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Found 16 results

  1. Chapter One: As the sun rose over the glorious city of London, the capital of the United Kingdom ruled over by Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Defender of the Faith and Empress of India, it revealed a city with the first mists of autumn mingled with the smoke of the industrial heartland of the East End. Alongside the Thames that flowed through the city, the Westminster Clock Tower, standing tall over the mother of Parliaments, announced to the world via “Big Ben” the bell in the heart of the tower, that eight o’clock had arrived on October 2nd 1872. A fact that Police Constable Thompson, who had been up since six o’clock that morning, was aware of. He oversaw turning off the gas lamps in the district of the City of London and as he turned off the gaslamp outside number seven Saville Row, he looked up and smiled. Even since he had found out that Sheridan, the famous poet of the eighteenth century, had lived in the house until his death in 1814, he felt a sense of pride that he was looking after the street where he once lived and having done his duty carried on down the street. Inside number seven, the owner slowly opened his eyes, yawned and stretched. Taking a clock from his bedside table he listened to the chimes of “Big Ben” and nodded his approval that his bedside clock was keeping perfect time. Placing the clock back, he picked a small bell and rang it expecting his manservant, Forster, to come dashing in and help his master get dressed. However, no sooner had he rang the bell, than he said, “Oh, yes, I fired him, yesterday didn’t I?” and with that replaced the bell. As the owner got out of bed and made his bed, he remembered the unhappy event that had led to him sacking Forster. It happened when the unlucky manservant handed the owner his shaving water and as the owner took out the thermometer to measure the temperature his eyes opened wide and he bellowed “EIGHTY-FOUR DEGREES? ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CATCH A COLD?”. Forster only had a second to stammer “But, master, it was eighty-six when I left the kitchen” before a “YOU’RE FIRED!” resounded through the house. As the owner examined the clocks on the mantelpiece in his bedroom, chiding one for being a full minute out, he proceeded to perform his morning constitutionals. First he marched up and down the bedroom, raising his hands and feet in alternate steps, waggled his hips from side to side, touched his toes several times and then taking out two kettlebells from the cupboard placed them on the bedside table. As he did he took off the blue dressing gown he was wearing and then the pyjamas and stood there completely naked in the cool morning air. Grabbing the kettlebells in both hands, he took a deep breath, held it and then raised the weights into the air and then stared at his reflection in the mirror opposite. People said that he resembled Byron, the great English poet of the last century, at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old and his body reflected this. It was well conditioned, thanks in part to the course that the owner subscribed to written, which seeing as he obtained the copies direct from the author he could attest to, Donald Dinnie, a man that many people had compared to the heroes of Ancient Greece and while the owner was nothing like as strong as he puffed out his chest and sucked in his stomach he looked as much of a Greek hero as any of them. As he stood there, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He liked the sensation and closed his eyes as he continued to hold his breath. He imagined himself standing on a stage next to Mr. Dinnie, the two men showing off their strength and as they did, the owner’s physique had one more surprise as just below his waist, an organ of the body that most people ignored started to stir. Slowly at first, it lengthened and as it did it thickened at the same time and in his imagination, the owner was soon thrusting it into Donald’s body with the strongman unable to resist. As the sensation grew, the owner opened his eyes and nodded at the sight of the organ bobbing in time with his heart. He knew what was going to happen and dropped the weights and started to rub it, still holding his breath. It wasn’t long before the owner’s face had turned bright red and his organ the deepest purple possible but the owner was determined to push himself to his limits and lay back on the bed, his face scrunched up in a combination of agony and ecstasy. Eventually the torture became too much and with a mighty “RULE BRITANNIA!” the owner roared and was soon covered with the essence of man on his naked body which he rubbed into it with moans of pleasure as his chest heaved, filling his lungs with oxygen. As he started to relax, he chuckled and said “Well done Phileas, next time, ten minutes!” So, who was this Phileas, who has just pushed his physical body to the limits of human endurance? He was an Englishman, certainly, but was he a Londoner? That was a question for the ages however. He was never seen on the floor of the Stock Exchange, nor at the Bank of England or the other smaller banks in the capital, nor in the counting-rooms in the square mile, the financial heart of England nor did any ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln’s Inn, or Gray’s Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen’s Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan’s Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for abolishing pernicious insects bar one. He was a member of the Reform Club, the Club that was home to every great Liberal that England had produced and that was all. Was Phileas rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg, as he was more commonly referred to, was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were puzzled. Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard-of travelers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit and yet, from the little that people knew of him, it was evident that he had not left the capital for at least fifteen years maybe longer. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent one, harmonized with his nature; but his winnings never went into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearyingly struggle, congenial to his tastes. He was unmarried and didn’t have any children, and whilst you dear reader may have an idea why this was the case, to the residents of London this was something that could happen to the most honest of people and so nothing was thought of it, however as he didn’t have any relatives or indeed dear friends, that was certainly rather strange but living alone in his house with only a manservant suited him to the ground. However on this day, that element was lacking, and so after pouring himself a fresh pot of coffee, to which he added precisely one fifth of a pint of milk to, he downed it in less than a minute and dressed himself so that by eleven o’clock that morning he was sitting in the hallway of his home, his feet now covered by a pair of shoes so bright and shiny that he could see his reflection in them, a pair of brown trousers, a white shirt, with a thick red cravat and a jacket the same colour as his trousers waiting for the new manservant to present himself. However, as the clock in the hallway chimed the hour synchronized to the bell in the Westminster tower, the smile that had been on his face since he woke up disappeared and was replaced first with a frown and then a scowl. “This will never do!” he declared in a huff, “I can’t hire a manservant who isn’t on time!”
  2. Part One "Oh, I am so sorry, Captain" yawned Henry right in the middle of a briefing, "but these last few days have been terrible!" The Captain nodded in appreciation saying "I understand, Henri, but, it's just another example of your chivalry. You agreed to look after Porthos during this time when he sprained his ankle, but what you have done is above and beyond the call of duty. Carrying him to and from his bed to the toilet, helping him dress and wash, Henri, you are more a gentleman than any of us!" and with that smiled as Henry was already snoring leaning against a pillar in the Captain's office. Carrying Henri to his room, he laid the Musketeer on the bed and left the room with a quiet "You shall be well rewarded for your care" and with that closed the door. Several hours later, Henri yawned and said "I'm sorry, Captain, you were saying" and with that went to stretch however found himself unable to move. Thinking that he had wrapped himself up in his bedclothes very tightly, usually an after effect of Adam's influence, he opened his eyes and then screamed in horror. "Ah, excellent, the English Musketeer is awake" There, before Henri, stood Cardinal Richlieu and as Henri looked around, his face drained of its colour. "That's right, my dear Musketeer" cackled the Cardinal, "you are in my personal quarters, specifically in the section that I like to call "The House of Truth" or as you would more likely call it, "The House of Pain" and with that, he nodded to the man stood next to him with a leather hood over his head. He pulled a lever and instantly Henri screamed in agony as his arms and legs were pulled at forty five degree angles to each other. "Now, that I have your complete attention" continued the Cardinal, "I would like an answer to a question that has been causing me no end of trouble these past few years, but I hope that its a question that you will answer, especially in your current position" and with that he stepped forward and leaning over Henri, practically touching noses he asked "When is the next meeting of the Duke of Buckingham and Her Majesty?" Henri's eyes opened wide in horror. The Cardinal knew about the meetings, the meetings that he had sworn, on pain of death, to protect the existence of. Hoping that the Cardinal hadn't seen his reaction Henri replied "No! The First Minister of England, and Her Majesty, meeting? Pull the other one!" "If you insist!" replied the Cardinal and as Henri screamed again he added "Oh, and don't think that your friends can help you. Roger is currently, how do you say, "do the trick" and as for Porthos, well, let's just say he's finding out just how Sisyphus felt at the end of his task. Now, when is their next meeting? Or do I have to get nasty?" and with that Henri screamed in agony again, this time so loud was the scream that... ...he sat bolt upright still screaming and as he opened his eyes he saw the Captain, Porthos and Roger all holding his hands and asking what the matter was. "A nightmare" Henri panted, "A nightmare that I never want to experience ever again" Little was Henri to know that that was the first of many.
