Note: This is the third story of Dar's matches and builds off of his encounter with the Red Hawk Warrior. You should read that before reading this one.
Tony's head was swimming. The tavern was a blurred riot of tans and browns, and the cheer of the crowd seemed distant and muffled. He could barely make out the blue markings on his opponent's biceps below him. Before he could understand what was happening, Tony felt himself falling, and unfortunately only the arid, dusty floor of the wrestling ring rushed up to catch him. The crowd's approval roared like a storm around him, faceless and powerful, as he landed with a wet thump. He coughed and sputtered. His body ached. He could hardly gasp a few gulps of air before a shadow appeared, towering above him. With the approval of the faceless crowd, the dark figure descended, and everything went dark. A hot, moist weight against his face and a choking miasma of body odor clouded Tony's mind. He could feel nothing else. Even the crowd has seemed to fall silent.
The athletic farmer moaned and gagged, rolling his head drunkenly from side to side, struggling to stay conscious. After a few moments with his face firmly trapped beneath Dar's loincloth, however, Tony succumbed to the powerhouse and passed out, mercifully never realizing that the flesh he rubbed his cheeks against was the dwarf's partially erect penis. The three-hundred pound muscleman grinned at his victory, and pumped his mountainous biceps for all who watched. Veins bulged in all directions like cracks in an ancient statue, and every muscle fiber visibly rippled his skin.
The drunkard fought well, Dar thought, considering who he was pitted against. He deserved the private show he was receiving beneath the leather; few people get to experience a real man so close, and so personal. After a few moments of his "charity," Dar rose to his feet, and made his way out of the rage cage towards the bar. He was the center of attention. Hands both male and female reached out, running along his bulging arms and shoulders, across his chest, and between his abs. Dar gave a few flexes for the tavern's patrons; not for the worshiping hands, but towards other, powerful-looking men. Monster-like muscles, a cocky grin, and a suggestive tent in his groin armor were all it took to make even the biggest patron take a seat. No one dared to challenge the barbarian's dominance.
With his prize money already waiting for him, the dwarf found a sturdy bench and relaxed, motioning to the barkeep to bring another round. Dar had already had quite a bit to drink, but, being a dwarf, had the capacity for much more. He had not paid a single coin of his own money for the mead, either; he was far too capable in the cage to ever be short of donated money. When the alcohol arrived, Dar quickly chugged it down, and rubbed the foam from his fiery orange goatee. As another round approached, he turned to a nearby patron and began to recount his battle against a particularly beefy farmhand. The patron was far too afraid to give anything other than his full, undivided attention.
"Is that him?" Asked Bruce, staring dumbly across the tavern at the red-headed savage. "Pretty big for a dwarf."
Gormak glared at the ogre-like man. "He killed a Red Hawk with his bare hands, of course he's gotta be huge." The hobgoblin's voice was gruff and gravely.
"Are you sure we can take him?" Bruce responded.
The hobgoblin smiled, showing his sharp canines. He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head, and flexed his muscles briefly. "Size isn't everything, Bruce." The chubby bandit just gazed at his leader's physique. Though he was the largest of the three, those muscles had knocked him out enough times and in enough ways for him to know that Gormak spoke the truth.
A lithe, athletic bandit spoke up. "Hey, he's movin'." Harland nodded his head towards their prey, who had began to lumber towards a side door. As Dar left into the night, the bandits exchanged affirmative looks, and rose quietly to join him.
The night air that blew through the alley had a bit of a chill, but after his tussles in the ring, Dar appreciated the wind. Cock in hand, he unceremoniously relieved himself against the tavern's wooden wall, unaware of his visitors. "Dwarf." The hobgoblin growled. Dar lazily glanced over his shoulder, finished up, and turned around. He inspected the men, who were equipped with padded leather pants, thick boots, and fingerless leather gloves. They wore the spiky black tattoos of the Bloodstone Bandits. Dar smirked. He felt a flutter in his heart, as well as a tingling beneath his loincloth.
