Mule's Blog: September 2018

"At the end of the day you gotta feel some way. So why not feel unbeatable? Why not feel untouchable?" -- Conor McGregor (a Manlet conquistador)

"Revenge only brings more bloodshed." -- Jet Li (kick-ass Manlet) from the movie Fearless

(as a picture is worth a 1000 words, this tale is graphic intensive, some longer gifs are used so linger and watch the whole animated image for maximum enjoyment)

Story by Mule and Edit Brah, Illustration wrangling by Edit Brah. Salute to the Popeye Cartoons that served as inspiration.

HUSH NOW! The Overture is playing!

PRELUDE

This is a sequel to Messing with Muscular Manlets: A Cautionary Tale. You should read that story before venturing into this new battle between Manmore and Manlet.

MANMORE vs. MANLET

For those who don't want to reread the story, I will give the Cliffs on my last encounter with the pint-sized muscleman Roger, known now to all and sundry as Manlet. To make a long story short, it did not exactly go well for Your Mule! Manlet may be short, but he is a muscular tank! Fighting him is like getting in the ring with Sean Sherk in his prime, I hate Manlet, but you got to give the guy creds, he sure can fight, and he sure can punch, and I mean punch hard. He lands a punch on you and he will ring your bell like a high striker.

One could say I, foolishly, was arrogant in my confidence, because of our size difference, and twice let Manlet take the fight to ground where my advantages in height and reach were negated, and thus the compact juggernaut was able to hoist me up the flag pole of my own hubris!

The hits kept coming after the Beatdown, when Manlet collected my manhood as a trophy...

...I had to slink away from my favorite Dallas gym, Smash Iron Fitness, rather than face Manlet again. Manlet's ambitions, it turns out, were far grander than just the emasculation of Your Mule. The Bastard set out to establish his total dominion over the Gym that I had ruled. While our encounter had been serendipitous (for him), I later learned I was the #1 target at the top of Manlet's Manmore 'Hit List', a high priority being placed on taking down the reigning King of the Gym (me). Thus, our fight had only been hastened a few days by our chance meeting. It was inevitable and unavoidable. Manlet's reputation of defeating Your Magnificent Mule, mano a mano, went along way to furthering his muscle supremacist goals...

Step One: Mule utterly demolished, check!

But it was a "Bruiser Boys Club" type gym, and its Manmore behemoths were not simply going to let a mere manlet, especially one so relatively new to the gym, snatch the crown so easily...

So Manlet, brimming with confidence after trashing me, next went after the next muscular gargantuan on his list, a giant of a man known in the gym simply as HULK. Hulk is 6' 7" and that mammoth frame was amply festooned head to toe with bulging cords of twisted sinew, but he was slow, stupid and had a glass jaw, which incidentally is how I had taken him down when I assumed ascendancy there. Manlet made short shrift of him, taking him down in less than half the time I had. Hulk said afterward, it was like going a round against Conor McGregor. The brawl ended in Hulk being knocked out.

After Manlet beat up Hulk, there were only three other Manmores at the gym who dared resist Manlet's ascension to the throne... First there was Sven, who was considered a Norse god at the gym...

...until he met his Ragnarok at the end of Manlet's iron fists that is. He said he felt facing the powerful hits of Manlet, like he was Tyron Woodley's punching bag. Like Hulk, Sven was knocked out. Speaking of knocked out, I am led to understand he will be fitted for dentures soon.

Next came Clark and Gary, two very formidable fighters who I have sparred with. They fared no better than Sven or Hulk...

,,, two more k.o.'s for Manlet. Too late did we learn, that Smash Iron Fitness was not the first gym whose manmores he had humbled.

Extreme Iron Pro Gym HAD some of the biggest and baddest
MEATHEAD MANMORE MOFOs in the Dallas Scene when
Manlet arrived...

Who's next, muscle bitches?!

and what he did to the unfortunate Manmores of Elite Fitness HQ over in Euless, should be considered a WAR CRIME.

He sent their biggest Meathead into intensive care!

and knocked around quite a few more just for good measure...

There wasn't a Manmore left standing, by the time that Manlet
was through...

He drops in there again, from, time to time, to beat
up one or two Meatheads simply for cardio, and to
scare the others shitless. When he commands them
to jump, everyone there asks: How high?

This compact juggernaut had height envy, which fueled a vendetta against Manmores. His war on gargantuan musclemen was leaving a swath of destruction across the state of Texas, the muscle devastation spreading to every city he lived for a time, and he was a rolling stone that gathered no moss.

The TEXAS TORNADO:smashing through the Texas
Meathead community like a F-5 whirlwind of destruction!