  3. Part One "Ah, Henri, just the person I was looking for!" As Henri bowed to his Captain, Treville bowed in reply and as he came up added "You have to be one of the most polite Musketeers it has been my honour to have in the corps" and when whispered in Henri's ear "Just lay off it in public otherwise people might twig that you are from England!" Henri smiled and he said that he would tone it down a little, knowing that the Captain was the only member of the corps who knew his true origin. "Now, down to business" continued the Captain, "I presume that you know the Duke of Buckingham is coming to visit next week as part of his, so called, diplomacy" Henri nodded and sighed to which the Captain replied "Yes, my feelings exactly. We both know what he is doing here. He wants to be alone with the Queen for as long as possible. There are times I wish he'd just leave her alone, but, well, you can't say no to love I guess, therefore I wanted to know if you could have a word with the Ultimates for me?" "All of them, sir?" asked Henri, "but sir, I really only know the Ultimate Musketeer" "True" replied the Captain, "but well, your skills at diplomacy are renowned, after all you are the person who delivered the King's Lights back to Phillip of Spain in perfect Spanish" "And what is the message that you would like me to relay to them, sir?" smiled Henri *** "Sorry?" asked Roger, later that evening as he and Porthos were gathered at Henri's digs, "the King wants the Ultimates to greet the Duke?" "That's right" replied Henri, "you see he's had some intelligence, and it's correct intelligence, that the Duke is bisexual at best and he thinks that if he were to see the Ultimates he might lose interest in the Queen and start paying more attention with them and therefore put the King's mind at ease!" "Well" chuckled Porthos, "I don't mind showing him what the Ultimate Titan can do!" "What is the Duke like?" asked Roger to which Henri replied, "Well, let's put it this way" and began a very detailed explanation highlighting the Duke's relationship with James I of England noting that "one letter from the Duke to the King said "whether you loved me now…better than at the time which I shall never forget at Farnham, where the bed's head could not be found between the master and his dog" so make of that what you will" but as he continued Roger started to lean in and said "And he's bisexual you think?" "I am certain of it!" replied Henri *** As the Duke of Buckingham entered the courtyard of the Louvre, he was greeted by the King and Queen in person and as tradition dictated he kneeled before the King, kissed his glove, stood up, kissed the Queen on the cheek and announced himself as "His Grace, George Villers, Duke of Buckingham" As they greeted each other, Roger, now in the guise of the Ultimate Cadet looked at the Duke and whispered "He looks nothing like a dog" which was met by a glare from Henri, as the Ultimate Musketeer, as the King brought the Duke to them. "Your Grace" said the King, "these three men are the strongest and most powerful member of my Musketeers" and with that he nodded to Henri who stepped forward, towering over the Duke by a good two feet, and announced "I am the Ultimate Musketeer, the most powerful member of the corps, this is the Ultimate Titan, the strongest man ever to live in the world" and with that Porthos, as his alter ego, stepped forward, "and this is the Ultimate Cadet, a man who desires to become what we both are!" As Roger stepped forward, the Duke's eyes opened wide and as he traced out the Ultimate Cadet's pecs, he moaned "Such a work of art" and as he was led away by the King towards the Palace, the Duke turned and blew a kiss to Roger prompting Henri to chuckle "Get your coat, Roger, I think you've pulled"
  4. Part One "The moon shall be at its fullest when the chimes of compline will have been a hour old. Then, then is the time for the Ultimates to be let loose" In the heart of the Bois de Boulogne, on that night of August 5th 1637, three horses were bought to a halt by their riders who dismounted and without saying a word, save a snigger from one of them, let themselves into an old abandoned house that had last been lived in some fifty years previously and was now only used as the end point of The Test. For the next few moments nothing seemed to happen until a mighty cry of "FOR THE HONOUR OF FRANCE" erupted from it. As the house filled with light, a man's roaring could be heard from within getting louder and deeper. It was followed by a roar of "YOU HAVE THE HONOUR" followed by two more roars which as they seemed to reach their crescendo caused the house to collapse outwards and if anyone had been present, they would have seen the Ultimate Musketeer, Ultimate Titan and Ultimate Cadet standing proud with the Ultimate Cadet panting "Man, when you said that tonight was going to special, boy, were you right!" About half an hour later, the three heroes were standing next to a river and examining a dolmen, one of the many in the forest. The Ultimate Musketeer looked it up and down and nodded and as he did so the Ultimate Cadet and the Ultimate Titan lifted it off its menhirs and placed it on the ground next to the Ultimate Musketeer who addressed his friends. "According to Alexei" he said, "this night's moon is the brightest full moon for well over a millennia, perhaps even more. You've seen the effect it has had on us already this night!" "Oh, fuck, yeah!" moaned the Ultimate Cadet as he flexed his arm and compared it to the Ultimate Titan's who moaned "Mon amis, why is this?" "I cannot say for certain" came the reply, "but Alexei thinks that because the potion that turned me into the Ultimate Musketeer was brewed on the night of a full moon, it has some impact on us!" "Oh fuck" moaned the Ultimate Cadet as he tried to wrap his hands about the Ultimate Titan's arm and failed "If that makes his biceps over forty inches around, then I want to become this every full moon!" "Just this night, my dear Roger" chuckled the Ultimate Musketeer and with that started to unbuckle his breastplate saying "Now, you remember what I have asked you to do to me?" As the Ultimate Titan nodded, the Ultimate Cadet moaned "Yeah, you want us to really test you. Prove that the Ultimate Musketeer is the biggest, strongest, most virile man ever to live on the face of the Earth, and then prove you wrong when we are tested in the same way. First we restrain you by getting you to lift the heaviest rocks with your hands that we can find whilst they are outstretched, then we sit on your shins so that your legs are outstretched, then whilst I tell you what it means to be a man, old Porty here rubs you without any lube until you cannot stand it any longer!" "And then?" asked the Ultimate Musketeer, as he started to take off his boots "Then, mon amis" moaned the Ultimate Titan, "you resist me, resist my rubbing even though you may scream for me to stop, your mind will force yourself not to succumb, until as such time as the moon reaches it's brightest!" "And then?" as the Ultimate Musketeer disrobed completely "Then you cum" moaned the Ultimate Cadet, "feeding us with pure, raw, male muscle milk and then, then we become the men we have always dreamed of!" and with that he closed his eyes and moaned "The Three Musceteeers" The Ultimate Musketeer chuckled as he lay on the dolmen and said "Porthos, would you be so kind?" Taking a piece of string wrapped around his chest, the Ultimate Titan lay it next to the Ultimate Musketeer and announced "You are ten feet tall, mon amis, and weigh around six hundred of your pounds. Your chest is a hundred and twenty two of your inches, your biceps are seventy four of your inches and if what you have told me is correct, you have so little body fat that, oui, I can see your heart pounding in your chest" "And how fast is it beating?" he asked with a chuckle to the Ultimate Cadet "Oh, man, four beats per minute!" "And that's resting" came the smiled reply, "I am already a good ten times fitter than the fittest man on the planet from where we come from Roger, so imagine how fast it will go when I am at my limits!" "I dare not guess, mon amis" said the Ultimate Titan, holding two large rocks in his hands, "but I cannot wait to find out!"
  5. Part One "Oh my dear Henri" As Porthos picked up Henry and span him around several times, Henry chuckled "Careful, or I might end up like Roger!" "Yes" asked the Titan as he placed Henry back on the ground, "where is my lover? The man who moans at my very feet when I speak? The man who begs me to push myself to the limits of human endurance? The man who only has to say "Cum" and I do?" "Not feeling very well" replied Henry and gesturing for Porthos to sit down next to him he explained what had happened. "We had just got back from Roger's defence of his title as Mr. World, naturally of course he won hands down and was celebrating with a huge post contest meal when he suddenly dashed off to the toilet. You remember, those things that you use instead of open holes in bridges to pass water. Well, he came back a few moments later looking rather flushed and said that he had had the worst attack of diarrhoea he had ever experienced" "Diarrhoea?" asked Porthos, "what's that?" "Oh, sorry, I forgot. You would call it a surfeit, it's when your bowels just empty without any control" replied Henry and Porthos instantly looked worried but was reassured by Henry saying "Don't worry, it can be treated where Roger and I come from, but that was just the start as about ten minutes later he vomited up the ice cream he was having!" "My lover is dying!" exclaimed Porthos and picking up Henry declared "Quick, take me to the future. The Ultimate Titan must..." "Roger is not dying" said Henry and gestured Porthos to sit down, "Once he recovered, he came to the conclusion that he had picked up a case of Norwalk and put it down to the fact that before the contest he'd been guest posing on a cruise liner docked outside the contest venue. They are noted for having this condition. No, all he needs is a couple of days of bed rest and lots and lots and lots of water. It does mean however that despite all of his planning and arrangements and everything, he can't see you compete to become the strongest man in France, but he did send you this!" and with that Henry looked around cautiously and took out of his jacket a tablet on which was a picture of Roger in his posing suit winning the contest with a message "To the Ultimate Titan, I may be ill but I am willing you on. You can do it, your lover!" "Oh, mon amis" replied Porthos and with that stood up, placed his hand on his heart and declared "Not only shall I win this contest, but I shall dedicate my win to Roger!" "And I am sure that he will appreciate it" smiled Henry and explained that, if Porthos didn't mind, he would be Roger's eyes and ears motivating Porthos to win the title for him. Porthos had no objections at all and asked Henry if he would like to see just how strong he was that very evening in the Bastille to which Henry nodded his agreement. Little did he know that that engagement was to trigger a change in him.
