THE GRUDGE MATCH OF ALL GRUDGE MATCHES IS BACK! 2021 Edition!

story by Mule (largely rewritten), edits by Edit Brah, original art by Steve and Enrique Nieto Nadal, additional picture wrangling by Edit-brah and Mule

'Twas the night before Christmas when all gyms were closed, not a bodybuilder was lifting and all in repose.

The stockings were hung by the dumbbells with care, in hopes that Santa with supplements soon would be there.

The meatheads were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of carbs sweetly danced in their heads.

I in my gym shorts, and in my jersey, this whore, had settled all cozy for a long winters snore.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, that I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the windows, I flew like a flash, pulled up the blinds and opened the hatch.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of mid day to the objects below.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a pimped out sleigh with 8 roided reindeer.

With a jacked bearded man in furs, decked out like a pimp, I knew in a moment this was no mere gym chimp!

The days of the jolly old elf were gone, Santa has been into a fitness craze over the last few decades, probably because of all the supplements. weights, etc. he has been delivering, sampled some himself. Now Saint Nick was SWOLE as a muthafuker!

St Nick was Swole as a Muthafuker!

Santa was lifting:

One more rep, Santa!

And wrestling:

Never Defeated and Undisputed North Pole Champ!

Your Mule was spending Christmas Eve over at this new HBB 10's place. The sloot's name was Rebecca or something like that. Whatever.

Rebekka? Rebecca? Rosalyn? Rowan? Raquel?
Who can remember names, she was great in bed,
THAT I can remember! Wait, I thought,
looking back at the sloot sleeping next to me,
That was last week's sloot I was imagining.

This was Rebecca/Rosalyn/Rowan/Raquel from
THIS WEEK, I must be getting older, the sloots are
all beginning to blur together, oh wait, they have
been doing THAT since High School!

I had snapped suddenly awake and gotten up from the bed where I had been dreaming of Santa bringing me a: 7 mm Rem mag Colorado Buck Edition rifle with a carbon fiber Kevlar reinforced caramel brown colored-black spider webbing stock with a 24 inch hand-lapped stainless steel barrel, Cerakoted in tungsten grey and finished off with a muzzle brake...

♥♥♥SUCH SWEETNESS♥♥♥

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Some noise had woke me up, and I decided I should go downstairs to make sure it wasn't a burglar after the Christmas presents. I pulled my naked ass out of the nice warm bed and put on my drawers, but couldn't find my jeans in the dark bedroom and I didn't want to turn on the light and scare off the burglar before I had the fun of dealing with the situation. "Fuck it," I thought, as I headed down stairs . . .

I looked all around the downstairs, even in the closets and found no burglar. My disappointment is immeasurable. My body is all ready for a fight and now I have been blue-balled. But then I realized I was hungry and my mind turned to food.

There I was eating all the cookies-n-creme protein bars left for Santa, and mixing in some protein powder into the milk...when I heard a noise on the roof!

I definitely heard it that time.

Santa was up on the roof. What I didn't know was that this was one of his favorite stops.

Where them sloots at?

What Mrs. Claus didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and Santa knew where ALL the really naughty ho's were at and it was going to be a night of HO! HO! and another HO! for that randy elf!

Rebecca was DEFINITELY on
Santa's naughty list!

Santa popped down the chimney, and then unleashed a snort of derision, seeing that his protein bars had been scoffed down by an interloper! Still he had to do his jolly followed by a:

"Ho! Ho! Ho!, where's that Ho', Rebecca at!"

To this I replied:

"Hey fairyquins, dat ho' Rebecca is MY ho'--at least for tonight!"

Santa gave me a glower...."Ahhh Mule...you were definitely on my naughty list AGAIN this year....guess you won't be getting that new rifle you have been hankering for!"

Ahhh Mule...you were definitely on my naughty list
AGAIN this year!

"I am sure there is something in that big sack of yours I might fancy. I will have to take a gander!" I replied with a snarl.

"You will have to go through ME first, cupcake!" Santa said with a grimace.

