time-historical The American Musketeer : A Series

[CardiMuscleman]

Story Two : The Interesting Case of the Edwardian Muscleman

Chapter One: The Good Old Days

Six months had passed since Roger had received “The Titan’s Gift” as Roger had dubbed it, and that gift had paid dividends. He had never considered entering bodybuilding competitions, he was quite happy designing posing routines, but decided to see just how big he was compared to the local amateurs in Colorado and so entered a local contest, and won it hands down. Now, he was the reigning Mr. Fort Collins, Mr. Colorado, Mr. Western United States and was two weeks out from the Mr. United States contest., and Fort Collins loved him for it, so much so that whether there was an official event Roger was always invited, so when as part of the commemorations of the centenary of the American involvement in the First World War, it should come as no surprise to hear that Roger was invited by the mayor of the city of Fort Collins to a recreation of an Edwardian music hall night of entertainment.

 

“Dear Mr. Dixon” the letter said, “The Mayor of the City of Fort Collins has invited you because of your efforts in bodybuilding over this past year. The Mayor wishes to personally thank you for bringing fame to this fair city and encouraging its population, to become and maintain a healthy lifestyle”

 

Of course, this was a very big do and as everyone was being asked to attend in as close to Edwardian period costume as possible that meant Roger had to find a new tuxedo to wear for the occasion. After all, it would be no good putting on the one for his wedding for the simple reason that he had gained a lot amount of muscle since he wore that on his wedding day and as he told his friend from England about the invite online that afternoon, it was clear where most of that muscle had been gained.

 

“Well, just remember this” his friend said, “back in the Edwardian era they were very circumspect, so as much as you hate the idea, briefs will be required!”

 

“You mean this has to be covered?” Roger asked as he flexed his nine-inch-long member which earnt a smiley icon from his friend.  John had been his friend for several years online, attracted by a person who didn’t seem to mind him asking all sorts of inane questions about training and bodybuilding and apologising that he could actually put any of it to practical use thanks to the fact that he was on welfare and the nearest gym was a good twenty miles away, but as Roger said on many an occasion “The fact that you are showing an interest places you above the majority of our countries”

 

“Unfortunately for you, yes” his friend replied as Roger continued to flex, “but on the plus side if this is a true Edwardian reconstruction of a music hall, you should expect a strongman act to appear. They were all the rage in the Edwardian era, after all Eugene Sandow had just come to fame and there were a lot of copycat acts as well” and as if to demonstrate, his friend sent him a picture of a strongman from the late 19th century which caused Roger’s cock to flex again pushing him closer and closer to what he called “heaven” and as he groaned his friend added “Although, I don’t think they’ll be naked like that one!”

 

“More’s the pity” moaned Roger as his breath became more and more ragged and he came for the third time that day.

Just as his friend has said all the people attending were dressed in their best Edwardian finery and for Roger that was awkward. He’d just come back from a hard gym session and his body, still pumped, was having a hard time trying to fit into all of the corners of his suit. In fact, it got so bad, that when the interval came he made straight for the toilets, took his entire suit off and flexed hard in order to get his body to calm down. Even though he could hear people all around him, flexing always made him hard and so gritting his teeth and swearing to himself in his mind, he rubbed his member as hard as he could, imaging himself ramming Porthos, wrapping his arms around the Titan’s heaving chest, his legs around Porthos’s waist, pounding that man he was proud to call “lover” and with a gentle gasp arrived into the toilet bowl and gently leaned against the door moaning under his breath. As he recovered he slowly got dressed again and found this time his suit fitted perfectly which earnt him a small chuckle as he left the toilets. However, in his haste to get back to the theatre, he got hopelessly lost but thinking that he recognised the door next to him, he opened it and popped his head through and smiled as he saw lots of people in Edwardian outfits.

 

He sat down in the back row so as not to disturb people and was soon being entertained by all manner of Edwardian acts. There was sketches usually referring to the invention of the Teddy bear, there were songs the vast majority of which Roger was able to sing along to and there was also a magic act which Roger thought he could explain. But the finale really took his breath away.

