Sons of Hercules, The

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By John

Well, time for the first installment of our new story. Hopefully this will bring back many fond memories of Saturday afternoons watching the sagas of the great "Sons of Hercules" for some and, for others, introduce them to the muscle inspiration of a generation. Of course, this version has a bit of a twist - it eliminates the gay inuendo and cuts right the the meat of the situation. More to follow in coming weeks. Enjoy. Respectfully submitted comments are always welcomed.

Maciste stood there proud and ready. His naked, mighty chest heaved more from anticipation than fear. He could feel the cold sweat as it poured down and cascaded to the ground off of his aroused nipples. The vision of their pointed excitement was hidden from his view by the bulbous muscle mass of his enormous pectorals as they hung full and heavy, stimulated to hardness by the shear weight of the thick chains hanging from his bound wrists.

He dared not curl his equally gargantuan arms in their natural desire to challenge the strength of the metal links restricting his movement without inviting a volley of arrows from the score of breast-plated guards surrounding him. This was not the first time they had tried to stop Maciste nor, in his mind, would it be the last. Soon they would learn the extent of the strength and power he had inherited from his father.

For now, Maciste just stood surrounded in the center of the field as the hot, hot sun poured down on his magnificent, sweat-polished body waiting for the guards to finish bringing the two chariots into place. Each gold-encrusted coach was to be pulled by two brutally strong quarter-horses. Maciste had great respect for these bold animals and felt their respectful challenge back toward him.

The horse teams and chariots were placed in opposing directions a short distance to each side of the panting muscleman. It took four guards to lift and lock the chains to the back of each of the corresponding wheeled assaulting machines. Soon, all was ready and the circle of bowmen backed away foolishly secure in their knowledge that this alleged son of Hercules was fatally secured.

Then the two most powerfully muscled of the guards stepped forward. These twin brothers had been especially trained and groomed by the King himself with Maciste in mind. Their naked upper bodies, though not nearly as large as that of Maciste, rippled with tightly defining protrusions of plated muscle. Only the girdled short skirting around their trim waists pronounced their position as ranking guards. The sight of the enormously muscled captive had caused the front of their covered loins to bulge forward with promises of bountiful meat.

On a signal from the Captain of the wonderfully muscled guards mounted the chariots; assumed the whips dangling over the front of the coaches; and the chariots began to move apart slowly.

The Captain of this unit, Eros, was pleased with himself over his capture of the mighty Maciste. The giant had been tricked by the muscular Captain the night before by a combination of promises of lustful fulfillment and strongly drugged wine. Even self-proclaimed sons of Gods could be affected by mortal failings. While Maciste's body was like no known human's, his lusts were no different from any other mans man.

Instead of waking in the strong arms of a fellow traveler, Maciste had found himself chained and drained. Eros was certain that his presentation of the ultra-muscular victim to the ruling King of Tiberia, piece by enormous piece, would ensure his promotion to General. Maciste had spoken and acted out once too often against the replacement of his King by the conqueror, Amulius of Alba, and the imprisonment of his own outspoken daughter, Rhea, in the castle at Tiberia.

Amulius had explained how Tiberia and Alba had been sister city states for way too long. They had even built the great dam across the Tiber River between them together, but that was before the Gods had foretold of the threat that Rhea could bring to the stability and future of Alba. Amulius had no choice but to retake his old throne from his daughter. Tiberia had offered to shelter her and it had paid for that indiscretion with the capture of their own King. Now Maciste would pay for his own indiscretions and attempts to drive Amulius from Tiberia..

As the chains reached their limit and rose in a slight arc from the ground pulling the arms of the mortal giant out with them, Eros could not help but regret the pending loss of this magnificent creature. The nude muscular form visibly hardened under the pressure being applied by the weight of the constricting chains.

The hairless body of Maciste cast sharp shadows and reflections in its' glistening presence as the horses were pulled to a halt until the order was given to tear this mountain of physical beauty apart.