"Ya 'ere fer gold, boys?" He said, mockingly.
"We're here for you." Gormak unwrapped a steel chain from his waist as he spoke, coiled it menacingly in his hands as if he intended to strangle Dar, and grinned. The other bandits did the same. "It'll be easier for you if you just come quietly. The bounty said nothing about you being conscious."
"Or even in one piece." Bruce added, pulling his chain taught in a threatening manner. The bandits began to fan out, slowly surrounding their prey. Dar did not seem to notice, or he simply did not care.
Dar bounced his groin armor suggestively. "It'd be easier," He said slowly, "if ya got on yer knees fer me... can't say ya won't en' up like 'at orc, tho." He bellowed with laughter as he remembered the orc's last moments. "Neva 'ad ah goblin down 'ere, tho. Yoo'll be da first." His final remark was a success.
Angered by the dwarf's disrespect, Gormak charged, followed quickly by the other two bandits. A low strike with Dar's meaty shoulder sent Gormak and Harland toppling through the air over the barbarian's back. Dar met Bruce's charge, on the other hand, with open arms, lifting and tossing the hefty man through the air. Dar grinned, and watched Bruce roll on the ground like a tipped cow. He was suddenly reminded of an encounter in Canton, with another man built much like Bruce.
A stinging bite of metal against his lower back tore Dar from his memories. Harland had already regained his composure, and whipped the dwarf again with his chain, sending needles of pain throughout Dar's body. He attempted a third strike, but the savage managed to grasp the chain whip in his massive palms. Before Harland could react, Dar initiated a herculean yank, pulling Harland off his feet and into a collision course with Gormak, who had just now began to find his footing. Both toppled to the ground in a heap of leather and muscles.
The powerhouse pounded his chest. "Who do ya think ya are? Aye'm Dar, da strongest man in da world! Ain't a man alive who can put me down!" He growled. "Aye'm da fuckin' god of --MRK!" Dar's gloating was quickly ended by a coil of cold steel, wrapped tightly around his bull-neck. He stumbled back until his shoulders leaned against Bruce's pot-belly and his short, shaggy hair ruffled beneath his attacker's breath.
With such a powerful creature thrashing in his hold, Bruce quickly lost his footing, and both fell to the floor: Dar sitting on his ass, and Bruce behind him. Harland and Gormak joined the fray, pounding Dar's thick pecs and chest with their chain-wrapped fists. With their athletic bodies and natural combative instinct, their assaults were like a rain of hammer blows. A lesser man would have succumbed, and been their trophy. Dar, on the other hand, stood strong against their attacks.
Bruce pulled the chain as hard as he could, until his own veins bulged from beneath his fat. The chain became nearly embedded within the dwarf's neck, impossible to grasp. Breathing was similarly futile. Bruce's heart raced. In a few moments, the three hundred pound warrior would asphyxiate. They would get their bounty, and Bruce would be the star. He would be the one who defeated the beast.
An echoing clink signaled the unthinkable: Bruce's powerful stranglehold and Dar's thickly-muscled neck proved too much for the chain, which snapped, sending Bruce and Dar toppling backward. Taking advantage of his new position, the newly freed barbarian threw his lower body into the air. Harland's tuft of chin hair and Gormak's toothy maw both received an oversized boot.
The barbarian rolled to his feet, coughing and rubbing his neck as he approached the bandit's leader, who lay dazed and confused on the ground. A scuffle of dirt alerted him to Bruce and Harland, who had climbed drunkenly to their feet. Frustrated and humiliated by the way the battle was shifting, and wanting to end the fight immediately, both charged towards Dar. The dwarf leaped into the air with his thick, strong legs, slamming his forearms into the bandits' throats. All three fell to the ground, but only one stood up.
