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| ~Enrique Nieto Nadal~ |
Story by Mule, Edited by Editor Brah, Original Mule/Clipper Fight Pic by Enrique Nieto Nadal*
To appreciate this post, you will need to know a little about American Football:
The National Football League defines clipping as “the act of throwing the body across the back of the leg of an eligible receiver or charging or falling into the back of an opponent below the waist after approaching him from behind, provided that the opponent is not a runner.”
Clipping is a Personal Foul, a block from behind that is below the waist, that carries a 15 yards penalty. (Rule 12, Section 2, Article 1) Clipping is one of the most dangerous, and potentially injurious penalties in football. Clipping has the potential to cause a wide variety of injuries to the player that is clipped. Some such injuries can be career-ending, and in some severe cases life-altering, as the player that is clipped is unaware of the incoming hit and thus has no time to physically prepare for the hit.
Every year Sports Illustrated conducts a poll of NFL players to make a list of the Dirtiest Player in the NFL.
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| "What the actual Fuck!!!" I yelled, just before I throw my cell phone against the wall |
"What the actual Fuck!!!" I yell, as I throw my cell phone against the wall. 3rd phone I lost that way recently, and another hole in my wall to patch. But I was justified in my anger.
That's the third one of my clients that asshole has sent to the hospital. He took one out for the season. And his coach either can't or won't stop him. The subject of my rage has the nickname of Clipper and that's what he does to other players in the game. He's already paid more in fines than most CEO's make in a year but he just goes on clipping. He actually enjoys injuring other players.
Clipper is a thug and a complete sack of shit. Despite showing a lot of talent, he went undrafted out of college due to character concerns. Being busted for PED (steroid) use, didn’t help either. But to his credit he came storming into the league as an undrafted free agent, and stood out as a first-year player for his aggressive play, as well as his ability to hit opposing players with near car accident level impact. The rookie had the dubious achievement of being voted the no.1 dirtiest player in the league in the Sports Illustrated NFL poll during his first year. He’s been fined eight times, suspended three times. He talks trash, gets in everyone's face, and bends the rules as far as he possibly can. Receivers hate playing him, he is notorious for targeting knees. and the fans of the team he's facing, hate him personally. Even his own teammates straight-up hate him. Just because a guy wears the same uniform as you, doesn't mean he has to be a friend. In a heated locker room fight he knocked a teammate out cold with a perfectly placed hook to the chin. Less than a week later, he fought and KO'd the same team mate AGAIN. The team mate wanted to run the fight back ... and redeem himself for takin' an L the first time around. But, the 2nd fight ended just like the 1st ... with a right hook by Clipper, sending his fellow player, crashing to locker room floor.
This will not stand! If the League and his team can't or won't do something about this asshole, then I will!
I am going to need an ally to pull this off. And I think I know the perfect one. That Strongside linebacker that had gone a mano-a-mano with Clipper and been knocked out twice for his efforts, is bound to still be holding a grudge. Let's power up the trusty computer and dox that boyo.
Delashaun BenJarvus Durousseau , hmmm, there are creoles named Durousseau back home in Louisiana, mostly around Ville Platte, surely I can't be so lucky......
and BINGO, born Mamou, Louisiana. Played at Ole Miss...Well, looks like I will need to break out my best Bobby Boucher Cajun accent for this job.....I have some convincing and scheming to do, but I think I have found my ally for this little project.
A not too short road trip made bearable by stops at two different Buck ee's. I found myself in an undisclosed city which was home to the undisclosed football team. I had a good nights sleep at an upscale hotel with a decent gym and very good restaurant using my Hilton Rewards points. I checked in with Delashaun and we finalized arrangements to meet. Early the next morning I went to the team practice facility and met up with Delashaun. We headed to the team locker room to get ready for the practice.
"You got a team jersey and helmet for me, brah?" I ask with my best Cajun inflections.
Delashaun answered, and after a moment, I translated it as: " Yeah, man, but you're not playing football, bro — you're fighting a football player!"
" Nah fam, I'm not fighting a football player, I am beating one up, with your help," I correct.
"Fuuuuk dude, you're stacked. I been in locker rooms most of my life with top tier athletes and even I'm impressed! Even your muscles have muscles. No Homo!" Delashaun exclaims as he watches me changing into football gear.
"Thanks, bro! That compliment means a lot coming from a dude with your build!" I returned the compliment. Delashaun was down to his briefs getting dressed out for practice when I got there, so I got an eyeful of black muscle already.
Delashaun hands me a red cut-off football practice jersey. I examine it as I go over the plan with my ally. "So y'all arranged it so we just got Clipper and four brothers doing special practice now? That must have been some good bullshit you were selling. And the four brothers are cool with this?"
Translated from the creole jumble mumble his response was: "Fuck yeah, all the brothers on this team fucking hate that racist white pretty boy, uhh, no offense Mule. We been waiting for someone to kick his ass. You're chill, nigga. Whoa, dude, you look like the incredible Hulk in a uniform. I remember watching couple of Dook games on TV as a kid. You look even bigger than you did when you was playing Defensive End back in college. No wonder you didn't have any problem getting past security, you sure got the build of a football player.
Coach is in his office watching game film. When I give the signal, me and the other players will step aside while you call Clipper out. Kick his butt and tell him why you’re doing it."
I smirk and nod.
"Cool," I say. “And I'm sure we are gonna to trash talk and shove each other around before the fight. You boyos not gonna try to jump in when we do, right?” I ask
Delashaun smirks, then shakes his head. “Nah, they wouldn't piss on that crackah to put him out if he was on fire, so back to the fight — show off first, then show you’re not intimidated, then try to intimidate,” Delashaun says. “ then whip his ass.”
“Because If you lose, he’ll just go on clipping, probably even more than before, you know,” Delashaun says,
I shrug. “I won’t lose,” I say, winking to my blog readers beyond the fourth wall of the story, as I clamp my right hand on the impressive bulge at my crotch as I continue to adjust my bulge. I bend down and begin to pull on my football shoes complete with cleats.
“Ya'll are fightin’ in cleats?” a surprised Delashaun asks.
“Yup,” I answer with a devilish grin. “That should hurt like hell.”
“I guess you’ll find out the minute he kicks you,” laughs Delashaun. "Just make sure he doesn't kick you in your big dick."
I just grunt in response,
I pull the red cut-off jersey over my head. The bottom ends just below my bulging pecs and above my rippling muscled abs. "Daymn, big fella. Even your muscles have muscles...you could be a professional bodybuilder with a body like that...." the admiring black athlete says with an appreciative whistle.
"Head out to the field. I will let things settle down and come out in a halfa hour. " I answer, seemingly ignoring the compliment, although it made my cock twitch.
Exactly 30 minutes later, I come bursting out of the locker room and down the tunnel, helmeted head down, in red cleats and a red cut-off jersey that showed off my rock-hard glistening abs. I jog up to the field, shadow boxing on my way, passing the signs reading "NO Access to Field during Closed Football Practice".
As expected, the field is empty except for a small group of stretching football players — dressed in red jerseys and white spandex matching mine.
I jog quickly past the players on “my” team. The players forget about their warm up at the impressive sight of the huge beast of a mystery player, bulging muscles glistening with sweat, who has taken the field. My heavily packed jock creates an impressive bulge under the skin-tight, white spandex football pants. I dominate the playing field with just my presence, like a larger than life super hero!
"There's your man," Delashaun says, pointing to a giant muscular blonde player stretching his legs on the field. “Call him out." Thanks for pointing him out, Delashaun, like I wouldn't be able to pick out the only other white dude on the field, and reminding me why I'm here.
I turn my back to "my teammates" in order to 'front' Clipper. I clamp my bulge in my left hand and point at Clipper with my right, before turning the hand over and giving a “come here” gesture with his index finger. One hyper-masculine alpha male challenging another.
The excited players let out an impressed, “Ewwwwwwww…” at the sight of one fighter calling out another.
"You’re gonna pay for clipping, you dirty muthafuking punk," I snarl at Clipper as I crack my knuckles.
Clipper looks up, more puzzled than confused. "What?!" He says, without a trace of fear in his confident voice.
In a louder voice, I thunder: "I SAID I’m here to make you pay for your cheap clips, and I am going to break your nose while I’m at it!” I raise my fists and begins bouncing on the balls of my feet to punctuate my promise.
Players begin taking off their helmets and form a circle around me and Clipper. Some of the players on the team start to snicker.
Clipper stands and faces me.
"Who the fuck are you, phaggot?!" Clipper shouts, his muscles tensing.