If you believed nothing else about the claims of Maciste, one look at his body and you were hard pressed not to believe his claim to being the prodigy of Hercules himself. As he stared out at the vision of muscle before him, Eros remembered last night and how he had only been to bring the finger tips of each hand to the outer edges of the domed pectoral breasts as he tried reached around to the front of the hugely muscled upper body.

The heaving breasts of muscle before him now had felt so impossibly hard, hot and thick then. Now they looked even denser and more delicious. In the candle light of the evening before, the depth of those gorgeous globes of muscle had shown like giant, lined moons crashing together in fathom-deep cleavage. Eros hands had relished the undulating movements as the volumes of muscle moved from invitingly manipulated to rock-like solidity.

The nipples that dripped with sweat now and, soon, would drip with blood, appeared as inviting as they had felt last night. The mass of the chest muscles bowed out even more largely now over top of the downward pointing projections. Eros had pleasured in the heat and strength of these giant heavy breasts and sorrowed over their impending demise. As if to acknowledge this last gaze of attention thrown toward them, Maciste's pecs flexed hard and divided into a million fibrous lines of defiant muscle.

Then Eros remembered the feel of Maciste's astoundingly thick upper back muscles as they had slithered rhythmically under his own ample pecs. Their heat and movement had pushed Eros to a level of hardened excitement he had never known before. Eros recalled momentarily sliding his hands along the cupped volumes of Maciste's marvelous lats. The flaring flesh had been so wide that the outstretched palms of Eros could only enjoy a small portion of each pulsating, hot human fan.

The friction of pecs to lats had developed a joined rhythm as the two hot bodies shifted in the night from foreplay to the main event. Eros' mind drifted back again to the feel as his hands had followed the sweeping flow of Maciste's broad upper back down to the impossibly small, tight waist that, in its' own way, exuded unimaginable strength and power. He recalled how his fingers had tripped from ridge to ridge across obliques muscles so hard as to seem like the strong branches of a mighty tree bound together and encased in silky flesh.

Then there was the memory of the abdominals that stood in crisp sharp relief under the high sun of this morning. Yesterday they felt like the plated rocks that they resembled this morning. These slated monsters plated in and out as the heavy breathing moved them from vacuumed shallowness to sharpened fullness. All of this up-righting strength sat atop a waistband that was narrower than two touching outstretched hands.

The girdled abdominal muscles collected the beautiful body of all the upper muscle mass together and anchored it onto the lower torso. The sun today created shadowed lines that pointed the piled front muscles to the center of desire at Maciste's groin. Eros dared not to look at the inviting tool that swung heavily from the front center of this amazing captured man but, rather, drifted down to the feet as they readied themselves for the inevitable onslaught.

The flatly planted feet were about an arms length apart and pointed slightly outward. This would give Maciste the best grounding once the chariots were stirred into action. The calf muscles were already at massively rounded attention. Each was larger than Eros' own respectfully muscular upper arm and visibly denser with stone hardened muscle. From his position in front, Eros could sense that this posture would have Maciste's amazing ass muscles clenched and dimpled in their own invitingly anxious readiness.

None of the horses had upper rear legs as massive as the upper legs of the self-proclaimed son of a God bound between them. The corded volumes twitched and striated into their individual bundles as the feet pushed and twisted themselves into the ground. Even spread apart as the legs were, the inner thighs came together about half way between the knees and their upper extremities. But most of this contacting flesh was hidden behind the expanse of maleness extending down in front.

Eros had so much wanted to taste of the sweet white wine that was surely contained within the two round vessels attached below the fountain shaft of a cock on Maciste. Unfortunately, the effects of the drug-laced drinks of the evening had conquered the man of muscle before Eros could finish has quest. The enormous thing that waved softly before the gathering in the light of day showed all the promise that the hands of Eros had experienced ever so briefly last night. And, now, the pump feeding that vessel of manliness was to be shut off forever.