"NOT a problem, Gandalf!" I snorted.

Santa reaches for the buttons on his white fur trimmed red jacket as he removes it slowly. Much more slowly than necessary. On purpose, for effect. First unbuttoned just enough to show the shelf of muscle at the top of his chest and the canyon that separates his two pecs Then Every shredded corded sinewy muscle is exposed inch by every so seductively slow inch. His vast and spectacularly shredded physique that caught me off guard, this newly revealed masterpiece of muscle that is a match for mine. Maybe more than a match. Santa is trying to upstage and muscle-mog your Mule!

Santa slowly removes his fur trimmed red jacket

Revealing a spectacularly shredded physique
that caught me off guard!
A masterpiece of muscle that is a match for mine!

And ole Saint Nick truly was a sight to behold… bulging forearms, blasted upper arms with bowling ball biceps … heavy triceps, death-star delts and mini-mountain traps. His thick pecs hung from his body… the square kind, with big half-dollar sized nipples. Six bulging abdominal muscles created a formidable wall of muscle His pleasant smile merged closer to a cocky one of ‘yea. Go ahead muscle boy get a good look.’ I could tell he was getting off on his big reveal.

You're a big strong boy, Mule
but there is no way your guns are going to beat mine!

Santa checks me out, of course he does, You know the drill when two muscle studs first meet: the initial stare-down, gazing at each other, some overt flexing and posing, then the sizing up of each other. Santa is looking me up and down, his eyes rake over every inch of my body. He checks out my bulging biceps, chiseled pecs and sculpted abs, my thickly muscled thighs, thick rock-hard muscled ass and pronounced bulge. He likes the view. OK, I smirked. I can play this muscle intimidation game too. I stretched my muscles, showing off my own far younger and equally impressive physique. I throw a couple of poses at him to show off what I got.

OK, I smirked.
I can play this Muscle-intimidation game too.

I throw a couple of poses at Santa to show off
my own far younger and equally impressive physique

Then Santa brought his arms up into a double bicep flex. I can't take my eyes off of those incredible mounds of muscle he is blasting right in front of me as I visually eat up every muscle on this perfect example of a muscle man. He knows I am enjoying my view as much as he did his.

Santa kicks off his black boots and unfastens his broad buckled belt, letting his pants fall to the floor. He step out of pants and now stands in front of me buck naked other than an overpacked white jock strap which barely contains his huge cock and nut-sack. I am wearing the underwear I pulled back on when I woke up before I came down looking for the burglar, that shows off my equally impressive bulge.

Two muscle bulls square up chest to chest and nuts to nuts to
prove who is the strongest muscle man.

Two muscle bulls about to line it up chest to chest and nuts to nuts to prove whose the best muscle man. Ah, the thrill of having two muscle studs who know they can defeat most anyone their size...and then putting that reputation on the line to see who can kick whose ass.

Let's get this over with! I've got a slut to fuck and a couple of
hundred million toys to deliver after I kick your ass!

"Let's get this over with," Santa said. "I got a slut to fuck and a couple of hundred million toys to deliver after I kick your ass!"

"NOT a problem!" I snorted "Bring it!" I yelled doing the international hand sign for: COME AT ME BRO

"Consider it brung!" he replied with a hearty and jolly Santa laugh.

And with that, IT WAS ON!!!

Santa charged me like a bull

Santa charged me like a bull with both arms open! But I was ready. I ducked under the charge, firing a hard fist into Santa's ripped stomach. To my surprise, my fist connects with a rock-solid ab wall as strong as my own! There is a sound like a cannon shot as my anvil of a fist lands followed by a bull-like grunt but my fist bounces off Santa's rock-solid abs inflicting no damage to his brick-wall of a mid-section

Santa's momentum carried him behind me. He spun around only to find I had done the same and was ready and waiting for him. CRACK! This time My hard fist struck Santa's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

I immediately charged in as the not-so-jolly muscle- bound elf reached for his jaw, stabbing Santa's abs with a combination of punches! My first blow is a full on powerhouse assault. And I keep them coming. Relentless full power full contact punching strikes! I am determined to turn those steely abs to mush. The thudding sound of my fists hitting thick hard muscle and the ape-like grunts of my target echo off the walls of the room. His brick-like ab muscles are holding, but Santa's grunts get louder with each punch and his body begins to bend over slightly. But before I can fold him over there is a WHOOSH! as Santa sends a retaliating punch sailing past my head. Good thing my boxer reflexes let me slip that punch because it sounded and look powerful enough to have knocked my head right off my shoulders!

