Dar vs. The Bull of Canton

The occasional maple that dotted the sides of the road did little to guard against the searing heat of the mid-day summer sun. Dar felt as if he were melting as sweat trickled down his bare chest. To top it all off, the heated rocks of the road burned and stabbed his unprotected feet. The dwarf briefly considered stopping to rest, but he knew he had hours left to travel before he reached town, and didn't want to be traveling at night. Instead, he snarled, swore, and pulled another rock from his foot. After looking it over, he threw it into the wheat field with all his might. He didn't see where it landed, nor did he care.

What he did see, however, was a man pitching hay into a thatched-roof barn. Dar slicked the sweat from his short red hair and started towards him. Dar was not typically the social type: his gruff, dwarven attitude and tribal upbringing made empathy and etiquette foreign concepts. Instead, his motivation was far more primal. When he finally reached the barn, Dar adjusted the leather belt that held up his ragged, leather kilt and stepped out from the wheat, startling the farmer.

He was even bigger than the dwarf had guessed, standing roughly six and a half feet tall, with a build that mirrored that of the animals he owned: hefty muscles covered in a layer of fat. The barechested bull wore tattered, patchwork pants, a straw hat, and tough leather boots, the latter of which caught Dar's attention.

"Yeah?" The farmer grumbled, breaking the awkward silence.

Dar turned his gaze back up to the man's smooth chest and belly, down his arms, and then to his face. "Gimme yer boots." He said.

The farmer's face turn to a look of confusion. "What? Fuck no."

"I'll wrestle ya for 'em." The dwarf responded immediately. "If I win, I take 'em."

The big man was surprised by the upfront aggression of the stranger in his field, but he was a sporting man, and loved a good brawl. He knew it wouldn't be an easy fight, though. Even though the goateed dwarf stood only about five feet tall, he was freakishly muscled, with bulging veins running all along his arms, pecs, and abs. His biceps alone were bigger than most mens' heads. To add to his already intimidating appearance, his sweat-soaked muscles were marked with the sky blue tattoos of a northman barbarian.

The man set his pitchfork down, removed his hat, and rubbed his shaved head. "And if I win?"

"I suck yer cock an' work yer farm fer th' day."

The farmer looked dumbstruck. The offer was quite unusual, especially from a random stranger. Like any beer-guzzling man's man, he instinctively shook his head in disgust, but his ego wouldn't let him speak the word no. The barbarian's insanely one-sided offer meant he didn't expect to lose, and the idea of forcing such a cocky behemoth to his knees made the farmer's mouth water and his groin swell. "So if you win, I lose a pair of boots."

The dwarf nodded.

"And if I win, I get my cock sucked and a temporary slave?"

The dwarf nodded again.

The two stared at each other for a moment before the farner checked his surroundings to make sure no one was near to witness their battle and subsequent exchange. When he was certain they were alone, he removed his hat, tossed it to the side, and grinned.

"Hope you like how I taste." He taunted, and bounced his pecs.

Like a feral animal, Dar charged, his arms open wide for a grab. The farmer intercepted, locking up with the barbarian. The two pushed and strained against one another, their powerful bodies shimmering in the noonday sun. "You know," grunted the human. "I'm known as the Bull of Canton because of my strength." He said, jerking the dwarf towards the barn door. "I've crushed men twice your size, so you better... woah!" The Bull yelped as Dar snatched his leg. The dwarf quickly ripped it up from under him with a snort, and the farmer found himself staring up at the sky.

The dark shape of the northman quickly descended upon him, raining fist after meaty fist down on his face. "Yea?! An' aye've crushed bears!" Snarled the dwarf in response. The brutal assault made precise vision impossible, but the Bull managed to snatch Dar's arm at the bicep, and with a might roar, throw him to the side.

Dar found the situation reversed, with the sun glaring in his own eyes and the powerful, calloused hands of a sun-up to sun-down laborer wrapped firmly around his throat. "So, we're wrestling dirty, eh?" The farmer grumbled. He squeezed the dwarf's throat and grinned. "We can do that." Dar soon felt a paralyzing pain in his testicles as the Bull drilled his fist into them with a barage of punches. Within moments, the monster of muscle lay in the dirt, clutching his swinging junk. Before he could recover, the farmer snatched him up by his throat and crotch and hoisted the dwarf over his head like an unruly calf. The Bull was surprised by the mass of his opponent; Dar weighed at least three and a half hundred pounds. The farmer gritted his teeth from the weight, and his face turned red with exersion. With titanic effort, he launched the dwarf into the barn, much to the surprise of a few cows. A loud thud, the splintering of wood, and the sound of a body hitting the floor signaled the end of the match.

