time-historical The American Musketeer : A Series

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Twelve : A Frantic Dash and a Revelation

As the sun rose over Calais, the harbourmaster was most surprised to see a small rowing boat glide into the harbour being rowed by a semi naked Musketeer with two people fast asleep. The boat glided towards the pier and the Musketeer roused his two passengers.

 

“Your Grace” said Roger, gently moving the Duke, “George” he added, “Welcome to France!”

 

As Roger clambered up a ladder up to the pier, an awful sight greeted him. Captain Widimir.

 

“Musketeer Dixon!” he said, “I arrest you on the charge of trafficking!”

 

Roger was about to deck the Captain when he noticed four very familiar people sneaking up behind Captain Widimir, one of them with his fingers to his lips.

 

“Trafficking?” asked Roger, “trafficking what?”

 

“Those two!” and he pointed to the Duke and George as they woke up.

 

“You’re got them good, Captain!” said one of the people behind Widimir.

 

“Oh!” replied the Captain, “it was nothing really!”

 

“No” said another one of the men, “such a valorous deed in the defence of France should be rewarded!”

 

Widimir turned around, his eyes closed and full of praise for himself. “No, really” he said, “although I dare say His Eminence will promote me!”

 

“To what level?” asked a third man, “Royal Idiot?”

 

Widimir opened his eyes and gasped as Athos, Aramis, D’Artagnan and Porthos all waved.

 

“WHAT?” he gasped and stepped backwards into Roger, “You’re not supposed to be here!”

 

“Would you like any assistance?” asked Aramis, “we’d be more than happy to help!” and with that the Musketeers advanced towards the Captain.

 

Widimir turned and came face to face with Roger’s pecs. “I don’t need any help!” he said muffled, and started to back away as Roger forced him along the pier.

 

“You know” said Athos, “I think it’s time the Captain had a bath don’t you think?”

 

“I couldn’t agree more!” said Roger, and with that picked up the Captain, placed him in front of him and then stamped his foot on the pier. Roger’s stamp caused the pier to wobble and the last five feet of the pier collapsed into the sea leaving Widimir languishing in the air before falling into the sea.

 

“Thanks for coming, you guys!” said Roger

 

“Welcome home, Roger!” said Porthos hugging Roger, “did you bring them?” he asked

 

“With interest" he smiled as he turned around and gestured to the rowing boat in the harbour. Whilst the Chancellor offered the Musketeers a friendly smile, the Duke had his arms folded in disgust.

 

"A Musketeer's work is never done, eh?" Roger smiled as he dived into the harbour and pulled the boat to the now reduced pier where the Musketeers helped the Chancellor and Duke onto the pier.

 

“Well, what do you think, Treville?” asked the King as he showed him the ballroom decked out for the ball.

 

“Your Majesty has outdone himself!” Treville said, bowing

 

“You don’t think it’s a bit over the top?” the King queried, “I did wonder if the decoration on the front of the palace was really needed!”

 

“Your Majesty” said Treville, “you are the King of this country. If anyone dared to suggest that you were over the top in anything, I would gladly throw them in the Bastille myself!”

 

The King laughed as he left for his quarters leaving Treville to pace the floor of the ballroom. There were only six hours to go until the Queen’s entrance and the palace was abuzz with activity yet there was no sign of his Musketeers. Worried he went to the Queen’s quarters and sought permission to enter, which was granted.

 

“Treville” said Her Majesty, “have your Musketeers arrived back yet?”

 

“Alas” said Treville, bowing, “they have not!”

 

Just then Juliet came in, bowed and went to the Queen. “Your Majesty” she said, “I’m frightened” and buried her head in the Queen’s dress.

 

“So am I” the Queen replied and consoled her maid.

 

“My Musketeers will arrive in time,” said Treville, trying to buoy up the atmosphere, but he was just as concerned as the Queen.

 

Three hours to go until the Queen’s Entrance marked the formal opening of the ball and with that the first entrance of the evening, namely that of the King. He cut a very fine figure in the doorway dressed in his ceremonial Musketeer uniform. He bowed to the guests, who bowed back and then went to his wife’s quarters guarded by Treville who bowed as the King entered.

 

“My noble Lord” said the Queen, curtseying, “and devoted husband!”

 

“Oh, do stop that!” said the King, “you know it makes me embarrassed! And may I note how nice you look as well this evening” he added as he looked at his wife, “but where are the diamond studs that you said you would wear?”

 

The Queen looked nervous and Juliet piped up.

 

“Your Majesty” she said, curtseying, “I am to blame for that. I assumed that your Majesty would find the appearance of your wife’s gown more pleasing to the eye. I will ensure that she is wearing the studs when she makes her entrance!”

 

“That’s my Anne!” chucked the King, and bowed as he left the room allowing Anne and Juliet to heave a sigh of relief

 

The King re-entered the ballroom and commanded the music to play.

