocks and large ball sacks.  I am standing up and stretching my powerful naked body.  I catch Studd admiring my beautiful bubble butt.  Studd's got an amazing muscled ass too. Damn, I want some of that. 

"Look man, no one is around.  I'll admit,  you whupped my ass in that little gut punching contest. But I still can totally kick your ass in a real fight. Look what I did to Amadou with my five-punch combo and he totally wiped the floor with all of this Mayberry's finest!  So we can spar again after I heal up. We can throw down when I heal up and I can wipe the floor with you. And by tearing you up I mean a good curb stomping. But I got a proposal for you. I can be a good jobber and take a dive, but I will need to you do me a little solid. Something you are gonna have to do for me," I explained. 

Studd, looks dubious of my claim, but his curiosity gets the better of him, he thinks a minute, then nods. "What do I need to do?" he asks.

"Yeah... this is what you're GONNA do..." I growl, then reach down with one hand and grab my own long, fat cock. "You're gonna suck my dick... like I fucking sucked yours!" It's not a request or a challenge, it is simply a statement of fact. 

Studd looks at the massive equipment dangling in front of his face, cocks his head, then smiles up at my angry glare. “ Don't get your knickers in a twist, mate! You know I'm tough. I don't need to prove it by growling back at you. I proved it by being the last man standing..." However the Humbert side of him took a good long gander at the huge, delicious kielbasa jutting down between his legs, and his years of British prep school conditioning kicked in overwhelming the carefully engineered tough guy  character: 'Studd'.   Your Mule was no longer his defeated cocksucker, but the archetype of every Upperclassman who he had fagged for at Eton from the day he arrived at 13 years old, until he finally entered the lower sixth, and had control of junior boys of his own.

Years of British prep school conditioning kicked in when he
 beheld Your Mule's giant kielbasa!

The two nude muscled males exchange glances. Then Studd then leans forward and slides my pulsing cock deep into his throat. I powerfully pull Studd's head forward as he grunts and breaths through clenched teeth. My muscled ass begins to flex, as I start to thrust my long dick deep down his throat.

My own moaning grows in intensity, as my heavily muscled body starting to shake in a convulsion of ecstasy. I growl: "UHHHHHHHHHH... DUDE! I'M GONNA CUM! I'M GONNA CUMMMMM!" 

My bulging muscles flex, then peak. Studd takes my enormous cock down his throat where it explodes. Studd's head jerks upward, but he refuses to let the thick head of my cock out of his mouth as cum bulges out his cheeks and cascades down his chin. It then flows down to coat his chest and abs. I roar like a lion, my powerful muscles bulging and peaking further as I blow load after heavy load down Studd's throat. As I gush my potent seed down Studd, I can sense the big lug catching feels for me...after he swallows my seed, I breed him like a bitch, and between moans, his whole story spills out of him, and I learn of his secret identity.

Things are starting to be looking up for YOUR MULE!

I knew something was up with him, this all makes sense! Now I have him where I want him, as a pawn to help me with a plan to spring Moonman from this podunk station, but in a way not to have the coppers on my tail, as I have to practice law in this state.

We are just soaping up in the shower when all of a sudden Rusty busts in on us, waving his gun around and shouting for us to "get down!" Me and Studd stare at each other with a WTF, then back at Rusty. "You better come with me!" the hysterical Rusty shouts when he sees that Studd and me are the only ones in the the locker room.

"Calm down. WTF is going on?"

"There's been a murder!"

"Cool! I mean.... Fuck! Where?"

"Right here... right here in the station..."

"Are you fucking shitting me? Who? When?"

"Short Stack just found the body. No one knows when it happened. It's this guy we call D.O.A. who got snuffed.  'Bones', the Medical Examiner isn't answering his pager, but Sarge is on his way back in to the station. But one thing's sure. D.O.A. is dead, murdered, and somebody's responsible. Hey, would you like to see the body?"

"Sure!"

'Officially' thanks to a series of cooperative medical
examiners, Flower Ranch has not had a murder in 60 years.

This one will be hard to pass off as 'Due to natural causes'
though!

Death by misadventure, perhaps? That might work!

It is not like D.O.A. will object to such a determination!

  1989-2018
Rest in Pieces, big guy!

"Dead Men Don't Squeal" I said aloud, reading the writing on the wall. "Yeah..." I continue out loud. "It's like that Gypsy saying: Snitches Get Stitches & Get Tossed Into Ditches, For Being Punk Ass Bitches" Studd looked oddly uncomfortable when I say it. Maybe he hadn't seen a lot of dead bodies. I play a lot of Grand Theft Auto on X-Box, so violence don't bother me none.

Murders in Flower Ranch are handled off the books, alternative justice keeps the crime statistics rosy and helps promote the community as safe for visitors, who are its bread and butter! That, and the Flower Ranch Police Department has been operating under a pesky Federal Court Consent Order since 2009 as a result of some unfortunate incidents in the past.

"I guess we have to contact his next of kin, which I believe is his no account twin, Michael, if we can find him... Rusty, put out an a.p.b. for Michael I. Anselm  a.k.a. M.I.A.!" remarked Sarge.


Nota Bene:

Texas Police Benevolent Association spokesperson,
 Viola Ence-Anne Graft, objects strenuously to the depiction
 of Texas Law Enforcement in this story.
 Mulesblog legal team has no comment on this.

My pre-emptive response to your comments.

But Mule, English people don't talk that way, especially those
 educated at Eton!

Your objection to stereotypes on this blog is overruled,
 case dismissed!

I am already hard at work on PART TWO! It will be all hands
 on deck, reader participation required, as you help
Your Mule solve this murder mystery!

If you already have ideas of who did this hideous crime, drop a comment or send an email letting us know who you think the killer is... and their motive.  The best answer, as selected by the Mule Blog editorial staff, will win a prize!

And our prize will be a personalized (for you to your specifications) work of art by our talented frequent guest artist, Enrique Nieto Nadal. Examples of his work can be found on his website https://www.enietonadal.es/hombres/ and on this blog. And remember this bit of advice from Mule's Bodybuilding Contest days, "always compete, because sometimes no one else enters, and you automatically win!"  

Potential suspects (depending on when the murder happened) include:  Bob, Rusty, Sarge, Miss Alice, Ed, Sam, Moonchild, Short Stack, Studd, Amadou, M.I.A, Daphne,  and Betty Lou.  Your Mule has alibis for his entire time in Flower Ranch, so don't even go there!