  6. This story has been made possible by kind permission of Mauleo and is based on his story "Hercules Powers Up" which is available for purchase via his website at http://www.mauleo.net/ Part One "Oh man, Hercules is so built!" As Roger traced his finger around the outline of a relief on a wall, Henry had to muster of all his self control not to burst out laughing. "Look" he said, trying his best not to smirk, "Why do you think I asked Porthos, Athos and Aramis if I could bring you here to Olympia after meeting the Greek king to discuss that trade shipment from France to Greece? We are at the home of the Ancient Olympics, a Games were Hercules won more than just one laurel wreath let me tell you, then there's Milos of Croton as well, a six time wreath winner in wrestling" and with that Henry took a deep breath and said "This is the home of strength, muscle and power" "Oh, yeah!" moaned Roger as he pressed his finger onto a relief of Hercules flexing his pecs, "Oh, if only I could feel those pecs, feel that heart pounding in his chest, oh man, I'm going to cum I know it!" "If you really have to relieve yourself" tutted Henry, "then best go behind one of those pillars!" As Roger did so, moaning as he began to rub himself, Henry looked around in wonder and said, almost to himself, "What I wouldn't do to experience this back in the times of the Ancient Greeks, when this was a fully working stadium. I mean, yes, when I see the Olympic Flame being lit here every two years there is a recreation of the events, but to see them live in colour, oh, what I wouldn't do. Just think Roger, three thousand years ago relative to where we come from, the first athlete ran, the first man wrestled, imagine it Roger, imagine it!" "Oh, yeah!" moaned Roger, his panting becoming louder, "I am, I imagining it now, the first man, crossing the line, naked as the day he was born, his body covered in sweat from his efforts, his heart pounding, his cock hard and erect, yeah, fuck me first man, fuck me, fuck me HARD!" and with that Roger started to grunt. Henry closed his eyes and remembered the opening ceremony of the Olympics in Athens in 2004 where two drummers, one stood where he was now, and another inside the modern stadium drummed a message between each other as if to say "The Olympics of old have been reborn into the Olympics of today and shall never die!". It was a message that Henry took to heart as ever since the closing ceremony of the Sydney Games in the millennium, every time the Olympic flame had been extinguished he felt that the world became a worse place. Indeed it had gotten so bad that he could never watch a closing ceremony live in case he burst into tears when the Flame was extinguished and hoped, if however remote the chance was, to one day carry the Flame as part of the Torch Relay. As he stood there, remembering the drumming, he felt a cold wind whistle past him and as he did up his jacket he turned to see where the wind was coming from and stood stock still terrified by what he could see heading in his direction. "TORNADO!" he screamed just as Roger screamed "HERCULES" as he came. As Henry turned and fled from the approaching storm, he grabbed Roger, his breeches still around his feet, thrust him against a wall and bellowed "How you do protect yourself from a tornado? We don't get them in the UK!" As Roger looked at the tornado, his face illustrated the answer he gave. "There's no way you can run from that he said!" and with that looked Henry in the face and said "You know what we need to do!" As Henry looked at the storm, he gulped. The Ultimate Musketeer was powerful, yes, but surely he couldn't stop a storm that powerful, could he? Realising that he had little option, he nodded and unsheathed his sword, however before he could declare "FOR THE HONOUR OF FRANCE" he was picked up by the winds. Roger grabbed him at the same time but it was no good as the two heroes were swept up into the sky and as if passing a point of no return seemed to vanish off the face of the earth.
  7. "Je vous laisse, mon ami!" "WHAT!, after everything we have we went through together Pierre? I don’t understand what you want me to do. I was going to propose to you at Christmas. You are going to just give up on us without a second thought? I don’t even care that you slept with Gustav, you mean so much to me." “Winston, I just can’t get past the fact that you look…..uhhhh so…..small. I want to be with a partner that can not only make me happy on the inside, but also looks great on the outside.” “I do workout Pierre, you know this. You used to complement me so much on my athletic physique. What happened?” “Gustav est passé mon ami. He fulfills my insatiable desire for muscle. If you were just……uhhhh…..how do you say……bigger, I would be much more satisfied.” Winston continues to look at Pierre dumbfounded and wonders why he would be thinking this way since they seemed to be so happy. Before he can get another word out though, Pierre waves goodbye to him and turns around to get into his car. The stunned thinner young man stands in silence as his eyes well up with tears. They stream down his face as he watches his former lover drive down the road and beyond the mountain outside the city in the distance. To take Pierre off his mind, he walks a few thousand feet down the sidewalk before he stumbles upon a park that is located just on the edge of the city. He enters the passageway and notices an impressively built water fountain about a quarter mile ahead from where he is standing and walks towards it. Halfway there, he can hear several clanging sounds as the sky rains with piles of shiny gold coins. When he leans down to examine some of them, several pelt him in the head and knock him down unconscious. He awakens several minutes later and realizes that the entire path to the water fountain is made of these coins. He hears a voice in the background and wonders if it is his imagination. He speaks loudly. “Hello? Who are you?” There is no answer. He takes a few more steps and notices that some of the coins are loose on the ground and can be picked up. After examining a handful of them, one of them glows a bright green color which immediately catches his eye. He grins as he drops the rest of them and continues to stare at it. The voice returns again which makes him snap out of his trance. “What the? WHO ARE YOU!?” The voice laughs before saying, “Lad, I think you know what you are supposed to do with that lucky coin, am I right?” He looks at it again and then walks the rest of the path to stand directly in front of the fountain. He closes his eyes before flipping it up into the air. As he does this, time slows to a crawl as he watches in amazement when the coin hits the water at half the speed. The splash is so intense that it forms a tidal wave and lands directly on top of him. He yells in fright as it drowns him before draining into the ground. As he comes to again, he looks up and sees a rainbow appear from just over the mountain as it ends directly in front of the fountain just a few feet away from him. A strange looking machine follows it down as it stops at the bottom. A small muscular man dressed in a green outfit with a black belt and a color coordinated hat jumps down and immediately walks over to punch him in the right leg. “OW! What the fuck man? Damn, you are a strong little man. And kind of…..” The small man stops him before he can get another thought out. “Don’t say it mate, I know what you are thinking. You think I am attractive because I have these muscles.” *he points to his biceps and flexes them as they stretch the fabric on his jacket* “Now, I want you to come with me back to my home world Winston so we can get this moving along.” Winston looks thoroughly confused and has no idea what he is talking about as he looks down at him. “Huh? What? I don’t know what you are talking about little man? What did I do?” The little man punches him in the crotch and shakes his head in disbelief as he stands there with his hands on his hips. “Lad, why do you have to be so naïve. You made a wish when you threw that coin into this here fountain behind me. I am here to help you fulfill that wish, but you have to come with me to complete a quest in order for it to come true.” Winston looks on in a stupor as the little man physically picks him and slams him onto the machine he rode on. He gets in on the other side of it as it begins to move. The shocked human has trouble getting any words out as he attempts to comprehend how a man that probably weighs about 50 pounds could carry a guy that is three times his body weight without any resistance whatsoever. “Shhh…..don’t even say anything mate. Let me introduce myself, I am Padraig, leader of the Emerald guild. In case you haven’t noticed, we be muscled LOL.” *he flexes again as the machine moves up the rainbow towards the mountain* “But seriously Winston, you said in your mind as you threw that coin that you wished to become the man that Pierre wanted you to be. This is your chance to show him that you indeed can and will.” Once they get to the other side of the rainbow and over the mountain, Padraig and Winston get off the machine and start walking towards the village located just to their right. The surprised human stops for a few seconds as the little man turns to look up at him. He puts his big right hand on his forehead and sighs before he speaks again. “Winston, I know that this is all a bit of a shock to you, but there is only a small amount of time to complete your quest. Before you begin however, I want you to meet your guide through your adventure.” As they walk through the village, another little muscular man approaches them and stops just far enough away to where he catches the eye of the much taller human. Paddy stops him in his tracks and stands next to Winston before he starts to smile knowing what he must be thinking. He then walks over to the other little man and puts his hand on his beefy shoulder. “Aye there Ioan, glad you could come and participate in the quest that has been selected for you. This here is Winston, he made a wish in the fountain on Earth and is now here to fulfill his destiny.” The remarkably good-looking small man looks up at him and makes a few gestures like he wants Winston to pick him up. When the surprised human attempts to do so, he figures out that the man is a lot heavier than he looks. After a few more failed attempts, Paddy intervenes and leads them both over to a table so they can talk briefly. “Ioan will be with you through this quest Winston. Actually, he will be a part of the quest as well. His fate will be in your hands as a result of a set of questions that will be asked as you make your way through the tundra that is just beyond the gates of this village.” Paddy points in the direction of the tundra and leans over the table to whisper something into Ioan’s ear. The little man looks a tad bit concerned as