I swagger up to, but not over, the field’s halfway point and, facing Clipper. I raise my huge right arm, point at my bicep, then harden it as the players stare. I flex a few times until I am displaying a 22" rock hard bicep with a mountainous peak so high, it looks like it should have a snow-cap.
Then I turn and raise my left arm and flex that bicep till its as hard and big as a cannon ball. Then I put my hands on the back of my helmet and flex my pec shelf before solidifying my sweat-slick eight pack. All eyes were on me, their eyes following my bouncing pecs up and down, their pupils like yo-yos. My bulging pecs dance and my abs turn into a wall of concrete blocks!
The brothers behind me cheer and hoot as they high—five and slap ass at my astounding and audacious display of muscle.
Clipper's eyes get wider as he sizes up this rival, then angrily raises his fists. I take a quick inventory of Clipper's glistening biceps and heavily muscled stomach and his impressively stout, protruding pectoral shelf. My dick treacherously defected to Team Clipper and gave him a proper salute!
I quickly sized up the muscleman I had just called out. He was exceptionally well built, nearly my height and weight. He was in his mid-twenties, and wore a tight fitting red crop top, which, like my own, left no detail of his magnificent torso to the imagination. His huge chest, with massive bulging pecs, tapered to a slim tight waist. His pecs bulged and relaxed as he breathed deeply. His muscular thighs and buttocks were molded into his skin-tight spandex football pants.
Clipper just stands there in red helmet, gleaming white pants that emphasised his impressive crotch bulge, and black cleats. His red jersey dangles from his shoulders and exposes his rippling, sculpted abs. There is a hint of a smile on Clipper's lips as he sized me up. He instantly recognized that my physical development to be at least the equal of his if not better. But as impressive and as powerful as my mightily muscled physique was, Clipper was confident he was equally as muscled and at least as strong as me. From the sudden shocked silence of my cheering squad, it sounded like some others on the team held the same assessment.
“Kick his ass, boyo!” yells one burly, dreadlock coiffed brother, the loudest of the bunch. He slaps my butt and pushes me forward. "Take him out, boy!" he shouts.
Clipper turns to face me. He sports two black squares painted below his eyes. . He flips off the burly dreadlock wearing dude that just slapped my ass.
Clipper struts to the 40 yard line and comes to a stop. Clipper looks me up and down. I get this chill feeling like I'm a lamb being sized up for dinner by a wolf.
I give him a hard stare back.
"I'm gonna stomp the fuck out of you, punk! I will send your big musclebound ass back home to your mama crying like a little girl, boyo” he growls.
"Yeah, well, I'm rubber and you're glue. Any thing you say bounces off me and sticks to you!" I snap back. I burned him pretty good in that exchange. I am KING OF THE PLAYGROUND!
I hear my boyos hesitate for a few seconds, but then hoot and cheer my witty comeback.
Clipper snorts in disgust. Then walks closer to me, and spits on the grass.
“I'm going to roll you, you pussy bitch!" Clipper says, voice dripping with confidence. "Let’s go right now! Football stance — see who knocks who over!”
The top-tier athlete doesn't wait for an answer from me to his challenge, and instead lowers his body and puts his right arm down into the ground, setting his legs and getting ready to jump, looking up at me to see if I am going to match his football stance. I give a sideways glance to the eagerly watching team mates, then smile and nod.
"Come on. Let's see what you got, soyboy!!" I growl in acceptance of the challenge issued.
As the players cheer, I snort and spit, narrowly missing Clipper. Then I lower my body and also put my right arm onto the ground, setting my tree-trunk legs. Now both bulls are faced-off in a three-point stance. Our muscled asses flex in anticipation under the skin—tight spandex.
I know how this drill works. In a tackle, whoever gets lower is gonna win. It's all about your center of gravity.
Delashaun begins to call it. He shouts: "Ready... set... CHARGE!"
With the force of a head-on collision between two trains, we collide. It feels to me like this train wreck has shifted into slow motion.
Clipper drives his shoulder into my muscled gut with all the power of a locomotive, as his mighty legs drive him forward. A huge blast of air, mixed with spit, flies out my mouth, along with a loud as King-Kong ape-like grunt as I am impaled by the big shoulder. UHHHHHHH!!!! Clipper is slightly lower than me so when we hit he stands me up, then drives through me, sending me crashing onto my ass in the grass. Clipper had won the play and knocked my ass to the grass.
Clipper turns around to smirk at your humiliated Mule. “You hit like a little girl, bitch!” he laughs, then snorts and spits into my face as he towers above me.
"Get up...I am just starting to punish you!!!" he demands.
The watching players have gone silent.
I angrily scramble to my feet.
"THAT's how I like to play… if only there were fewer pussy rules in football..." Clipper taunts the disappointed watching players.
With my big chest and sculpted abs heaving to replace the air I had lost, I glare at Clipper and pull my helmet off, throwing it on the ground. Then I put both hands on my jersey’s collar and rip it in half, revealing my glistening, muscled chest. I throw both pieces to the ground and once again the players cheer. I quickly begin to flex my muscles in an effort to restore some hope to the players that were pulling for me, and to intimidate my foe.
Clipper steps back and pulls off his helmet, revealing a magazine-model handsome face with piercing blue eyes and a blonde hair. He throws the helmet to the ground, then pulls his jersey over his head, revealing his own muscular torso. His jersey joins his helmet on the ground.
That's the third one of my clients that asshole has sent to the hospital. He took one out for the season. And his coach either can't or won't stop him. The subject of my rage has the nickname of Clipper and that's what he does to other players in the game. He's already paid more in fines than most CEO's make in a year but he just goes on clipping. He actually enjoys injuring other players.
Clipper is a thug and a complete sack of shit. Despite showing a lot of talent, he went undrafted out of college due to character concerns. Being busted for PED (steroid) use, didn’t help either. But to his credit he came storming into the league as an undrafted free agent, and stood out as a first-year player for his aggressive play, as well as his ability to hit opposing players with near car accident level impact. The rookie had the dubious achievement of being voted the no.1 dirtiest player in the league in the Sports Illustrated NFL poll during his first year. He’s been fined eight times, suspended three times. He talks trash, gets in everyone's face, and bends the rules as far as he possibly can. Receivers hate playing him, he is notorious for targeting knees. and the fans of the team he's facing, hate him personally. Even his own teammates straight-up hate him. Just because a guy wears the same uniform as you, doesn't mean he has to be a friend. In a heated locker room fight he knocked a teammate out cold with a perfectly placed hook to the chin. Less than a week later, he fought and KO'd the same team mate AGAIN. The team mate wanted to run the fight back ... and redeem himself for takin' an L the first time around. But, the 2nd fight ended just like the 1st ... with a right hook by Clipper, sending his fellow player, crashing to locker room floor.
This will not stand! If the League and his team can't or won't do something about this asshole, then I will!
I am going to need an ally to pull this off. And I think I know the perfect one. That Strongside linebacker that had gone a mano-a-mano with Clipper and been knocked out twice for his efforts, is bound to still be holding a grudge. Let's power up the trusty computer and dox that boyo.
Delashaun BenJarvus Durousseau , hmmm, there are creoles named Durousseau back home in Louisiana, mostly around Ville Platte, surely I can't be so lucky......
and BINGO, born Mamou, Louisiana. Played at Ole Miss...Well, looks like I will need to break out my best Bobby Boucher Cajun accent for this job.....I have some convincing and scheming to do, but I think I have found my ally for this little project.
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In the locker room, I am still chatting with Delashaun and meeting the other players as I strip down and then start dressing out to play. I pull the skin tight white football pants up and over my bulging jock, then reach back and pull the shining white spandex out of my ass crack.
In the locker room, I am still chatting with Delashaun and meeting the other players as I strip down and then start dressing out to play. I pull the skin tight white football pants up and over my bulging jock, then reach back and pull the shining white spandex out of my ass crack.
I look around and think that this is Clipper's locker room so I am on his home turf here. Except his own team mates all hate his fucking arrogant guts and his disrespectful ways and are hoping I can beat some humility into his ass.
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| The shit his own team speaks about him confirms what your Mule has already concluded: Clipper is an asshole in desperate need of a good, buntal and humiliating ass-kicking! |
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| "You got a team jersey and helmet for me, brahs?" I ask in the locker room |
"You got a team jersey and helmet for me, brah?" I ask with my best Cajun inflections.
Delashaun answered, and after a moment, I translated it as: " Yeah, man, but you're not playing football, bro — you're fighting a football player!"
" Nah fam, I'm not fighting a football player, I am beating one up, with your help," I correct.
