Thor Thorson arrived in a small craft, claiming to come from the future. He was a golden color, almost 7 feet tall, and weighed 351 lbs. His shoulders were easily a yard wide, and his chest stretched the tape to over 80 inches. His arms and legs were similarly mammoth, yet his waist was an incredible 32 inches of densely packed muscle, at least an inch of which was pure ab thickness. He didn't seem real, at least not really human.

He told of how the earth's environment had degraded to such a point that only the strongest men and women could survive the increasing solar radiation, the extremes of blistering summers and frigid winters, and the violent storms and volcanic activity. He was one such man, so he claimed.

"My father was Icelandic and my mother African. In my time we have developed strength far beyond what you possess. Why, our children are as strong as most of your top athletes, and by adulthood the smallest woman exceeds any of you by a factor of five.

"In your time you have dominated the natural world through your superior intellect or through your inventions. In my time we have no need for such things. The animals that have survived have become stronger, but we are the strongest. When volcanoes or earthquakes threaten, we muster a huge multitude which can crush the mountain or ease the slipping of the continental plates. You doubt me, I see? Soon, you won't.

"When a man comes of age in my time, which is 14 years old, he must subdue the mightiest beast he can find. But he most not kill it, for that is the true strength: control. I chose the strongest gorilla in Africa, a huge 1600 lb silver back with an enormous harem. I did it this way: I kidnaped one his females and pretended that I wanted to fuck her. The normally docile animal became enraged and charged at me. I held his gaze, which challenged his authority, and in his fury he uprooted a small tree and threw it at me. I batted it away and laughed. He charged me, striking me with a blow that would have killed a man, but I just stood there and grabbed him in a bear hug. I was a 14 year old man and I lifted his 3/4 ton body off the ground. And I squeezed. He bared his fangs but I bared my teeth back. And squeezed. His thick hard animals muscles tensed against me but I squeezed until I could feel their iron soften. His enormous arms rained blow after blow upon me but they couldn't dent my hardening muscles as I SQUEEZED. Every time he exhaled I tightened my superior arms and soon his eyes grew wide with terror. Adrenaline surged through his body and his muscles responded by filling with power and rage. But it wasn't you he was fighting, he was fighting me. And I met his every muscular contraction by contracting these."

Thor held up the largest human arms ever seen and flexed. The sleeves of the loose tunic he was wearing slowly filled, then became taut. The fibers stretched and grew farther apart until a sudden flex exploded that canvas-like fibers into small pieces. His triceps were like half-moons hanging beneath full-moon biceps that continued to expand like an exploding sun. The dense hard peak upon those huge muscles curled up like a mushroom cloud.

"When he looked at me sadly before going limp, I let him fall to the ground. He passed out but soon awakened. Screaming in fear he ran off up the hillside; and I followed. When he came to a rocky outcropping he got behind a huge pillar of granite. His fear continued to mount as he pushed against that rock. Cracks formed at the base; some broken bits of rock caught in my hair. And suddenly this massive tonnage of rock was roaring down the mountain at me, his triumphant screams echoing through the jungle.

"The largest boulder had to weigh a ton or more. It bounced down, gathering speed and force, flattening anything in its path. Anything but me, that is. I reach up, and caught it. The force of that weight drove me back step and step but finally these legs stopped it."

With that he flexed his thighs, which too exploded the canvas pants he wore into small fragments. Quads as big around as a bodybuilder's expanded, pumped chest revealed striated chains of twisting muscle, crowned by a penis that must have been over a foot long and half as thick.

"I waited until the beast realized that this rock was standing in mid-air while the others rolled, and then, straining, I lifted it above my head to show him my face. That was the last thing he saw as I heaved that granite boulder uphill and it flew with such force it broke every bone it his densely-muscled body.

"I had committed a grave offense and condemned to two years labor at a weakening facility, where such aggressive ones as I are starved into submission to the collective will. But I was too strong, and nothing they could do could possibly weaken me. After my release I quickly gained back everything I'd lost, and more, but I saw the writing on the wall.