he turns to look up at Winston and then looks at Padraig again. The elder muscleman gives him a look that suggests that he must go through with whatever he told him or else there will be consequences. After about twenty seconds, Ioan gets up from the table and walks towards the gates before opening them and disappearing into the landscape. Winston is a bit confused as to what just occurred and wonders what this will entail. “I don’t understand what this man has to do with me, but for some reason I feel like I have some connection to him. Is this partly because of the quest that I have to complete with him?” Paddy smiles before he gets up from the table and motions for Winston to do the same. He then leads the human over to the gates and walks through them. They stop after a few hundred feet of entering the tundra before the little man stops. He turns to look up at Winston once more. “Okay lad, this is where I must leave you so you can fulfill your destiny. The tundra will be jarring at first, but once you reach the crossroads, you will know what to do next.” A large sack appears in front of Winston which surprises him. “Take that with you laddy, it has enough supplies in it to sustain you for however long you are here. I wish you luck and I will see you soon.” The little muscleman turns to walk back through the gates as they close behind him and he vanishes. After pausing for a few seconds after picking up the velvet bag, Winston immediately starts walking again across the barren wasteland. The cooler temperatures make him stop after trekking for a few minutes as he opens the bag up and pulls out a heavy coat from within. He briefly wonders how this could be inside of it but figures that it is some kind of magic and continues to walk ahead. For what seems like hours, Winston eventually reaches the area that Padraig spoke of. A huge cave appears from out of nowhere which briefly concerns him. He goes inside and manages to find enough kindling in his bag to make a fire. He then makes a bed out of some fabric and goes to sleep for the night as the sun disappears behind the mountain that is just above the village in the distance. When he awakens the next morning, he is greeted by the small man he saw leave from back in the village. He is not wearing a top as his hairy muscular chest is just inches away from Winston’s face. The muscular man’s deep masculine voice stuns the much taller human as he sits up. “Good morning sir, I wondered if you might find this place. I am supposed to ask you a question which has two possible answers. Whichever answer you choose will decide what happens next.” He helps Winston up from the ground so he can look up at him as he talks. The man’s nicely groomed reddish brown beard and green eyes are not what he was expecting to see when he woke up for the day, but is pleasantly surprised. They take a few steps outside the cave and turn back around to look at it. Ioan proceeds to ask Winston the question. “Which one of your parents do you miss the most Winston? This question must be answered truthfully or your quest will end here.” Winston is stunned by the question right off the bat and puts his arms above his head. He had no idea that this would even come up and immediately looks down at Ioan. “WHAT!? What kind of question is that? What does this have to do with my wish at the fountain? Did Padraig tell you to ask me this question?” Ioan puts his hand out as Winston takes his hands off his head to hold the little man’s. He looks up at the human and has a relatively neutral look on his face. “This is just part of the process Winston and I am sorry. I was summoned to be your guide and I have been put in charge of the questions that have to be asked. This actually does pertain to your wish indirectly and is meant to help you cope with what happened to you in the past.” After a moment of self-reflection, it dawns on Winston that he is going to be asked three questions that will pertain to his past, what is happening in the present, and what may or may not happen in the future to him. He grips Ioan’s hand as hard as the little man is now gripping his. “I…..I can’t go back Ioan. They both meant so much to me. I mean…..why?” Ioan walks forward, still holding Winston’s hand, and pulls him further into the cave with him. After taking about fifty steps down into the dark corridor, it changes into two emergency room doors. They stop just a few feet in front of them as Ioan looks up to talk to Winston again. “This is where you must answer the question Winston. Your parents are both here. Talk to them face-to-face one last time. This will help you move on since this has been lurking in your mind for a great deal of time. I will wait in the lobby for when you return so that we can move on to the next question. You will be fine mate, I promise.” Ioan lets go of Winston’s hand as they enter into the waiting area of the hospital. The little hairy muscleman stands there as numerous medical personnel move around him not noticing either one of them are even there. The scared taller young man tries not to lose his composure as he takes a deep breath and walks down the hospital corridor towards one of the recovery rooms on the right. He stops walking when he glances inside one of the rooms and sees both his father and mother lying in beds side by side hooked up to machines. He slowly enters the room and walks between them to turn back and forth to look at them with heavy eyes. He can’t get any words out as he gets on his knees beside his mother to hold her hand and lightly weep. She moves her hand as she turns to look at him. “Winston…..I am so glad that you made it here. Ronnie and I didn’t know if you would get here in time or not…..I can’t seem to remember much…..I just wanted to let you know how much I love you and that I will always be in your heart. I also wanted to tell you that I am fine with who you are so don’t worry about it anymore, okay?” Winston tries to keep from crying but can’t hold back the tears that are welling up. They stream down his face as his mother begins to struggle with her breathing. Before he can say anything to her, she loses consciousness and flat lines. His father Ronnie starts to grunt behind him as he tries to get up to see if his wife is okay or not. Multiple nurses come flooding into the room as they try to restrain him as others try to revive her. Winston’s dad is finally put in restraints as the incredibly muscular middle-aged man winces feeling his body hurting from the catastrophic injuries he sustained in the car accident. The extremely sad young man quickly moves over to the other side of his father’s bed where there is no medical personnel and grasps his dad’s bloodied hand. He is amazed that he never noticed how powerful his dad was before as he looks at all the huge veins cascade from his forearms all the way up his arms and directly into his father’s head. Ronnie looks over at his son and is very distraught. He squeezes Winston’s hand tightly as he pulls him in to hug him. The stunned young man bawls as his dad holds him against his chest. After a few seconds, he lets go of Winston and the sad young man gets down on his knees again to talk to his father. Ronnie tenses his muscles a few times since the pain is so excruciating and looks at his son’s eyes before he speaks. “Look at you Win, you have really grown up since I last saw you. It seems like yesterday that you were just barely walking…..actually it has been that long hasn’t it?” Ronnie pauses for a few moments before he reaches over to grab Winston’s arm to squeeze it. “I am a bit surprised though that you haven’t started growing muscles like your old man here. I want you to be big and strong so you can handle things in case you need to protect yourself or possibly the love of your life perhaps.” He tenses his chest and arms again to show Winston that he stayed in shape all the way up to the accident. He then smiles at him before he speaks again. “I may not have ever heard that you were gay son, but just know that I am okay with it. I’m not sure how your mother would feel about it, but I love you more than you will ever know.” He puts his arms out again to embrace his son and pulls him in to hold him one last time. The power radiating from him dissipates as Winston feels his dad fading away as the machines beep before he flat lines as well. The nurses that were trying to revive his mother move over to Ronnie and begin doing CPR on him as they push Winston out of the way. The young man falls onto the ground and yells in agony as he witnesses both of his parents die in front of him. After a few seconds he feels a small hand move up against his shoulder. He looks up and sees that it is Ioan who joins him on the floor to comfort him. “I didn’t say it would be easy mate, but you were here to see them one last time. I know it hurts a lot, but this will help you heal. *gets up and reaches his hand out to pull Winston up off the ground* Come on, it is time to move on to the next question. We will have to leave this place first though.” Winston stops sobbing and leaves the room only to turn back around to look in at them one last time. Ioan grasps his hand and starts pulling him away towards the front of the ER lobby. They walk through the doors as it vanishes behind them. The young man turns and is stunned by what just happened. Ioan takes him back to where he was staying at in the cave and has him sit down. “Rest for a few minutes Winston and eat something. This was a difficult situation I know. Think on it if you need to and I will return to go to the next question.” Winston spends a few minutes sitting there before he gets up to find Ioan standing just outside the cave. The little muscleman is quite surprised that he is already there. “Wow, are you sure you want to move on so quickly. This next question is going to be a bit tough as well. Why do you think your boyfriend left you? This question must be answered with a truthful answer or your quest ends here.” Winston thinks that he knows the answer to this question but before he says a word, Ioan shakes his head no. “Hold on Winston. I don’t think that you were told the whole story from Pierre. It is time to go back into the cave again and find out what the answer is okay?” The two men walk back in and proceed down the cave corridor again. They stop moving forward when a balcony appears in front of them with a beautiful lake in the background. There are numerous boats on the lake and it appears that there is some party going on. Winston seems a bit confused by the whole scenario before he hears Pierre’s voice off to the side. It sounds like he is moaning quite loudly and is having sex with someone. He then hears multiple voices and rushes onto the balcony before going into a side door into what he thinks is a beach house. Ioan stands outside and looks on as Winston finds Pierre sandwiched between three heavily muscled men. His ex-boyfriend is being fucked by one of them as the two others take turns fucking his mouth with their huge rods. None of them are Gustav though since Winston would recognize him immediately. His blood pressure rises as he confronts his ex. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PIERRE!? You told me you were with Gustav, why would you lie to me?” Pierre immediately shoves the guy that is inside him off and jumps to his feet. He is completely soaked in sweat as he tries to compose himself. The three muscle monsters begin to move towards Winston, but Pierre tells them to stop. “Oh mon gawd mon ami! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to show up so soon after we broke up. Gustav? Uhhh…..well I was going to go see him after taking a few days off, you know? *seems really confused* Uhhhh, how did you find this place? I don’t think we ever came here when we were dating did we?” The three musclemen move down to the lake and find an open area to lie on the ground. Pierre notices that they are going there without him as he tries to move past Winston. The angry American grabs his French lover on the arm and grips it tightly. “I want answers Pierre, what are you doing with these guys? Were you doing this shit when we were together?” The athletic Frenchman pauses for a few seconds and sighs. “Winston, I have needs. I need to satisfy these needs by going all in with it. Originally, it was just one, but it has grown quite a bit since then and now I have three awesome sluts that make me feel alive. *pulls Winston’s hand off his arm* Maintenant, si vous pouvez me excuser mon ami, I need to go join my friends so we can finish what we started when you got here.” The nude Frenchman rushes out the side door and down to the lakeshore as the three huge hulks begin to mess around with each other again. Winston walks out slowly and looks over the balcony as he watches his ex-boyfriend get ravaged by each one of them as he yells in ecstasy feeling his body getting thrashed by each one of them. Ioan climbs up onto the bannister of the balcony and sits beside where Winston has decided to wait for him. The irritated human looks over and shakes his head. “How the hell did I not know about this Ioan? This isn’t the guy I knew. He never once let on that he was into this kind of thing.” Ioan reaches over and pats him on the back. “Mate, these kinds of things happen more than you realize. What he is doing with those men right now is a fantasy for quite a few muscle lovers. Of course, not every man is as reckless as he is.” The little man points down at the orgy as Pierre yells in French as one of the men pumps him full of cum. The two others pump their cocks as the Frenchman licks the precum off both of them. They both grunt as they shoot two massive rivers of cum all over his face and chest. He takes turns gobbling down the huge poles as they continue to spurt into his mouth. His appetite for their muscular bodies is so great that he makes himself cum without ever touching his cock. The volcano splashes all over his chest and legs as one of the men grabs a hold of his rod and grips it tightly. When he lets go, his cock continues to shoot huge ropes all over himself. At this point, Winston is quite disgusted and gets down off the bannister and turns to leave. Ioan follows behind as they walk back through the cave as the beach house disappears behind them. The young man sits down again and puts his head in his hands. Ioan stands above him to speak. “That was supposed to be tough mate. This was meant to show you that he is not who you thought he was.” “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Our last conversation was about me being muscular. He said I wasn’t his type. Do you know if he is really dating Gustav or not?” Ioan grins and shakes his head yes. Winston is stunned that he is actually with him and wonders if he should ever tell him about Pierre’s secret. The little man doesn’t offer much of an answer to that thought. “When you are ready Winston, we can move on to the last question.” The story will conclude next week. Check out a previous installment in this series: Rainbow: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2429-the-little-man-and-the-rainbow/
  8. Part One Roger Dixon was a stud! It was almost as if he only had to step onto a bodybuilding stage and the world just caved into him. He won every single class he entered be it his local contest, the statewide contest, a regional contest, a national contest, a continent contest or even the day he was crowned Mr. Universe in his class, indeed that day he really let them know what he was packing. He stood up to his maximum height and brought the house down, showing off every sinew of his proportionate 266lb mass. His proportionate 53 inch chest, with his proportionate 2½ inch long nipples just oozed mascunlinity and when coupled with a proportionate 27 inch waist his proportionate eight pack was a thing of wonder to behold. His proportionate 22 inch guns, with veins streaking along them, were unmissable, his proportionate 28 inch quads glistened under the lights, his proportionate 23 inch calves and his proportionate 22 inch thick neck ensured that he won the best poser class as well and was even brought out to pose against the overall winner. But that was all in the past. It was his own desire that was his undoing. First, when at a photoshoot he attempted a 300lb bench much more than he could actually manage to show off his power and tore both his pecs and then the real trouble came when he was caught in a media sting operation and outed. He had always been gay, he loved the attention of people drooling over his muscles, his cock a proportionate 9 inch monster when hard was his pride and joy, no one had complained when photos showing his bulge on stage flooded the magazines but as soon as he was outed, he was dropped faster than you could say "One Hit Wonder". Even now, twenty years after last stepping on stage, he still looked after himself but knew that standing just a mere five foot two tall, weighing 146lbs though still as lean as anything, his 42½ inch chest, 32 inch waist, 14½ inch biceps, 22½ inch quads and 15 inch calves would never cut the mustard against the modern stars of the stage. Even the people in his grand master classes were bigger than he was and as he watched the recording of the last show he had streamed, he traced the buldging pecs of Mr. Grand Master Colorado 2015, a man aged as the same as Roger, 65, yet so muscular Roger wanted to wrap his arms about him and pummel him into submission. But Roger now happy living at his home in Fort Collins, Colorado where he spent most of his days on online forums discussing bodybuilding history and reading stories about the most powerful men ever to exist on the face of the planet had his dreams and would regularly wake up, covered with a thick layer of cum having read stories, both real and fan made, of Hercules lifting an entire cliff face, He-Man wrestling a clone of himself, Milos of Croton splitting a tree apart with his bare hands and his personal favourite, the final act of that Titan, Porthos, holding up a cave to allow his friend to escape. Whenever he read that story, his dreams were always the same. He would rescue that man, take him to his own personal gym where people could train in the nude, and work that man until he begged for mercy, then ram him until he screamed for mercy and then, torture him with high voltage until he caved in and panted "I submit" and allow him and Roger to swap bodies so that Roger could experience the power of the Titan for himself. This interest in the Titan of old eventually developed into an interest in Renn Faires and it wasn't long before Roger, dressed as the Titan himself, was a regular feature and made sure that his body was the centre of attention as demonstrated just the previous week when, whilst holding a talk on the strength of heroes, and deadlifting two hundred pounds for the whole talk, a Spartan came up, grabbed hold of his biceps and squeezed them saying "Arms, that would defy Hercules in their strength" It was after a Renn Faire, where having been a member for a decade the organisers presented him with a leather bound copy of all of the tales of the Musketeers, that Roger found himself in a unique position. He'd been reading another one of Porthos's feats of strength and as per usual was getting very excited about it. “This group was superintended by the man whom D'Artagnan had already remarked, and who appeared to be the engineer-in-chief. A plan was lying open before him upon a large stone forming a table, and at some paces from him a crane was in action. This engineer, who by his evident importance first attracted the attention of D'Artagnan, wore a justaucorps, which, from its sumptuousness, was scarcely in harmony with the work he was employed in, that rather necessitated the costume of a master-mason than of a noble. He was a man of immense stature and great square shoulders, and wore a hat covered with feathers. He gesticulated in the most majestic manner, and appeared, for D'Artagnan only saw his back, to be scolding the workmen for their idleness and want of strength” “Oh, yeah” moaned Roger, “I think I know where this is headed” and with that started to rub his cock in anticipation. “D'Artagnan continued to draw nearer. At that moment, the man with the feathers ceased to gesticulate, and, with his hands placed upon his knees, was following, half-bent, the effort of six workmen to raise a block of hewn stone to the top of a piece of timber destined to support that stone, so that the cord of the crane might be passed under it. The six men, all on one side of the stone, united their efforts to raise it to eight or ten inches from the ground, sweating and blowing, whilst a seventh got ready for when there should be daylight enough beneath it to slide in the roller that was to support it. But the stone had already twice escaped from their hands before gaining a sufficient height for the roller to be introduced. There can be no doubt that every time the stone escaped them, they bounded quickly backwards, to keep their feet from being crushed by the refalling stone. Every time, the stone, abandoned by them, sunk deeper into the damp earth, which rendered the operation more and more difficult. A third effort was followed by no better success, but with progressive discouragement. And yet, when the six men were bent towards the stone, the man with the feathers had himself, with a powerful voice, given the word of command, "Ferme!" which regulates maneuvers of strength. Then he drew himself up” “Yeah” moaned Roger, the rubbing becoming faster making his cock longer, harder and redder , “You show them, Porthos” “The workmen, as commanded by the engineer, drew back with their ears down, and shaking their heads, except for the one who held the plank, who prepared to perform the office” “Oh, fuck” Roger moaned, as his hips started to buck and he could feel himself getting even more aroused “The man with the feathers went up to the stone, stooped, slipped his hands under the face lying upon the ground, stiffened his Herculean muscles, and without a strain, with a slow motion, like that of a machine, lifted the end of the rock a foot from the ground” “Yeah” he moaned again, “show them pure muscle!” “The workman who held the plank profited by the space thus given him, and slipped the roller under the stone. "That's the way," said the giant, not letting the rock fall again, but placing it upon its support” “YEAH!” roared Roger, “SHOW THEM ALL WHAT IT MEANS TO BE PORTHOS” and with that he came so violently that in combination with the long day and the orgasm that followed, Roger started to fall asleep and dropped the book to the ground moaning “Oh, Porthos, I wish I could meet you one day!” and with that slipped into sleep, his cock spurting cum as he did so. This will be a very long story (but I cannot say how many parts it will be). I know from experience how boring that long a story can be so therefore I would like members to help liven it up with their artistic skills be it people like @powerbeats illustrating the sheer effort needed to perform a feat of near superhuman strength, people like @leogrando showing how big people are, or even @darkluster4 showing what happens later on when Roger experiences the full force of the Titan. Therefore I am giving every single illustrator carte blanche to draw what they like when they like