Gormak hunched, having recovered from the blow, and ran towards the dwarf from behind. Dar was too strong, it was obvious. If he could just catch him unaware, he could succeed where Bruce failed, he thought. He was close now, and he eyed the dwarf's physique. Size doesn't matter. The words rang in his head. The muscleman was within chain range. This was it. Gormak coiled the chain, and swung it through the air. A wet thud later, and he found himself chest to chest with Dar, whose tree-trunk width arms were wrapped tightly around his body. Gormak gasped as Dar squeezed. Try as he might, Gormak could do nothing but stare in horror as the dwarf crushed the air from his lungs. His spine contorted, and he felt ill. He was immediately overtaken by the fear that he would die, and this fear made him thrash and squirm like a child.
Dar tore the bandit leader from the earth nearly effortlessly, who kicked and pushed against Dar's shield-like chest. He carried Gormak like a bale of hay to the side of the alley. The hobgoblin was too focus on futile attempts to break free to notice what the barbarian was preparing to do. Suddenly, Dar threw himself, and the bandit, forward, ramming against the stone wall of the blacksmith's shop.
"HURK!" came the last bit of the leather-clad fighter's air as the dwarf's ram smashed him against the wall. He had no chance to catch his breath before Dar reared back and repeated the move several times. Each slam received less of a reaction from the hobgoblin than the last; he became limp and weak, and his struggles were nothing more than hands groping and squeezing the barbarian's blue-tattooed biceps. Pleased with Gormak's complacency, Dar released him. The thug managed to remain standing, though he could not fully feel his legs.
Sweet revenge carried by a hammer-like fist slammed into Gormak's gut, crumpling his weakened abs. He choked and curled forward, soon receiving another strike. The dwarf threw every ounce of power he could manage into his blows. By the time he felt justice had been served, he had pulverized the bandit's stomach and was working on his head. Gormak's sweat-slicked physique shimmered in the moonlight, slumped against the stone. He was still, save for his heavy, raspy breathing and the occasional twitch.
The dwarven brawler admired his work as he quietly released the clasps on the orcish armor around his waist. He then tossed it to the side, standing proudly beneath the moon like a savage beast, wearing only poorly-sized leather boots and a mischievous grin. "See?" He sneered. "Told ya ya were gonna en' up loik dat orc." Dar took his cock in hand and began stroking it, slowly at first. As he appreciated his destruction of the muscular thug, and the unconscious body that lay before him, his strokes became faster and more forceful.
Unconsciousness, the complete inability to move or fight, was the epitome of submission. Putting Gormak down was an affirmation of Dar's complete dominance over the bandit. Winning the intimate contest of unarmed combat, pitting his muscles and fury against Gormak's and emerging the victor, proved that he was the alpha male. "To da victor," Dar thought, his foot-long cannon now firm in his grip, "Goze da spoils."
Before the northman could take his prize, Bruce coughed and stirred. Dar snarled, and turned to deal with the problem. The chubby thug shakily crawled to his hands and knees, rubbing his aching throat and gagging, unaware of the dwarf. "Aye'v 'ad it with yoo boys!" Dar roared. He locked his hands together and delivered a mighty blow to Bruce's back which sent shock waves through the bandit and forced him back down to the ground. The barbarian took hold of Bruce's arm and drug him to Harland, who still lay stunned several feet away. He rolled Bruce's hefty body on top of the smaller, leaner thug, and climbed on top, wrapping his arms around Bruce's chest and constricting with all his might.
Bruce's eyes bulged in shock. He cried out in pain and swatted at the man who threatened to snap his bones, but Dar merely snarled and applied more pressure. In the shadows of the night, Dar's god-like body and feral eyes glistened like that of a predator. Bruce tried to roll to the side to free Harland, but he found no success against the dwarf, who straddled him like a cavalier. What he did find was his leader, limp and near-lifeless across the alley. Seeing his idol so soundly defeated made the situation quite clear to him. The barbarian, whose dragon-sized dick rubbed and pulsed against Bruce's belly, was too strong. Bruce would crumple in his grasp just as Gormak did. Harland's struggles had already grown weak beneath him; nearly six hundred pounds of testosterone-oozing warriors lay on top of Harland, the smallest of the thugs, and it was too much for him to take.