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| " Yeah, sure Mule, but remember - you're not here to play football, bro - you're here to do us a solid and beat some humility into our arrogant Team Captain!" |
"Fuuuuk dude, you're stacked. I been in locker rooms most of my life with top tier athletes and even I'm impressed! Even your muscles have muscles. No Homo!" Delashaun exclaims as he watches me changing into football gear.
"Thanks, bro! That compliment means a lot coming from a dude with your build!" I returned the compliment. Delashaun was down to his briefs getting dressed out for practice when I got there, so I got an eyeful of black muscle already.
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| Delashaun down to his briefs |
Delashaun hands me a red cut-off football practice jersey. I examine it as I go over the plan with my ally. "So y'all arranged it so we just got Clipper and four brothers doing special practice now? That must have been some good bullshit you were selling. And the four brothers are cool with this?"
Translated from the creole jumble mumble his response was: "Fuck yeah, all the brothers on this team fucking hate that racist white pretty boy, uhh, no offense Mule. We been waiting for someone to kick his ass. You're chill, nigga. Whoa, dude, you look like the incredible Hulk in a uniform. I remember watching couple of Dook games on TV as a kid. You look even bigger than you did when you was playing Defensive End back in college. No wonder you didn't have any problem getting past security, you sure got the build of a football player.
Coach is in his office watching game film. When I give the signal, me and the other players will step aside while you call Clipper out. Kick his butt and tell him why you’re doing it."
I smirk and nod.
"Cool," I say. “And I'm sure we are gonna to trash talk and shove each other around before the fight. You boyos not gonna try to jump in when we do, right?” I ask
Delashaun smirks, then shakes his head. “Nah, they wouldn't piss on that crackah to put him out if he was on fire, so back to the fight — show off first, then show you’re not intimidated, then try to intimidate,” Delashaun says. “ then whip his ass.”
“Because If you lose, he’ll just go on clipping, probably even more than before, you know,” Delashaun says,
I shrug. “I won’t lose,” I say, winking to my blog readers beyond the fourth wall of the story, as I clamp my right hand on the impressive bulge at my crotch as I continue to adjust my bulge. I bend down and begin to pull on my football shoes complete with cleats.
“Ya'll are fightin’ in cleats?” a surprised Delashaun asks.
“Yup,” I answer with a devilish grin. “That should hurt like hell.”
“I guess you’ll find out the minute he kicks you,” laughs Delashaun. "Just make sure he doesn't kick you in your big dick."
I just grunt in response,
I pull the red cut-off jersey over my head. The bottom ends just below my bulging pecs and above my rippling muscled abs. "Daymn, big fella. Even your muscles have muscles...you could be a professional bodybuilder with a body like that...." the admiring black athlete says with an appreciative whistle.
"Head out to the field. I will let things settle down and come out in a halfa hour. " I answer, seemingly ignoring the compliment, although it made my cock twitch.
Exactly 30 minutes later, I come bursting out of the locker room and down the tunnel, helmeted head down, in red cleats and a red cut-off jersey that showed off my rock-hard glistening abs. I jog up to the field, shadow boxing on my way, passing the signs reading "NO Access to Field during Closed Football Practice".
As expected, the field is empty except for a small group of stretching football players — dressed in red jerseys and white spandex matching mine.
I jog quickly past the players on “my” team. The players forget about their warm up at the impressive sight of the huge beast of a mystery player, bulging muscles glistening with sweat, who has taken the field. My heavily packed jock creates an impressive bulge under the skin-tight, white spandex football pants. I dominate the playing field with just my presence, like a larger than life super hero!
"There's your man," Delashaun says, pointing to a giant muscular blonde player stretching his legs on the field. “Call him out." Thanks for pointing him out, Delashaun, like I wouldn't be able to pick out the only other white dude on the field, and reminding me why I'm here.
I turn my back to "my teammates" in order to 'front' Clipper. I clamp my bulge in my left hand and point at Clipper with my right, before turning the hand over and giving a “come here” gesture with his index finger. One hyper-masculine alpha male challenging another.
The excited players let out an impressed, “Ewwwwwwww…” at the sight of one fighter calling out another.
"You’re gonna pay for clipping, you dirty muthafuking punk," I snarl at Clipper as I crack my knuckles.
Clipper looks up, more puzzled than confused. "What?!" He says, without a trace of fear in his confident voice.
In a louder voice, I thunder: "I SAID I’m here to make you pay for your cheap clips, and I am going to break your nose while I’m at it!” I raise my fists and begins bouncing on the balls of my feet to punctuate my promise.
Players begin taking off their helmets and form a circle around me and Clipper. Some of the players on the team start to snicker.
Clipper stands and faces me.
"Who the fuck are you, phaggot?!" Clipper shouts, his muscles tensing.
I swagger up to, but not over, the field’s halfway point and, facing Clipper. I raise my huge right arm, point at my bicep, then harden it as the players stare. I flex a few times until I am displaying a 22" rock hard bicep with a mountainous peak so high, it looks like it should have a snow-cap.
Then I turn and raise my left arm and flex that bicep till its as hard and big as a cannon ball. Then I put my hands on the back of my helmet and flex my pec shelf before solidifying my sweat-slick eight pack. All eyes were on me, their eyes following my bouncing pecs up and down, their pupils like yo-yos. My bulging pecs dance and my abs turn into a wall of concrete blocks!
The brothers behind me cheer and hoot as they high—five and slap ass at my astounding and audacious display of muscle.
Clipper's eyes get wider as he sizes up this rival, then angrily raises his fists. I take a quick inventory of Clipper's glistening biceps and heavily muscled stomach and his impressively stout, protruding pectoral shelf. My dick treacherously defected to Team Clipper and gave him a proper salute!
I quickly sized up the muscleman I had just called out. He was exceptionally well built, nearly my height and weight. He was in his mid-twenties, and wore a tight fitting red crop top, which, like my own, left no detail of his magnificent torso to the imagination. His huge chest, with massive bulging pecs, tapered to a slim tight waist. His pecs bulged and relaxed as he breathed deeply. His muscular thighs and buttocks were molded into his skin-tight spandex football pants.
Clipper just stands there in red helmet, gleaming white pants that emphasised his impressive crotch bulge, and black cleats. His red jersey dangles from his shoulders and exposes his rippling, sculpted abs. There is a hint of a smile on Clipper's lips as he sized me up. He instantly recognized that my physical development to be at least the equal of his if not better. But as impressive and as powerful as my mightily muscled physique was, Clipper was confident he was equally as muscled and at least as strong as me. From the sudden shocked silence of my cheering squad, it sounded like some others on the team held the same assessment.
“Kick his ass, boyo!” yells one burly, dreadlock coiffed brother, the loudest of the bunch. He slaps my butt and pushes me forward. "Take him out, boy!" he shouts.
Clipper turns to face me. He sports two black squares painted below his eyes. . He flips off the burly dreadlock wearing dude that just slapped my ass.
Clipper struts to the 40 yard line and comes to a stop. Clipper looks me up and down. I get this chill feeling like I'm a lamb being sized up for dinner by a wolf.
I give him a hard stare back.
"I'm gonna stomp the fuck out of you, punk! I will send your big musclebound ass back home to your mama crying like a little girl, boyo” he growls.
"Yeah, well, I'm rubber and you're glue. Any thing you say bounces off me and sticks to you!" I snap back. I burned him pretty good in that exchange. I am KING OF THE PLAYGROUND!
I hear my boyos hesitate for a few seconds, but then hoot and cheer my witty comeback.
Clipper snorts in disgust. Then walks closer to me, and spits on the grass.
“I'm going to roll you, you pussy bitch!" Clipper says, voice dripping with confidence. "Let’s go right now! Football stance — see who knocks who over!”
The top-tier athlete doesn't wait for an answer from me to his challenge, and instead lowers his body and puts his right arm down into the ground, setting his legs and getting ready to jump, looking up at me to see if I am going to match his football stance. I give a sideways glance to the eagerly watching team mates, then smile and nod.
"Come on. Let's see what you got, soyboy!!" I growl in acceptance of the challenge issued.
As the players cheer, I snort and spit, narrowly missing Clipper. Then I lower my body and also put my right arm onto the ground, setting my tree-trunk legs. Now both bulls are faced-off in a three-point stance. Our muscled asses flex in anticipation under the skin—tight spandex.
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| Like two bulls about to lock horns,we are faced-off in a three-point stance |
I know how this drill works. In a tackle, whoever gets lower is gonna win. It's all about your center of gravity.
