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Trying something a little different this time out, hopefully some of y'all fighting fans enjoy! Feedback is welcome! Sam the SEAL's Greatest Hits: Part 1 It was the eve of Sam’s retirement from a decades-long career as a decorated Navy SEAL, and the grizzled yet handsome older man stood in his office, surrounded by mementos from his days on an elite special combat branch. He stood 6’1, long body like a swimmer and thick with corded muscle, sporting salt and pepper hair complemented by a neatly trimmed silver beard. Some light facial scarring and a flat boxer's nose were the only indications of his decades of combat. At 65, he was in incredible physical condition from a lifetime of rigorous physical fitness instilled in him first by his Navy SEAL father and brothers, and then by his superiors later on. He maintained close to 10% body fat, with jacked arms visible even through his clothes. Sam had kept exhaustive notes after each of his combat engagements, and calculated that he’d emerged victorious in 99.1% of his engagements. Indeed, he was always known for excelling in combat, and for his superior fighting ability. Tonight, though, he reflected on those .9%, not in sullen reflection, but more to explore the lessons he’d learned from them. He picked up a very small, framed photo taken shortly after he’d completed a particularly rigorous training program, and chuckled. The raccoon. It had taken him quite a while to shake that particular nickname. Which takes us to the first of what Sam considered his “greatest hits,” in a way. *** The Year: 1980 The Scene: Sam’s dorm at the base Sam, then 25, closed his flat's door behind him, dropped his gym bag, stepped out of his sneakers, and strode into the living room, peeling off his sweat-soaked t-shirt as he went. Still pumped from his sparring session at the training facility, the young buck turned to examine his swollen physique in a door-length mirror. His biceps and delts bulged and ached from the intense workout he’d just completed. His flat, hard chest was beet-red with visible veins still streaming across his ripped pecs. His eyes moved down to his chiseled midsection, any fat long washed away through endless laps in the pool. Sam’s sandy brown hair was slick with sweat, his long, boyish, and unblemished face beaming with the post-pump glow. He’d started growing a mustache, and turned to admire its progress. It had always been instilled in him that vanity should be shunned, but he had to admit, he was quite the stud. He raised both arms synchronously in a double bicep pose, making his taut muscles dance in the moonlight, thick veins streaming across the peaks. He couldn't hide a smile. It was then that he heard a low whistle from behind him. Sam turned on a dime with one fluid motion, fists up, ready for anything, clad only in his short blue gym shorts and calf-length socks. Before him stood a small man of indeterminate race, dark hair, dark clothes. Sam assessed his height to be around 5’6, with a lithe, seemingly delicate frame. Sam kept his fists in a fighting stance but lowered his guard just a bit. “Identify yourself!” Sam barked, fists clenched, lowering his voice for tough-guy emphasis. The man smiled. “Easy, Arnold. Wanna see my ID? Like the government-issued one for your little combat troop you’re getting your photo taken for tomorrow?” Sam’s breath caught. “What? How did…” “I know all about you, Sam,” the man replied calmly. “It’s part of my job to know everything about the highly trained agents that go undercover to fuck with my employer’s shit.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, attempting to betray nothing. “Interesting. What’s the other part?” The compact man took a step forward, smiling darkly and cracking his knuckles. “Beating up on ugly white boys to send a message.” At this, Sam actually laughed, lowering his guard even more as he started slowly stalking toward the smaller man. "My friend," he started. "I'm not sure you know what you're getting yourself into here." "Oh, I do know," the man replied flatly. "Like I said. And when I saw you flexing those big muscles in the mirror, I've gotta tell you, I had some serious second thoughts about taking you on." "There's still time to act on them," Sam answered. "I've decided to let you walk away, if that's what you want to do." The man smiled. "You misunderstand me. I'm going to act on my first and my second thoughts. My first thought was to focus on the body so as not to leave any visible marks. But on second thought, I