We had, of course, heard of the TEXAS TORNADO that was stomping meatheads across the State, but had never connected him with the name of Roger Forsythe. Of course we never previously bothered to learn his name. We should have! Roger, the Manmore slayer, had already collected the manhood of well over sixty Muscular Manmores in the state as "trophies".

Manlet left a trail of emasculated,
muscular Manmore wreckage
in his wake...

Dumpsters across the state were filling with the broken and
bloody carcasses of defeated Manmores!

Manlet saw himself as some sort of underdog hero.
Championing the cause of miniature breeds of humans
everywhere...

...by smashing the"myth of Manmore
supremacy"! (From the comments I have
received from my loyal readers, many of you
have been taken in by this shrimplet malarkey!)

But the truth is, Manlet was just a plain old bully, and
Manmores were his preferred prey.

See I TOLD you Manlet was one tough son-of-a-bitch in a fight, perhaps you don't see Your Mule as quite so wimpy now!

... After those victories at Smash Iron, Manlet had quickly hoisted his Jolly Roger flag above the gym, over which I had once held sway.

All of my workout chums from Smash Iron Fitness were ghosting me on social media! Once hanging on my every word, they no longer returned my texts or hung out with me at Mule Manor. I heard from the grapevine (the Meathead world is a small realm where news travels fast) that they were now all fawning over Manlet like he was the Muscle Messiah.

ROGER! ROGER! ROGER!

Even my new Dallas sloot regulars had gone over to my hated
adversary, falling under the mesmerizing spell of this, THIS,
muscular PYGMY, like he was Tom Cruise or something!

You know things are out of hand when my old Manmore mates were not only hanging out with a Manlet, but these giant planets of muscle were now orbiting this dwarf star, as their new sun.

As a star, Manlet was less Betelgeuse and more Needlejuiced,
the roided shrimplet.

This, of course, violated all the known Laws of Nature, and if it was allowed to persist would unravel the very fabric of the Universe!

This shit was getting outta hand and could not go on!

Hold on there Awesome Muscle Bitch, I won that fight,
so I get to give the CLIFFS, none of your whitewashing
and excuses, you left out some important details!

So pipe down Mule, unless you want another taste
of this, and a trip to the ER! Now here is what
REALLY happened...

...I was chilling in a Cave with my sloot, when Mule came in all
wanting to be all budinski with a stud like me. The lonely loser,
impressed with both my muscular awesomeness, and my way
with the women, had from the day he met me, wanted so badly
to be all buddy buddies with me, as all men who worship muscle
are want to do.

For a time Mule was fixated on my magnificent physique,
popping boners like a total phaggot.

Then he got a good gander of my bodacious bitch,
and he was gaga for her gorgeousness

He turned into a total wolf for my girl, although he himself
could never in a million years land that quality of slut, that I
reel in by the score!

He began hitting on my girl!

I admit, physically, Mule, (no homo) does have a certain
allure!

Not that his SHOW muscles can stack up against my
WORKING muscles, as events have shown...

But I must admit he has a certain virile charm, masculine
charisma, savoir faire and beauty... *sigh*

But he was one of those hated "Manmores" always
throwing their size in everybody's faces, thinking they
were better than everyone, so proud, so vain, so full of
themselves! A bunch of bastards to the last man.

For some reason, despite being such jerks, everybody loves
them, admires them, dotes on them, and totally desires them.
"Manmores" have that damnable stature, animal magnetism,
bearing, hauteur, jumbo jock sense of entitlement, aggression,
bad-ass attitude, and an assumptive air of grandeur that twerps,
phaggots and sloots are all impressed by...

That is until Muscle Roger steps onto the scene to set things
straight! I turn every "Manmore" I encounter from a champ
into a chump! It is my mission in life!

So unlike me, the sloot I was with, fickle bitch that she is,
was momentarily impressed with Mule's majestic facade,
MOMENTARILY!

For me the proof is in the pudding, but unlike me, the sloot was
confounded by his matinee idol looks, behemoth physique,
massive donger, and virile boner inducing animal
magnetism...*sigh*

That was all I could take, I could take no more, so I set out
to teach the big galoot a lesson in manners!

First I challenged him to a contest of arm wrestling, to give him an inkling of what he had gotten himself into, first I flexed my biceps to let him know the insurmountable odds against his beating me.

Read 'em and weep, sucker,
I said. displaying the royal flush of a
muscular hand, nature and discipline
had dealt to me.

I love watching as the arrogance of big galoots melt away before my might, and get transformed into sheer terror. It really gets my rocks off. I could see Mule's eyes widening into saucers as I flexed my biceps. Still surprisingly he did not back down and submit. So we pitted biceps against biceps as we clenched hands in the designated position. I, of course, handily humiliated Mule in this arm-wrestling bout.