I swung recklessly, trying to connect with a knockout punch but showing better reflexes and more speed that he had so far Santa Quickly backed right out of the my reach. Santa bounced back and forth, staying light on his feet, fists raised. Looks like Santa had some serious boxing skillz. Who would have thunk it!

As I moved forward, Santa feinted with a couple of blows at my gorilla-size noggin once again. I avoided the blows, but crafty Santa had only been moving me into position. WHUMP! Santa lifted a boot into my abs, driving it in hard. I stumbled back, hunching slightly. WHAM! Santa seized the opportunity. He lifted an upper cut that landed right below my chin.

Damn it, how did I come to be fighting SIX Santas,
and why are they so blurry?

Next he was using my head like a speedbag.

WHUMP! Santa lifted his massive leg and landed a round house kick to my chest that knocked me off-balance sent me sprawling backwards and into the Christmas tree, knocking it over and tripping over some presents finally landing on my hard muscled butt on the floor. My head was festooned with garlands and tinsel from the tree...I was looking a pretty sorry sight!

Your Mule may have to rethink his strategy!

But don't despair dear readers, your Mule was not finished, no not by a long shot!

"Dear readers.." Wait! That's me! Mule mentioned ME on his
Blog!!! Wait till I tell my friends on Facebook about this. Andrew
will be so jealous! Maybe Enrique will do a picture of me..."

I got to admit Santa was Pretty spry for a guy who has been around for centuries, guess he picked up some Muay Thai shit in his travels! Santa-Fu?

Santa Fu!

My thick muscle laden 54" chest is like a fortress so nothing was hurt other than my pride. Santa didn't realize that tho, because he moved in fast thinking I was at least stunned. Nope! Big Mistake, Santy.

I was ready for him. I spun, sweeping Santa's legs out from under him. As Santa toppled down, I leapt up with my peak athlete reflexes and landed on top of him. I pinned Santa on his back under my 247 lbs. of solid muscle weight. I was holding him down by both of his wrists to keep him trapped and pinned as he struggled against me. Then I raised up and brought my hard knee down right into Santa's gut! The knee broke past the muscles and sent him into convulsions.

With Santa coughing, I let go of his left wrist and quickly brought my forearm down across Santa's thickly muscled bull neck. Santa had the wherewithal to twist and buck upwards, throwing me off and to the side and scrambling away.

I was up fast, but so was Santa. When we scrambled to our feet, both of us were more cautious than we had previously been. We now know that we each have the body of a bodybuilder with the immense strength of a powerlifter, and possess speed and agility one does not normally find on men of our size and bulk We circled one another, the battle underway again. We are both powerful, pumped and pissed. The air we breathed reeked with the smell of testosterone, sweat, peppermint candy canes, oreos and potpourri (goddammit Santa!)

"You do know how to fight; I’ll give you that, muscle-boy. But I thought you were more into wrestling and tests of strength than throwing hands, Mule....." Santa said slyly. The cock and balls nesting in his jock strap were huge and demanding release. Fighting makes Santa hard. It does the same to me. All that testosterone and adrenaline and bodily contact is enough to give any real male a boner.

Santa raised his hands and spread his fingers. I nodded knowingly. A test of strength. . Good, I smiled. I hoped that when I brought this north pole strongman down to his knees, it would bring him to his senses and with luck the match might even end right then. After all, I needed to avoid doing any serious damage to Santa. Think of the children! How is Santa gonna get them presents out if I puts him into the Hospital. Not to mention millions of poor parents having to explain 'supply chain issues' to crying, disappointed children.