 

“My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen” announced the master of ceremonies waving his gavel in the air, “It is very rare that we are able to have such an able-bodied performer with us, but this evening that is precisely what we have. This man is the literal definition of strapping…”

 

“Oooh!” went the audience

 

“…well-built” he continued which produced another “Oooh” and concluded with “…and if I may be so bold as to make the comparison is as hard as nails!”

 

Roger sat up in his seat. Those were descriptions that could have been used to describe him and he wondered for a moment if he was about to be asked to give a demonstration of his physique.

 

“I give you” announced the master of Ceremonies, getting incredibly wound up, “that Herculean, pumped up powerhouse, Mr. MUSCLES!” and with that he banged his gavel and the curtain raised to reveal a large box on the stage that was no bigger than a desktop computer. Scratching his head, Roger wondered if he was being asked to pose and was wondering what he would do about a posing suit when the box suddenly sprouted legs. Roger gasped as they emerged and his cock started to twitch.

 

The calves had to be at least twenty inches, maybe a little more and as he followed the legs up, the quads flexed hard and Paul’s member started to throb at the sight of a pair of twenty-four inch wheels. Then from the side of the box two arms smashed through and flexed, this time showing off a pair of twenty-four inch monsters with a peak that was making Roger desperate to rub his now hardening member. Then from the top of the box a head popped out and although smiling, it was clear that the body still inside the box was forcing the person to restrict his breathing. The man took a deep breath and as he gritted his teeth, Roger knew instantly what he was doing. He was hitting a most muscular with the intention to smash the box to smithereens which happened seconds later. The sight that greeted Roger was too much and he came in his suit and moaned as the monster hit a most muscular on the stage.

 

He looked quite young in his mid to late twenties at most, but wow, what a body this man had. It had to be at least six-foot-tall and a minimum of two hundred and fifty pounds of lean, hard and ripped muscle making him much bigger and a heck of lot leaner than several of the bodybuilders Roger knew. As he switched from a most muscular to a front lat spread, his chest bulged and caused Paul’s cock to dribble again thanks to a chest that must have been at least fifty inches around but what really attracted Paul’s attention was the five inch long nipples that looked like towers compared to the level ground of his chest. His waist was also remarkable and not just for the six-pack that was being tensed, it had to be no more than thirty inches. This man was a competition bodybuilder and yet it wasn’t one Roger knew but he knew one thing and that was with a monster of a cock that was only just being held in by the shorts he was wearing, which Roger reckoned had to be thirteen inches by seven inches when hard, he had to meet this muscle monster and fully appreciated the stage name of Mr. Muscles.

 

“I would now like to demonstrate my strength” Mr. Muscles bellowed, “and to do that, may I ask for a volunteer please?”

 

Roger instantly jumped up and Mr. Muscles chuckled saying “Sir, you seem eager to assist” and with that gestured Roger to approach. Roger wanted to run but instead walked quite briskly and was soon on stage next to this mass of muscles.

 

“Sir” said Mr. Muscles, taking an iron bar from a table behind him, “could you examine this bar and confirm that it is a normal iron bar, has not been treated with any chemicals nor has been affected by the lights?”

 

Roger took the bar and tried to bend it which confirmed it was normal and banged it on the stage as well before handing it back.

 

Mr. Muscles grabbed the bar in both hands, took a deep breath and roared and as he did he slowly but surely started to bend the bar. Roger's cock was now rampant again and he gritted his teeth in case he came again as he watched the man defy logic as the bar bent with hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of raw power being forced to act on it.

 

Mr. Muscles stopped roaring and showed the audience and Roger that what was a straight iron bar a few moments ago was now a ring with no start or end. As he handed the ring to Roger to examine, he bellowed, “I am the strongest man on Earth and I challenge anyone to deny me!”

 

Roger stepped up to him and whispered in his ear, “Local, National and soon to be international champion in the sport of being as big and as strong as possible. I can take you!” and with that he squeezed Mr. Muscles’ glutes

 

Mr. Muscle’s eyes widened in surprise and then he announced, “This man has accepted my challenge. This time tomorrow we shall prove that I am right!” and with that he wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist, picked him up and as he carried him offstage, he whispered “No man has been able to resist my muscles” and added, “Prove that you can!”