The Bull of Canton stood triumphantly over his battered opponent. He was too excited about his victory to care about the broken beam. Instead, he admired the barbarian's bulges and ripples of muscle and marvelled at how easily he had subdued such a gargantuan beast. Pleased, he raised his own arms and flexed his biceps. Once he remembered no one was watching, he dropped them down and began to undo his belt. His dick had swollen so much it hurt, and he was ready for Dar's submission.

An unexpected fist to the gut soon shattered the farmer's fantasy. Before he could react, another fist found its way deep into his beer belly, followed by another, and another, and another. Not only was the dwarf uninjured by the farmhand's powerful throw, he was even angrier than before. He pummeled his opponent into the wall with a rain of strikes, driving the air from his lungs and the strength from his body. The farmhand tried to shield his battered abdomen, but Dar's raging assault was too strong and too fast. He was soon doubled over, arms over his stomach, coughing and gasping.

"Ya tho't 'at was fightin' dirty?" The muscled dwarf growled. "Aye'll show ya dirty." He grabbed the Bull's shoulder, twisted him around, and threw him to the ground. Before the farmer could catch the breath that had been beaten out of him, the rude, crude, dwarven barbarian shoved his opponent's face deep into the sweaty recesses of his armpit and trapped it with a headlock. Because of the beastly thickness of Dar's arms and torso, his pit was wide enough and deep enough to completely cover the farmer's nose and mouth. The Bull's instinctive gasp got little more than sweat, pit hair, and the tangy stench of barbarian body odor. The sadistic dwarf, on the other hand, grinned as his opponent began to suck and cough in panic, tickling him. He heard what he thought were threats and pleas for mercy, but all he understood was "Mmmmph!"

The Bull thrashed, desperately trying to escape to cleaner air. He clawed at his attacker's thick shoulders and chest, trying to force open a breathing hole, but inhaled nothing but the nauseating stench. His struggles soon became more disorganized as his air ran out, and his eyes rolled to the back of his now-purple head. The barbarian held on with a smirk and enjoyed feeling his victim's strength drain from his powerful body. Gagging and choking, the farmer twitched sporadicly for a few moments before everything went dark, the Bull of Canton having been gassed out by a musclebound stranger.

When the husky man awoke, he found himself staring at the ceiling of his barn, the dwarf's stink still hanging in his nose and mouth. He coughed and gagged again, rolling to the side to catch his breath. His moment of calm was interrupted by the scuffing of feet on dirt and a wet slapping sound. Startled, the farmer opened his eyes to see the herculean dwarf strutting towards him, slapping his barrell-sized pecs and wearing a sinister smile. More intimidating than Dar's muscles, however, was his donkey-sized dick dangling between his legs, uncovered and unashamed. It didn't take a wizard to realize that the stranger had changed the terms of the deal.

In desperation and anger, the farmer launched a powerful donkey kick that struck his opponent square in the chest as he drew near, with one boot to each pec. Dar fell back with a thud. The Bull jumped up, and scrambled to the dwarf, who lay coughing on the ground. As Dar rose, the farmer wrapped his meaty arms around his victim's chest and hoisted him off the ground. He snarled, and began to squeeze with all his might. The dwarf's thick torso was tough, making progress difficult, but Dar's wheezing indicated that he was feeling the effects of the hold. "Thought you were going to take more than my boots, eh?" The farmer snarled, bouncing Dar to work the air from his lungs. "Thought I'd just get on my knees and serve you? Huh? HUH?" Dar merely grunted in response. He pounded the Bull's forearms with his fists and peddling his feet in the air in a futile attempt to escape the hug. "I won't let you get away with humiliating me on my own land." The Bull threatened. He tightened his grip, snorting and shaking his head like his namesake, causing droplets of sweat to spatter the dirt. Dar winced in pain as he clawed at his attacker's hands. "Especially not after you made me sniff your pits until I passed out." The farmer paused. "Thanks for that, though. The boys at the bar will get a kick out of that one when I put someone to sleep with it. But first, I'm gonna put you out and humiliate you like you did - Huh?"

With a surge of power, Dar broke the farmer's grasp and slipped out of the crushing hold. Without missing a beat, he spun around, twisting the Bull's arms down in the process, and quickly locked his own muscular arms around the farmer, below the chest and above the belly. Roaring like a bear, Dar cranked up the pressure, threatening to snap his victim's back in two. The farmer screamed in agony and thrashed wildly in a desperate attempt to free his trapped arms, but his struggles were in vain. "Humiliate ya? Ah'm jus' gettin' started." The nude barbarian growled, thrusting his erect cock suggestively against the farmhand's gut. His victim squirmed and gurgled in response.