 

Up in the bandstand, the conductor bowed to the King and then to his orchestra.

 

“Right” he said, “I know we only got this piece of music this morning, and I know that it’s not the easiest piece in the world to play, but let’s give our best shot shall we?”. The orchestra consented, “With a 1 and a 2, and a 1, 2, 3!”

 

The orchestra played as the King entered the ballroom and announced that the dancing would commence.

 

The Musketeers, Roger, George and the Duke had just arrived at the outskirts of Paris when Roger saw the town clock. It was showing 8.45pm and woahed his horse, which made the others whoa theirs. He jumped down and whispered something into Porthos’s ear and then approached George and the Duke.

 

“My lords” he said, “There are fifteen minutes until the Queen’s Entrance and we are still two miles from the palace. The only way to get the studs to the Queen in time is via two legs rather than four. Monsieur Porthos has agreed to carry the Duke and I will carry the Chancellor”

 

“Run?” asked Aramis, “run 2 miles in fifteen minutes. That’s impossible!”

 

Roger smiled, “Not this way it’s not!” and with that led Porthos behind a bush. When both men were out of sight, Roger dropped his breeches and confessed.

 

"Porthos" he said, "ever since I saw you I have wanted to feel the power of the Titan. I am currently a superman myself and believe that the only we can we beat the Cardinal is for you to become one as well" and with that he started to rub his ten inch cock. As he did Porthos watched as the flaccid member became a tool of such length and girth that Porthos touched it, causing Roger to moan. "Yes" he added, gritting his teeth as he continued to rub, "suck me Titan, and we can beat the Cardinal together" and with that Porthos dropped to his knees and swallowed the now red member in one.

 

Moments later there came an almighty scream akin to the sort of scream that several of Aramis’s lady friends gave whilst in the wilds of lovemaking, and shortly thereafter Porthos emerged with Roger, with both men looking flushed but smiling from ear to ear.

 

“Gentlemen” said Porthos, winking at Roger, “if you would care to!”

 

The Duke clambered onto Porthos and George clambered onto Roger.

 

“And aaaway we go!” shouted Roger as they both started to run on the spot and then shot off into the distance like a bullet.

 

Athos started at Aramis with disbelief.

 

“Did I miss something?” he asked, as they geed their horses and followed in hot pursuit

[Ro20316]

Porthos and Roger are now closer than ever. It's great.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Thirteen: The Queen's Diamonds

“My lords, ladies, kings, queen, ladies and gentlemen!” announced the King, “In just over a minute, my wife will emerge wearing the diamond studs that I gave her as a present last year. I have brought you all here to gaze at these studs and wonder at the majesty of France” then he turned to the orchestra, “Conductor,” he said, and the music stopped, “Your cue has arrived!”

 

The conductor bowed, turned to his orchestra and breathed. “All right then, with passion and a 1 and a 2, and a 1,2,3,4!”

 

The orchestra burst into life playing a composition that the conductor had written himself, which he had titled “Arrival of the Queen of France!”. It had been designed so that at the very height of the music the Queen would enter the room. He would have liked to practise it with the Queen in attendance, but the King assured him that he would make sure everything was on schedule.

 

Roger and Porthos charged through the Palace gates and were headed straight for the ballroom when Roger suddenly grimaced. He stumbled and fell, sliding towards a staircase. Porthos screeched to a halt beside him and the Duke jumped down.

 

“Go, your Grace!” grunted Roger and the Duke ran up the stairs and burst into the Queen’s Chambers. Without explaining he presented the studs to the Queen just as the music started to build. The Duke opened the Queen’s door and the Queen exited and entered the ballroom just as nine o’clock chimed across the palace. As the King took the Queen’s hand, the crowd gasped and then applauded as the Queen’s studs glistened in the light. Watching from the Queen’s door, the Duke chuckled. “That’s one up to the British I think!” he said, and then suddenly remembered Roger and dashed back downstairs.

 

“Breathe” said George, as he found his tube and listened to Roger’s thumps. They were getting more shallow and weaker. “It’s as I feared” he said, “The belladonna is starting to wear off. Mr. Porthos, come here” he said. As Porthos knelt down he added "Sir, your friend is in danger of dying but you can save him. When I say now, I want you to hit Roger in the chest here and here” and pointed to his pecs. Porthos aimed his fists and waited for the command and as he did he looked at Roger who mouthed "Save me, Titan". Listening to Roger’s thumps, George counted carefully. “NOW!” he shouted and Porthos thumped Roger’s pecs as hard as he could. Roger gasped and as his breathing returned to normal, he whispered "Thank you, my titanic lover!"

 

“Well done” said George, “you have just saved this man’s life!”

 

“And saved the French monarchy at the same time!” said the Duke as he arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Roger was helped up by Porthos who gave him a big hug and chuckled "and it was all thanks to your essence!” before the two burst out laughing. The Duke and George looked at each other and scratched their heads as the two men, now accepted as lovers, flung their arms around each other's shoulders.