Not only had I easily defeated Mule with my superior strength and skill, I almost took his arm off in the process. One might think this might have given Mule caution, but he is a stubborn knucklehead, set in his ways, and began ranting about having some muscle cramp, accusing me of cheating, and cursing me out, unleashing a slew of expletives that would make a sailor blush!

I guess, he would have to be schooled in respect for his betters the old fashioned way, by a good old fashioned beatdown.

Mule thought he was up for a battle with the Great Roger,
that was a bigger mistake than hitting on my girl, he should
just thrown himself on my mercy...

Because Mule is such a handsome bloke, (no homo)...

...I gave him a chance to save that beautiful skin, by getting on his knees and begging for mercy.

I stood up, a compact Hercules, my muscles, pumped from the
exertion of the arm-wrestling, were there on terrifying FULL
SCREEN display! I was the very embodiment of what
Bodybuilders call SWOLE, a paragon of muscular power and
physical prowess.

I flexed those mighty muscles, letting him know what he would
be up against.

I allowed time for the realization of my superiority sink in and to let the fear well up within him, as it had in the case of the scores of titanic galoots I had terrorized before him. I paused to let the ballooning terror rise within him, pulling his testes back up into his body, spreading the paralyzing "yellow" across his cobbled belly, and up into his muscular pec shelf, spreading ever upward to strike his brain with the viper's bite of abject panic, as if he had been hit by a concussive blow...

I told him I had bested bigger and brawnier brutes than he, and if he humbled himself to my satisfaction, I would spare him the brunt of the brutal beatdown he had earned, and so richly deserved. The mild battery I would inflict, I promised him, would be infinitely less painful than what was in store for him if he didn't submit. But Mule, like all gargantuans, had to be taught the lesson blow by blow, until it sunk through his thick skull.

I inflicted a humiliaton so severe, it was REST IN PIECES
for Mule's once vaunted Bad-ass reputation among Dallas
meatheads. Heck the beatdown is so legendary it is likely now
told in gyms around the world!

The battle was greatly contested at first...

Mule had some limited success initially, due to me being

constrained by my own overconfidence, after so many victories

over muscular titans...

Nothing that caused me to panic or to get greatly concerned...

It just meant he had some limited skill in combat,
and I would have to up my game!

His initial success led him to get cocky, and with that I
unleashed a thrashing on him of epic proportions.

It was my turn at bat now, and I swung, I hit, and knocked
Mule out of the park!

Heck, I knocked the loser nearly into next week.

I opened a can of whoop-ass on Mule's sorry ass!

I was hitting him so hard, I was sending the galoot into orbit!

Overwhelmed by my power, Mule became my utter bitch.

Smitten like a phaggot for me, he was slobbering
for my cock!

I have to give him credit, he is quite an accomplished
cocksucker, but phaggots are always better cocksuckers than
sloots, it has to do with their enthusiasm, no one hungers for a
cock in his mouth, quite like a phaggot.

He was so subjugated to my power, he was begging me to take
his ass, and I have to admit he has a fine ass!

But I had some hot sloot pussy waiting for me, and real pussy
beats man-pussy any day of the week!

So I raised my mighty fist once again, and unleashed another
rain of destruction down on Mule...

If Mule thought my beatdowns had been bad before, he had
no idea what would come next!

I proceeded to pulverize Mule!

My chest swelled with pride with the thought of another
gargatuan galoot I had beaten to a pulp. These oversized
losers have the nerve to call themselves "Manmores", they
NEED the living snot beat out of their arrogant asses!

I hear the park rangers later took
Mule to the ER!

After he got out of the hospital, Mule was eager to tell
anyone that would listen, that he was my phaggot butt-boy
and that Roger Forsythe was the KING of men!

It is GOOD to be the KING!

and that my friends is the story of how Mule got his ass
handed to him, and became my phaggot bitch!

Hold on Manlet, this is my god-damn blog, and my readers
deserve and expect the TRUTH, that is not what happened at
all, at least not exactly, and my readers know what REALLY
went down! You are doing quite a lot of what the psy-chologists
call PROJECTING, in that distorted synopsis you rendered.

Now you readers can see why they used to call Manlet, Braggy,
back at my old gym, Smash Iron Fitness

Nobody calls me Braggy anymore at SMASH IRON FITNESS,
I am the King of that Gym, you on the other hand are a running
joke there now. They talk about how every Alpha Male in
Dallas plays the party game 'Pump the Dick in the Donkey's
Ass', yeah DONKEY is what they now refer to you as, there at
Smash Fitness, when they think of you at all!