Delashaun begins to call it. He shouts: "Ready... set... CHARGE!"
With the force of a head-on collision between two trains, we collide. It feels to me like this train wreck has shifted into slow motion.
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| We collide with the force of a head-on collision between two trains! |
Clipper drives his shoulder into my muscled gut with all the power of a locomotive, as his mighty legs drive him forward. A huge blast of air, mixed with spit, flies out my mouth, along with a loud as King-Kong ape-like grunt as I am impaled by the big shoulder. UHHHHHHH!!!! Clipper is slightly lower than me so when we hit he stands me up, then drives through me, sending me crashing onto my ass in the grass. Clipper had won the play and knocked my ass to the grass.
Clipper turns around to smirk at your humiliated Mule. “You hit like a little girl, bitch!” he laughs, then snorts and spits into my face as he towers above me.
"Get up...I am just starting to punish you!!!" he demands.
The watching players have gone silent.
I angrily scramble to my feet.
"THAT's how I like to play… if only there were fewer pussy rules in football..." Clipper taunts the disappointed watching players.
With my big chest and sculpted abs heaving to replace the air I had lost, I glare at Clipper and pull my helmet off, throwing it on the ground. Then I put both hands on my jersey’s collar and rip it in half, revealing my glistening, muscled chest. I throw both pieces to the ground and once again the players cheer. I quickly begin to flex my muscles in an effort to restore some hope to the players that were pulling for me, and to intimidate my foe.
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| I flex my muscled chest and bulging pecs to restore the confidence of the players that were pulling for me, and to intimidate my foe |
Clipper steps back and pulls off his helmet, revealing a magazine-model handsome face with piercing blue eyes and a blonde hair. He throws the helmet to the ground, then pulls his jersey over his head, revealing his own muscular torso. His jersey joins his helmet on the ground.
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| ~Clipper~ Clipper is fucking stud! His physique is ripped and shredded and stacked with bulging muscle. He looks more like a Greek muscle god than a football player! |
 |
| Clipper's bulging muscles and sculpted physique bore witness to all the extra hours he had spent lifting iron in the team weight room! Clipper looked like if Captain America took a triple-dose of super-soldier serum! |
"Fuck" I think. "This stud is built!" as my eyes take in his awesome physique. Despite his other character flaws, Clipper was known as a dedicated warrior in the weight room. His bulging muscles bore witness to all the extra hours he had spent lifting iron. His muscles were astounding in their size, thickness, and definition. I was bigger, I was heavier, but his physique was just incredible. Ripped and shredded, with hose sized veins crisscrossing his body like a road map, his tanned bronzed flawless skin gave him the appearance of a Greek muscle god. The dude legit looked like Captain American after taking a double-dose of super-soldier serum!
 |
| ~Mule~ I was bigger, I was heavier, and my muscles were larger in their size and thickness! But Clipper's physique was incredible: Ripped and shredded and even more defined than your Mule's! |
"I enjoyed the little "gun show" you put on earlier, pal. Here's my entry. I hope I'm not too late!!" Very slowly Clipper flexed his right arm for me. Right before my eyes, a huge mound of rock formed and grew into a solid-granite mound.
Nearly as big as my own, It was an over-sized cannonball of iron muscle, rippling with veins, pulsing with muscle fibers. My visual tour of his muscled torso continued to his chest. It was solid and hardened, as if it were made of the same iron as his arms. My eyes moved slowly across his muscular chest, taking in the deep cleavage between his striated pecs
Clipper interrupts my survey of his Grand Canyon wide chest . "You Admiring?" he asks with a cocky grin.
“And now that you know who and what you are dealing with, you better show me some fucking respect or else I will beat you even worse than I already plan to! Got it, soyboy?” cocky Clipper continued.
I growl my response to Clipper. "I shattered the nose of the last football punk I fought and I'll break your nose too, you pretty boy bitch! A broken nose won't keep you from being able to play, but it will make playing pure misery!"
"Looks like we better let these studs work it out mano-a-mano," Delashaun says as the players back away to give Clipper and me plenty of room to fight.
"Let's make this easy, Big Guy." Clipper says with a grin." You look like a big strong dude. And I'm a big strong dude. And we both want to know whose muscle is stronger. So let's fight using just pure strength. No fancy MMA shit or cheap tricks! You think you can win without them, muscle boy?" Clipper proposes.
"Yeah, I'm down for that!" I respond. "Head on, face to face. Let's just beat the shit out of each other. Simple as fuk, bro!" I say with a grin of my own as I accept the challenge and the terms!
The players watch intensely as the two musclemen crouched and began to circle each other slowly, fists raised. We were both snorting and pawing at the ground like a couple of bulls. The players cheer me on. If having his own teammates pulling against him is hurting his feelings, he sure isn't showing it. If anything, it seems to make him even more determined to prove who is boss.
Clipper charges forward and fires a brutal right uppercut into my muscled ridged 6-pac stomach, the thud of fist against muscle causing some of the watching players to wince. UHHHHHFFFF!!!! My body is lifted slightly upward by the attack, forcing a grunt from me, as Clipper immediately fires a left uppercut that again slams hard up and in to my abs. My abs held, but even I won't be able to take too many body shots of that caliber. The dudes got fists like fucking sledgehammers. Delashaun, watching closely, shakes his head and thinks the same thing. Mule needs to do something, he can't just keep eating those incoming fists of steel.
Clipper has managed to get inside my guard and is lighting me up with body blows. I take advantage of Clipper's closeness by clamping my hands behind his shoulders and yanking him toward him as I drive my right knee up, powered by my 28" quad, into Clipper's rock-solid stomach. Clipper grunts in pain but immediately returns the embrace and fires his right knee into my reddening stomach, then pulls me forward and drives his left knee even deeper into my abs. I instinctively cover my bruised stomach with my right arm and back away from my opponent.
Clipper grins, obviously satisfied that he got the best of me in that exchange, too. Apparently being something of a mind reader, he took the momentary break in action to slap his big right leg, flexing his leg and shaking out his huge quad like a pro bodybuilder. "Surprise, big boy. I got legs too, baby. Just as big and as strong as yours... 28" of killer quads that I will be using to kick and stomp the shit out of you. You should have done a better job of scoping out your target, moron. You are about to learn that I'm just as muscular and as strong as you are, you stupid motherfuker!"
Clipper and I raise our fists and again begin to circle, muscled chests heaving. "Fuck," I think. "This dude is no slouch. I need to step up my game. Those fists and knees of his really hurt...Clipper is a tough motherfuker and fast...and from what he has shown so far, as strong as fuk! And fuk if he ain't right, his arms and legs are nearly as big as mine. I should have studied my opponent first., and analyzed his strengths and weaknesses. But I didn't, and it looks like Clipper is a much tougher opponent that I was expecting him to be! I got my work cut out for me for sure!"
We are both dripping with sweat, as the hot late afternoon sun beats down on the football field. I take a step forward with my left leg, then I fire my right cleated foot into Clipper's stomach, cutting the flesh and forcing a grunt out of pain while sending him stumbling back. I start to hear cheers, but the sound is cut short by Clipper's well-executed (and illegal) cross tackle that targeted both my knees, hyper-extending them slightly. I let out a cry and crash hard onto my back on the artificial turf.
Clipper's face is to the side of my knees. Just as some of the players begin to boo Clipper's illegal and dangerous tackle I pull both of my knees up to my sweat-slick chest and fire both of my cleated feet toward Clipper's stunned face. Clipper manages to dodge the kick as my right shoe barely grazes his left cheek. Clipper scrambles up to his knees, then raises his left fist and pounds it like a hammer into my reddening abs. *OOOF!* I gasp in pain and instinctively pull my knees up to my chest.
Clipper seems determined to punch his way through my armor plated abs. He may just do it, my abs are weakening under the barrage of brutal punishment he is inflicting. I'm having trouble maintaining my protective flex. My abs can't take much more. I'm going to need to end this fight quick.
Meanwhile, Clipper has quickly scrambled up my torso until his knees straddle my hips, then rears back his right fist and send it smashing hard toward my mouth, but misses as I move my head to the side in anticipation.
Clipper, obviously pissed at missing, now pulls his right fist as far back as he can. "Let's see you slip my right fist again, asswipe. I'm going to punch you in your fucking whore mouth so hard it will knock your teeth out! I'm sure your boyfriend will love that when your sucking his cock! Ever picked up your teeth off the ground with broken fingers, cocksuker?"