Even now, the soft fleshy tube was as long and broad as the forearm of an average man. The two peach-sized globes underneath Maciste's member glowed as full and juicy as the fruit they matched. Eros still longed for one last chance to squeeze the last richness of juices from those marvelous man-fruits.

Seeing that all was now ready, Eros stepped forward slowly toward his enslaved victim. Maciste's sharp blue eyes glared back proudly at his captor as he drew in one more deep breath and thrust the full expanse of his impossible chest upward in hardened defiance. The pecs bounced gleefully at their chance to demonstrate their potential and were toyingly inviting at the same time. Noting the excited groans of response this brought from the crowd of protecting soldiers, Maciste entertained the troops briefly with a rhythmic dance of pec flexing and relaxing that caused many of those present to be thankful for the metal tunics that hid their erotic responses.

Eros, trying to hide his own lustful feelings, slapped the twitching twinned muscle globes hard with the back of his hand. A loud crack echoed from off of the swelled breast meat as the hands suffered the pain of meeting the unyielding rock-like flesh. Maciste crunched the two pec muscles as hard as he dared, turning them from stone to metal just in advance of the second round of hand assault. The pecs jumped out to almost a full hand in thickness and delivered an even more painful reminder of their power to the assaulter.

Eros, feeling the heat and strength within and in his anguish, longed to run his stinging fingers across the multiple hand-sized muscled moons one last time. Instead, he cautiously stepped to one side and over one of the suspended chains. Moving around to the back of the imprisoned mound of muscle, he was satisfied that the rear gluteal accumulations were as stunning in this posture as he had envisioned.

The deeply shadowed sides of the monumental ass cheeks were overhung by piled pillars of rocklike mass. Striations of lower back muscles plied their way into the top of the deeply formed crevice in the center. Fingers of muscles moved tightly within each inviting pile as if they were grabbing for stronger and stronger holds within the body itself as they prepared to face the challenge before them. Pretending to move in to check the securement of the wrist irons, Eros allowed his groin to rub deeply against the protruding posterior. He sensed a return of involuntary desire from his captive as the already rock-hard masses pushed hot and hard into the center of his groin.

From this close in, Eros could smell the sweet scent of maleness emanating from the bound giant. His nostrils hung over the head- sized shoulder muscles that divided themselves into coarse bundles in readiness to do their part. Soon, Eros thought, these mighty capping glorious crowns will be nothing but torn slabs of raw carnage for the vultures and symbols of victory for his own aspirations to rise within the new regime.

From this same vantage point that he had shared last night, Eros marveled at the apparent size of the upper arms now held out away from the body by the arcing metal links. He would have needed a third and fourth outstretched hand then to encompass the massiveness of meat contained in the totality of the biceps and triceps. Today, they were even bigger. Eros sighed as he realized that these magnificent peaked giants would be the first to be destroyed as the chained body surrendered to its inevitable demise.

As Eros stepped back, satisfied with the securing connections, he reveled one last time in the visual glory of the body before him. If he was not the son of Hercules, then Maciste was as close to a vision of the God himself as any man could ever dream to be. The body exuded strength. It was reputed to weigh more than three times more than any average man and all of that weight appeared to be sheer muscle. Muscle of such vastness that storytellers would be hard pressed to find believing audiences as they sung the tales of his magnificence.

And now it was time for Eros to send that body from this earth and into the tales of legend. But in this legend, it would be he, Eros, who was the hero. It would be Eros who was sung about as the conqueror of this threat sent to destroy the kingdoms of Tiberia and Alba in the form of a fantastically muscled creature. It would be the legend of how he, Eros, had overcome the siren-like attraction of this man-of-muscle and saved the kingdoms.

The thoughts pushed Eros into his own bold proud stance as he spit upon the muscled giant in front of him as a symbol of his own conquest over what had been seen as an impossible force by others.

"This is our day!" Eros shouted to his troops. "And this is MY victory! for our cause! for our leader! for Amulius!"