Your Mule's rep has undergone quite the transformation since
I kicked his sorry ass!

So y'all should call him DONKEY, just as we all do here
in Dallas!

That HURT, but I am thinking it ain't ALL true what he
said they say about YOUR MULE, but I got to re-establish
myself and my rep quickly or soon it WILL be true!

But y'all know you can't keep me
down for long!

I warned you Donkey about interrupting me telling the tale of
my heroic adventures! I need to teach you a painful lesson now,
so you don't repeat this transgression!

We'll talk about this later, peeps, when you-know-who
isn't around! Right now I have to pop a score of Excedrin,
oowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!

Tell the TRUTH about what REALLY will be happening later,
butt boi, a game a Pump my Dick in the Donkey!

I always win at that game!!! Don't I Donkey!

INTERMEZZO

And now free of interference of pint-sized interlopers, I am
going to tell you the truth of exactly what transpired
subsequently to that Cave fight, these new events taking place
over several weeks after that unfortunate encounter, here at
He-man Gym!

It had not taken me long at my new gym to establish my dominance over the other users, such that they ended their sets earlier when they saw me strut over to use an occupied station, I was once again KING OF THE GYM.

I established my position in at this gym all the while making gainz, conquering sloots, creating a new meathead circle, and gathering more confidence by the day.

The MULE is COOL again!

The way to quickly establish dominance in the gym,
is displays of strength and physique.

And to challenge and take down the biggest
meathead at the gym! This I did...

It will be heralded ever after in He-man gym lore as the:
CLASH OF THE TITANS

I inflicted a beatdown so savage, sustained and merciless,
the angels above wept!

The goon had had a good run as King of the Gym, until I
gave him such a severe beatdown that I buried his
reputation as a bad-ass.

Once you assert such dominance, you have to maintain it,
you can't let disrespect slide! NOBODY calls me Donkey at
He-man Gym or they go home black and blue, and on
a liquid diet for weeks to come!

When King of the gym, you are the strong arm of the LAW,

heck you are JUDGE, JURY and EXECUTIONER!

I was KING of the gym, there were no naysayers...

I had the muscle!

I had the strength!

I had fists of Iron and Mad Martial Arts skills...

and I am hung...well like a MULE!

I AM THE TOTAL PACKAGE!

I gained my ascendancy, not only over the Meatheads,
but the sloots as well!

Magazines say women are not attracted to huge muscles,
but I know FIRST HAND, that is a lie!

My looks, muscles and donger were the key to every sloots
heart...and more importantly, pussy...

Lesser men will never know how GREAT it is to be ME!

Y'all feel my power too, I can sense y'all reaching for your cocks
as you think about YOUR MULE!

not only was I winning admirers, and conquering sloots, I was even winning some fights, again...

I already told you about defeating that gym ape...

turning him into my trained monkey!

But there were a number of other victories as well...

Fuck that competition SHOW MUSCLE, loser,
now you see what REAL WORKING muscle
can do, pretty boy, most fit Texan 2018, my ass.

I was in a few good ol' Texas barroom brawls...

.... where YOUR MULE ended up the last man standing in each
and every one of those free-for-alls.

This tends to rebuild a man's confidence, even after a hellacious beatdown like the one Manlet inflicted on me. Heck, I was even able to turn the tables on the my friend Bo, yeah THAT Bo. You all know the story of My Conquest by Bo.

Bo is a formidable behemoth of muscular power and
fighting fury!

So you will be surprised to learn that when Bo and I were hanging out, just the other day, we came to be squabbling over the last dollah hamburger remaining from a NEED PROTEIN run to a drive through. What began as playful squabbling, turned into a serious exchange of blows.

Such skirmishes had occurred before in our bromance, but they had always ended with a victory by Bo, and me knocked on my ass, seeing stars and hearing tweety birdies, but THIS time it was Bo who was seeing stars.

I beat Bo in an amazing upset.

Turnabout is fair play, and now it is BO, who is the diligent
cocksucker in our Bromance!

Bo and I are still friends, but I have assumed the upper hand and am the dominant personality in our bromance now.

Don't get too used to it Mule, this is only a temporary
set-back for me!

During this time I had my adventure over in in Flower Ranch (yeah, yeah Readers, the next installment is coming!)

ASSAULT AND BATTERY

So as you can see, after some initial set backs, things were going swimmingly over the course of the weeks after my humiliation by Manlet... when one day in the middle of a great workout where I was breaking personal records...

Those gainz tho...

...when who comes strutting into the gym, but my nemesis, Manlet! I thought I would be safe at this gym, since I heard Manlet had been banned from the gym after he got caught injecting pro-hormones into his left nut in the changing room. But unbeknownst to me, with the intent of getting back into the gym to confront me, three nights earlier, he "explained things" to the manager in the alley out back, and had his privileges restored.