But he sends too much time talking his shit. I twist my upper torso to the left while raising my right elbow, then spin back, smashing my elbow into Clipper's nose. Clipper nose gets tagged and he snaps his head back more in surprise than pain. "Let's try that again," I think, calmly. I now twist to the right, lifting my left elbow, and fire it toward Clipper's nose but miss as his peak athletic reflexes rear his head back just in time.
My ab muscles flex as I roll my upper body up and quickly grab the blond hair atop Clipper's head in my left fist, then pull Clipper's face downward as I fire my right fist upward toward Clipper's mouth. Clipper's head snaps back from the impact of my fist splitting Clipper's bottom lip. Clipper dabs at his bloody lip with the back of his hand and makes the mistake of examining the blood as my upper body, still lifted as if performing sit-ups, sends a brutal right fist smashing into his left eye, sending him crashing onto his right side in the grass. "Yeah, get the fuck off me, you stupid kunt!" I growl at him. I hear Mule team cheers, as I scramble up to my knees and immediately mount Clipper who is now cupping his swelling eye. I yank Clipper's hand away from his eye with my left hand and raise my right arm.
Then I use my full force to drive my right elbow smashing down deep into Clipper's swollen left eye. Clipper screams. With my glistening chest and abs heaving, I rear up and look down at Clipper, who is now curled into a fetal ball, cupping his damaged eye with both hands and moaning. "Finish him," I hear his team mates shout. I hear Delashaun interject another shout."Break his nose, like you said you would...."
"You can't say I didn't tell you exactly what was gonna happen. " Clipper says calmly; I showed you my big quads and told you I was gonna kick your ass with these 28" legs of mine. My football player legs are As big as your bodybuilder legs, and just as strong....They will be the instruments of your destruction. I will make you worship my fucking legs when we are done.... "
"...UHHH...my fucking abs... he knocked the wind out of me with those knee lifts to my gut..." I need some time to recover!
Seeing my worked-over body rendered momentarily helpless, Clipper moves in to take advantage. Grabbing me by the hair, Clipper delivers 5 quick punches to my weakening gut. The power of his sledgehammer fists was lifting my 260 pound frame clear off the ground. Outrageous pain erupted from the explosions that were systematically destroying the muscle that once defended my brick-wall abs. "AIR! I gotta get air. I .... can’t .... breathe! Damn it! The first rule, if you can’t breathe, you can’t fight. I’ve got to get away, protect myself and get time to recover." I think, forcing myself not to panic.
Clipper suddenly and easily picks my 260 lbs up body slamming me to the ground with an earth shaking 'THUD'. I am laid out like I just got sacked by the entire Defensive line! While I am laying there like I have been hit by a Mac truck, I could faintly make out the mountain of muscle standing above me, just before Clipper delivered his full 250 lbs weight behind a knee drop deep in the center of my unprotected stomach. Having been weakened from the power of Clipper's ferocious fists my washboard abs buckled and offered no protection as what little wind I still have in my body is taken out by his hard knee drop. Clipper's strategy of having targeted my abs and core throughout our fight is now paying off for him. I may not have had any weak spots when we started this fight, but Clipper has succeeded in making his own chink in my Mule muscle armor. Clipper had concentrated incredible force on working over the muscle that defended my brick-wall abs. Now my once picture perfect abdominals are coated in colorful welts and bruises, wrecked by the damage the powerful athlete had delivered.
Clipper's on fire as he follows that up by straddling and and then mounting me. The now dominating Clipper is sitting on my mid-section, daymn, even his ass is rock solid muscle. I don’t think this guy has a weak point! Suddenly it's raining fists as he sends a left, right, left into my chest and pecs! Clipper then does some posing of his own over my laid out body, "You had your fun, BOY! My turn now. I will beat you to a pulp!" he says as he flashed his best ‘I’m having fun now’ smile.
"Fuck, he's kicking my ass!" goes through my brain as I desperately try to clear my head and come up with a better strategy to win this fight. So far, "Let's just beat the shit out of each other!" seems to be working better for Clipper than it has for me!
Our audience watched as the "White Knight" that was supposed to teach their Captain a lesson gets his ass handed to him. Clipper's team mates are begrudgingly beginning to appreciate just how tough and determined their team captain is. He has taken a hell of a beating but it is looking like he is still going to pull out a win! Clipper is still a racist POS, but he is earning a lot of respect and creds from his own team by what he is showing today. He's making a comeback after that other white boy had beaten the shit out of him. There is just 'no quit' in Clipper's DNA. Whatever else Clipper may be, Clipper is a warrior!
Clipper gets up knowing that I've taken a lot of damaging hits and that he's turned this fight around! I now realize the full extent of this young jock's power and his fighting heart!
Clipper put his size 14 cleated foot on my heaving chest to keep me on the ground. "Yeah, bitch! Check these biceps out! I bet you weren't expecting abs and pecs like mine on a football player!" The young powerhouse QB flexes his well cut physique for me, the big man under his foot. I had to admit, Clipper's muscle packed body was as impressive as my own!
Clipper's team mates behind him watch, more in awe than in disappointment, as he marks me as his property with his primitive act of alpha male domination.
Livid at the thought of my humiliation of receiving Clipper's golden shower, and of now being forced to suck his cock, especially in front of a audience of fellow athletes, I pull my right arm back and fire it up in a wild uppercut toward Clipper's ample manhood. My fist connects with his low hanging bull-sized balls. With a bellow like a bull being castrated, he cries out in agony and backs up nearly paralyzed from the pain coming from his smashed big bull balls. He grabs his crotch to protect his stud gonads from further damage. Not giving Clipper any time to recover from the nut shot, I scramble to my feet. Holding his pain racked balls leaves Clipper's stomach open and exposed.
My uppercut slams up-to-my wrist deep into Clipper's stomach. His legs give out as he drops to his knees in front of me, his face falling forward into my bulging crotch, smearing blood across the white football pants he clamps his big arms around my tree trunk legs for support. I shove Clipper backwards, sending the weary fighter crashing, rag-doll-like, onto his back.
I move forward, pinning Clipper's shoulders to the ground with my knees, then look down and smirk, blood dripping from my lips onto Clipper's face. "Your gonna lose, punk!" I shout, then I fire a right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Clipper squeals in pain and tries to buck free from my pin, but to no avail. My chest and arm muscles peak as I fire off another right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Blood begins rolling down from each nostril and down either side of Clipper's face as he stares up at me in wide-eyed in fear. "Damn it!" I snarl, legitimately annoyed at failing to break my opponent's nose.
I plant my feet on either side of Clipper’s torso. I grin at the players and look down at my foe, then quickly untie my bloodied white football pants and, reaching down with my right hand, scoop out my own horse-sized cock and bull balls and hang them over my waistband just as Clipper had done when he gave me a golden shower earlier. As the players scream themselves hoarse, Clipper woozily sees three anaconda-sized cocks aimed at his face instead of one.
I put my hands on my hips and begin to spray piss like a fire hose on my downed enemy. It was like a fire hydrant had been opened. As I hosed my foe down with my King-dong sized manhood, I swayed my fire hose a bit, piss belching out of it.
With a cocky grin and flexing my mighty arms, I continued to rain what seemed like a gallon of his piss down on the groaning Clipper. Shaking the last of the piss out of my horse-cock I slowly tucked my long thick dong back down into my football pants and then with a struggle pulled the spandex back up over my huge bodybuilder ass. "Ha!" I think, "I can play water sports too!"
With that I turn to pose for my new pals, but I see they are looking and pointing at something behind me. I turn back to face Clipper only to find that the big man has already gotten to his feet! "Daymn, I can't believe he has taken my best shots and is still able to stand up! This muscle man is actually giving me a run for my money! What's it going to take to stop...." BAAAAAAMMMMMM! I don't finish my thought because my face is met by Clipper's big left fist with a 'SMACK' square in the jaw. I am glad my firm has a good dental plan!
Still woozy, Clipper follows up with another wild right cross that misses by a mile. I clamp the back of Clipper's head, then, holding my opponent's head in place, rear back my own head and send a brutal headbutt smashing into the football fighter’s nose. Clipper's nose finally breaks with a loud snap and blood explodes down his face, gushing over his mouth and chin and knocking the beaten muscle stud out cold.
The watching players mouths drop open in shock and awe. “SHIT!” a couple of them exclaim. One of the watching players whistles. “You knocked him the fuck out!”
"Nice job, killer," Delashaun says. "I thought he had you when he mounted you, but you came back strong and got the job done."
"I wasn't about to get my butt kicked after going to all this trouble," I say, turning and spitting out the blood from my lips. "You could have warned me though, I know you said he had muscle, but you didn't tell me he was the fucking Terminator!"