"The government had created one device which was top-secret: a time-travel device by which they raided the past for necessities which could no longer endure earth's harsh climate. This was kept in a guarded facility behind the strongest of defenses. But I decided it would be mine.

"At night I reached the facility and easily overpowered the guards, but not before they could start to close the reinforced steel doors. I managed to get one hand into the crack before the massive, 3-foot thick steel could seal and lock. The pressure it brought to bear would have crushed the hand of a normal 17 year old of my time, but I laid into it with all my strength. Bells and sirens started to go off, and people rushed about but I ignored them, concentrating on the door that struggled to close against my single hand. I pushed my hand deeper into the crack, and deeper, until it reach the other side and my whole arm was pressed between steel and steel. I saw the lights dim around me; I knew that power was being redirected from other uses to the closing mechanism of the door. My biceps and forearm bulged and started to dent the solid steel door, and then I started to push back. At first nothing happened, but then a creaking sound grew and grew into a screech as the huge, heavy gears locked and began climbing back onto each other. I had my shoulder in, but the gap wasn't wide enough for my chest" -- he blew his pecs into mountainous relief over his tiny waist -- "So I brought my free hand to bear. The machinery continued to torque and grind, pistons filled with compressing air and fluid, but my guns pushed, and pushed, and pushed. A deeply cracking sound came as huge axles twisted against the pressure. The emergency lights went on and I felt the door start to gain advantage, but there was room for me to wedge my body in.

"I knew they were watching so I released my arms and let the door close against the chest. I stood there blocking every ounce of power with my pecs. The steel tried to close around me and started bending around my body, but I didn't move, savoring the thrill of stopping this immense machinery. Then I put my hand up, further indenting the metal, and pushed back.

"The door held for a second, screaming and grinding, and then the gears began to shear away. Explosions sounded deep within the walls and with no trouble I heaved the door back onto its track so hard it cracked the reinforced concrete of the walls. Then I walked past everyone to where the ship sat.

"The ship was protected by an electromagnetic field. Unfortunately for them my muscles had already taxed the mighty engines and drained the power of the facility, so the weak force was no match for me. I came up against it, and began pressing through. They tried to cycle more repulsive power through the magnetic coil but I refused to budge, and met that growing force with my own flesh. I was through the field before they could fire it up all the way, and the ship was mine.

"So now you know how I got here. Here's why: If there is one thing you or your puny machines can do better than I, then I'll go back and face my destiny. If, however, I conquer your best in everything, I will rule you all and you will be my slaves. You don't have a choice in the matter. The games begin now."

"Like hell they do." One grizzled general pulled out his automatic and started firing. He emptied the clip but had seemed to miss. Then Thor held out his fist, and opened it. Inside was a ball of hot metal. He had caught every bullet as it flew past him, and squeezed them into a ball. He dropped it on the floor. The marine guard opened fire.

He became a blur and seemed to disappear. The next thing they knew he was behind the guards, knocking them unconscious or holding them helpless in his brawny arms. He took the rifles away and held them in his huge hands. Wood splintered and metal creaked as he twisted the rifles into a cable of crushed steel. Then holding that thick twisted metal in one hand, he pressed his thumb against it and began to bend it over the tops of his fingers.

"I hear you play a game called baseball. Well, batter up." We assembled an all- star team of the world's best players. Thor watched 3 minutes of a baseball videotape on fast-forward and walked onto the diamond. "I need to test the equipment," he said. He enclosed a baseball in his hand, and suddenly his forearm expanded into a giant bowling-pin. A faint rip was heard, and he examined the ball and its former contents, now squeezed not through a seam but through a tear in the leather itself. He looked up with a big smile. "This thing could hurt someone." Then he grabbed two bats, the wooden in his left and aluminum in his right. "One, two, three, GO!" Again the veins expanded from his wrist up his arm. The wooden bat split up the middle. His left biceps bulged as he ground the wood in his fist to fine sawdust, dropping the three remaining pieces of the bat. At the same time the aluminum bat warped around the back of his hand, its grip flattening in his. Then, he twirled the bent bat into the air and caught the thick end in the crook of his arm. As he drew his fist toward his burgeoning right biceps a thin squeak escaped the confines of his hardening muscle. The tail of the bat bent on its own around his forearm until he squeaking stopped. He then presented the vaguely U-shaped bat for all to see: the thick veins of his arms clearly imprinted where they crushed the aluminum. "Let's play ball."