 

The challenge had been set.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Two : Mr. Muscles Cometh

Roger was dumped into a chair in Mr. Muscles’ dressing room and as the giant locked the door behind him, Roger knew what was likely to happen. He had a vast collection of muscle videos at home and although most of them were of contests from the last thirty years, he had a special collection that he dubbed “The Musclemen Cometh” which showed competition and off season bodybuilders flexing themselves until they came and as Mr. Muscles turned around, his chest heaving from his exertions, he felt sure that was precisely what was going to happen.

 

So the fact that he pulled up another chair, sat next to Roger and gestured for him to hold his hands came as a surprise but as Roger gave him his hands to hold, it was clear that Mr. Muscles had something on his mind and Roger, being trained in the art of listening said “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”

 

Mr. Muscles nodded and started to speak.

 

“I always knew I was a bit different" he said, "it all started when I was about seven years old. I used to live not that far from a farm and that farm often employed the strongest blacksmith in the county. Even on the coldest days he would be out hammering away at his work in just an apron and, his strength was unimaginable. He would bend horseshoes cold, he would leap over fences as if they were not there, he even lifted a shire horse when it suddenly lost a shoe. It was he who inspired me to become the man I am today", then his tenor changed as he added "When I was sixteen I was asked by my father to apprentice with him. Naturally I was very scared working for my hero but he reassured me that his strength would only be used in the workplace. That winter, it snowed so heavily that it was impossible for us to return to our homes one day, so we had to spend the night together. I could barely sleep watching that huge chest heave" and he remembered the scene, he shuddered slightly. "Around midnight, I got out from under my blanket and gently rolled his blanket back. As I watched that massive chest heave, I gingerly pinched one of the nipples. The blacksmith moaned and his chest bulged. I unrolled the blanket a bit more and saw that he slept completely naked, his manhood long and relaxed". Mr. Muscles then looked straight up at Roger and almost with tears in his eyes whimpered "I touched it. Suddenly he woke up, and before I had a chance to explain he’d knocked me out cold. When I came to the following morning, I had been dumped in an outhouse of my house where I lived with the words “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME” pinned to my blanket” and with that he held his head in shame and gently whimpered.

 

Roger, still holding his hands instantly knew what Mr. Muscles was talking about. He was gay or at least bisexual and as Roger was the same he could completely relate. Although most people assumed that the Edwardians never talked about sex, Roger knew that throughout history gays and bisexuals had been persecuted and it was clear that Mr. Muscles was the latest in a long line.

 

 “Sir” he said, looking up and holding Roger's hands tightly, “I have been candid with you, pray, be candid with me. Are you as strong and powerful as you say that you are? And do you, like me, need to feel hard muscles?"

 

Roger stood up and slowly took off his suit and as he did so, Mr. Muscles gasped in amazement. Whilst he was big and muscular, Roger was by far the more ripped of the two men and as Roger started showing his contest posing routine Mr. Muscles watched in silent worship.

 

First, as Roger crouched down and standing side on, resembling an ancient Egyptian slave bowing before his master he explained what he was doing. “When I demonstrate my physique, I tell a story. This story I call “The Rise of Man”” and with that he raised an arm to the ceiling, “Man has always placed those weaker than him into servitude, but I believe that Man will always try and rise up against those who oppress him” and as he explained he raised his other arm up and then made an almost worshipping gesture, “and seeking help from the gods, some men have been given the strength to do just that” and with that he stood up and flexed his back, “This god found strength enables them to break free of their shackles and rise up against the oppressors”  and with that he stood up and pretended to break a chain that was strained across his chest, “Once free of man’s tyranny, the muscle hero is able to demonstrate his true wishes” and so saying he approached Mr. Muscles flexing his biceps harder than he had ever done before, and concluded by saying “Thus, this proves that whilst men may be oppressed, those who know what it is to be a man will always come to the surface” and concluded by hitting a most muscular pose pushing his chest right into Mr. Muscles’ face before bowing.

 

Mr. Muscles was dumbstruck and after several moments started to speak.

 

“Sir” he said, his eyes still wide open, “I have dreamed of the day when another man is not scared of my strength and power and willingly wants to show me the meaning of being a man” and with that he stood up and ripped off his shorts, “Sir, be that man!” and with that he hit a front double bicep pose.