"Yeah," Delashaun says with a laugh. "I may have held back a few details. But I figured if I said too much, and you really knew what your were gonna be facing, that you wouldn't come to fight him!"
The players are still looking at the blooded, piss soaked, still form of their team mate. "We gotta get some photos of this beat down!" one shouts. A helmet is clamped down on my head as another one is slipped on the KOed Clipper. I am urged to teabag him, but I demure feeling that I had done enough. It was a hard match, harder than I had expected. but all that mattered was that it ended with a decisive victory by yours truly. Cell phones began snapping pics of my victory pose over the wrecked Clipper.
"I think he gets the message. Now I need to take him to your coach to make sure HE gets the message..." I tell Delashaun.
"Yeah," Delashaun says. "Coach is a good man. I don't know what he didn't do something about Clipper himself. When I asked him and all he said was 'Son, I have been around for a long time. This Clipper problem will all work itself out with time."
With my face bloody and my chest heaving in ragged breaths, I bend down, and with my glistening muscles straining, I lift the unconscious Clipper up into my arms. I look like a victorious Roman gladiator, as I carry Clipper off the field on to the Coach's office. I enter without knocking, stop, then drop the unconscious Clipper on the Coach's floor like a sack of shit. "Your boy is now done clippin’!" I growl, chest heaving. Clipper’s coach looks down at his star player, and just nods. “Yeah,” he says, surprisingly matter-of-factly. "I figured some 'white knight' would come along to take Clipper out eventually. I was wondering why it was taking so long to happen. I hope you beat the asshole out of the mean fucker!"
With blood flowing down my chin and neck from a split lip, I rubbed my red-and-purple blotched stomach with my right hand. I was hurting head to toe but my abs was where I was really feeling the working over I had gotten. Clipper had wrecked my abs so bad I wouldn't be able to tie my shoelaces for a week. Then, wiping my bloody lips with the back of his left hand, I lean over and spit into Clipper's face. "If not, let me know and I will come back and beat him some more."
"Mind if I use your shower, Coach? We had a pretty rough practice, today..."
"Sure, son. It looks like Clipper didn't go down easy. He fucked you up good. Use my private shower area. It's got its own whirlpool and steam room. and you look like you could use some time in both. Clipper is a strong, tough mother-fucker. You might have been able to pull out a win today, but it looks like he made sure to give you plenty to remember him by. In fact I think I will join you in steam room. I got an interesting story about how a young Brett Favre handled his own 'Clipper' problem that I think you will enjoy."
 |
| Clipper's entry to the 'gun show'! His bicep was an over-sized cannonball of iron muscle that grew into a solid-granite mound when he flexed |
Nearly as big as my own, It was an over-sized cannonball of iron muscle, rippling with veins, pulsing with muscle fibers. My visual tour of his muscled torso continued to his chest. It was solid and hardened, as if it were made of the same iron as his arms. My eyes moved slowly across his muscular chest, taking in the deep cleavage between his striated pecs
Clipper interrupts my survey of his Grand Canyon wide chest . "You Admiring?" he asks with a cocky grin.
“And now that you know who and what you are dealing with, you better show me some fucking respect or else I will beat you even worse than I already plan to! Got it, soyboy?” cocky Clipper continued.
I growl my response to Clipper. "I shattered the nose of the last football punk I fought and I'll break your nose too, you pretty boy bitch! A broken nose won't keep you from being able to play, but it will make playing pure misery!"
"Looks like we better let these studs work it out mano-a-mano," Delashaun says as the players back away to give Clipper and me plenty of room to fight.
"Let's make this easy, Big Guy." Clipper says with a grin." You look like a big strong dude. And I'm a big strong dude. And we both want to know whose muscle is stronger. So let's fight using just pure strength. No fancy MMA shit or cheap tricks! You think you can win without them, muscle boy?" Clipper proposes.
"Yeah, I'm down for that!" I respond. "Head on, face to face. Let's just beat the shit out of each other. Simple as fuk, bro!" I say with a grin of my own as I accept the challenge and the terms!
Clipper charges forward and fires a brutal right uppercut into my muscled ridged 6-pac stomach, the thud of fist against muscle causing some of the watching players to wince. UHHHHHFFFF!!!! My body is lifted slightly upward by the attack, forcing a grunt from me, as Clipper immediately fires a left uppercut that again slams hard up and in to my abs. My abs held, but even I won't be able to take too many body shots of that caliber. The dudes got fists like fucking sledgehammers. Delashaun, watching closely, shakes his head and thinks the same thing. Mule needs to do something, he can't just keep eating those incoming fists of steel.
Clipper has managed to get inside my guard and is lighting me up with body blows. I take advantage of Clipper's closeness by clamping my hands behind his shoulders and yanking him toward him as I drive my right knee up, powered by my 28" quad, into Clipper's rock-solid stomach. Clipper grunts in pain but immediately returns the embrace and fires his right knee into my reddening stomach, then pulls me forward and drives his left knee even deeper into my abs. I instinctively cover my bruised stomach with my right arm and back away from my opponent.
Clipper grins, obviously satisfied that he got the best of me in that exchange, too. Apparently being something of a mind reader, he took the momentary break in action to slap his big right leg, flexing his leg and shaking out his huge quad like a pro bodybuilder. "Surprise, big boy. I got legs too, baby. Just as big and as strong as yours... 28" of killer quads that I will be using to kick and stomp the shit out of you. You should have done a better job of scoping out your target, moron. You are about to learn that I'm just as muscular and as strong as you are, you stupid motherfuker!"
Clipper and I raise our fists and again begin to circle, muscled chests heaving. "Fuck," I think. "This dude is no slouch. I need to step up my game. Those fists and knees of his really hurt...Clipper is a tough motherfuker and fast...and from what he has shown so far, as strong as fuk! And fuk if he ain't right, his arms and legs are nearly as big as mine. I should have studied my opponent first., and analyzed his strengths and weaknesses. But I didn't, and it looks like Clipper is a much tougher opponent that I was expecting him to be! I got my work cut out for me for sure!"
We are both dripping with sweat, as the hot late afternoon sun beats down on the football field. I take a step forward with my left leg, then I fire my right cleated foot into Clipper's stomach, cutting the flesh and forcing a grunt out of pain while sending him stumbling back. I start to hear cheers, but the sound is cut short by Clipper's well-executed (and illegal) cross tackle that targeted both my knees, hyper-extending them slightly. I let out a cry and crash hard onto my back on the artificial turf.
Clipper's face is to the side of my knees. Just as some of the players begin to boo Clipper's illegal and dangerous tackle I pull both of my knees up to my sweat-slick chest and fire both of my cleated feet toward Clipper's stunned face. Clipper manages to dodge the kick as my right shoe barely grazes his left cheek. Clipper scrambles up to his knees, then raises his left fist and pounds it like a hammer into my reddening abs. *OOOF!* I gasp in pain and instinctively pull my knees up to my chest.
Clipper seems determined to punch his way through my armor plated abs. He may just do it, my abs are weakening under the barrage of brutal punishment he is inflicting. I'm having trouble maintaining my protective flex. My abs can't take much more. I'm going to need to end this fight quick.
Meanwhile, Clipper has quickly scrambled up my torso until his knees straddle my hips, then rears back his right fist and send it smashing hard toward my mouth, but misses as I move my head to the side in anticipation.
Clipper, obviously pissed at missing, now pulls his right fist as far back as he can. "Let's see you slip my right fist again, asswipe. I'm going to punch you in your fucking whore mouth so hard it will knock your teeth out! I'm sure your boyfriend will love that when your sucking his cock! Ever picked up your teeth off the ground with broken fingers, cocksuker?"
But he sends too much time talking his shit. I twist my upper torso to the left while raising my right elbow, then spin back, smashing my elbow into Clipper's nose. Clipper nose gets tagged and he snaps his head back more in surprise than pain. "Let's try that again," I think, calmly. I now twist to the right, lifting my left elbow, and fire it toward Clipper's nose but miss as his peak athletic reflexes rear his head back just in time.
My ab muscles flex as I roll my upper body up and quickly grab the blond hair atop Clipper's head in my left fist, then pull Clipper's face downward as I fire my right fist upward toward Clipper's mouth. Clipper's head snaps back from the impact of my fist splitting Clipper's bottom lip. Clipper dabs at his bloody lip with the back of his hand and makes the mistake of examining the blood as my upper body, still lifted as if performing sit-ups, sends a brutal right fist smashing into his left eye, sending him crashing onto his right side in the grass. "Yeah, get the fuck off me, you stupid kunt!" I growl at him. I hear Mule team cheers, as I scramble up to my knees and immediately mount Clipper who is now cupping his swelling eye. I yank Clipper's hand away from his eye with my left hand and raise my right arm.