 

Just then the Duke noticed someone in red rush past in the background.

 

“Excuse me!” he said, “I have a spot of unfinished business to attend to” and dashed off, closely followed by George, Porthos and Roger

 

“You’ve got a nerve!” growled the Cardinal at Milady sat on a bench in the palace gardens,

 

“How dare you show your face? What happened anyway!” added Roquefort, the Cardinal's right hand ma with his hand on his sword.

 

“Allow me to explain!” said the Duke, emerging from behind a bush and doffing his hat added "Good evening, your Eminence"

 

The Cardinal growled, and rushed off only to be stopped by George from behind another bush.

 

“This way” said Roquefort but found that way blocked by Roger and Porthos.

 

“And don’t think of trying to escape this way either” announced Aramis, Athos and D’Artagnan as they blocked the main palace gates with their horses.

 

“I am of the opinion” said the Duke, “that if anyone should be explaining what happened, it should be you! For instance, why did you order Milady here to give me the Queen’s diamonds saying that they were a gift!”?

 

“Are you accusing his Eminence of being a common thief?” demanded Roquefort

 

“Of course not” said Roger, “but we are accusing him of being a low down toad!”

 

“And dishonourable to boot!” added the Duke, “You’re not worthy of the title First Minister!”

 

“The Devil take you all!” he growled and ran off back to the palace with the Musketeers, Roger, the Duke and George in hot pursuit. They turned a corner and opened a door. “In here” said the Cardinal and he and Roquefort dived into the room.

 

The kitchen staff were more than a little surprised to see the Cardinal run through their kitchens, but not half as surprised as when the chasing pack entered as well. Roger grabbed a nearby egg and shouted, “Hey Roquefort, heads up!”.

 

Roquefort turned and received an egg in his face.

 

“Ha!” said Porthos, “the yolk’s on you, Count!”

 

Roquefort growled and responded with a fruit salad and brought it down on Roger’s head covering him with food.

 

“Right, Monsieur!” said Roger, “If it’s a food fight you want, it’s a food fight you shall have” and grabbed two main meals and threw them at the Count. The first one hit it’s target but the second one missed as he ducked then charged at Roger through a hail of bread rolls but was floored thanks to Porthos throwing a whole pig at him. Roger found some more ammunition in the form of meatballs and threw them in the air. “Batter up!” he said as he hit them with a baguette like a baseball player. Roquefort groaned as several hit in the stomach but he carried on and replied with strawberry cheesecakes, which Porthos devoured with thanks.

 

“Shall we leave this scene” suggested the Duke to the Musketeers and George, “and return to the ballroom?”

 

“Oh” said Athos, licking his lips, “I’m enjoying this!”

 

“Oh, what the heck!” said the Duke and charged in followed by George and the Musketeers determined to give Roquefort a pasting in every literal sense of the word.

“You know we make a great team” said Roger as he and Porthos waved goodbye to the Duke and George, “we certainly gave Roquefort what for eh?”

 

Porthos chuckled, “I think we can safely say we made a strawberry fool out of him!”

 

Both men laughed as they remembered pouring a gallon of strawberry fool mix over the Count in the kitchens the previous night.

 

“No wonder that Captain Treville gave us the week off eh?” said Roger, “I wonder how everyone will spend it?”

 

“Well” said Porthos, walking towards his horse, “Aramis will spend half of it making love and the other half seeking penance for it, D’Artagnan will spend it looking for a girlfriend and I dare say that Athos will spend half of it drinking Paris dry and the other half complaining of a hangover!” and laughed as he mounted his horse.

 

“And what about you?” asked Roger, “and why did you ask me to come with you to wave off the Duke and George?”

 

A wry smile crossed Porthos’s face and with that he geed his horse, “Follow me!” he shouted.

 

Roger mounted his horse and followed wondering if the man he considered to be a lover had more surprises up his sleeve.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fourteen : The Titan's Home

“Imposing little pile isn’t it?” said Roger as they arrived at Porthos’s mansion. It was rather like those mansions Roger saw on the History Channel programmes about Europe, all dolled up to the nines with turrets everywhere. As they entered the courtyard, a rather short and elderly man came out and bowed.

 

“Monsieur Porthos” he said, “I, Mousqueton, you humble servant salutes you and your guest!”

 

Porthos dismounted and introduced him to Roger. “Mousequeton, this man is a member of the Musketeers, see that he is treated as I would be treated and make sure that the special room is made ready!”

 

Roger dismounted and Mousqueton bowed, “It shall be my lord!” he said and led Roger inside whilst Porthos stabled the horses. If the outside was akin to a Disneyland castle, the insides were quite plain by comparison. Mousqueton led him 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. He then bowed, took a net from the wall and went outside where Porthos was bellowing at him to hurry up.