Do you see my point now, or do you need to see more stars!
Privileges restored, Mr. Forsythe, SIR, and a year's free
membership as requested...

He was even more jacked then I remember, and looked in fine fighting form.

I confess my first reaction was alarm!

I remember painfully well, the major beatdown he had inflicted
on me in our previous encounter!

and I must confess, I was a tad bit aroused...

He wore a wifebeater, jeans and steel toed combat boots (with thick heels to make him look taller) to the gym, the only way he could look douchier was if he was wearing his sunglasses inside. Me, I was wearing the usual attire of a deep cut stringer, gym shorts and sneaks, like cool people do.

There you are Mule! I heard you were working out here!

Seems you forgot to live up to your surrender terms from that

thrashing I gave you, so I am here to give you a painful

reminder of why you submitted to them in the first place,

and enforce these surrender terms in front of witnesses!

Manlet flexed a ginormous 20" biceps to emphasize what was
in store for me! He also sported manmore-sized fists, did I
mention before how gigantic his fists and forearms were for
such a runt?!

I was astonished, stupefied, dumbfounded, and amazed, pound
for pound, it seemed Manlet was by far the more muscular of the
two of us.

That entire muscle was rock hard sinew, not the fatceps you see
in some musclemen!

The fun-sized muscleman cracked his knuckles in his king kong fists, boasting that he liked to crack walnuts with his mighty fists, the same way he crushed the manhood of many a muscular behemoth!

He then began flexing his various massive muscles in a awesome display, not only to intimidate me, but to impress the audience in the gym, and impressed they were.

Manlet continued his intimidating muscular displays...

It was having it's desired affect. as my face grew pale with fear
as the blood drained from my face...

...and flowed directly into my penis, Mine were not the only
pants that were tenting among the spectators

The crowd gasped at Manlet's muscular display. Crowd...the gym WAS unusually full for this time of day... I never seen most of these folks in the gym before. Interlopers! This crowd has an even higher percentage of manlets than I usually see hanging out at the gym. scurrying around like ants. Reminds me of Gulliver's Travels and how he musta felt in Lilliput. They must be Manlet's fan boys. He must have sent a bunch of his Lollipop guild cronies ahead of him when he came to challenge me... an elaborate set-up!

When I tried to extricate myself from the situuation to avoid a
public confrontation, he blocked my way.

Then with a credible tone of authority and inevitability, he
began describing, in decibels loud enough for all to hear, the
punishment he was going to inflict on me for welching on
my contract of surrender...

Manlet let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I was a dirty,
welcher and a yeller dog, and in excruciating detail
prophesied and described the dreadful beatdown that was in
store for me. He explained that my failure to live up to my
commitments, had made my public destruction and humiliation,
my inexorable fate!

He was then going to drag my sorry, broken, unconscious
carcass over to the locker room and on to the can, and rouse me
from my slumber by giving me a swirlie, before he continued
with the epic beatdown that would strike my name forever from
the rolls of Manly men!

Now you may be wondering how I would let such braggadocio get to me, and sap my confidence, but you forget, at this point I well knew the terrible punishments Manlet was capable of inflicting, not only on account of the scores of Manmores he had demolished, but also by my own personal experience. This was the TEXAS TORNADO we were talking about here...

The Texas Tornado had rung the bells of many a Manmore!

The Texas Tornado had turned the most formidable stud bulls in Texas...

into butchered beef...

A Superhero to Manlets...

He was the bane of Manmores, that seeming unbeatable BOSS at the end of video games, his appearance had huge musclemen quaking in their boots, and pissing their pants. He was the meat grinder of Texas beefcake.

Usually big muscle dudes are eager to test their mettle against someone with a reputation as a bad-ass. Manlet was an exception, when he walked into a room, most Meatheads figured DISCRETION was the better part of valor, and made strategic retreats to live to fight another day. Some had even left the state to escape his wrath. With his impressive track record of victories, Roger Forsythe was heralded (and decried) as the Manmore slayer.

He sported George Foreman sized fists, we are talking 12 inches easy, and George was around MY height. Those knuckles were hard like he was permanently wearing a set of knuckle dusters forged of steel rather than the usual brass.

His reach was short, but if he hit you with a solid punch with
those gargantuan fists, it was good night sweet prince!

Roger Forsythe: The Texas Tornado, slayer of Manmores, Idol
and Icon of the Texas Meathead community, Bane of Texas
Manmores. He eats men bigger, stronger and tougher than
ME or breakfast. Hell yeah, I'm scared of him, you'd be too.
Don't judge me readers, you who have never faced his George
Foreman fists, or stood toe to toe with this intimidating dwarf
tyrant, and felt his steely gaze boring into you like lasers. He
would have y'all pissing and shitting your pants at this point,
at least mine aren't soiled...yet...