Then I use my full force to drive my right elbow smashing down deep into Clipper's swollen left eye. Clipper screams. With my glistening chest and abs heaving, I rear up and look down at Clipper, who is now curled into a fetal ball, cupping his damaged eye with both hands and moaning. "Finish him," I hear his team mates shout. I hear Delashaun interject another shout."Break his nose, like you said you would...."
 | |
| I throw a thunderous left to Clippers jaw. But Clipper is no slouch! He has taken my best shots and is still fighting. The muscle man is almost as strong as I am, and is giving me a run for my money! I'm wearing myself out but I've got to keep on the pressure on if I am to win! |
I instantly fire my right fist toward Clipper's nose, but miss as Clipper rotates around, and ducks under the wild punch. Clipper then stands upright and drives an uppercut into my chin. I take the full brunt of the punch, head snapping upward, a splash of blood from my mouth spattering up my face, as I stumble back two steps. OWW...didn't see that coming. Everything was spinning, the punch had rocked me.
I heard an appreciative OOOOHHHHH from the audience, who knew a good punch when they see one. So this tough brawler has some fight left in him after all. What does it take to make this fucker back down?!?
I quickly shake my head clear, sweat flying from my hair as I do. I bounce back a couple of steps, then rear back my right fist and, tensing my muscles, send it flying toward Clipper's nose. The punch connects as Clipper's head is snapped straight back, the fighter falling onto his ass. Clipper is quick to scamper back to standing as blood trickles from his nostrils. Fists raised, he slowly circles me, His team mates have to begrudgingly admire the amount of punishment this dude can both take and inflict. He may be an asshole, but when it comes to toughness, he can bring it! At least it doesn't sound from the cheers like there have been any defections from Team Mule to Team Clipper yet. Barely had that thought left my brain, then Clipper fires his foot, cleats first, into my rib cage. I try to dodge the kick but I end up taking most of it, sweat spraying. I take advantage of the distance to return the favor, firing my cleats into Clipper's rippling six-pack.
My cleats are driven deep into Clipper’s abs, leaving cuts.. The fighter again crashes to the turf, getting knocked on his back as he cries out with a grunt of pain on impact and a moan after the fall. As his teammates explode into cheers, I run forward and plant my feet on either side of Clipper's bloodied stomach. I rear back my right foot and send it smashing into the young athlete's nose. Blood explodes from Clipper's nose and spatters up my white football pants as the team mates wince at the vicious attack.
I pull the muscled fighter off the turf by his hair. He fires his own knee attack toward my stomach, as I bring him up. I just smirk and easily deflect the knee. Still holding Clipper's hair with my left hand, I pull back my right fist, and send it flying toward Clipper's nose. He skillfully avoids my right fist, as it soars past his head. With my long muscle packed body fully stretched wide open before him, Clipper plants himself and sends his hard right knee powered by his amazingly powerful 28" quad up and into my stomach.
OOOFFF!!! The knee to my gut bends me over as air and blood explodes out my mouth. Flexing his chest and bicep muscles, Clipper moves forward fast and fires a second knee deep into my muscled stomach, adding to the destruction to my once invulnerable washboard abs oooOOOFF!! This time I am folded almost in half.
I heard an appreciative OOOOHHHHH from the audience, who knew a good punch when they see one. So this tough brawler has some fight left in him after all. What does it take to make this fucker back down?!?
I quickly shake my head clear, sweat flying from my hair as I do. I bounce back a couple of steps, then rear back my right fist and, tensing my muscles, send it flying toward Clipper's nose. The punch connects as Clipper's head is snapped straight back, the fighter falling onto his ass. Clipper is quick to scamper back to standing as blood trickles from his nostrils. Fists raised, he slowly circles me, His team mates have to begrudgingly admire the amount of punishment this dude can both take and inflict. He may be an asshole, but when it comes to toughness, he can bring it! At least it doesn't sound from the cheers like there have been any defections from Team Mule to Team Clipper yet. Barely had that thought left my brain, then Clipper fires his foot, cleats first, into my rib cage. I try to dodge the kick but I end up taking most of it, sweat spraying. I take advantage of the distance to return the favor, firing my cleats into Clipper's rippling six-pack.
My cleats are driven deep into Clipper’s abs, leaving cuts.. The fighter again crashes to the turf, getting knocked on his back as he cries out with a grunt of pain on impact and a moan after the fall. As his teammates explode into cheers, I run forward and plant my feet on either side of Clipper's bloodied stomach. I rear back my right foot and send it smashing into the young athlete's nose. Blood explodes from Clipper's nose and spatters up my white football pants as the team mates wince at the vicious attack.
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| I fire my big right fist into Clipper's face snapping his head back when it connects! |
I pull the muscled fighter off the turf by his hair. He fires his own knee attack toward my stomach, as I bring him up. I just smirk and easily deflect the knee. Still holding Clipper's hair with my left hand, I pull back my right fist, and send it flying toward Clipper's nose. He skillfully avoids my right fist, as it soars past his head. With my long muscle packed body fully stretched wide open before him, Clipper plants himself and sends his hard right knee powered by his amazingly powerful 28" quad up and into my stomach.
OOOFFF!!! The knee to my gut bends me over as air and blood explodes out my mouth. Flexing his chest and bicep muscles, Clipper moves forward fast and fires a second knee deep into my muscled stomach, adding to the destruction to my once invulnerable washboard abs oooOOOFF!! This time I am folded almost in half.
"You can't say I didn't tell you exactly what was gonna happen. " Clipper says calmly; I showed you my big quads and told you I was gonna kick your ass with these 28" legs of mine. My football player legs are As big as your bodybuilder legs, and just as strong....They will be the instruments of your destruction. I will make you worship my fucking legs when we are done.... "
"...UHHH...my fucking abs... he knocked the wind out of me with those knee lifts to my gut..." I need some time to recover!
Seeing my worked-over body rendered momentarily helpless, Clipper moves in to take advantage. Grabbing me by the hair, Clipper delivers 5 quick punches to my weakening gut. The power of his sledgehammer fists was lifting my 260 pound frame clear off the ground. Outrageous pain erupted from the explosions that were systematically destroying the muscle that once defended my brick-wall abs. "AIR! I gotta get air. I .... can’t .... breathe! Damn it! The first rule, if you can’t breathe, you can’t fight. I’ve got to get away, protect myself and get time to recover." I think, forcing myself not to panic.
Clipper suddenly and easily picks my 260 lbs up body slamming me to the ground with an earth shaking 'THUD'. I am laid out like I just got sacked by the entire Defensive line! While I am laying there like I have been hit by a Mac truck, I could faintly make out the mountain of muscle standing above me, just before Clipper delivered his full 250 lbs weight behind a knee drop deep in the center of my unprotected stomach. Having been weakened from the power of Clipper's ferocious fists my washboard abs buckled and offered no protection as what little wind I still have in my body is taken out by his hard knee drop. Clipper's strategy of having targeted my abs and core throughout our fight is now paying off for him. I may not have had any weak spots when we started this fight, but Clipper has succeeded in making his own chink in my Mule muscle armor. Clipper had concentrated incredible force on working over the muscle that defended my brick-wall abs. Now my once picture perfect abdominals are coated in colorful welts and bruises, wrecked by the damage the powerful athlete had delivered.
"Fuck, he's kicking my ass!" goes through my brain as I desperately try to clear my head and come up with a better strategy to win this fight. So far, "Let's just beat the shit out of each other!" seems to be working better for Clipper than it has for me!
Our audience watched as the "White Knight" that was supposed to teach their Captain a lesson gets his ass handed to him. Clipper's team mates are begrudgingly beginning to appreciate just how tough and determined their team captain is. He has taken a hell of a beating but it is looking like he is still going to pull out a win! Clipper is still a racist POS, but he is earning a lot of respect and creds from his own team by what he is showing today. He's making a comeback after that other white boy had beaten the shit out of him. There is just 'no quit' in Clipper's DNA. Whatever else Clipper may be, Clipper is a warrior!
Clipper gets up knowing that I've taken a lot of damaging hits and that he's turned this fight around! I now realize the full extent of this young jock's power and his fighting heart!
Clipper put his size 14 cleated foot on my heaving chest to keep me on the ground. "Yeah, bitch! Check these biceps out! I bet you weren't expecting abs and pecs like mine on a football player!" The young powerhouse QB flexes his well cut physique for me, the big man under his foot. I had to admit, Clipper's muscle packed body was as impressive as my own!