 

Not knowing how long it would take Porthos to catch and for Mousqueton to cook dinner, Roger decided to have a look around. He was taken by a series of shelves laden with books, which struck him as odd, however when he saw the titles he could understand why. The first shelf was a collection of books about France, England, Spain, Portugal, Germany and “The Mysterious Land of the New World” which Roger decided to look at to see if Colorado got a mention. The next shelf was a collection of history books detailing the history of the Greek and Roman empires with a further collection of books below, which dealt with the Greek and Roman legends, and Roger was not surprised to find several volumes listing the feats of Hercules. The final shelf seemed to be full of books that didn’t have a label, so he took one out to look at.

 

Thumbing through “The Mysterious Land of the New World” Roger chuckled to himself as he read facts that whilst believable in the 1600’s were complete and utter nonsense now. For instance, one paragraph stated that in the area discovered by Spain called “Florida” there had been sightings of half men, half fish people who 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. Roger belly laughed however at an 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. “Some people never learn!” said Roger and he started on the book that didn’t have a cover. The book was called “A Treatise of the Dimensions of the Human Form” and at the bottom of the front page it said “I wish to convey my thanks to Baron du Vallon for his help in the making of this book!” Roger was interested and read the first page.

 

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 stated that the human body was perfect). Roger smiled, flexing his biceps, “You’ve got that one right!” he said and turned the page. What he saw staggered him. In the book were hundreds of drawings (and very accurate drawings) of every surface feature of a very muscular male, completely naked and from the size of the muscles and vascularity a body that had just undergone an intense training session. The artist was so detailed that not only could you see the beads of sweat but also the smallest detail even extending to the nipples which Roger noted were not only exceptionally firm, but also made him start to get hard. He was wondering what possible connection Porthos could have with this book when he heard a loud roar from outside followed by a tree crashing to the ground. Putting the book down he went to the window and saw Porthos carrying a boar over his shoulders. He saw Roger and said in a loud voice, “Dinner will be served!”

That evening Roger attended in the dining room and found Porthos already there. He was about to ask about the book when the door opened and in walked Mousqueton holding an enormous silver platter. He placed it on the table in front of Porthos who took off the lid. Underneath it was a whole boar.

 

“As requested, my lord!” said Mousqueton, “spit turned over a fire for three hours!”

 

Porthos picked up the boar and in a display of gluttony that made Roger’s stomach turn, changed it into a skeleton within five minutes. He lay back in his chair and unbuckled his belt as his stomach ballooned to twice its usual size. Mousqueton bowed as he left with the tray and returned shortly with Roger’s meal but Roger turned it down.

 

“All the more for me then!” said Porthos as he devoured the soup, the turkey legs and the milk with the same speed as he had the boar.

 

“Porthos” said Roger, but was interrupted by Porthos letting a massive BURP escape, “how can you be such a pig?”

 

Porthos laughed, and announced that he was going to bed. He got up out of his chair and waddled to a far door and bid Roger goodnight.

 

“But it’s only six in the evening!” said Roger, “the sun doesn’t set for another three hours!”

 

“If I may” said Mousqueton, “Monsieur Porthos always goes to bed at this time. It means that he can fully express himself when he wakes up!”

 

“And what times does he get up?” asked Roger, “one in the afternoon!”

 

“You’ll find out!” shouted Porthos as he closed the doors to his room.

 

Roger went back to the drawing room and resumed looking at the drawings. The artist was amazing. He’d got everything down to the last detail. The veins on the biceps, the deep cuts in the abs, he’d even managed to get the fine hairs underneath the lats spot on. He thumbed through and stopped at a page that was coloured red.

 

“Although this book” the page read, “is intended for the consumption of medical students, we have been asked to warn those of a nervous disposition to be aware that the next four pages contain material that may offend and shock some people!”

 

“Mmm” thought Roger, “dissections more likely than not and so he carried on. What he saw was a little difficult to make out. On one page there appeared to be a tuft of hair and on the other page a long groove. “Well I wonder what that could be?” asked Roger and then noted that the pages were meant to be opened out. So he laid the book on the ground and opened it out.

 

What he saw took his breath away. It was the most detailed drawing of a cock he had ever seen. It had clearly been magnified; as there was no way a normal one was 24 inches long. The veins were pumped, the actual organ was in its proper colours and the head was unlike any he had ever seen before. Just as he was imagining what it would be like for such a cock to enter him, Mousequeton knocked on the door. Roger folded up the drawing, picked the book off the floor and holding it close to his chest opened the door. 

 

“Your bed is ready now sir!” he said, “Monsieur Porthos would like me to tell you that he will awaken at sunrise and would like you to join him for his morning constitutionals!” As Roger went upstairs to his bed, he still couldn’t figure out why Porthos would commission such a book but was sure that whatever happened, it was clear what he would be dreaming of that night as he patted the book's cover.