don't think I'm going to mind leaving some visible marks. Sam shrugged, smiled, cocked his head, and without hesitation launched a hard right hook straight for the smaller man’s jaw that cut an audible “whoosh!” through the otherwise silent dorm room. The man effortlessly ducked under Sam’s arm, and came up with a vicious uppercut that literally launched Sam off his feet, BAM. Stunned, Sam shuffled back on his socks, barely finding his footing before a hard right hook smacked him right across the jaw, this blow sending him stumbling back toward the living room wall. Feeling a tooth dislodge, he barely had time to register what was happening before he felt two powerful hands plant themselves on his chest and shove him into the wall. “UGH!” he grunted as his bare back connected with the unyielding drywall. The man was on him in a second. Sam seized the brief moment to try another right hook, and again the man ducked, lightning fast, and hammered a stiff right hook into Sam’s obliques that landed with a dull WHUMP. Sam winced and tried a hard left; once again the man crouched under, slamming his fist into the other side of Sam's body with the dull thud of fist on hard muscle. The man then delivered a brutal knee to Sam’s torso that folded him over like paper with an “ooof!”, and the next thing Sam knew he was airborne, and then crashing back-first through his dorm’s cheap standard-issue coffee table. Sam’s head lolled as he gazed toward the ceiling, still dazed from the blows to the head, a sickening feeling of defeat starting to spread through his hard belly. He had been top of his class, expertly trained in combat, 100% victorious in all of his (relatively few) previous engagements, and now this much smaller opponent had gotten the drop on him and was primed to beat the stuffing out of him, or worse. He heard footsteps as the man strode over to him. The man appeared to tower over him now, Sam’s prone body between each of his legs. To Sam’s surprise, the man promptly sat down, his butt placed directly over Sam’s groin. “Ugh!” Sam grunted with a mixture of pain, surprise, and involuntary arousal. “Don’t get excited, stud,” the man chuckled. He grabbed Sam’s arms and placed them at Sam’s sides, and then locked his legs around Sam’s waist and trapped arms, preventing any defense or escape. “I’m just getting better leverage so I can do this.” And with that, the man slammed his right fist deep into Sam’s exposed stomach. “OOOF!” Sam exhaled, his cheeks expanding like a trumpet player. He instantly regained his composure—all those body conditioning sessions in training hadn’t been for nothing—and tightened up his abs to turtle shell hardness. The man launched his left fist into Sam’s gut, the thud now duller and louder than it had previously been. “Ooh yeah!” the man hissed through gritted teeth as he began peppering Sam’s midsection with progressively harder blows. “Tighten ‘em up. Like beating on a drum.” Left.Right.Left.Right. Sam’s face was stoic and purple with determination and exhaustion as he took the barrage of punishment. Both Sam and the man were starting to grunt in off-time now, Sam with the effort to protect his internal organs, and the man with frustration that Sam wouldn’t break. But eventually, after a few minutes of rough body punches, Sam exhaled sharply, and the sound of the blows changed again. “There we go,” the man said as he continued pounding. Sam was groaning and grunting with each slam now. “I thought a good soft-gutting might make you think twice about any further involvement in my employer’s affairs.” After what felt to Sam like an eternity, the man delivered one final body-crumpling slam and stood, and allowed Sam to finally curl up clutching his battered midsection. The man took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he added mischievously. Sam’s already-destroyed stomach dropped with dread. “It’s picture day tomorrow. We want you to look your best, right?” The man then pulled Sam onto his back and straddled him once again. Sam’s vision blurred as the man yanked him up by the hair and delivered two sharp, targeted jabs, one to each of Sam's eyes. BAM BAM. Sam’s head snapped back with each impact, and then dropped back to the floor. “There,” the man said, mimicking dusting off his hands. “Now you’re gonna be all handsome for picture day.” Sam heard him leave at some point after that. He reported the incident to his superiors, who advised he be pulled from this particular mission. As if Sam could ever forget this first, impactful beating he’d receive over his long