  9. Part One "What's the matter, lad?" "Grandfather, will I ever be as strong as you are?" "Now, now, Henry, give yourself time. You're just a lad!" As Henry Cardigan, grandson of Lord Cardigan and father of the House of Lords, sank into his grandfather's muscular chest and bawled his eyes out, Lord Cardigan knew the reason for his grandson being so upset. He was by far the smallest member of the Cardigan family, standing a mere four foot six inches tall and aged just eleven, he was always being bullied by the older children at the school he attended on the Westminster estate and this really got Lord Cardigan deep in his heart. After all he was the strongest man in the House of Lords, whenever they had a tug of war with the House of Commoners he was always at the lead. Indeed just last week he had helped the Lords to their sixteenth annual win, a feat that caused the leader of the House of Commoners, Oliver Cromwell, the member for Oxford to say, half jokingly "It's enough to make you want to ban you from attending!" but as Henry's sobs continued, Lord Cardigan decided to try and help his grandson by telling him a story about his days as a Musketeer in France during the reign of Louis XIII when, as part of a secret mission by the former First Minister George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham, he had met a man who had made him the man he was today. "That man" he said, holding up Henry's head, "was a living Titan. Before I met him I was like you, Henry, but in the ten years I spent in France, he taught me everything he knew about being strong and powerful. If you promise to listen to my stories about him, I will ask you a question when I have finished. Do you understand my lad?" Henry nodded and with that Lord Cardigan began. "He and I got on like a house on fire, Henry" he started, "indeed when I first met him I accidentally challenge him and his friends to a duel, but we soon became best friends and for that first year he was always telling me tales about how big and strong he was. I shall now tell you the first tale he told me, about his grandfather, called Antoine and a feat of strength and power that sealed his legend in the land of his birth!" "What was this man's name?" asked Henry, rubbing his eyes "Porthos" came the reply Prompted by the recent postings about older men who are fairly muscled, I thought it might be interesting to post a story about some of the feats of strength that Porthos, his father and his grandfather got up to as mentioned in the stories by Alexandre Dumas in that context.
  10. Chapter One “Well, this is an imposing little pile isn’t it?” said Roger as they arrived at Porthos’s mansion. The mansion that served as the home of Porthos was just like those mansions Roger saw on the History Channel programmes about Europe. There were so many turrets that Roger lost count after fifteen and it looked as if it would cost in 2016 at least fifty million dollars if not more. As they entered the courtyard, they dismounted their horses and a rather elderly man, though it was clear from how little space their was between the shirt and the man's arms he looked after his, came out and bowed and announced “Monsieur Porthos. I, Mousqueton, you humble servant salutes you and your guest!” "Goodness" said Roger as he shook the servant's hand, "another perk of becoming a Baron eh?" to which Porthos nodded and replied “Mousqueton, this man is a cadet of the Musketeers, see that he is treated as I would be treated and make sure that the special room is made ready!”. As Mousqueton bowed saying “It shall be my lord!”, Roger couldn't help but wonder why Porthos had emphasised the word "special" but put it down to nothing more than him making sure Roger got the best bedroom in the house. As Porthos led the horses to the stables, Roger was led inside and instantly gasped in wonder. If the outside was akin to a Disneyland castle, the insides were quite plain by comparison. Mousqueton led Roger into a massive drawing room, showed him a seat and told him that dinner would be served as soon as Monsieur Porthos had caught it and with that he then bowed, took a net from the wall and went outside where Porthos was bellowing at him to hurry up. As Roger watched the two men leave the mansion, he smiled as he remembered the invitation just a few days previously. Having seen off the plans of the Cardinal, and allowed the Duke and Colin to return home to England, Porthos had invited him to see the year turn to 1626 with him. Roger had instantly leapt at the chance, if only because it meant he and Porthos would be alone for the best part of the week. Indeed, Roger was wondering how many times he could make the Titan cum, when there was a knock at the door. Deciding that he should answer it as there was no one else to, he opened it and was about to say "I am sorry, Monsieur, but the master of the house is not at home!" when he realised that it was Henri. Indeed Roger's presence came as rather a surprise to him as well. "Roger?" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" "Spending the New Year with Porthos. What are you doing here?" came the reply "Spending the New Year with Porthos!" Henri replied and instantly scratched his head adding, "At least I think that's what he wanted" and explained that the last time he had seen him, in the aftermath of their successful mission to save the blushes of the Queen, he had invited him to "spend a week of time to get to know you better!". "That's precisely what he said to me!" said Roger and as he let his friend in he asked, "Perhaps he forgot?" "Possible" replied Henri, "Unlikely but possible" and so deciding the only way they could clear up the confusion was to wait until Porthos got home from hunting, but as neither of them knew how long that would take, they decided to sit in the library and wait. Sadly, any hopes of the hunting expedition being a quick one were soon put to rest as an hour later, the master hadn't returned and Henri was starting to get a little bored and so got up and decided to peruse the books on display. "Ah" he said, "you might want to have a look at this one, Roger" and handed him a book labelled "The Mysterious Lands of the New World : A Traveller's Guide" before he himself found a book called "A History of Strength : From Hercules to Duke Christopher" and took it off the shelf and in doing so knocked a book bound in red leather off the shelf and decided to have a look at that as well and soon both men were reading their tomes. "I say" said Roger about half an hour later, "listen to this" and started to read from his book, "In the area of the new world known as Florida, there have been sightings of creatures that were described as “having the body of a man, and the torso of a fish” and that in the colony of New Hampshire founded by the British just recently there were reports of strange lights in the forests that seemed to switch on and off at will" Henri couldn't help but laugh as he did and said "Well, what a good thing we modern world people know that to be complete nonsense, eh?. Next you'll be telling me that the ruler of those American colonies doesn't like anyone else?" "Perhaps they don't" came the reply as Roger read about a statement that the governor of Virginia (named after Elizabeth I of England) had announced that he had declared there to be an “axis of evil” in the New World and was going to prosecute a “war of terror” on them. "They never learn do they!" smiled Henri and was about to read something from his book when Roger said, "Hey, who's the Baron du Vallon?" "Not a clue!" he replied, "Why do you ask?" Roger picked up the red leather bound book and noted that the book had the person's name on the side and as he opened it the frontispiece read "A Treatise of the Dimensions of the Human Form” and at the bottom it said “I wish to convey my thanks to Baron du Vallon for his help in the making of this book!” "Ah" smiled Henri, "I know these types of book. They were written to help explore the human body!" "You're right" said Roger as he read the introduction which explained that it was a science book and had been written as a response to a document published by Michelangelo about the proportions of the human body "which I believe to be perfect!" concluded Roger and with that flexed his bicep which caused his sleeve to come within a millimetre of ripping “You’ve got that one right!” he chuckled and turned the page. As he did he gasped in amazement and turned the book around for Henri to see. There, as part of the index was a drawing of a naked man from the waist up that was so detailed Roger couldn't help but moan at him. He was so muscular and vascular it was almost as if the veins were in 3D and as he ran his fingers along them he moaned "Oh, man, look at those veins. It looks like he's just done a hundred deadlifts". "I have to admit" replied Henri, "that's more detail that I have ever seen before. Just look at those nipples I say, even the areolae are..." Before Henri could finish the sentence there was a loud roar from outside followed by a tree crashing to the ground. As the two men went to the window, they both chuckled as they saw Porthos carrying a boar over his shoulders. He saw them and declared "Gentlemen, welcome to my home, dinner will be ready in a few hours. Shall we work up an appetite first?"