"You dared to come to MY home stadium and challenge me? I own this place, fucker, and I protect it. Thought you'd come in and throw your weight around. Not so much fun when I'm throwin' your weight around, is it? I am gonna show you some real 'home field advantage now..." Clipper speechified for my benefit. Even a couple of his hostile team mates had to fight back an urge to cheer. That sure sounded like one of those good rousing and inspiring half-time speeches that the Coach delivers in the locker room when your behind at the end of the first half.
Clipper pulls at the strings of his football pants, lowering them down his body, then pulls out his huge fat, soft dick. “You're mine, bitch!” It was an impressive cock. His teammates had seen his "warrior hard-on" in the locker room and showers after every game and practice and it was the biggest cock on the team. The huge meat between the legs this young jock stud stallion was as long and as thick as my own horse-sized manhood.
Clipper pulls at the strings of his football pants, lowering them down his body, then pulls out his huge fat, soft dick. “You're mine, bitch!” It was an impressive cock. His teammates had seen his "warrior hard-on" in the locker room and showers after every game and practice and it was the biggest cock on the team. The huge meat between the legs this young jock stud stallion was as long and as thick as my own horse-sized manhood.
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| Clipper has the biggest cock on the football team, which he proudly flaunts in the locker room. The huge meat between his legs both dominates and provokes envy among his team mates! Clipper's stud-stallion's cock was as long and as thick as my own horse-sized manhood! |
Clipper aims his huge cock and began to piss on me, the defeated strongman now laid out on the ground, in a golden shower. I felt the rush of the hot stream of liquid pour over me as the QB Stud hosed the muscle head football player whose ass he just put down with his dong-zilla sized manhood. It sounded like a racehorse pissing on a flat rock as Clipper emptied his bladder on the beautiful pecs and sculpted abs of my muscular physique in an ego-crushing act of degrading humiliation.
Clipper's team mates behind him watch, more in awe than in disappointment, as he marks me as his property with his primitive act of alpha male domination.
"Okay, cocksucker...time to suck MY dick. You give me any trouble and I'm gonna hurt ya." Clipper raises his fist and flexes his pecs over his beaten foe to emphasize the point. Sucking another man's cock is the ultimate act of surrender for an Alpha male. Once Clipper turns me into his cocksucking bitch, there will be no doubt to all the players watching that he, Clipper, is the manliest, most virile and strongest! The true Alpha male of the football team!
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I move forward, pinning Clipper's shoulders to the ground with my knees, then look down and smirk, blood dripping from my lips onto Clipper's face. "Your gonna lose, punk!" I shout, then I fire a right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Clipper squeals in pain and tries to buck free from my pin, but to no avail. My chest and arm muscles peak as I fire off another right-left combo into Clipper's nose. Blood begins rolling down from each nostril and down either side of Clipper's face as he stares up at me in wide-eyed in fear. "Damn it!" I snarl, legitimately annoyed at failing to break my opponent's nose.
I plant my feet on either side of Clipper’s torso. I grin at the players and look down at my foe, then quickly untie my bloodied white football pants and, reaching down with my right hand, scoop out my own horse-sized cock and bull balls and hang them over my waistband just as Clipper had done when he gave me a golden shower earlier. As the players scream themselves hoarse, Clipper woozily sees three anaconda-sized cocks aimed at his face instead of one.
I put my hands on my hips and begin to spray piss like a fire hose on my downed enemy. It was like a fire hydrant had been opened. As I hosed my foe down with my King-dong sized manhood, I swayed my fire hose a bit, piss belching out of it.
With a cocky grin and flexing my mighty arms, I continued to rain what seemed like a gallon of his piss down on the groaning Clipper. Shaking the last of the piss out of my horse-cock I slowly tucked my long thick dong back down into my football pants and then with a struggle pulled the spandex back up over my huge bodybuilder ass. "Ha!" I think, "I can play water sports too!"
With that I turn to pose for my new pals, but I see they are looking and pointing at something behind me. I turn back to face Clipper only to find that the big man has already gotten to his feet! "Daymn, I can't believe he has taken my best shots and is still able to stand up! This muscle man is actually giving me a run for my money! What's it going to take to stop...." BAAAAAAMMMMMM! I don't finish my thought because my face is met by Clipper's big left fist with a 'SMACK' square in the jaw. I am glad my firm has a good dental plan!
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| BAAAAAAMMMMMM! I don't finish my thought because my face is met by Clipper's big left fist with a 'SMACK' square in my jaw! |
Still woozy, Clipper follows up with another wild right cross that misses by a mile. I clamp the back of Clipper's head, then, holding my opponent's head in place, rear back my own head and send a brutal headbutt smashing into the football fighter’s nose. Clipper's nose finally breaks with a loud snap and blood explodes down his face, gushing over his mouth and chin and knocking the beaten muscle stud out cold.
The watching players mouths drop open in shock and awe. “SHIT!” a couple of them exclaim. One of the watching players whistles. “You knocked him the fuck out!”
"Nice job, killer," Delashaun says. "I thought he had you when he mounted you, but you came back strong and got the job done."
"I wasn't about to get my butt kicked after going to all this trouble," I say, turning and spitting out the blood from my lips. "You could have warned me though, I know you said he had muscle, but you didn't tell me he was the fucking Terminator!"
"Yeah," Delashaun says with a laugh. "I may have held back a few details. But I figured if I said too much, and you really knew what your were gonna be facing, that you wouldn't come to fight him!"
The players are still looking at the blooded, piss soaked, still form of their team mate. "We gotta get some photos of this beat down!" one shouts. A helmet is clamped down on my head as another one is slipped on the KOed Clipper. I am urged to teabag him, but I demure feeling that I had done enough. It was a hard match, harder than I had expected. but all that mattered was that it ended with a decisive victory by yours truly. Cell phones began snapping pics of my victory pose over the wrecked Clipper.
"Yeah," Delashaun says. "Coach is a good man. I don't know what he didn't do something about Clipper himself. When I asked him and all he said was 'Son, I have been around for a long time. This Clipper problem will all work itself out with time."
With my face bloody and my chest heaving in ragged breaths, I bend down, and with my glistening muscles straining, I lift the unconscious Clipper up into my arms. I look like a victorious Roman gladiator, as I carry Clipper off the field on to the Coach's office. I enter without knocking, stop, then drop the unconscious Clipper on the Coach's floor like a sack of shit. "Your boy is now done clippin’!" I growl, chest heaving. Clipper’s coach looks down at his star player, and just nods. “Yeah,” he says, surprisingly matter-of-factly. "I figured some 'white knight' would come along to take Clipper out eventually. I was wondering why it was taking so long to happen. I hope you beat the asshole out of the mean fucker!"
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| I drop the unconscious body of Clipper on the Coach's office floor right at Coach's feet like a sack of shit! "Your boy is now done clippin’. Coach!" I growl! |
With blood flowing down my chin and neck from a split lip, I rubbed my red-and-purple blotched stomach with my right hand. I was hurting head to toe but my abs was where I was really feeling the working over I had gotten. Clipper had wrecked my abs so bad I wouldn't be able to tie my shoelaces for a week. Then, wiping my bloody lips with the back of his left hand, I lean over and spit into Clipper's face. "If not, let me know and I will come back and beat him some more."
"Mind if I use your shower, Coach? We had a pretty rough practice, today..."
"Sure, son. It looks like Clipper didn't go down easy. He fucked you up good. Use my private shower area. It's got its own whirlpool and steam room. and you look like you could use some time in both. Clipper is a strong, tough mother-fucker. You might have been able to pull out a win today, but it looks like he made sure to give you plenty to remember him by. In fact I think I will join you in steam room. I got an interesting story about how a young Brett Favre handled his own 'Clipper' problem that I think you will enjoy."
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| The Coach turned out to be a cool dude to chill with and we really hit it off! |
End Note:
After the fun with the coach, while Clipper was suckling on my Goliath of a donger, I signed the chastened bully with legal representation by my firm! His old legal representative, not knowing that come to Jesus moment my beatdown had brought to him, were glad to see the backside of him, so those bruises paid off! Hey, ALWAYS BE CLOSING, amIright?
***************************After the fun with the coach, while Clipper was suckling on my Goliath of a donger, I signed the chastened bully with legal representation by my firm! His old legal representative, not knowing that come to Jesus moment my beatdown had brought to him, were glad to see the backside of him, so those bruises paid off! Hey, ALWAYS BE CLOSING, amIright?
