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Original Story: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36778138/

 

Follow my main FA Account for more stories like this: https://www.furaffinity.net/gallery/lionbuff/

 

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HANGING HERC

Homul walked down a dark path behind the town's pub towards a cave deep in the mountains of Greece. The path leads to a farmer's house on the other side of the mountains, but there was a special spot along the trail Hormul was after. A dimly lit cage-like door with the words "Firen Flight" greeted him. The door was covering a cave entirely lit by touches that were at least half burned out. A tall man in a Greek shoulder uniform holding a clay tablet guarded the gate door.

"May I come in," Homul asked. The intimidating man looked at his tablet to think about his answer. Homul was worried that the Firen Flight wasn't as secret as he hoped and that he would be told to leave thanks to the crowd. He desperately hoped this wasn't true, he desperately needed a break. A friend of his told him how to get to the secluded Firen Flight deep in the mountains and told Homul that it was his favorite way to relax his mind.

The man looked down at his tablet and saw that the Firen Flight was well below capacity. "It's pretty slow tonight, go ahead," The guard told Homul. Homul was so excited that he almost tripped over himself walking in. He walked down the dim cave and turned a few sharp corners before walking into a small room. The room had a wooden stage held up by clay on the further end of the room. Between him and the stage was about 6 round tables with no more than 4 men at each. This room was even dimmer than the cave leading to it, the only bright light came from a single hanging lamp on stage. The rest of the light came from tiny torches on the tables. Homul sat down and ordered his food and drink while he waited.

Soon, an announcer walked onto the stage and told the room of men that a special guest was going to appear shortly. Homul's order came, and he enjoyed it... at least half of it.

Homul was just a little over halfway done with his meal when Hercules himself walked on stage, looking even more muscular than usual! Hercules was wearing a cloth outfit that looked like a traditional Greek warrior's outfit with everything but the helmet on. Hercules' orange hair swung around in front of his face as he walked to the center of the stage. Homul noticed how little the covering worked when he saw a dim outline of Hercule's abs and chest. When Hercules was comfortable with where he was standing, he rested his unnaturally large arms beside him.

"I spend all day using this body to fight off enemies," Hercules said bouncing his chest. "All-day, all I do is fight fight fight." Hercules lifted his arms and flexed his biceps while his chest continued dancing. "Well, gentlemen, this body isn't just built to fight." Hercules lowered his arms and rubbed his abs. The creases in the fabric stretched over every curve on his stomach. "These abs aren't just pretty, they can thrust my waist forwards so fast that my pelvis can pound into solid rick and shatter columns holding up the greatest temples." Hercules spent the next minute or two exaggerating his strength. He said that his chest could squeeze a lemon dry in the deep muscular valley, his legs can squat buildings and that his arms could pull a boat on land.

As Hercules described his power, Hormul's mind was filled his visions of Hercules thrusting into buildings. The thought of his pelvis crashing and banging into things made him zone out. Hormel's visions faded when Hormul heard a tearing sound. The tearing was so loud that Hormul almost thought the cave was falling. Something else was falling instead

Hercules' hands were resting behind his head, his elbows sticking out in a position that displayed everything below them. Hercule's hands were nowhere near his waist, yet the cloths around his waist were tearing off like an invisible hand was yanking it towards them. The fabric stretched outwards and split open as it did its best to keep the growth contained.

Hercules wasn't just getting hard, he was sprouting a golden tree coated with wide and long veins. Hercules closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to help him concentrate on flexing his godly cock. The covering became a useless pile of thread resting along the top of Hercule's dick. The fabrics that remained were shaken off thanks to the golden and veiny rod dancing and throbbing, shaking everything off. Anyone with blurry vision would have assumed a snake was slithering out of Hercules' body.

"It's getting a bit warm in here," Hercules cried out. He grabbed the top of his top covering with his right hand and the bottom with his left. He stretched both arms out away from the shirt, the left arm stretched down and the right stretching up. His hands brought the shirt with them. The ripping noise was a battle cry challenging any man to a battle of manhood. Seam by seam gave way to Hercule's strength. The shirt was like a curtain drawing back to reveal a gorgeous new sculpture honoring the gods. Only, Hercules was more muscular than the statues. His abs popped more, along with every other fiber of testosterone Hercules possessed. Pre was already dripping onto the floor into a white puddle.

"It's so hot in here, I'm even sweating through my cock," Hercules joked. The crowd chuckled, unable to take their eyes off of the swinging utter of sperm hanging from Hercules. "anyways," Hercules spoke in a low and steady soft voice, "I'd rather show you what this body can do. Talking means nothing with a body beating this much testosterone in its veins." That line was the cue for a boulder to be rolled out on stage by thee assistants. "Let's lighten the load for the fine boys," Hercules suggested walking over to the boulder.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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