Manlet was known in Arizona as the Manmore Terminator...

and in New Mexico as the Manmore Mauler...

and now in Texas as the Tornado, as he blazed a bloody trail of Manmores across the Southwest!

Now cutting a black and blue swath across Texas, His name was spoken of in hushed whispers across the state's Meathead community as his casualty list mounted...

Houston...

El Paso...

San Antonio...

Amarillo...

San Padre...

Corpus Christi...

Austin...

Killeen...

Waco...

Arlington...

Galveston...

and Fort Worth:

No place in Texas seemed to be a safe refuge for Manmores to escape this pygmy bully! Once he targeted a Manmore for destruction...

That Manmore was history...

and I still have the residual bruises to testify on that score!

The Texas Tornado fancied himself the champion of
Manletdom wielding the FIST OF JUSTICE, but Manmores
decried it as the FIST OF DOOM!

Thus there was terrible credibility in all that he said. Once you knew you were facing down the legendary Texas Tornado, you could not help but contemplate your demise.

Plus you had to have BEEN there to truly appreciate the demeanor of fortitude, impregnability, dominance and stalwart determination he presented IN PERSON...of course much of that, no doubt, had been visually enhanced by the knowledge of his terrifying reputation.

Manlet radiated immense strength, confidence, boner-inducing aggressiveness, and hyper-virility. That is to say he projected masculine supremacy and power from every diminutive inch!

It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying to behold. You felt you were in the presence of sovereign primacy and insurmountable greatness...

There was an commanding air of authority and invincibility about him that could not be gainsaid. From every pore, he exuded a powerful and irresistible fragrance of virility, sensuality and power, a volatile cocktail of pheromones, testosterone and adrenaline that when it flooded my olfactory nerve, short circuited my brain. I was overcome with feelings of excitement, arousal, anxiety, self-doubt and fear.

There was an commanding air of authority and invincibility
about him that could not be gainsaid.

I was overcome with feelings of excitement, arousal, anxiety,
self-doubt and fear.

This concerned me, as fights are often won or lost before a single blow is thrown, fought first by psyching out your opponent and adopting a victorious state of mind in your own capabilities.

My serotonin levels dropped precipitously and my muscles
sagged. It was like I was a deflating balloon, while the muscles
of this Mighty Muscle Manlet seemed to grow ever larger in my
mind's eye. I was filled with an enervating malignancy of
defeatism...

His reputation for trashing a slew of musclemen, much
larger than himself...

...played strongly on my mind, undermining my confidence
and resolve.

I began fearfully playing out in my mind, how the fight with the
half-pint would very likely go...

I was already imagining just how much this confrontation with
my lilliputian foe, could go very badly for me...

...the need for emergency dental reconstructive surgery...

...HIS hammer blows raining down on me like a tropical
monsoon...

...leaving multiple lumps and array of contusions behind, for
weeks to come, a road map of every blow Manlet delivered!

You never want to psyche your self out this way before a fight!
But that is exactly what I was doing...

My fear had me mentally submitting at the end of this fantasy
fight, bowing and kowtowing once again to this Muscle Midget,
like a freakin' pussy!

I felt all my hard won confidence, masculine power and
machismo, those virile virtues I had fought so hard to re-
establish, ebbing away...was I a man or a mouse? My destiny
hinged on what I did, I could let this insecurity triumph or ...

...reject it with all the vehemence I could muster. I realized all
I had to lose, and how I had no choice, but to reject this
abiding fear. Backed into a corner, with all on the line,
my fears and doubt turned to anger, and my flight instinct
turned into FIGHT instinct.

I girded my loins and prepared for battle!

I confronted my nemesis and issued challenge!

Neither one of us was going to back down!

"At least your not backing down. Neither did the last muscleman," sneered the Manlet.

"I took care o' him yesterday. Made him spend a few hours on THESE jaw-busters!" He swelled his pec-mass under his chin, giving them a grin of satisfaction...

"Then I wrapped his face up in THIS!" He popped a bulging bi right under my nose.

"He ain't gonna be eatin' anything that don't come through a straw for a LONNNG time! Haw, haw, haw!"

"You're really beggin' for it, aren't cha', big boy?" I said, looking down on him and getting turned-on more & more!

This time it was a combat boner!

"CAAAAN'T WAIT!!" --taunted Manlet. He continued: "AWRIGHT! Let's get going, then!" --as he rolled his massive shoulders and twisted his gigantic torso as a warm-up, His muscles already swelling and expanding as he stretched and spoke!