Thor proposed new rules: He would allow the All-Star team 12 outs their first time up. Everybody laughed. An entire team against one man? They wouldn't need any outs at all. To humor him, they agreed. He let the first batter hit the ball in a line drive down the third base line. With terrible speed he took the grounder and doubled back just as the batter hit first base. The second hit went deep into left field and somehow Thor caught it, but not before the first player reached second base. He struck out the next six players with balls so fast we had change catchers three times. Second base tried to steal but his courage faltered every time Thor turned to look at him.

Finally Thor allowed a batter to hit: the great Mark McGwuire, now blown by steroid use to enormous proportions. He reveled in challenging this newcomer and swatted the ball out of the park. Almost. Thor sped to the rear wall and gauged that the ball was actually headed over the stadium into the parking lot. With feline speed he leapt into the air, rising higher than any man so big ever could, and caught the ball. McGwuire stopped and couldn't believe his eyes. Thor landed running and raced the second base runner towards home. Each slid but Thor dug a trough in the field, spewing turf and soil into the stands: and beat him. That left a man on third base. Thor stood there, staring at third base, smiling and bouncing the ball in his hand. Higher and higher. Finally, with little more than a flip of his wrist, the ball went up, and up, and up. And didn't come down. We waited a few minutes, then Thor shrugged and called for a new ball and smoothly struck out the next two players.

Thor then took his turn hitting from both sides the plate, knocking the balls out of the park, out of their skin, out of sight. Reports came in of baseballs falling out of the sky like meteors in Buenos Aires, Caracas, Greenland; strangely, each ball landed in a heavily civilized area. Then satellites began tracking the balls as they flew out to sea. A succession of pitchers worked themselves to near-death trying every trick in the book but his strike zone was so large and his arms so long, and he was so quick, he hit every ball thrown, no matter how fast or wide or low. Bats splintered or dented with the impacts; players began to cry. One satellite image actually showed a white dot growing larger until the screen went blank. Our hearts quivered in our chests at this portent of might.

Thor chose other sports, easily excelling each of the greatest players. As a one-man football team, without padding, he was unstoppable, offense or defense. He even walked from the one- yard line down field while ten 300-lb men battered against him or hung on, straining in vain to drag him - or even slow him - down. When he finally bored of this, he said, "Now for arm wrestling." Every man backed away, but he walked over to the goal post, lay down on the turf and placed his right hand against the thick base. Again we watched in horror as that massive biceps swelled and peaked until the creaking of overstressed steel shook the post and it slowly began to bend, its hollow center caving in under the unrelenting pressure of that throbbing arm, the inch-thick steel finally screeching its defeat as the prongs lowered toward the ground. A deep rumbling issued from cracks that formed in the sod and the deep-sunk, concrete-cased base levered up through feet of earth and the bent post crashed to the ground.

Yet in basketball he was too fast, nobody could keep up with him as he put ball after ball through the hoops. On ice he was disturbingly graceful as he scored goal after goal, catching the pucks as they whizzed by his head. He ran not against our fastest runners but against our fastest horses. He didn't bother with the pole vault, he could leap higher from a stand than our highest vaulters.

Deceived by his power, we tried him in games of skill, but there wasn't a golf course on earth he couldn't finish in 18 strokes. After reading a book (actually rifling through the pages) he performed perfect tens in each gymnastic event, with flexibility and grace that betrayed his densely-packed muscular frame. His balance was so perfect he actually performed ballet so beautifully he made men weep. It seemed there was no physical endeavor with which we could even begin to compete.

Thor agreed to tests: it seemed impossible that he was human. X-rays had trouble penetrating his dense muscle fibers clearly, so more complex tests were run to determine he actually had a skeleton and internal organs, not cyborg machinery. Blood tests confirmed not only that he was 100% human, not some alien hybrid, but that he wasn't a new species of human: his DNA corresponded exactly to Homo sapiens sapiens.