 

Roger ripped off his briefs and stood over Mr. Muscles and bellowed, “Lie down and prepare to match your match!”

 

Mr. Muscles did as he was told and Roger positioned his arms so that his forearms were placed across his neck and head. Then Roger said, in an authoritative voice, “Now, raise those legs, flex those tree trunks as hard as you can and then spread them apart!” and with a little help from Roger, Mr. Muscles had his knees lined up with his armpits. As he did Mr. Muscles moaned and mumbled “Do unto me, sir, as you have done to others!”

 

“With pleasure!” moaned Roger as he grabbed Mr. Muscles tennis ball sized balls and moving his hand up pointed the monster cock of the muscleman towards his face and as he did Mr. Muscles instinctively flexed his glutes. As he did, Roger gently rubbed the hole between them and said in a quiet voice, “Do you want me to?”

 

“Yes” moaned Mr. Muscles, “with all my heart!”

 

Normally, Roger would prefer to ram someone with some lubrication, but seeing how desperate Mr. Muscles was to have the sensation, he rubbed his cock to achieve its full length, lined it with the hole and gently touched either side of it before thrusting into the hole. Mr. Muscles screamed in agony and yet smiled from ear to ear as his dreams had been realised. Placing a hand on Mr. Muscles’ chest, Roger could feel the giant’s heart pounding and could see the giant heaving, this made him even more aroused and as his member grew inside Mr. Muscles, the willing victim groaned in ecstasy. Slowly, Roger pushed the member in and then as Mr. Muscles moaned he pulled it out slightly.

 

“Sir” groaned Mr. Muscles, “please, I beg you, again!”

 

“Oh, I will” chuckled Roger, “but first I want to see you suffer!” and with that he pounded the giant’s pecs as if they were drums. Mr. Muscle’s moans became more guttural and he grunted “Hurt me, hurt this man mountain!” and so the assault continued and with his hands still on the chest he could feel the giant’s pulse increase and asked him “How old are you?”.

 

“Thirty five!” grunted the giant as his breathing became more ragged.

 

As he continued to thrust his cock inside of Mr. Muscles, and rubbing the giant’s own cock it was not long before both men were incapable of rational thought, their minds reeling with images of feats of strength never before seen and their hearts and lungs being pushed to their limits reflected in the fifteen inch cock that Roger was rubbing and he began to feel himself start to climax Roger grunted, “Flex, flex harder than you have ever flexed before and then flex harder than that!”

 

Mr. Muscles acted on the instruction immediately and Roger could see sweat pouring down the giant’s body which only made his desire greater and with that he grunted “I’m cumming, You’re cumming too!” and with that both men screamed in agony as their sexual organs erupted sending them both into ecstasy. For Roger this was a regular occurrence and as he remembered the number of times he had cum on webcam, video and DVD for his friends around the world Mr. Muscle’s muscled ass flooded with his cum. Mr. Muscle also exploded with a torrent that resembled rope that travelled the height of the dressing room before dripping down over the two musclemen now slumped on each other, their chests heaving and groans emanating from both of them. As they orgasmed, Mr. Muscles whispered "Beat me, sir, be the last man conscious!" and with that he moaned and blacked out, followed seconds later by Roger who collapsed onto the giant's heaving, sweat and cum drenched chest.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Three : The Brother

“Oh, Hercules, Samson, Conan, He-Man” moaned Roger as the titans of muscle stood over him, “I accept your gift and promise to use your strength to serve those unable to defend themselves against tyranny!”

 

The men all smiled and as they rubbed their cocks ranging in size from eleven to eighteen inches in length, Roger opened wide ready to accept their gift and as the streams of cum entered into him, he swallowed greedily and passed out from the sense of power now exploding in his chest.

 

Roger moaned as he woke up with the familiar sensation of dried cum over his torso. It was a common occurrence and on several occasions when he was on his own he would wake up with the sensation several times a night, however this occurrence was very different as he woke up to find himself in a four poster bed in a very grand and imposing room indeed. Even the sheets, now sticking to his torso, were made of the finest silk. As Roger sat up and looked around at the room he saw a hand written note by his bed and as he read it, he could feel his cock dribbling again.