[Ro20316]

Portos, what kind of secrets you are not sharing?

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fifteen : The Mystery Solved

“OH, MERDE!”

 

Porthos’ shout made Roger wake up with a start. Ignoring the fact that he was naked he rushed downstairs and into Porthos’ room where he found the mass of muscle standing by his bed wearing only a cloak. “Nothing better to start the day than a good workout eh?” he said, as he grabbed Roger by the arm and bashed open a pair of doors at the end of the room and entered the cold dawn.

 

Roger shivered as the cold air hit his skin but Porthos was positively enjoying it. He took a deep breath and thumped his chest. “The cool of the morn” he said and slipped out of his cloak and exposed his naked body. As he did, Roger stared in amazement. He’d seen that back somewhere only quite recently and he couldn’t remember where. Was it a fellow bodybuilder who had sent him some posing pics? No, no one he knew had a back that wide. Porthos turned around and hit a front double bicep pose. It was then that Roger recognised the image.

 

“It was you!” he said, “You were the person who posed for that book about the human form!”

 

Porthos bowed. “Indeed it was my lord” he said, “did you like what you saw?”

 

Roger stood in shocked silence, as he took in Porthos’ mass. He’d seen him naked before when he first arrived at Musketeer HQ but now he was massive. He had to be at least six feet tall, but that body defied all logic. Whilst it was clear he was a bull, weighing as close to 300lbs as it was physically possible to be, his physique was that of a champion heavyweight bodybuilder. Roger then did something he rarely did. He started to worship this mass of muscle before him. Falling to his knees, he grabbed Porthos’ calves and demanded that Porthos flex them, which he did. What started out as two fairly unassuming legs exploded into calves that Arnie would have died for and very nearly made Roger lose his grip. He moaned as he squeezed the muscle as hard as he could and Porthos laughed. “Let’s make this a bit more of a challenge shall we?” he said, and helping Roger to he feet, led him into the courtyard where Roger was amazed to see it covered with all sorts of things ranging from cannonballs to carriage wheels and even a cannon. Porthos stepped onto a small podium, took a deep breath and hit a front lat spread that not only took Roger’s breath away but also encouraged his cock to stir.

 

“I challenge you,” he said, adjusting to a front double biceps pose, “to make me, Porthos, cum before you do by testing my strength!”

 

“You’re on!” said Roger and threw himself at Porthos toppling him off his podium and started wrestling.

 

Mousequeton who was watching from the back door of the mansion frowned as he watched Porthos and Roger wrestle. “Why is it” he said, “that every time Monsieur Porthos brings a friend home, they always end up wrestling each other?”. He sighed as he closed the door and continued with his duties. “I can remember a time when I served his father, now there was a man who could instil some respect in people!”

Porthos had won the wrestling match, but was only just starting to react to the strength on display. Roger on the other hand was reacting much faster. He may only have had a nine incher compared to Porthos’ twelve incher but it was almost at full staff. Roger decided that Porthos should start to suffer instead and so commanded him to squat a cannonball.

 

Porthos moaned as each rep made his quads burn with power and as Roger had hoped it was having the due effect as Porthos was now at full staff. Not exercising himself this time, Roger’s had started to relax unfortunately Porthos had noticed this and on his hundredth and last rep when he stood up, he jumped and threw the cannonball away. It landed with a massive thump some fifty feet away and as he flexed his quads he roared, “the power of Porthos”. Both men reacted to the sight and were at full staff. Roger could feel something welling inside him and looked around for something to really test Porthos. He saw two large carriage wheels and had an idea.

 

“I challenge you,” he said, rubbing his cock, “to the Hercules hold! You are to hold these two wheels with dead straight arms for as long as it takes me to run ten laps of this courtyard. However, if during those ten laps I see any lowering of the arms I will reduce my speed by half and add an extra lap!”

 

“I accept!” said Porthos and standing on the podium held out the two wheels in a feat of strength that made the lats of Mike Katz look like butterfly wings as Roger started to run. Roger knew that this was surely make Porthos cum because although he could run ten laps in about ten minutes and even the biggest, most powerful strongmen couldn’t stand more than two minutes of this muscle torture.

 

However, he had not banked on just how strong Porthos was. By lap five, the time when even the great Bill Kazimer would have given up, Porthos’ arms were still level and locked in place. Roger could see that he was sweating like a pig and it was adding to his allure as a muscleman. It wasn’t until lap eight that Porthos started to weaken. “Penalty” shouted Roger as he slowed down by a half. Porthos took a deep breath and raised the wheels back to level. As Roger faced Porthos’ front he could see that every muscle was glowing red being forced by his heart to provide oxygen for the task he was putting himself through, that added to the sight of his chest heaving with his lungs breathing in and out made Roger start to dribble. As he did, Porthos’ arms lowered again. “Penalty” shouted Roger. Porthos roared as he resumed full stretch. It was now a simple question of who could stand the most.