Although I was three quarters of a foot taller, Manlet and I were almost the same MASS!

Our Big Bull chests were just a few feet apart & inching CLOSER!! Thick nips were straining forward; ACHING for battle!!!

"Finally, I got me some REAL meat to work out on!" Manlet said smugly, but clearly impressed with all my meathead muscle. "Let's start throwin' round some MUSCLE!!!!"

"C'mon you lumbering Muscle-Mastodon-That-Thinks-He's-Big! Come to the Manmore Terminator for some MUSCLE ARMAGEDDON!!!", Manlet taunted. "Unlike the Cave, I want an AUDIENCE for this Manmore Extinction Event!!! YOU AIN'T SEEN OR FELT NUTHIN' YET!!!!"

"How's your pride doin' NOW, Mule??? Where'd it get ya' ? Fighting me only got you a BUTT-BEATIN' ... WHO'S BIGGEST, NOW?? Who is the KING of this gym?!! You can agree, it is ME!"

"King of the Manlets, you mean! HAH! That's like being the retard that gets the gold metal at the Spaz Olympics." -- I countered.

"You shouldn't make fun of the Special Olympics, Mule. After I get done pounding you will be brain damaged and permanently in a wheel chair, and you will be doubly qualified!"

Not that I need the help, but I am relieved to see that the "Manmore Crew" had lined up behind me. So there were still Mule loyalists after Manlet's muscular displays and shit talking. My posse consisted of my workout partner Mike, and the core of the "Manmore Crew", the Three Dinos . They had not flipped to the Midget's side, and still got my back. I call them the Three Dinos since I'm not good with names.

The big one, because of the way he used his like to use his head as a battering ram, I thought of as Pachycephalasaurus. The one built like tank, seemed to me to be an Ankylosaurus, and the carnivorous looking one with his short reach, was clearly a Carnotaurus. Manlet noticed their ominous presence too, and with a quick scan sized them up...and dismissed them.

"I don’t care how many of your overly muscled steroid sucking Manmore goons, here at He-man, I have to beat up. It will all eventually come down to just you and me … here and now! With you leaving on a stretcher!” --He threatened.

"I don't need any help beating you, I got it covered! This won't be like the cave." -- I answered with a snarl.

" Oh yeah, I heard you've been saying you made a mistake in our cave fight by wrestling me rather fist fighting me. Saying that was the reason you lost. So first round here will be 'fist city'. You won't have any excuses for losing this time." --Manlet roared. and his midget posse cheered.

I mean mugged him with the most menacing stare I had. And I mean menacingly; after all I've got a good nine inches in height on him, and I've got as much muscle as he's ever seen on a man. "I don't like you, Short-stuff" I said as I put my hands on my hips, partially performing a ‘most muscular’ pose emphasizing my intimidating physique.

He stares back with a snotty, contemptuous look. He was being a really tough guy. But that was okay. That's what I wanted, a tough guy. It would ruin my fun if he doesn't struggle and fight back while I take him down. I want the excitement of overpowering him and kicking his manlet muscle ass. I may even get my dick into him while he struggles against me.

Still glaring at each other, I grabbed my crotch. I vigorously massaged my groin as my killer fuckpole, 9" long and thick, with a head the size of a tennis ball, quickly grew into a full erection for all to see as it pulsated against my gym shorts. I waited till the Manlet's eyes dropped to check out my impressive battering ram, and then bragged, “When I unleash this boner of mine up your asshole, you’ll be screaming like Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert. "

I let my superior cock begin the process of dominating this bantam beast. If he is thrown off, or rattled by the display of my larger manhood in front of him, he doesn't show it.

Manlet sneered: "You ready to FIGHT, now?"

"Oh it is ON!" I growled.

ROUND ONE

The fight began and for awhile I was giving as good as I got...

With a good roundhouse kick, I seized the initiative!

I pressed my advantage!

I clocked Manlet but good, I hit him so hard...

...that even all the spectators and I could see and hear the tweety
birds, circling his head.

I took advantage of his stunned state to do some serious
damage on my pocket-sized pugilist opponent!

But Manlet was one tough Mofo, and he gave his CPU a reset,
turning it off and back on!

His muscles expanded with a resurgence of power as adrenaline
and testosterone flooded his body!

I could have sworn Manlet "leveled up" and he gained 3
additional game lives, and his health went from ten to one
hundred percent!

My magnum bullet blows just glanced off his impregnable
wall of muscle...

His hits were much more effective than mine, starting with some
eviscerating gut punches...

He followed up with a devastating round house punch...