A cheer shot up from the excited gathering of soldiers.

"I, Eros, have caught and conquered Maciste - the falsely claiming son of a God!." Eros continued. "Where is his God, his father, now? Nowhere!" I claim the body of Maciste as my prize and offer it now to our King."

Then, in a surprising move, he added. "Maciste is mine. All of you will go back to your camp now. My two guards and I will dispose of this common pest and, tonight, we will carry his broken, torn parts back to our King. Go now and leave us to our task!"

The surprised circle of soldiers stood briefly and then, turned and left, many reluctantly, as ordered. Most, if not all had become excited at the prospect of seeing this mountain of muscle ripped asunder by the galloping strength of the waiting horses.

Stepping back in front of Maciste, Eros eyed the pumping muscled machine of a man with eyes full of both lust and anger. Now alone with only his two most trusted men, Eros dared to place his hands against the heaving breasts of the muscled statue of flesh before him. Instinctively, and as Eros had hoped, Maciste clenched his huge man-tits into tightened balls of thickly fibered muscle. Eros stroked the shield-sized mounds.

Maciste attempted to reach out and grab the accosting man only to find that the chains would not let him accomplish this task as quickly as he had hoped. This movement only pushed his pumped pecs to greater striated density. Again, Eros had achieved his goal as one hand remained to taunt both the voluminous meat and the sensitive underlying nipples while the other moved down to the dangling tool below.

There were two physical things that Maciste could not resist - the presence of another hot, handsome muscular male and any kind of severe challenge to his own muscle ability. Now, here he was facing both of those things simultaneously. Maciste's desire to hate his captor was compromised by this man's muscular assault and by the impending challenge which already, literally, weighed heavily upon him.

Eros sensed the reaction immediately in the form of the discernible expansion of Maciste's cock by his hand. Eros could feel the tool as it slid up against his own exposed leg below the bottom of his tunic. Eros leaned his head down to one side and began a combination of tonguing and attempted nibbling on one of the giant breasts. He moved on further down the globe of corded muscle-breast and, finally, secured one of the aroused nipples in his teeth.

The excited response came instantly as the cock hardened and lengthened to the point of pushing Eros' substantially muscled body away from that of the naked sweating giant. Eros refocused his attention onto the growing instrument. Soon, the center of maleness had achieved proportions to rival the body to which it was attached. The fully erect monster stood straight out defiantly from the groin. It glowed hard and reddened like an inflated metal shaft. The shaft alone of the aroused cock was as long and as thick as Eros forearm plus the width of his hand. At the end of this inflexible tube was a bright head the size of two fists held together.

Out of a combination of disbelief and sheer desire, Eros place both hands on the horizontal column of flesh and found it to be as rigid as if it had been anchored into the ground. Veins, like branches, twined their way along and around the length of the colossal instrument reinforcing its hardness with constricted blood. Eros hands slipped underneath and found the two balls to be as hard and full as unripened peaches. The huge cock pounded itself fuller and harder as Eros enjoyed his playful opportunity with the ballooned testicles.

Using all of his willpower, Eros gave one last unsuccessful push downward to dislodge the ironed cock and then pulled himself away from the now totally excited body of muscle in front of him. As much as he wanted to witness the eruption of the jism contained and ready within the pointing cock and prodigious balls, Eros wanted to see this mountain of muscle challenged as it had never been challenged before. The body was now fully readied.

Now came the challenge. Flesh against chains! Man against beast!

Eros heart filled momentarily with sorrow knowing what would win. His own ample cock stirred under his tunic in anticipation. This alleged son of a God was about to discover the truth of his own vulnerability. Eros would, indeed, drink yet of this mortal's cum, but only as a victory toast when he cut it from the man's spent, destroyed , muscular body.