and storied career, he’d always have his framed ID photo showing off his mustache-of-the-moment, a missing tooth, and two perfect black eyes to commemorate the occasion. Part II Present-day Sam, recalling the woman at the facility’s shocked expression on seeing him limping toward her, impeccably dressed in his finest suit yet sporting two black eyes and a missing tooth, chuckled at the memory a little too heartily, causing a sharp ache in his right ribcage. Sam grimaced and rested his hand on the desk, reminded of a more recent assault he’d endured while undercover as a drill instructor at an elite military base. He’d been rescued eventually, but his mission to ID members of a marine cohort calling themselves The Wolfpack—smuggling in drugs and dispensing justice to any marines they felt violated their code—would be one he would never forget. The year: 2008 The scene: An empty gym at the base’s training facility, save Sam Sam heaved the barbell up with a deep grunt, pecs bunching under his sweatshirt, arms fully extended, face contorted in a grimace of concentration as deep lines furrowed his cheeks and forehead. Sweat clung to the ripped 53-year-old’s forehead, face, and neck, and pooled into a deep v-shape down his tight sweatshirt. He lay flat on the bench, feet on the floor, his braided, hairy quads on full display as his short, standard-issue olive gym trunks bunched to his mid-thigh. His sweatshirt was also bunched, revealing a strip of a taut, gnarled torso blanketed by silver fur between the bottom of his sweatshirt and his shorts’ waistband. He was really cranking out the reps…14…15…16…intensely focused. So intensely that by the time he heard the gym door slam followed by many rushed footsteps, it was already too late. He’d been lowering the bar back down to his chest when it was suddenly gripped on both sides by two figures who immediately crashed their full weight down, pinning Sam under the bar and its weight. “Got ‘im!” someone boasted. Sam gasped as the weight pressed into his upper chest, looking left and right to see figures on each side in marine fatigues. The Wolfpack. His cover was blown. Sam grinned despite the pain of the bar pushing down on him. "Figures it'd be all of you," he grimaced through his teeth. "Five on one...sounds about fair." "Shut up, gramps," one of the men holding the bar on his side barked. "You're fuckin' in it now." Sam pushed with all his might to get the bar off of him, but his effort was stunted another the young marine who kneeled to Sam’s side, hands clasped in supplication. Sam actually thought the guy was about to start praying, right up until the kid raised his still-clasped fists high into the air, only to SLAM them down on Sam’s vulnerable torso with a growl of determination. All the air went out of Sam’s diaphragm as his body jackknifed with an "OOOF!’. “Yeah!” another marine shouted. "Fuck him up!" Sam usually reserved dirty moves for when the situation truly called for it—it was only the honorable thing to do—but the prospect of a 53-year-old taking on five trained marines in their mid 20’s? That called for it. Sam released the bar and smashed his fists out on each side of him, catching the two who had trapped him right in their baby-makers. Both hollered in pain and released the bar, clutching their aching boys for dear life. Sam took the opportunity to hoist the bar and weights off of him, that familiar feeling of adrenaline kicking in. It felt good to be back on the game. Sam nimbly leapt to his feet to get some distance from his attackers, but only made it a few feet before he felt a yank on the back of his sweatshirt. “Ohhh no you don’t!” someone about his height snarled in his ear, yanking him back and locking in a full nelson. Sam flung his head backward in an attempt to break his captor’s nose, but the spry marine expertly dodged the blow. “Know all your moves,” the man taunted, forcing Sam’s head up as he locked in the nelson. “Gahhh!” Sam panted as the younger man brutally forced him upright. His sweatshirt rode up now, almost like a midriff, his solid core peeking out above his shorts. “Check it,” one of the other marines observed, stepping in front of Sam and pointing. “Dad abs, haha.” Sam flushed in irritation. "Hope I'm as jacked when I'm 80!" “Break this geezer down!” the man holding Sam commanded. And then it was on as two other man stepped forward, all starting to hammer at Sam like a communal punching bag, trash-talking the bigger, older muscle man the whole time. "Yeah!" THUMP. "Them muscles just for show, huh??" WHUMP. "Not