  11. Part One : The Eve of Christmas Eve "Please, I...I can't do any more!" "You said that you would, now, do it!" "I...Oh, please, if I do any more I'll explode and you know it, please..." "If I have heard that excuse a million times, why should I be moved by it now, eh? Now come on" "I...I....I..." "Quit bellyaching, now do it!" Roger, now almost quivering attempted a front lat spread, but as soon as he did, his eyes opened wide "I...I...I..." he stammered as his cock emerged from the posing shorts "Yes?" "Please, please, I beg you. I need to stop!" moaned Roger, the tip of his cock the deepest purple possible "You made a commitment, you promised to design ten posing routines each one different for ten different am bodybuilders by Christmas Eve" said the Ultimate Musketeer tapping his feet impatiently, "and then asked me to give them the once over. The fact that you've had to do them three times over is neither here nor there, now front double bicep to finish and made it a good one. I want to see every vein in your body bulge!" The agony that Roger was experiencing was writ large on his face. His heart was pounding faster than it ever had done before, he was taking in gulpfuls of air every second, he was covered in sweat and he felt sure he was going to cum. "Good" said the Ultimate Musketeer, "now, keep those arms level, remember you're flexing your biceps but everything else at the same time. That's it, now keep that pose for four seconds!" "I...I...I...OH FUCK!" Roger screamed as he came sending a jet of cum into the air which covered him from head to toe as he collapsed onto the posing room floor, his chest heaving and experiencing the tenth orgasm that day. As he moaned, the Ultimate Musketeer picked up him off the floor, ripped off the posing suit and swallowed his cock whole and as he sucked Roger, Roger's eyes started to close and within seconds he had blacked out. As the Ultimate Musketeer sucked the last of Roger's cum, he chuckled. "Excellent" he smiled, "I wondered how long it would take you to complete those fake posing routine requests I sent to your website" and with that he pulled Roger's cock out of his mouth and said "Roger, you are in for one heck of a Christmas!"
  12. Story One: The Birth of the American Musketeer Chapter One: The Titan's Challenge "You're listening to FC 100.4FM and now the weather sponsored by your local credit union!" Roger laid down by the pool and started to apply his sunscreen. "It's a hot one today in Fort Collins, with highs topping the 100 mark. UV level is described as high so don't forget that sunscreen folks!" "No chance of that!" thought Roger as he finished the application, put on a pair of sunglasses and settled down to enjoy the Colorado sun. It had been a busy day for Roger. He'd done three personal training sessions, spoken in favour of a $15 minimum wage, created three posing programmes for his clients and had just done twenty laps of his pool as a cool down. He was so tired that as he felt the hot sun tan his muscular body, he gently fell asleep. "CADET DIXON! GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW AND FOLLOW ME!" The sudden (and quite unexpected alarm call) woke Roger up with such a start that he fell onto the floor with a bump. He growled as he picked himself up and demanded to know what was going on. "As if you didn't know!" chuckled the man who was dressed in a very fine uniform, "Now get dressed and come on!" Roger scratched his head but found a uniform on the bed in front of him and put it on. He couldn't think where he had seen the uniform before but put it on and followed the man outside. What he saw took Roger completely by surprise. It was pretty clear that he was not in Fort Collins, Colorado state in 2007 as where in Fort Collins, no scratch that the United States would there be almost a castle like building that seemed to be home to various people (all men) doing things straight out of a Ren Faire. There were people jabbing at dummies with large swords, chatting around barrels and even one person doing a very good impression of being pelted with tomatoes. After a while, the person in front told Roger to stop and he knocked on a door and was allowed entry. Roger tried to figure what was going on but was failing badly. Just then the person came back and said "Hey, dreamer! Captain Treville wants to see you!" Roger entered the room with his head spinning. "Captain Treville, but that was impossible" he thought to himself, "He was captain of the Musketeers in the 17th century in France". Lost in his thoughts Roger collided with the Captain's desk and caused Treville to look up. He was clearly annoyed. He stood up to his full height (towering over Roger by a good six inches) and looked down at him. "You have only been here 24 hours" he said, "and yet in that time you have managed to burn the flagpole, scare off our best horses, ruin a perfectly good sword and if that wasn't bad enough, disgrace the uniform of a Musketeer cadet by swimming in the Royal pond naked! Do you have anything to say?" "Was Her Majesty pleased?" asked Roger, with a smile on his face "PORTHOS!" shouted the Captain at a volume so loud Roger covered his ears in case they popped. A short while later, a man entered who was nearly a foot taller than Roger and at least 50lbs heavier. "Porthos" said the Captain, "I am giving you responsibility for this ruffian. I am assuming that as you're the strongest Musketeer you can try and knock some sense into him!" Roger looked Porthos up and down. Sure he looked big, but he had read suggestions that Porthos was a bit like a power lifter, strong but not that muscled. He then made what could have been a fatal mistake, he made a comment. "Sir" he said, bowing to the Captain, "I realise that I'm only a cadet, but I beg to differ! I believe I am the strongest man in this room at the moment!" Porthos looked down at Roger and then started to laugh. "Okay then little man" he said, "I accept your challenge!" and then he turned to Treville. "Summon the garrison, Treville, there's going to be a contest!" "Musketeers" shouted Captain Treville, "Musketeer Porthos has been challenged to a series of feats of physical strength chosen by his challenger Cadet Dixon. Come one, come all and witness this battle of strength" Roger was surprised that Porthos had agreed to his choice of events (all of which he excelled in) and was beginning to wonder if this was a big mistake on his part but decided not to show any sign of pulling out as Porthos entered the centre of the garrison to a huge cheer. Roger gulped as nearly every Musketeer jeered him as he entered despite bowing to Porthos who ignored him completely. "The first event" announced Treville, "is the cask lift. At the far end of the garrison are five casks. The first one is empty, the second contains wine, the third wet sand, the fourth rocks and the fifth contains cannonballs. Your task is to start from here, pick up cask up and then create a tower as high as you can. The person who is able to build the tallest tower wins. Cadet Dixon, you are the smaller, therefore you go first. Aramis, a gunshot if you please!" Aramis fired a gun and Roger raced off. The first cask was easy, and he had no problem picking it up and placing it on the cask of wine. And the combined weight of those two wasn't a problem either. The problems began with the cask of wet sand but it wasn't the weight that was a problem. He reckoned that so far he was lifting only 250lbs (well below the 445lbs he could dead lift with ease); the problem was balancing it all. By the time he had got to the fourth cask it was starting to wobble slightly. He took a deep breath and grunted as he lifted the fourth cask but unfortunately the first cask fell off the top and Aramis signalled that he had finished by firing a gun again. As Porthos set off, Roger was sure he'd have the same problem as him, but was staggered when Porthos tipped the casks on their side and balanced them on his barrel chest. Roger was in the midst of complaining to Treville when a gun fired. He turned round to see Porthos with a broad grin on his face with a tower of two barrels on each of his pecs and the fifth balanced between the two. "DAMN!" he swore under his breath "Porthos wins the first challenge,” announced Treville to the crowd of cheering Musketeers, "the next challenge is arm wrestling. To ensure fair play, both contestants must show that they are using only their arms so therefore take off your shirts. Roger smiled and roared as he ripped off his top of his uniformed and hit a most muscular pose. Porthos chuckled and then took his shirt off to reveal the largest chest Roger had ever seen. It wasn't as defined as his was, in fact he felt sure it looked more like a old style Russian weightlifter's chest than a bodybuilder's chest, but when Porthos flexed his biceps even he had to consider if he had bitten off more than he could chew and they seemed serious mountains of muscle. Porthos and Roger sat down facing each other, grabbed each other's hand and the bout started. Roger was relieved when it became clear that he was able to contain Porthos's strength, as he knew that if he could ensure that Porthos didn't win within five minutes there was every chance that he could. Indeed, for the Musketeers this element was starting to get a little boring as both hands stayed stationery. "Come on Porthos,” shouted a voice, "you can take this upstart down!" "What do you think I'm doing Athos?" Porthos grunted but still the hands remained stationery. Beads of sweat were starting to form on Porthos's brow and so Roger decided to take a chance. He took a deep breath and pushed hard. Porthos was taken quite by surprise but managed to prevent his hand going down. Roger piled on the pressure and without warning Porthos's hand hit the table. Roger leapt up and hit a double biceps pose only to be greeted by booing. "The final challenge" announced Treville silencing the crowd, "will decide the result. It will depend on the strength of the legs and the stomach, therefore I ask that all ladies who may be present to leave." Roger was a bit bemused by this statement and wondered what was going to happen, his answer soon came when Treville turned to them. "Gentlemen, you may now disrobe!" Porthos wasted no time and tore off his trousers leaving Roger slightly stunned. Was he stunned at the fact that nudity was being tolerated in the mid 1600's or was he stunned at the size of Porthos's legs (all three of them)? Still, he was being challenged and so followed suit. Treville then instructed them to both sit down with their legs apart then manually moved them so that Porthos had his legs wrapped around Roger and Roger had his legs wrapped around Porthos. Next he summoned Athos who arrived with a two pairs of chains that he attached to both of their hands that were placed behind them. "The first person to force the other to submit is the overall winner,” announced Treville, and with that Aramis fired the gun. Roger was delighted. This final test was right up his street and he soon dived right into the task. It was a little tricky trying to manoeuvre and Porthos's middle leg got in the way on several occasions but eventually he had managed to free him from the hold and had Porthos face down in the dirt with his legs behind his back. He was finally confident that this wouldn't take too long. Or at least he would have been if he'd not heard Porthos growling. He managed to place a finger on Porthos's pec and was stunned to count Porthos's pulse climbing from at least 150 to almost 190. He was gearing himself up for something and that something was to take Roger's breath away. With a roar, Porthos snapped the chains and threw Roger onto his front. If Roger wanted to win he was going to have to do the same. The idea of breaking a chain like in the old muscle films he watched was unbelievable, but knowing he'd have to do it he closed his eyes and concentrated. Thinking of all the musclemen he'd seen on the big screen (Steve Reeves, Dave Draper, and even Arnie) breaking free of being imprisoned he too growled and to his amazement his chains snapped as well. He launched himself at Porthos, grabbed him in a leg lock and squeezed hard. "I surrender,” gasped Porthos after a good five minutes. Roger stood up, and flexed hard as Treville raised his hand. The Musketeers didn't know what to think unless Porthos stood up and addressed them. Fellow Musketeers" he said, "It has been written that I could only be bested by a son of Hercules. Behold that son!" and he raised Roger's other hand in the air. The garrison cheered as Porthos slapped Roger on the back and led him back to the barracks. The following day Roger was aching all over, but was solaced by the presence of Porthos who seemed to have accepted him like a son, which might explain why he was telling him that he would be permitted to ride with the Musketeers that afternoon (if he wasn't in too much pain) and be given a guided tour of Paris. Roger smiled broadly and asked if they could find a horse that would be able to carry him.