 

It looked like Roger was going to lose as he completed his eleventh and half lap with Porthos still huffing and puffing but not budging an inch. Just then Porthos started to moan and groan. His cock started to stiffen again at full mast and his breathing accelerated. “Yes” thought Roger, “I’m going to make Porthos cum” but just then his own trunk started to stiffen as well. Both men were on the verge of arrival. Roger tried his best to suppress it but Porthos’ bulging muscles and hard trunk were too much and as he completed his twelfth lap the agony became too much for both men as they roared at the top of their voices and came, flooding the courtyard with gallons of cum. After nearly a minute the flow subsided and both men collapsed on top of each other, their chests heaving and covered in sweat.

 

“An honourable tie?” gasped Roger

 

“A honourable tie!” gasped Porthos

Later that day, Porthos explained why he’d commissioned the book. The person who had done the original designs for the statue of David had come to France to spend some time with his family and Porthos’ estate bordered their estate. One day, during Porthos’ morning constitutionals the artist had seen Porthos posing and begged him to allow him to capture his image in a new medical textbook. Porthos eventually relented and the artist spent two days and nights drawing Porthos after every exercise and posing session creating the book that Roger had seen.

 

“And may I say” said Roger, “how accurate it is!” pointing to the picture of Porthos’  cock.

 

Porthos laughed out loud and offered to have Mousqueton take a lithograph of Roger’s trunk if he would like. Roger was in two minds about the offer when Mousqueton entered with an envelope, which he gave to Porthos who tore it open. He read the contents and turned white as a sheet.

 

“Is something the matter?” asked Roger

 

Porthos threw the letter at Roger and ordered Mousqueton to find their clothes and to get their horses ready. As Roger read the letter he could see why:

 

“To Baron du Vallon” the letter started, “from Count de Winter. My secret has been found out and I need the Musketeers help!”

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Sixteen : The Real Musketeers

Something was troubling Porthos, and whatever it was it had turned a happy go lucky man who wasn’t afraid to show off his strength into the steeliest faced man Roger had ever met. Riding back to Paris from his mansion they had encountered several chances for Porthos to show his gallantry (and a couple of times where he could have shown off his strength) and on every single occasion he ignored it.

 

As they both arrived back at Musketeer HQ, Aramis and Athos were there waiting for them and without saying a word they left Roger (who always had trouble dismounting) and walked briskly inside, turned into a room and slammed the door shut. Roger arrived a few seconds later followed by D’Artagnan who was huffing and puffing.

 

“Hey” he panted, “wait for me Aramis”

 

“You know your trouble,” said Roger, “not enough exercise!” and he laughed

 

“Not funny” said D’Artagnan and explained that he and Aramis were at an inn when a messenger arrived with a note saying “To my dear friend Aramis from Count de Winter. My secret has been found out and I need the Musketeers help!”

 

“That is, word for word, the same letter Porthos got,” said Roger, “only his was addressed to Baron du Vallon!”

 

“Ah” said D’Artagnan, “that’s Porthos” and explained that Porthos was in fact a Baron (hence his mansion) but that he always liked to be called Porthos.

 

“So who is this Count de Winter, then?” asked Roger

 

“Not a clue” said D’Artagnan as he sidled up to the door to try and listen. As he did the door opened and Porthos without a bye or a leave delivered a vicious uppercut to D’Artagnan that if Roger hadn’t caught him would have sent him through the wall.

 

“We will speak with you in a hour!” Porthos said gruffly, and slammed the door so hard that the wall developed several cracks.

 

Nursing his dented pride, D’Artagnan was at a complete loss to explain what had happened and even Roger didn’t know. They postulated for the hour what could have happened. Had the Musketeers been hypnotised? Where they adhering to some ancient instruction? And just who was the Count de Winter. Suddenly Roger had a thought and when D’Artagnan returned from the bar, he relayed his thought to him.

 

“You don’t think” he said quietly, “That this Count de Winter was married to Milady do you? After all they do have the same last name”

 

D’Artagnan thought carefully but dismissed it. “No” he said, “de Winter is actually quite a common last name. I knew three de Winters back in Gascony!”

 

Just then the other Musketeers walked in and approached them. Porthos was at the head of the group.

 

“Gentlemen” he said bowing, “I am sorry to have to do this!”

 

“Do what?” asked Roger as Porthos wound his arm up as if to pitch. Suddenly everything went black.

“Oooooh!” groaned Roger as he woke up, “Man, sucker punched again!” he said. He was relieved not to be chained up or tied up but one thing was for sure. He wasn’t in Paris any more. A short while later the remaining Musketeers entered the room with D’Artagnan sporting a bandage on his head.

 

“I am sorry I had to do that Roger” said Porthos, “but it was vital that you didn’t know where we were taking you. May I introduce you to the chapel of the de Winter family!”