All that power had to end somewhere, we reasoned, if he was only human, so we pitted his endurance against the greatest of our machines. At the Indianapolis Speedway, he started behind our best drivers, our fastest cars. He took off at a heart-pounding rate by leaping over the cars and by the end of the first lap his lead was unshakeable. Unlike the cars, he never needed to stop, his glistening body simply running and running, the asphalt beneath his feet denting and cracking with every impact. After two hundred laps the course was nearly impassable to the cars, so he ran alone, and bested the record time for 500 laps by 19 minutes and one second.

A team was climbing Everest when all this happened and was camped at 15,000 feet. Thor went to meet them. No one was quite sure how he got there but he left Kathmandu on foot, without oxygen or provisions, before dawn one morning. While the climbers battled bad weather Thor inconceivably made the trek to the peak in a day; and then started to climb. He went by night, naked against the cold and wind, and by dawn was seen by aircraft sitting on the peak. Then, while an advance team tried to reach the summit all the next day, Thor went up and down each face of the peak, his hands working the rock and ice like Everest was the Earth's biceps and he the only stronger force to ever meet it. He bellowed from the peak, sending avalanches crashing down as far away as Dhaulagiri. The hikers below were weary, storm beaten and frostbitten so Thor tied all their tents and gear together in such a way that he could stack the entire party of 15 across his back and carry them down the mountain.

The Navy had just developed a fast light warship that could cross the Pacific in a little over a day and a half, and maneuverable enough to avoid most storms. It was called, aptly enough, The Defiant. Thor let it take a five-hour lead out of San Diego. By then it was full speed and four hundred miles out to sea. He then walked into the ocean and started swimming.

A school of great white sharks chased him but couldn't catch him, but one met him from the other direction. After stunning the 30-foot beast with a blow to the head, Thor swum around and grabbed its tail. The animal thrashed madly but couldn't move forward so long as Thor held it in his brutal hands, kicking his massive legs against the giant's pull. The shark finally wearied and suffocated where he held it. Now it was time to catch the boat.

After 250 more miles the radar picked up Thor; though too small to register on radar he was creating such a wake that shipping was disturbed along the trade routes. The sailors watched in awe as the point of the giant wake slowly closed the gap toward the speeding nuclear ship. The captain ordered the engines to 110%, which meant shutting down all other power systems, including sonar and radar, and sailing blind. But within the hour they didn't need radar to see what was behind them; the plume created by Thor' furious feet was clearly visible over the horizon. It grew bigger, and bigger as the ship neared the quarter-point of the voyage. And finally Thor passed them, as somehow we all knew he would.

He reached Osaka in 8 hours and 34 minutes, his overall speed triple the capacity of the fastest ship. Grinning at the astounded reporters as he emerged on the beach, he took a few deep breaths, his hands on his thighs. He back spread out in the sun like an impenetrable shield of muscle. Then he turned around, and dove back into the water.

He met the ship just past the half-way point and proved once and for all his malevolent intent. So far he had just been playing with us, hurting, sometimes critically, his opponents, but always obeying the rules scrupulously. He even let them cheat, for what good would it do? Nothing could stand against his unconquerable might.

Now it was his turn. Picking up an inhuman speed he rammed the ship. It listed 20 degrees and went as far off course. The thick hull groaned inward where he struck it with a granite shoulder. Circling around the confused craft he then put that same shoulder against the bow and began kicking. He clasped his arms to the sides and his biceps ground into the steel plating. He then pitted his nuclear legs against the nuclear-driven propellers. The ocean began to boil around him as he kicked faster and harder, grinding the towering craft to dead halt. The propellers spun as uselessly as if they were in dry dock, sucking and churning at the water in desperate impotence before his might. Impossibly he then kept kicking harder, and harder, until the groaning naval destroyer was driven back against the water piling up behind the stern. The blades strained against the raging torque of the drive shafts as the captain stupidly ordered full speed ahead; tears began to form in the hardened steel as the ship picked up speed against its own drive.