  13. rienzope

    New Kindle Book

    There's a new book on Amazon.com about muscle growth "Journeys are unpredictable. Not the ones planned on your smart phone. The ones you lay out for your life. The ones measured in years rather than miles. Those can be longer and take you further than you can imagine, especially if they are fueled by ambition. Because ambition strives. At first for goals... until it reaches them. Then for more... because it’s insatiable. Harry Zane was led off the stage by the Feds after winning the biggest title in bodybuilding. He's about to travel to another world. A place where physical development is religion, more is not enough, and genetic engineering is unfettered. And he’s about to learn that what we seek is usually not what we seek."
  14. And so, with permission from newthirty, the words In the first century BC, the Roman Empire dominated the majority of the European continent including the modern day nation of France and as Caesar made his way to conquer Britain, he would famously state to his generals "Alea Jacta Est". However, what he did not let on was that in the northwestern part of the country, two villages still held out against the Romans. One of them was a very famous village and would become known throughout the world to both Gauls and Romans alike as "that village full of indomitable Gauls", the other village however was less well known but for the Romans that were laying seige to it they knew that it would only take a single word from their chief and they would be facing the wrong end of Pluto's judgement. Legionary Minimus, one of the newer recruits to the Roman army, was therefore bored stiff. Ever since he had arrived from Rome he'd been told to just sit tight and wait for their relief, which was no good at all. He was raised by his father, a former member of the glorious tenth legion, the legion that delivered Hispania into the Roman yoke, to "ensure that the glory of Rome was resisted by nothing" and having to spend all day doing nothing got his wick up. So when he was able to slip out of the camp and do some scouting, he took the chance. However, he hadn't reckoned with how big the forest around the village was and soon had no option but to answer the call of nature and so finding something that resembled a collection of stones, he relived himself. "OI!" shouted a voice behind him, just as he finished and the legionary came face to face with one of the villagers who was clearly in bad mood. "What do you think you're doing?" he bellowed, "Would you let me relieve myself on the steps of the Senate?" The legionary quaked in his sandals. He had never met the villagers before and yet knew precisely who had grabbed him. It was Grobelix, the biggest, strongest and most muscular villager. As the Gaul held the soldier at arm's length, Minimus remembered something one of the soldiers had told him. "Watch out for that Grobelix bloke, he's so strong that he once managed to throw an oak tree as far as you could throw a silver birch!" "WELL" said Grobelix, "I'm waiting!" Minimius was too scared to answer and so Grobelix decided to explain. "This is a dolemn" he said, "it is a place of reverance to us Gauls, legend has it that under these dolemns the gods are buried. This one is dedicated to the god of our tribe, Toutatis, god of thunder and you come along and...and..." and with that Grobelix bent his free arm and as it bulged, Minimus started to plead for mercy. As he did, the Gaul noted the legionary was still showing down below and as he examined it, he couldn't help but burst out laughing. Just to make sure he wasn't imagining, he pinched it and the legionary screamed in pain. Placing the legionary on the ground, the Gaul chuckled as he pulled his own from his breeches and said "That's what we have" and then had an idea. Taking off his breeches, he slammed the legionary against the dolemn and said "Now, let me show you how it really works" Minimus screamed in agony but it was no good and soon Grobelix was having his merry way with him. After several moments, the legionary couldn't stand any more and with a scream of "Mercy" he blacked out. As Grobelix removed himself from the legionary, he tutted, "I've a good mind to write to Caesar and ask for some more" and with that he tossed the legionary away and he landed on top of the dolemn as Grobelix turned around adding, "What I wouldn't give for some of those gladiators I hear about, then I'd have some real fun, by Toutatis!" As soon as he had invoked the god of thunder, there was a rumble in the sky and without warning, a thunderbolt crashed down striking the Roman. Grobelix turned and witnessed the granting of his wish as Minimus screamed in agony as his body started to grow. First, the metal around his chest started to break, then the tunic he wore ripped, and slowly but surely he started to smile. He felt powerful, stronger than Ursus, more muscular than Hercules and as his body broke free of the last vestiges of Roman civilisation he roared. Grobelix, still stunned by the legionary's transformation, gasped "By Toutatis" and almost in answer, the Roman roared "NO, BY JUPITER" as the transformation completed and the legionary, now gladiator jumped to the ground. "So" he said, in a voice now several octaves deeper, "you think you can tackle a gladiator then? Even one with this!" and pointed to his, which was now at least three times as long and twice as thick as it was, "I think not!" and with that punched Grobelix with such force that the now naked giant had no problem placing the fallen Gaul onto his shoulders and chuckling said "Now, what can I do with the strongest Gaul in the world and this monster?"
  15. This was spawned by something that I have just written. Back in 2012 I wrote a version of "Around the World in Eighty Days" where I was able to take part in the story. When it came to rescuing Aouda from the worshippers of Kali I blindly agree to let Passepartout hypnotise me into becoming a Victorian Hero. He does so again, in my version of "Journey to the Centre of the Earth", where I clearly make an impression on Axel Lidenbrock (Otto's nephew) so that at the end of the story he stands up to his uncle and announces that he's going to marry his ward. In the third in the series based on "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" I find that Axel has written a pulp fiction magazine all about the Victorian Hero and this story is meant to be how that magazine's first edition would have looked like. Chapter One "Please, hurry my man, I fear that this storm is getting worse!" As the coachman cracked the whip carrying the carriage of the Lady Southam, the storm that seemed to have been following them all the way from Coventry increased in intensity. For Lady Southam, it was the worse possible time to travel. She was heavily pregnant with Lord Southam's first child, a possible heir to the title, and although her doctor had permitted her travelling to their home in the heart of the Warwickshire countryside, the storm that was battering them seemed to appear out of nowhere. Suddenly, without any warning, a streak of green filled the sky and a rock, the size of a melon, crashed into the road in front of them exploding and scaring the horses so much that it took every ounce of strength by the coachman and his skills to prevent the carriage from toppling over. Jumping down, he rushed to his passenger and said "Are you all right, my lady!". Lady Southam nodded and his concerned alleviated, the coachman investigated the now smoking hole in the road. As he peered into the hole, the rock at the bottom of it was still glowing green and gingerly fishing it out with a handkerchief he tossed it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to handle. Presenting it to Her Ladyship, he resumed his place and avoiding the hole in the road made top speed to Southam Hall. Lord Southam was overjoyed to hear of his wife's safe arrival and to thank the coachman for his efforts, he presented him with a golden sovereign (more than the coachman would earn in a year). The coachman bowed and as he returned to his coach, he looked at the sovereign in delight but as he put it in his pocket and chuckled to himself he felt different. He felt stronger, stronger than the time when he wrestled Big Brute, the county's biggest all in fighting champion. As he cracked the whip and headed back to Leamington, his mind started to fill with wonders beyond his wildest imagination. He was inventing things that would revolutionise the world, he would become an engineer and bring his family out of the poverty they had been stuck in for centuries. As he roared with delight, his jacket started to bulge, he never thought for a moment that he would not be the only superman born that day.
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