 

Roger looked around, gasped and jumped up drawing his sword. There in a corner was Milady, tied to a chair.

 

“What’s she doing here?” he asked

 

“Contemplating her fate” replied Athos and asked the Musketeers to pray for her. Leading the Musketeers into the main hall he asked them all to sit down as he explained why they were there.

 

“I am Athos” he said, “but prior to becoming a Musketeer I was in fact like Porthos a member of the gentry. I married into the family that owns this castle. Welcome to the castle of the de Winters!”

 

Roger’s eyes opened wide and he nearly fell off his chair.

 

“But” he stammered, “That means that you’re…?”

 

“Count de Winter, at your service” said Athos, bowing.

 

He went on to explain that he and Milady had indeed been married. He also explained that when he decided to join the Musketeers it created a fracture in the family. All the other de Winters were allied to the church and so disowned him. He was cast out of the family with no a penny to his name. Milady (still in love with him) then joined the Cardinal’s service (knowing that it meant being able to see her husband if not consort with him) but that over time the influence of the Cardinal was greater than the root of their love.

 

“But hold on a minute” said Roger, “When we saw Milady in the gardens of the palace…” and then he paused, “So that why you let her escape!”

 

Athos nodded and then explained what Milady had done to provoke his panic. She had been authorised by the Cardinal to murder the King in his sleep via a poison. Knowing of this plan he went to ask her not to do it, but she retorted that if he arrested her she would announce that they were married.

 

“And that is why” he said, sadly, “I must do this!”

 

With that he went to the chapel, brought Milady with him and then opened a door to the outside of the castle. There in the doorway stood a man dressed in black with the biggest axe that Roger had ever seen. It reminded him of the typical executioner type that he hoped to play in “The Yeoman of the Guard” (since he had the muscles for it) and then the penny dropped.

 

“But you can’t!” Roger protested, “She’s not killed anyone!”

 

“She killed me” said Athos, and explained that when he found out about the plot to poison the King, he formally renounced his marriage and his title to defend the Crown and that by doing so was now officially a poor man. As he said so he thrust Milady into the arms of the executioner who led her away.

 

The two figures walked away over a bridge and as the sound of an axe swishing through the air and something hitting the ground with a thump resonated through the air, Porthos put an arm around Roger.

 

“You see” he said, “not all our adventures have a good ending" and with that he looked Roger in the face and said "I know that you think of me as a hero, as a Titan, but suspect now you need time to consider what you have seen. Am I right?

 

Roger nodded silently and as both men mounted their horses heading back to Paris, Roger wondered whether he wanted to be a Musketeer at all, having seen their true nature.

 

[convolution]

Thanks for such a well constructed story☺

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Seventeen : The Titan's Final Gift

Roger found it very difficult to get to sleep that night. He had always assumed that the Musketeers were a noble organisation, ready and able to defend the weak from oppression. All of the movies he had seen has shown Porthos demonstrating his strength to help those weaker, Aramis was always on hand to solve disputes, Athos was there to add a bit of levity to the proceedings and D'Artangan, well, he was there for the ladies. But the events of the previous day had changed Roger’s outlook substantially. He decided to get up just a cock crowed. He got dressed and decided to speak to Porthos hoping that he would assure him that his general assumptions were correct. He knocked on Porthos’ room’s door but got no reply. He asked a passing guard where Porthos was.

 

“Oh, he’s at the gym!” came the reply.

 

“Sorry?” asked Roger, “at the gym?”

 

“Yes, he’s always at his gymnasium first thing in the morning” said the guard and directed Roger to what he thought was not possible

 

The Bastille was renowned as a prison but when the guard on duty asked what Roger was doing there and he replied that he wanted to see Porthos in his gym, the guard stood to attention and saluted which Roger thought a little strange but followed the directions given by the guard none the less. It took Roger almost a quarter of an hour to make his way to where the guard said Porthos was, but as he got nearer he began to make out sounds of moaning, groaning, huffing, puffing and other sounds that sounded like someone being tortured. The closer he got, the louder the sounds came and Roger wondered was he hearing sounds from the workings of the prison, or was he hearing the Titan. As he turned a corner, he got his answer.

 

“MERDE!” shouted Porthos as a door exploded off its hinges closely followed by a cannonball that rolled past. Roger stopped it, picked up it and decided to return it to its owner. What he saw shocked him to the core. Porthos was chained to a wall, completely naked with a cannon aimed at his stomach.

 

“What are you doing?” asked Roger as he suddenly noticed a second cannon with the fuse lit. He dropped the cannonball and snuffed the fuse much to Porthos’ annoyance.