Sailors began to fire down into the water but couldn't get an angle on Thor. He stayed too close to the ship to use depth charges and the captain regretted not have torpedoed him when he had the chance. Until then Thor's upper body had been merely a ramrod of blood and punishing muscle, but now he drew back, snarled and PUSHED. The ship sailed backwards faster than before and the blades warped and twisted off their axles and fell uselessly to the ocean floor. The ship, now castrated by Thor's awful might, was in his hands.

His lungs not only held a greater capacity of air, but the muscles of his torso could draw and actually compact the air into his lungs so that he could go longer without breathing than any sea mammal. With cold exultation in the disaster his hands were bringing to these men and their trusted machine he filled his enormous chest with air, inhaling for a full 60 seconds. Then he dove beneath the surface.

Swimming the lowest part of the keel, his thick fingers sought the joint in the steel plating. Working his muscles against this armor he pried handholds firm enough for his task but not so as to puncture the hull of the ship. Then, once again, he started to pull. But this time he pulled DOWN.

A sickening deep groaning sounded through the ship as the mounting pressure caused the ship to ever so slightly twist against its own bulkheads. The ship sank a few inches in the water, then a few more. At first the panicking sailors didn't know where Thor was or what was happening. A sudden tug sent men flying and then they knew: he was going to sink them, not by capsizing them or breaching the hull but by sheer force. The ship's moaning became a constant, deepening vibration that shook every surface. The shudder built into tremors as all hands sought to lighten the ship, throwing overboard everything they could rip loose, firing all weapons and torpedoes simply to get rid of them, and empty the ballast tanks; but none of it could be done fast enough, nor would it have ultimately mattered. With a terrifying lurch Thor dragged the deck down to the surging water. At the rate of downward velocity water forced back into the ballast tanks and blew them loose from their moorings. It was impossible to stand on the decks, anything unsecured was overturned and even then things rattled loose from their bolts. The ship screamed in seizures above the screams of the helpless men as his strength seized the ship and brought water cascading over the bow. Bulkheads bulged and burst under the writhing pressure as compartments imploded under Thor's irresistible muscular power. Actually manipulating the immense tonnage above him Thor then brought the stern down. Seawater ran into the hot engine room and more explosions burst through the hull.

The tension released by the sudden surge of water through the hull seemed the bend the ship. As if it wouldn't sink fast enough now, Thor secured the hull with one hand and turned around, toward the ocean depths. His free arm now aided his legs and he doubled his effort, forcing water through the holes so hard the hull cracked around them and trapped air blew toward the surface through the steel decks of the ship. In a matter of minutes the Defiant was hauled beneath the sea, all hands aboard, and with a hideous thrust Thor flung it towards the darkness below. Water and air spumed into the sky, blowing broken bodies along with it, and Thor surfaced triumphant. Leaving the screaming sailors behind he began to swim back to San Diego, picking up speed with each stroke.

We decided we had to act after this unimaginable spectacle of brutal, insane muscular power. As he swam F-14s were discharged to intercept and destroy him. Bullets did no good, as he simply drew on his lung-power and swam hundreds of feet below the surface. A jet loaded with depth charges dropped them in a pattern across his path but he swam so fast they all went off behind him, and the force of their blasting simply drove him further forward. Another jet dropped two targeting torpedoes that raced against his speed but couldn't catch him. Tiring of these attacks he came to a halt and waited for the deadly missiles.

They reached him at the same time but he simply outmaneuvered them and trapped them under each arm, crushing the steel against his unbending rib cage, his lats digging into the metal casing. They dragged him along until he decided to stop them, the propellers churning wildly. Rising to the surface he treaded water and held them over his head as they trembled with their useless power in his bruising hands. Sighting the circling planes, he treaded until his hips were even with the surface and then with a blinding snap flung the torpedoes with uncanny accuracy. Two separate F-14s went down and the rest of the wing was called off. Thor returned to San Diego unhindered. This time no reporters were there, at least not close enough to be seen. The entire world huddled away from each earth-cracking step of this incredible man.