Dar's veins bulged and throbbed as he squeezed with greater and greater force. The Bull had never felt anything like it. His back screamed in anguish and the pressure in his skull made his head swim. He wondered if perhaps this was what it felt like to die at the hands of a minotaur or ogre. Before he could think further, his mind was startled by a sudden rush of pain as the barbarian shook him like a ragdoll. Having lost feeling in his legs to the pain some time ago, he found it impossible to stay up, and soon dropped to his knees, slumped against the dwarf. His shallow and labored breathing signalled that this fight was nearing the end. Still, he struggled weakly, swatting at Dar's muscular thighs and buttocks, but this only served to arouse his attacker. With a grin from their owner, Dar's freakish arms overwhelmed what little resistance their victim's back and chest provided, contorting the Bull's spine and crushing the remaining air from his lungs. He spasmed and gasped, unconsciously squeezing Dar's ass with both hands, before falling limp in the barbarian's grasp. Dar smiled and drug his victim over to a pile of hay where he promptly deposited him face-up.

The farmer twitched and sucked in air, coughing and sputtering. Dar caught a few swears and grunts of pain as he climbed into the hay pile, dragging his victim a little deeper until only his forelegs touched the dirt. When he was content with the farmer's placement, he strandled the chubby man and admired his physique. The man was huge. He wasn't lean, but he was powerful, and it was this that Dar found most impressive, as well as arousing. What he found even more stimulating, however, was establishing himself as the alpha male by dominating and humiliating such a rare man.

Dar slapped the Bull. "Wake up." He slapped him again. "Aye ain't finish'd wit' ya yet." Dar grunted, flexing his vascular, coconut-sized bicep in front of the farmer's eyes as he awoke. The beefy worker coughed and rudely pushed Dar's arm away, but Dar just pumped it three times and kissed the muscle before rubbing it in the Bull's face. The beastly dwarf then rose, turned around, admired himself for a moment, then grinned, stroking his foot-long penis. "Ge' ready, 'cause dis is gonna be a wild ride."

The musclebound fighter took a seat on the farmer's face, adjusting his position until his victim's nose slid up between his sweaty glutes, trapping the Bull of Canton in a very unpleasant position. His struggles were weak and disorganized at first, but picked up in speed and ferocity when he realized his airway was blocked. He punched and clawed at the dwarf, grabbing haphazardly at the bulging muscles hoping to get a better grip. His hands soon discovered that Dar was furiously masturbating himself. The Bull panicked further, and began thrashing in the hopes of throwing the barbarian off, but the hay cradled him and prevented him from getting any leverage. As the struggle drew on, the farmer began to lose consciousness. His lungs screamed for air, and the instinctive need to breathe took over as his conscious mind went to sleep. He bucked like a choking bronco and carved deep ruts in the dirt with his boots as his open-mouthed gasps drew in nothing but sweat. His cries for mercy were similarly futile. The farmer's muscular body seized, taking up fistfuls of hay before finally relaxing as he slipped fully into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Dar lost himself in his primal throws. The farmer's clawing was like a massage, and his thrashing only drove Dar even wilder. The farmer's attempts to breath, however, stimulated his ego even more than his penis. Dar's muscles spasmed as he pounded his meat harder and harder. The world was spinning. He was drunk with pleasure and pride. Here he was, the strongest dwarf who ever lived, the undefeated champion, about to mark yet another victim of his power. With a roar that shook the barn and spooked the horses, Dar shot his load into the air and onto the farmer's sweaty, glistening chest. It trickled down beneath his pecs and pooled at his heaving gut before dribbling down his side. The Bull of Canton offered no resistance as Dar finished himself up, squirting the remaining milk out onto the Bull's neck. The dwarf caught his breath and briefly considered letting the man suffocate before he stood, but he entertained the thought of coming back for seconds. He decided to keep his options open and stood, granting the farmer access to much needed air.

The dwarf stumbled down from the hay pile, and got what he came for: the farmer's boots. Dar rudely removed tattered leather footwear, then, on a whim, stuck his face inside and took a few deep breaths. The stench made him dizzy, just how he liked it. Grinning, he set them down and put them on his feet. They were a bit loose, but he liked them. Dar stood around for a moment, testing out the boots and admiring the husky beast that lay dozing in the hay. His mind raced with all the wild things he could do, but he decided not to act. It was obvious that the Bull of Canton had finally had enough. "Aye'm cummin' back fer ya." Dar threatened as he picked up his kilt, threw it over his shoulder, and walked naked into the sunny fields of corn. "Ya bett'r be ready."