 

“Hey, you ruined my training!” he shouted as he pulled the chains from out of the wall and jumped down. As Roger looked at the heaving chest of the Titan, with the clear mark of a cannonball having bounced off his abs, he started to moan and said, almost in a whisper, "Porthos, I...I....I...I need to feel those muscles!" and with that he grabbed the Titan's pecs and squeezed them. As he did, his eyes opened wide and he started to apologise saying "I'm sorry, I..I was overwhelmed by you!". Porthos's booming laugh filled the dungeons as he replied with something that made Roger's eyes wider than they had ever been before.

 

"Would you like me to overwhelm you?" he asked

Despite being stripped naked (which he thought in the presence of Porthos was an honour) Roger couldn’t immediately see how that would help him be overwhelmed by Porthos. Even less so how lying on a table would help, but Porthos was most insistent.

 

“Now” Porthos said, his smile getting bigger the whole time, “slip your hands and feet into these rings. They will help you enjoy the maximum benefit!”

 

Roger did as he was told but was still completely mystified. And when Porthos produced three very long lengths of copper and started fashioning them into lengths with a small hole at each end, he had to ask what was going on.

 

Porthos started to chuckle. “You mean you don’t know!” he said as he attached one end of the lengths to his nipples and trunk and then proceeded to do the same to Roger.

 

“Well” said Roger, moaning slightly as Porthos rubbed his cock “if I didn’t know better I’d say that you were, oooh, going to stimulate me but that’s, oooh, impossible as batteries haven’t been invented yet!”

 

Porthos chuckle turned into a belly laugh as he pulled a handle and a sword appeared out of the wall. He attached the two ends of the copper to the sword and then span it to face the outside just as they heard a rumble of thunder which caused Roger to declare "But, I..." but the statement was stopped by a bolt of lighting.

 

Both men screamed in agony. Porthos breathing hard and grunting spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve found a way to absorb strength!” he grunted, “but only the really powerful men can survive the process. That’s why I made the witches make you superhumanly strong and muscled. I am currently absorbing every ounce of your extra strength but allowing you to keep your muscles. This process will make me even stronger and you the most muscled man on Earth!” and then he started to groan. “Yeah” he grunted, “can you feel it Roger?”

 

“Shit, Fuck, Oh, man, I…” Roger couldn’t stand much more. His body felt like it was on fire. His heart was thumping faster than ever before, he was breathing hard, his cock was red and hard and every muscle in his body felt that it was being forced to flex continuously. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!” he roared and blacked out.

 

Roger woke with a start. He was covered in sweat and sticky white liquid, and his heart was thumping like nobody’s business. Slowly trying to come to terms with what had just happened he noticed that he was back in Fort Collins, California, USA in the year 2016. He shook his head trying to get his bearings. Had he been dreaming or did everything that happened with Porthos and the Musketeers really happen? He got up, dived into the pool, did a few laps to cool himself down. As he clambered out he smiled "Mmm, that felt easy" and then went indoors where he found a DVD playing on his television. He hadn't been watching a DVD before and when a message saying “Message located” began flashing on the screen he was even more mysitified. Sitting down in a chair he selected the message and pressed PLAY.

 

"Oh, yes, yes, I am a true Titan, yes, yes, YESSSSS!"

 

A man who looked like Porthos but several hundred pounds heavier walked into shot his cock covered with white liquid and he started to pose

 

“If thou art watching this, Roger, then the process worked. As you can see I art huge and should be able to defeat any of the Cardinal’s guards. These muscles will keep me hard for years. Oh, yes you can just feel the strength flowing through them. And don’t worry, I’ll try and make sure that D'Artangan doesn’t get too turned on by me! As for you, as per my promise you are now the most muscled man on Earth. I bid you farewell, Musketeer Dixon!”

 

At which point the DVD ejected itself. Roger shook his head and almost disbelieving what he had seen when into the bathroom and turned around a full length mirror and almost came from the reflection. Everything was true! He was the most muscular man in the world and with that, his mind began to reel. Grabbing his video camera, he rushed outside and set it up and although it was earlier than normal decided to put himself through his paces. Starting off with pushups to get himself nicely pumped, he rattled off a thousand in less than five minutes, then as he stood up he started to pose. Every pose, the favourites from his competition routines that got the crowd on their feet, felt incredible. Every sinew, every vein, every fibre of his being was enjoying this sensation and it was reflected in his cock that started to react to the sensations. Twenty minutes after he started he was gritting his teeth, rubbing his fourteen inch cock, flexing his pecs and edging like a man possessed. As his body screamed for mercy he moaned "You wanted to see what a man can do, Porthos, CHECK THIS OUT" and came with such force and power that when he posted the clip on Pornhub that night, it broke the gifting system as users wanted him to, as one user put it, "fill me like that swimming pool!"

 

“I wonder what my training partner will make of me now!” he thought as he drifted off to sleep and dreamed of musclemen of both ancient and modern times worshipping his physique and urging him to become "The New Titan"

[Ro20316]

Ohh Porthos was teh one that brought him back in time. I like it.

 

Porthos became what eh always wanted and helped Roger in the process