Now it was the last stand. We gathered our ten top chess players and three supercomputers, prototypes of intelligent machines that could learn as well as perform calculations of all possible moves in seconds. They feared coming close to Thor so each competed via satellite. As the hook-ups were made Thor idled through a book on chess: not famous moves or games but simply the rules that come with a beginner's board. He let each challenger move first. Not even looking at a board or pieces he then walked around to the 13 monitors and spoke his counter moves. The computers were the first down since they moved almost as quickly as he; he trounced the previously unbeaten computers in 6, 7 and 5 moves respectively. Time ticked as the human players plotted strategy but Thor took no time, responding to each move with a counter-move and then waiting for the next person to try to move against him. While waiting he read Einstein's calculations and pointed out their weaknesses. Sweat beaded up on the chess players' foreheads as Thor's lightning moves stymied and outdistanced each of their racing brains. One by one they fell before his superior intelligence.

Other games were given up in favor of calculations. Linking together the fastest, most powerful computers we tried to compete against Thor in performing random calculations of huge strings of numbers. He beat the computers every time by seconds. Finally he was pitted against a huge voice-activated defense computer. Performing advance calculus, he took the computer on a ride, spitting out numbers and computations that left the computer gasping, its synthetic voice crying "please wait ... I can't ... that number again? ... No the angle of trajectory would be, oh, you're right, I didn't take into account...." Thor barely paused for breath as he spoke, whispering almost erotically into the computer's microphone a blur of data and numbers. The computer got hot and ceased to speak. Sparks flew as he continued his monotonous, sexual monologue of logic. Finally, the last fuse blown, the supercomputer burnt out with its attempts to keep up with this man's brain, Thor turned to us with a smile. And proceeded to compute pi verbally to millions of places that finally revealed the repeating pattern of numbers that no human mind or machine had ever been able to find. All with a beatific smile of absolute confidence.

I tried a desperate stratagem. So much of our history was lost to them, perhaps it could work. "Sometimes we compete to see how long we can sleep. Some of us have been able to sleep for hundreds of years and awake. Can you beat that?"

Thor looked at me as if I was a bug. "I've seen the way you sleep. Those who sleep so long never awake. It's how little sleep you can use to perform optimally that's the real test." No one dared to bluff further. Submitting again to our probes, we indeed discovered he slept as fully in one hour as we did in eight; his hormone production, his REM cycles, every aspect of sleep handled quickly, efficiently and leaving him with greater mental acuity the moment of awakening than anyone on earth. He was never groggy; he fell into a deep sleep the moment he closed his eyes and woke up able to perform the most advanced formulas. Once a guard tried to shoot him in his sleep but without even opening his eyes Thor reach out and stopped the bullet between his thumb and index finger and snapped it back through the air up into the gun barrel: the weapon exploded in the guard's hand. Monitors show he never woke up.

He studied ingredients and without reading a book was able to produce sauces and prepare foods he had never seen before of such excellence no chef could find fault. His thick fingers so deftly handled the smallest needles, and so skillfully, he produced petit-point tapestries of photographic clarity. Taking that a step further he flipped through Gray's Anatomy and proved on a cadaver (no one living would trust him) such skillful neuro-microsurgery that no surgeon would challenge him. Returning to the race track he studied race car's engine, and using no tools but his own strong fingers he disassembled and rebuilt the engine so that he could take it up to 515 miles per hour, and his strong hands handled it like a tricycle. Using remote controls, the army positioned a helicopter above him; without securing his feet, he resisted the upward pull of craft with one bulging arm, its propellers whirling helplessly, while with the other he played on a trumpet Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 6, flawlessly, having just glanced over the score. Finally even he tired of these endless humiliations, and we offered one last test.

If he could make love to 1000 men and women and still stand, we would throw in the towel. Not just fuck, but emotionally connect with each of them. Thor agreed. A call went to all comers but first we supplied 200 hundred of the most experienced porn stars, escorts, call girls, hustlers and whores. Dodger stadium was lined with mattresses and Thor began working the crowd. Many of the experienced sexual athletes came within moments of laying eyes on the golden man, his foot- long cock already wet with precum and as upright as a girder. First he selected a massive coked- out bodybuilder known for his own enormous cock and the inability of any man to top him. He tried to stand up to Thor but Thor put a finger on the man's lips, and whispered "sshh." Then he lightly brushed his fingers across the star's chest while looking him in the eyes with such tenderness that the star got angry and actually tried to strike him. Thor simply caught the hand and whisked the 200 lb stud into his arms, whispering something in his ear while his lower lip brushed across the smaller man's features, something that made the drugged, jaded porn start cum without touching himself. Then Thor proceeded to fuck him, so hard and tender that the man spasmed load after load with hardly enough time to recovery until the he came dry and passed out. Thor then lay over him, covering him with his massive muscles until he woke up, and then started again; Thor never got soft while he continued to go at it, and he continued until the man begged him to stop.