doin' much good now, yeah??" THUMP. All Sam could do was grit his teeth and take it like a man. He'd been here before, but age was taking its toll, and he doubted he could endure too much more punishment. Rights and lefts, knees and kicks pounded his body from all sides, one well-placed kick in particular eliciting a discernible snap from one of Sam’s ribs as he grunted in pain. “Show ‘em what happens when you fuck with The Wolfpack!” the man holding him egged on. Sam’s head started to slump from the assault. One of the marines rolled up a sleeve and flexed a baseball-sized bicep in Sam's face. "This is real muscle, gramps." "Bro," one of the other marines chuckled. "The old man's still bigger than you, even all rag doll like he looks now, haha!" "Shut up," the marine retorted, and slugged a fist deep into Sam's drum tight breadbasket. “Where’s Ortiz at??” “Don’t use my name, man” came a voice from behind them. Ortiz, a young, wiry marine, emerged still clutching his balls from Sam’s escape. “He already knows, and he’s not gettin’ out of here anyway,” the man replied. “My man Ortiz was on his way to a Golden Gloves title before some shit got in his way,” the man explained to Sam. Now addressing Ortiz, he barked, “Show him why!” Ortiz smirked and stepped in front of Sam. He was probably 20, lean as fuck, negligible body fat—a true boxer’s build. Saying nothing, Ortiz crouched into an expert boxer’s crouch, throwing a few shadow punches to warm up, and without warning FIRING a hard right into Sam’s tensed gut. “OOOOOF!” Sam gasped from the impact as his knees almost buckled, shocked at the force of the blow. He’d taken a lot of lumps over the years, but this kid Ortiz was dangerous. Ortiz, sensing how quickly playtime would be over, backed off, and began jabbing still-hard rights and lefts all over Sam’s aching body, the sound of thudding echoed across the empty gym. Sam was dimly aware that he was starting to drool on his sweatshirt. After a few minutes, the lead marine still holding Sam in the full nelson spoke. “Ok, I think that’s enough for now. We gotta motor before they notice we fucked with the cameras in here. Put this fucker out, and we’ll bounce.” With that, Ortiz nodded, and launched a vicious right to Sam’s head, jolting it to the side. Sam grunted, feeling Ortiz wind up for another shot, and then felt no more.
The angry and menacing look on Big Boss’ face is enough to show his displeasure at a worker’s fuck up at the job. Big Boss called him for a stern warning “one more fuck up and you’re out!” And that’s just what happened The employee fucked up again and so the big boss crushed the life outta him right on the loading dock for all other workers to see. Trapping him up against the wall the angry boss held him in place with no escape as the worker pleaded for another chance. “Too late you been warned” was the response. And with a sudden and rapid inhale Boss’ belly expanded enormously pushing all the air out of the worker till he was crushed and dead. OSHA got word of yet another work place accident so this time they sent in an observer to snoop around for a week. Big boss resented having such an intrusion on his facility. He was furious, his big chest and belly heaving with rage. His longtime shop foreman tried to calm the big boss fearing that the plant would be shut down for good if anything happened. “Big boss please don’t hurt this guy we all need our jobs” rubbing and kissing his belly trying to appease the mammoth man. With one arm big boss shoved him aside slamming him into the wall. “if that pencil neck bureaucrat shows his face around here today snooping around my plant it will not go well for him”. Sure enough the gvt inspector came once again asking questions of the workers and observing operations. But once big boss got word of him on site he exploded. His business shirt could no longer contain his bulk as he was heaving and tensing so heavily. The sound of ripped fabric and popped buttons could be heard as he stormed out his office to find the bureaucrat. And there he was inside the loading dock. Big boss angrily grabbed the nearest thing to him, a forklift with driver seated inside and with little effort he lifted it clear over head and hurled across the warehouse smashing a work table and crushing two workers. “What are you crazy!!” Screamed the inspector. “I warned you you little punk I own this factory and no one intrudes upon my way of doing business not even OSHA” And with surprising speed big boss was upon the poor man and had him within his clenches. Effortlessly he