Now it was the tweety birds above my head on display, for one
and all to see and hear!

My game stats dropped precipitously...

Using jujitsu skills I didn't even know he had, Manlet began
throwing my 250 lbs. of battered brawn around like I was a rag
doll! You got to give the dwarf creds, he is incredibly strong,
especially hyped up on battle adrenaline!

Manlet moved to follow up on his success!

It was like I was fighting Jet Li, Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, Ryu
from Street Fighter, and Rocky Balboa all wrapped up
together in a compact package...

Incredibly powerful brain scrambling punches were landed!

Sadly, they were all AGAINST me, and I was knocked about
until I was punch drunk senseless...

Although he was built like a tortoise, with a thick almost impenetrable shell of iron muscle, twisted rebar sinew and adamantine abs...

Manlet was built like a tortoise, with the fighting
capabilities of a Ninja Turtle and the seeming solid
molecular density of a man of Krypton!

...Manlet was surprisingly light on his feet. This is all the more unexpected, as due to his massive muscular thighs, he normally struts with the classic body builder waddle, chest puffed out, and arms arched out from the side due to the massive artillery of his guns.

Manlet was a veritable quadzilla!

In contrast, here he was, revved for battle, weaving, and bobbing about...

... circumventing the advantage of my greater reach, dodging my blows, such that I was swinging against air, while his jabs were landing with sickening thuds and destructive impact.

Manlet was getting a good cardio workout, by using Your Poor
Mule as a Heavy Bag.

I was somehow still on my feet, but incapable of putting up
any defense much less fighting back, bells were ringing, birdies
were chirping, and I was seeing dozens of blurry Manlets
throwing punches at me...

At this point I was little more than Manlet's human target...

At last Manlet decided it was time to bring ROUND ONE of my
beatdown to a close...

He prepared for the coup de grace, winding up his punch for
the killer blow...

and knocked me down on my big ass, and then as I tried to rise
hit me again for good measure.

I had been knocked goofy, the lights were on, but nobody was
home, for several moments I didn't know who or where I was.

A bloody smile plays across Manlet’s face as he looks down at me, his beaten opponent. "YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG MOTHERFUCKER TODAY, BOY!" --he screams. "What the FUCK were you gonna do to me in this fight again, because I ain't seeing none of it,” he continued with a mocking laugh. Then he screams loudly: "THIS IS MY GYM NOW, BITCH!”

Manlet clamps the top of my head and jerks it back, then spits into my face as the crowd howls its approval of his show of alpha male domination. He shoves me off him, sending my massive body thudding onto my back on the concrete.

The watching crowd explode into cheers as Manlet slams his foot on my heaving chest. Then touching his knuckles in front of his stomach and with an ab crutch, flexes his muscles into a bodybuilding pose. He roars in victory. One of the muscular munchkins out of the crowd clamps Manlet’s hand and raises it high.

My eyes flutter open and I moans in pain and shame as the dominant male continues to humiliate me. "That’s right, fucker!” Manlet growls “now everyone knows you ain't shit, big boy!” Manlet says. “All this cock and muscle you got, but you couldn't stop me from kicking your muscle bitch ass! And this time you ain't got any chicken shit excuses. We fought your kind of fight. Which makes me beating the crap out of you, even sweeter!"

As I shook the cobwebs from my head, I felt my confidence once more ebbing away, replaced by a disheartening and crippling despair. My fears had been realized...I heard that damn Popeye theme playing in my concussed head and wondered if it was all over for me!

"Get up, Butter-muscles!" --he taunted, "I thought you wanted a FIGHT?"

I fight to get off my ass, but only get to my knees before he kicks me in my back, his steel-toed boot landing in my right kidney. My eyes roll back in my head and my legs go limp from the shooting pain in my back. My arms droop at my side while I stay on my knees.

"How's your pride doin' NOW, Mule??? Where'd it get ya' ? Fighting me only got you a BUTT-BEATIN' IN FRONT of EVERYBODY! WHO'S BIGGEST, NOW???!!"

Manlet let up for a minute...."You ready to SUBMIT,now? I can keep this up ALL DAY!!!...Had enough HUMILIATION????"

With one hand he tore off his wife beater revealing his monstrously muscled upper torso and displaying his Herculean pecs for the adoring crowd.

Through the haze of semi-consciousness, I felt Manlet wrap his wife-beater under my chin and around my neck like a sling, and begin dragging me toward the locker room, and my rendezvous with a toilet bowl for the promised swirlie. The wife beater was pulled against my throat choking me, the restricted air flow caused me to drift in and out of consciousness, as I was pulled behind my conqueror. It was a rough and bumpy passage, each painful thump, rousing me for fleeting seconds...