Then he moved on to a very talented woman who prided herself on her ability to outlast any man; she lasted about ten minutes. One after another he worked his way through the crowd, patiently, tenderly yet dominating everyone until they pleaded with him to stop. That was his rule: they had to concede defeat.

The lovers worshiped his radiating power and pounded their fists against his unyielding flesh, and Thor loved it. And them. Glistening with sweat that covered his pumping muscles with a sheen of light and rolled off him in pungent streams, he left a trail of writhing bodies in his wake. When some of the men and women saw his conquests, saw them reduced to spasmodic vegetables, albeit smiling ones, and realized these people would never work again, they'd never let anyone touch them ever again, for who could compare? That was when people started to leave. But others came, the fat, the ugly, the starved, and Thor treated each one as if he or she was the only one on earth, then building to a frenzy of passion and unbridled lust until the stopped begging him for more and begged him to stop. Over a thousand took the challenge and never for one moment in all those hours did Thor go soft; in fact he came over and over again with each and every person. His huge balls worked overtime pumping the juice out and still it came, huge thick ropy creamy loads of sperm that was so powerful that no disease could survive within it, nor could it impregnate any woman for the sperm attacked and destroyed these inferior eggs. And still he wouldn't stop.

"Come one, weaklings, will no one else take me on? Is that as many as dare?" With that he heaved his huge pecs and roared a battle cry while he masturbated one last time, spewing jism twenty feet like a fucking geyser.

"I'll give you one more chance, though you've hardly deserved it with your puny bodies, your feeble machines and your toy computers. I will withstand the most powerful weapon in your arsenal. If I survive, I will be your God. I will personally, with these fists, smash every church, mosque, synagogue and temple, I will create new laws and you will obey them. You will worship me or die. From this day forward you will call no one man: you will all be boys compared to me. My rule will be just but as unyielding and implacable as this." He opened his eyes wide and his jaw dropped a little, and he nodded slowly. He held his finger up for everyone to see, and then he brought it around and pointed at his right biceps. He flexed and it grew. He tapped the biceps with his finger slowly, over and over, and as he tightened his fist his forearm bulged and his biceps grew bigger. He pumped it and it bulged thicker and rounder, and he tightened his fist tighter and the peak grew like an entirely separate muscles. He looked at it and watched it as it grew, and then he sneaked a look to see everyone entranced by the force and might of his muscle. He reveled in their awe and fear and the stubborn arousal he still elicited from them, after all they'd seen him accomplish, after the crushing defeats they suffered at his bare hands. For everyone feared and wanted him. And he wouldn't touch any of them.

They arranged to meet at the Nevada test sight the next morning at 6 a.m. Without another word, he left. At dawn the next day he stood in the broken, cracked desert, a monument to man, and waited. First there was a flash of light, then a shock wave as the clouds roiled above him.

"General, there's something wrong. There isn't enough radiation emanating from the blast."

"Readings?"

"About a third less than there should be. And it seems to be dropping. And the cloud, look: it's not right. It should be taller. But something seems to be drawing against it. Good God, some force is trying--"

But we could all see a curious, horrible funnel in forming in the center of the mushroom pillar. Clouds billowing out had to fight to rise, and the light only slightly dimmed. Much of the force of the blast was able to escape but Thor drew more and more of it back into himself. Already he was fifty feet tall, and bulging, and growing, wider and thicker and taller and heavier until the bomb- scarred earth cracked and sagged beneath him. With one foot he stomped down and sent a quake out that destroyed our command post. And we wonder what it will be like, being his slaves. •