Bruce felt his ribs pop. They screamed with pain. His bald head was now purple, and his eyes were bloodshot. A final jolt of force and a grunt from Dar destroyed the remainder of his will, and Bruce submitted to his attacker. He squeezed a few extra moments to ensure that his opponent was unconscious, then released. He stepped back, stretched his beefy arms, and nodded approvingly. Both of the thugs lay motionless.
"Oi!" Dar shouted. "'Obgoblin! Ge' up!" He towered over the bandit leader, and slapped his face from side to side. Dar's other hand was wrapped firmly around his own manhood, keeping it hard for what was to follow. Gormak awoke with a start. When his vision refocused, he found himself cornered by hulking shadow wielding a cock as thick as an orc's wrist and balls the size of oranges.
Afraid of what the northman might do to him, the hobgoblin let his instincts kick in, and fought once again; Not to capture the dwarf, but simply to escape with his pride intact. He donkey kicked into the air, connecting with the dwarf's exposed testicles. Dar yelped and reeled backward, clutching his swinging jewels with both hands. "Fucka'!" He swore. Gormak quickly clambered up, and rushed headlong towards the stunned brawler, intent to end the fight before it was too late. Even in his agonized state, Dar easily side-stepped the haphazard charge, and swung a heavy forearm into the back of Gormak's head. The hobgoblin grunted, stumbled and fell to the dirt.
Dar's face contorted into a mask of rage as he stretched his fingers and stalked towards Gormak. "Yoo bitch, Aye'm gonna fuckin' choke ya till ya sleep!" Gormak felt a hot, slick weight land on his lower back. The force knocked the breath from him, but before he could get it back, Dar's freakishly muscled arm slid itself beneath his chin and flexed. Veins bulged and biceps swelled in the barbarian's arm, crushing Gormak's throat between them. To add further force to the choke, Dar leaned back, bending the hobgoblin painfully backwards and using his own inflexibility to amplify the pressure against his neck.
It felt as though Gormak's head would rip off. The muscle fibers in his neck shrieked with agony as they began to tear under the strain. Gormak grabbed and tapped at Dar's arm, but the mountainous forms were as soft and pliable as boulders. After only a few moments of primal terror at his impending death, Gormak choked out the words, "Please... let... let me... go..."
"Why?" Dar grunted, bringing his head beside the bandit's, sniffing the stench of his musk and fear.
"I... tell... sent us..."
This tweaked Dar's interested. Who would pay thugs to try to capture him? Who could desire him so strongly, but know so little about him as to employ dim-a-dozen criminals he could easily slaughter? Dar loosened his grip enough to allow his new toy a few gasps of air. "Who?"
"Red Hawks..." Gormak coughed, still clutching Dar's massive forearm and shoulder. "You killed one... of their own. They want to... punish you."
"Red Hawks, eh?" Dar smirked, suddenly aware of his next destination. "'Tanks fer da info." The barbarian's arm flexed again, cutting off Gormak's air supply. The bandit panicked. He kicked and squirmed, elbowing the chiseled abs of his attacker and hammering his rippled thighs. The swelling of Dar's cock against his naked back hinted that the attacks were less than effective.
As Bruce began to stir, choking and gasping for the air he was previously denied, Gormak gagged excitedly and reached out to him, begging his subordinate to become his savior. Bruce stood, and approached the wrestling pair, but stopped short. He glanced back at Harland, who remained still, then back at Dar. Though Bruce had always believed Gormak to possess the most masculine, intimidating physique he had ever seen, he found that even Gormak looked small and inadequate when mounted and wrapped in the barbarian's monstrous form.