I charged at him with arms up. He reached up to stop me. Our hands met in a grip above our heads with loud "slap"! Our fingers locked like vices and immediately started trying to force the other down. We moved closer, banging our massive, heaving chests together. Two musclemen grunted and strained as we stood chest to chest, nipples to nipples, hands locked tightly in place. We pushed with all our might as our red faces grimaced from their strenuous exertion and our bull necks strained with such intensity that the veins seemed to almost pop through their flesh.

A test of strength!
With fingers locked like vices the two powerhouses
try to out-muscle the other!

Vibrations in our arms, the quivering of our massive glutes, the rippling striations of our upper back and shoulder muscles, the rivets of sweat forming on each man's face and body, the puffing of our cheeks, and the various shades of red each man's face turned as we applied tremendous force to one another. Our massive chests and rippling abdomens pressed against one another like walls of warm steel.

Bulging biceps in our arms, the quivering of our massive glutes,
the rippling striations of our upper back and shoulder muscles,
the rivets of sweat forming on each man's face and body,
as we applied tremendous force to one another.

We were two evenly-matched competitors, but eventually with tremendous strain I got my hands on top. Now I had a slight leverage advantage. I confidently exerted all my strength on Santa's muscles. Every muscle fiber in my body strained to force the mighty North Pole muscleman down to his knees. Ol' Claus slowly felt himself being overpowered by his rival and being forced to his knees. Desperately he tried to reverse the leverage, but could not. Like me, his teeth clenched, he strained with every ounce of strength he possessed, as the veins in his massive arms, chest and neck stood out. Straining, grimacing, and pushing in a futile attempt to remain in control he began to get panicky when he realize he was losing, causing more adrenaline to flow into his blood stream to fuel his muscles as they worked furiously to regain control.

Despite his efforts, I was slowly winning the contest. That is until Santa suddenly lifts his knee into my midsection. He caught me without a protective flex. My eyes bulged and air exploded out my lungs as Santa's knee slammed into my gut, sinking deep into my abs causing me to double over and stumble back, coughing, spluttering, and heaving for air.

I was caught completely unprepared when Santa ducked behind me, rapidly jerked my wrists behind my back, and kicked the back of my knees hard. I dropped like a log to my knees. Santa extended my arms straight behind me, controlling me by my wrists. My massive pecs stretched to their limit as Santa pressed my wrists back to back. Through gritted teeth, Santa taunted, “Like I said, you’re a big boy… a big, dumb boy.”

~Enrique Nieto Nadal

This is almost too easy.
I expected more of a challenge from you, Mule!
But keep trying!
I am enjoying beating the shit out of you!

Santa shifted his weight to his left foot and carefully lifted his right foot, planting it solidly in the small of my wide back. Pressing with his foot and pulling on my arms at the same time, Santa pried his opponent painfully backward.

As an experienced and frequent fighter, I was accustomed to being captured in dangerous positions and always welcomed the challenge of muscling my way out. But despite my grunting flex and twisting attempts to escape, Santa was controlling me handily. In a flash, Santa pulled his big right foot away, and then stomped it hard again into my spine. It hurt like hell and I grunted in pain.

Slowly, Santa pressed me until I found myself laid out on my stomach on the floor, my arms continuing to be ripped backward as Kris Kringle drove his bare foot into my back. “You’ve got nothin’, boy!” Santa barked down at me.

Again, Santa lifted his foot and stomped it down. A gasp of pain came from my mouth as my head jerked back reflexively. Instantly, I felt Ol' Saint Nick shifting his weight, leaning backward and prying my upper chest off the floor. I was genuinely awed at the power he exhibited in prying my upper body backward. I felt a momentary flash of doubt in my complete confidence in my physical superiority. This swole-as-all-fuck dude not only had an on-point physique on level with mine, but to my shock, I realized that his muscles might be as strong as mine to boot! Work muscles, not just 'for show' muscles.