In his own final act of defiance, Eros ripped off his tunic exposing his own well-defined muscular body. The sweat of anticipation cast a wonderfully reflective sheen over his sun browned skin. What he lacked in comparative volume, Eros shared in definition with his captive. His own rounded pecs tensed with excitement and his upper arms balled into veined hardness. Eros abdominals were crisply separated into all eight discernible muscles and showed sharply on his taunt girdled midsection which was no bigger than that of his prisoner.

Eros cock was as aroused as that of Maciste. The applied stimulation to the muscled giant had had a similar effect on the captor. Eros cock was as beautiful as his face was handsome. The shaft arced upward in a gently sweeping curve from the groin and culminated over two hand widths from the crotch in a crown as big as one of Maciste's balls. The protrusion of veins enhanced and embraced the aesthetics of the wrist-thick tube.

All was now ready. Eros raised both of his muscular arms over his head to signal the start of Maciste's final struggle. Then, both arms swooped down with a shout of "Begin!"

As the horses were stirred into action by the first lashes of the biting whips on their hides, Maciste steeled himself and offered a silent prayer for strength and guidance up to his Olympian father.

Maciste sensed, rather than heard, the response of Hercules.

"Fear not for yourself, but rather accept the challenge in the name of your brothers."

Maciste was both reinvigorated and confused. He was not aware of any brothers! What meaning did this message have?

There was no time in which to ponder. The chains lost the last vestiges of slack as the four brutally strong horses and two metal cast chariots sprung forth in opposite directions unconcerned about the mountain of muscular flesh leashed between them. Expertly controlled whips hit their marks driving the horses into a frenzied rush to escape their sting with as little hope of succeeding as the hardened naked man in the middle faced.

The chains reached their limits with simultaneous crashes of links pulled to their extremes. Now the flesh came under the assault. The fists closed instantly pushing the pumped forearms to rigid proportions of muscle and veined glory as they caught the first test of metal against man. The hardened flesh held and transferred the beast power tension through joint and tendon into the waiting arms.

Visions of muscular contraction previously unheard of in the mortal world invaded into every fiber of the massive triceps as they assumed their burden of holding the mighty arms in suspension until the equally proportioned biceps could launch their own counter assault. These largest of arm muscles showed the meaning of that description as they grew into instantaneous corded springs of bundled fibers. Veins were pushed out of the meat to fill the limited space between muscle and skin.

Both the outer and inner heads of the triceps accepted their responsibility as they ballooned into gargantuan proportions. They formed themselves into the size of two elongated melons and solidified to that of the iron forming the links tearing at them. A fist-deep shadow formed in the resulting valley on the underside of the pulled arms as Maciste's triceps formed into their own thick iron hammered horseshoes.

Hoofs thundered loudly as the horses sought to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their chariot assailants.

The two stretched frontal upper arm masses began their drive to curl the forces attempting to literally pull them apart as the four horses were driven into higher and higher rage. Together the biceps, triceps and forearms fused into intertwined connecting tissue beyond human in appearance. Once fully engaged, the giant biceps sought the best way to begin the impossible task of pulling the retreating forces back together toward the center of muscle. The arms bent ever so slightly at the elbow joint causing the astounding biceps to divide into the individual split masses that formed into gloriously peaked balls of muscle when fully curled into the position for which they strove.

Loud whinnies sounded from the whip punished animals as the harnesses binding them into this death game refused to move any more forward with them and brought their own movement to a momentary stalemate. Eros lost most of his control and composure at the awesome spectacle as his hands moved in on his rigid instrument of desire.

Just this slight bend in the arms of the massively muscled man activated the upper shoulder muscles to assume the boulder-like definition that made Maciste's body appear as wide across as it was tall. Images of the same coiled metal springs of bundled muscle shot through the length of both shoulder caps as more veins surfaced and wrapped the muscle into corded metalized meat. The raised balled masses dove deep into the shoulders at the base of the neck on each side and grasped the equally dense supporting skeleton within.