"'e ain' gonna 'elp ya." Dar jeered. "Look a' ya. Weak. Can' even save yerself. Aye'm takin' yer air, yer life, and yer too weak ta stop meh." He rubbed his dick along the valley of muscles in his victim's back. "In 'is werld, da strong take, an' da weak get wat da strong give 'em. Ain't dat da code ya live bai?" Dar turned his head towards Bruce. Bruce looked into Dar's eyes, then at Gormak's purple, desperate face, and then at the ground. "He serves strength." Dar leaned back and flexed, placing a life-threatening amount of pressure against Gormak's windpipe. "An' aye 'ave it."
Bruce watched the brutality. He saw the dirt that coated Gormak's impressive pecs. He saw the stretched, taught fibers in the hobgoblin's neck. He saw the prodigious thickness of the dwarf's upper arms. Finally, he saw Gormak seize, taking fistfuls of dirt, and fall limp like a cotton doll. Dar spared the bandit further torment, allowing his chest and head to fall to the earth. Bruce stared in apprehension and horror at his leader, his idol, now thoroughly defeated, his face and sweat-soaked torso covered in powdery earth. He felt dirty. Not simply because he had betrayed the man he had admired, but because he enjoyed it, as well, as Dar quickly surmised.
Dar bobbed his head with pride when he spied the immodest tenting of Bruce's leather pants. "So ya loik watchin' me werk, eh?"
Bruce did nothing but stare in ashamed wonder at the barrel pecs and the huge manhood that capped either end of Dar's stocky torso. Dar smiled. "Well, yer gonna love dis." He gripped Gormak and effortlessly hoisted him over his shoulder. Gormak hung like a wet rag over the broad beast, exhausted and submissive. When the barbarian, carrying his prize, strutted bare and unashamed into the tavern, the entire room fell silent. Dar deposited Gormak crudely onto the bar, in plain view of everyone. The whole town knew who lay beaten and battered before them, and they offered him no sympathy.
"Dis man been causin' trouble?" Dar bellowed, climbing onto the bar himself. Most of the tavern was dumbfounded, but a few drunkards managed a "Hell yeah."
Dar stood beside the fallen bandit, and scanned the faces before him. "Well dun worry." He ruffled his hair and dusted dirt from his legs. "Af'er da beatin' aye gave 'im, 'e ain't gonna be botherin' ya no more!" More of the crowd responded with cheers. "An' ya no wha' aye do af'er a beatin', eh?" The rage cage patrons roared with their approval. Dar motioned upwards with his hands, encouraging the crowd's riotous noise. With a strut and a muscle-swelling pose, Dar dropped all three
hundred pounds of man onto Gormak's exposed chest. The thug groaned, but did not fully awake.
Because of its length and girth, Dar's cock lay flat against Gormak's face like an engorged anaconda even when hard. Some of the women came up, sheepishly at first, to touch it. The men of the tavern, not sure how to respond to the show, soon took to admiring Dar's inhuman musculature. No man who had ever walked through the town had been so massive and lean, like an avatar of perfection. Dar's size was intimidating, but he encouraged such close inspection. Men squeezed his flexed biceps, then their own, laughing and gesturing to their friends at such a difference in mass. Even some men, in their inebriated state, admired Dar's cock, which he stroked and pounded furiously in one hand while posing with the other.
As the group's energy rose and their inhibitions fell away, Dar, the center of attention and the idol of all, sundered the night with his rumbling cries. Ropes of jizz shot into the air, raining down on his hand and coating the bandit's face and neck in a white, humiliating slime. By the time his mammoth load had ended, over a cup of the barbarian's juice had been released, nearly all of it pooling on Gormak's face or dribbling into his mouth. The rest ended up on the counter.
The faceless storm roared around him. He threw his fists up in victory and absorbed the adoration of his fans as the ecstasy of domination ran through his veins. Hands patted their crude hero, and free ale found its way into Dar's meaty grip.
On that night, Dar became a household name in that quiet corner of the world.
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