held the man in a one arm bearhug. Raising his fist with the other arm and flexing his massive bicep. Big boss put on an incredible show of power his employees stood awe struck and fearful. Big boss heaved his massive belly once more thereby crushing the inspector’s ribs and with a final bearhug squeeze the man was limp and lifeless. Big boss let the inspector’s dead body lie on the shop floor for several hours to bring home the message of his abilities to anyone who dare defy him. Afterwards he called a meeting of his employees and instructed them to secretly dispose of the bodies, the inspector as well as the two employees crushed under the forklift. He instructed them when questioned by authorities to say that the inspector never showed up that day to conduct his investigation. Likewise the two employees never reported for work. Big boss inhaled deeply and his belly once again expanded to ridiculous proportions. “Do I make myself clear!” he boomed. The employees were shaken with fear knowing what pain and mortal peril their boss could inflict upon anyone of them who failed to tow the line. “Yes Sir” they all exclaimed. And with that he ordered them all back to work. The employees had trouble retrieving the dead corpses under the forklift as it became wedged so forcefully into the concrete floor. Despite all the male workers attempts they could not budge it. The foreman informed big boss who later arrived and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were like muscular ham hocks writhing with sinew under a thick coat of hair. Again he heaved deeply and grabbed the strongest ends of the forklift and with a mighty heave hoe he broke the machinery free where he set it aside to be dismantled later. Lifting heavy machinery like this and crushing people always made big boss horny and he began to eye his foreman who knew exactly what his boss wanted. The two headed back to Boss’ office alone for a closed door “meeting”.
Mrmusclewriter posted a topic in StoriesThat single clips recorded with a Smartphone went viral on the web and from it to all the breaking news. It was a carnage took place in a pitch. A strongman competition transformed into mayhem, a blood bath. Two small bodybuilders that destroyed the newly crowned strongman on planet earth in front of a scared crowd. Chris Fitzpatrick and Andy Polhill then disappeared with their master Josh Maley from the radars. An elite team was formed after that event to find and bring them to justice to be persecuted. Among the people on planet earth the selection of the elements brought to three skilled people in fighting, three bodybuilders, three strongmen, and three fighters from the cold and Nordic areas of the planet. Ole Kristian Vaaga, Soren Falby and Arild Haugen. Three super soldier, highly skilled, muscular, strong, powerful and deadly in combat. The goal was to bring the three men back and alive. The location, where the three killers were hiding, was found with the help of the intelligence. A helicopter was carrying the super soldier to the “secret” location. With the trio, other two small (compared to the beasts) were on board. A guy was admiring Ole’s huge bicep, he never saw a so muscular and huge in his life, he swallowed his saliva when the Nordic gorilla realised that he had eyes on him. “You can touch it if you really desire” Ole said. The soldier, scared, almost reached Ole’s bicep. “There is a price to pay, anyway” Ole said. The soldier stopped, fretting. “What is the price Sir?” the soldier asked. “I have to take your life” Ole replied. The soldier retracted his paw, Soren laughed and the poor man almost pissed his pants off. The laugh was interrupted when the pilot announced that they were about to land, about 50 miles away from the location. It was 2.00 am and it was pitch black. The three monsters jumped off the helicopter after landing. Ole tuned to the soldier and said as he flexed his bicep: “I was only joking; you can touch my huge and monstrous bicep”. This time with courage, the soldier put his hands over that rock hard amount of muscular fibres, it was like touching pure marble, he had an erection, Ole was pleased and smirked. The soldier smiled, Ole placed his huge hands over the soldier’s face and with soft tone of voice said: “I see you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Ole asked. “Yes Sir, I did, very much indeed” the soldier replied. Ari and Soren were watching the maps few feet away. “You know who we are and what we are going to do; justice but you know our name?” Ole asked. “Your name Sir, I am