The sound of the repeated lashing of the magnificent animals signaled the continued drive as the chariots creaked in the impeded struggle to move apart. The sound of erotic groaning echoed from Eros as he pumped his primed and ready manhood in response to the astounding vision in front of him.

The muscled giants lats flared out like pillowed wings but lacking any softness in their presence. The upper lats clasped stiffly behind the bulging triceps and carried as much of the pressure as they could handle within the ray-like sweep of their volumes into the staunchly rigid sides. The top part of the lats pushed their way out so wide as to make the upper part of the ballooning torso over three times wider across at the top as it was at the waist. Even in full assault, the thick arc formed by these graceful back muscles from arms to waist was too beautiful to describe. But, for now, strength, not grace was their driving force. Yet, the more strength and size they offered, the more beautiful they were to behold.

Sweat streamed off of the harnessed beasts of burden as they fought not to yield any of their gained ground to the unbelievable force in the middle. Eros glowed with matching sweat as his hand increased its rhythm along the rigid length of his super-heated tool.

Maciste's trapezius and lower back muscles bunched themselves into thickness double that of the thickest pectorals on the strongest mortal ever created to date outside of Maciste. The traps swept up and down from the connection behind the deltoids and clasped onto their connections to the vertebrates. A dark shadow ran from neck to the top of the ass behind the struggling body as vertical bone and flaring muscle entered into resisting the applied growing forces.

The confining links of metal groaned in the impossibly balanced entrapment between man and beast. Eros could feel the hot creams inside his inflated testicles shifting into position for issuance.

The pecs that were a source of passion and desire just moments before fought to join the biceps in the struggle to pull where all the driving forces were being asked to pull. Band after band of fibrous muscle billowed ever outward from the invisible bone of the breastplate. Fully stretched, these monstrous fan-like bands appeared as thick now as they had been when clenched into globed balls of muscle earlier. The twinned muscles pulsated involuntarily as if they were being invaded by bolts of lightning.

The affect of all this pumping muscle fighting the challenge to be ripped off of the very person possessing it was exotically erotic especially in light of the fact that, at least for the moment, the muscle was not loosing the battle. The arms bent another fraction drawing the muscles into tighter and tighter constriction. The biceps began to form into mountainous balls and peaks. The upper arms would now, certainly, take more than four touching hands to surround all of the glorious, crystallized mass.

Shouts erupted from the drivers as the horses continued to fail in spite of an increased pace of whipping applications. The muscled charioteers glistened with their own pumped working muscles bathed in the sweat of their efforts. Eros let go of his rock-hard cock painfully just in time to prevent its certain eruption. He had to hold out until his task was complete and he could shoot his victorious load onto the body of his conquest.

Maciste's legs were locked into muscled contractions that pushed his already enormous upper leg masses into cut proportions greater than that of any of the four panting horses. Each muscle was sharply defined and swept out hugely from the knee joints. Band after band of muscle flared out, up, over and back into the volume of the upper legs. Veins fed the frenzied muscles as they pushed themselves to new levels of accomplishment. The feet and calf muscles, in all the struggle, held fast in their originally claimed positions.

The ass undulated as the massive gluteal mounds shifted from piled rock to hardened diamonds with striations carved into clear cut facets. Penetration was no longer an option to anyone seeking admission to the love channel protected deep within. But that was just as well because desire was no longer a motivating force - only survival.

Throughout all of this assault, the cock, the mighty cock remained aroused and erect as Maciste felt the strength within each and every muscle in his body scream with desire to end this torture. The tool had hardened in equal match to his own struggling muscles. The veins stood out sharply along the inviting but impossibly dense surface of the cock. He had never been as aroused as he was right now and, yet, never wanted to be less available to his human desires than right now.

The horses were tiring. The drivers were weakening. This was not acceptable to Eros. His heat and passion demanded to witness the mountain of muscle struggling before him as it was torn into its many lifeless human parts.

Eros knew exactly what he had to do!

He stepped boldly up to the flexing prisoner and reached out to the enraged cock! •


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