confused, you are Ole, the bearded one is Soren and the strongman is Ari” the soldier replied. “Good boy but I mean our team!” Ole pointed out. “No Sir” the soldier replied. “We are the Baltic Butchers and you know why?” Oled asked. “No sir, why?” the soldier asked. “Because we butcher people” Ole underlined. “Cool name Sir” the soldier replied. “And…I am going to butcher you now” Ole said. That was last thing that the soldier heard and with a quick movement, Ole twisted the soldier’s head of 180 degrees clockwise and with another movement of 180 degrees anti-clockwise. A noise of broken bones echoed through the forest and the lifeless body of the soldier’s fell off the helicopter. “Stupid dick of a soldier!” the pilot said to the co-pilot. “Another one is gone, he didn’t have to talk to the butchers. That’s a way to become food for them” the co-pilot replied. Arid had a hard-on for that noise and Ole knew about that fact. Ole turned and joined the team that disappeared after few minutes. The helicopter left the wood. The Baltic Butchers walked in darkness for an hour until they reached the secret location. Josh Maley was tall, huge, heavy, muscular and strong. His appearance was intimidating standing 6’3’’ and 330 lbs with long beard and a Mohawk haircut; he was by far one of the heaviest and strongest bodybuilders of the iron business. The puny strongmen that show their power in those ridiculous “power shows” were nothing compared to him and he showed how to crush the life out under the shocked eyes of the audience, his victim, his prey, the brand newly crowned strongman in the world, The Mountain. Josh was heavily training in his private gym at an undisclosed location, after the show of pure strength and domination his two friends demonstrated, he along with Chris and Andy decided to retire in a secret location in order to avoid the riots that they caused some weeks before. The news was broadcasted all over the world, the video filmed with a Smartphone, of Josh, Andy and Chris’s taking the life out of The Mountain’s went viral and all the newspapers were talking about the carnage done. The UFC and MMA became less popular after that episode as the video itself showed the real meaning of domination and destruction. The door was unhinged as a bomb was exploded right beneath. It flew away for several feet, thundering all over the house. Josh, Andy and Chris were downstairs training and they suddenly stopped as they heard that sound. They looked at one other and as fast as they could, they ran upstairs. Three huge figures emerged from the darkness, three Nordic Giants well known in fame as the “Baltic Butchers”, Ole Kristian Vaaga, Soren Falby and Ari Haulden. The three guys arrived upstairs and those three figures were standing few feet away from the door with the dust still flying around their massive bodies. “Who the fuck are you” Chris asked. “We are the Baltic Butchers” Soren said with a deep tone of voice. Josh soundly laughed. “After the Mountain, we are going to crush these puny Vikings” Andy said watching his friends and laughing. The three Butchers, laughed back at him. “You did a huge mistake, wrecking out friend’s body and you will pay for this” Ari said, a huge and tattooed muscle man. “We have already destroyed your friend’s body, it will be very easy to kill you all” Chris replied. “Do you best, dwarf”, Ole replied. Andy got angry and ran over Ole, some feet before reaching the Nordic body, he jumped with the intent to punch the guy’s face with a flying punch but he landed over Ole’s body that promptly wrapped around Andy’s body and without wasting his time, Andy’s body was trapped in those huge and rock hard arms. Ole started squeezing the Scottish guy, he tried to punch the beast but Ole increased the grip, Andy screamed and spitted some blood. “I fucking squeeze the shit out of you Mr Scotland”. Andy’s body bent as the compression increased more and more. Ole released the hold after few second, after hearing Andy’s bones snapping, he wanted to have more fun. He left the broken body falling off the floor. He grabbed the Scottish by his right ankle and like the hulk, he smashed his body over the floor throwing Andy six times, as he was a ragdoll. “I call this THOR’S HAMMER” Ole said still throwing Andy over the floor. “Hulk Smash!” Ari screamed out of pure joy. Ole threw Andy over the right wall and he almost went stuck on it. Like a bulldozer that is trying to take a wall down, Ole ran over Andy, taking the wall down and Andy with it. Andy’s body was completely broken and he passed out.