 

“My dearest friend” it began, “I have never experienced that in all the years that I have been on the stage. After you passed out, I picked you up and carried to my house where I live with my brother and placed you in the guest bedroom as I want you to know, you are more than a guest, I consider you my best friend. Yours, in muscular appreciation, Mr. Muscles! P.S Your suit is being washed ready for tomorrow, please wear this dressing gown around the house. I am asleep in the attic and will be down later on in the day to prepare you for our performance this evening!”

 

As Roger put on the dressing gown, which he noticed had a massive R monogrammed over his pecs, he left the guest bedroom and was struck with amazement. The landing he was could have come straight from Downton Abbey and the views outside the ornate window reminded him of the gentle rolling English countryside. As he made his way downstairs, he could hear someone in a nearby room so once downstairs, in the main hall where any number of noble lords may have walked, he popped his head around the door and was greeted with a friendly, “Ah, so you’re the new boy then!”

 

“Sorry?” asked Roger

 

“Come in, dear boy, come in!” came the reply and as he did he saw a rather odd looking person at the head of the table that reminded me of a cross between a typical Edwardian gentleman and that rather annoying professor who popped up on his word processing programme usually when not wanted. The man gestured to him to sit by him and as Roger sat, he thrust a hand in his general direction.

 

“So, I see that Mr. Muscles has a new friend then?” he smiled and shook Paul’s hand

 

“You know him?” asked Paul

 

“Know him?” replied the man, “Sir, I’m his brother. Professor J. K. Ell at your service, PhD, BSc, MAD and OOPS!” and with that he carried on with his breakfast.

 

Roger stared at the man in disbelief. This professor was completely different in every way to Mr. Muscles. He was a good two feet shorter; more than a hundred pounds lighter and also seemed to have a lot less hair than Mr. Muscles. There was no way in a million years they could be related, could there?

 

“I know what you’re thinking” he chuckled as he spread some marmalade onto his toast, “we are brothers” and then he leant in, “He’s older by fifteen minutes!"

 

“But you’re so…!” stammered Paul

 

“Different?” he asked and bit into his toast, “Yes, well, that’s what happens when your father ends up in a debtor’s prison. We were separated when we were six months old. He went to live on a farm; I went to live on my mother’s country estate. I got waited hand on foot; he had to work hard to survive!”

 

“And now you live together again?” Roger asked

 

“Well, in a manner of speaking” he replied, “I’m a stockbroker by trade and so I work during the day, and he, well, I rather gather you see what he does!”

 

“If you are a stockbroker” asked Paul, “why are you called Professor?”

 

“Side interest of mine for the weekend!” he replied, “Yes, I have a PhD and a BSc, not to mention a MAD (that's Member of the Artistic Desires) and one of the founder members of OOPS, the Organisation Of Proper Scientists with a speciality in biology” and with he offered Roger some kedgeree.

 

“I’ve an interest in biology as well” said Roger as he placed some kedgeree on his plate

 

“Oh, good" smiled the professor, "perhaps you can help me then. I want to know how two people can be so different. I cannot believe that it was nothing more than hard work that made my brother what he is today. I have a theory myself that I would love to prove and believe I am just missing one vital piece of evidence for me to solve the problem, the problem is that my brother’s not really the helping sort and won't provide me with that I need!”

 

“What do you need?” asked Roger as he put some kedgeree into his mouth

 

“Raw Semen!” replied the professor and caused Roger to nearly choke on his meal

 

“Cum?" he asked, unable to believe what he had heard

 

“Well, I like to call it semen but that's the general idea” the professor replied, “If I could analyse my brother’s semen and then compare it to mine perhaps I will be able to unlock my own potential and be bigger and stronger than the Victorian Hero!” and with that sighed.

 

“The who?” Roger asked

 

“The Victorian Hero!” the professor replied and pulled out a magazine from under his seat and handed it to Paul. He recognised it as a very early pulp fiction magazine and as he looked at the cover he gasped under his breath at the date on the cover.

 

“April 15th 1914!” he thought to himself and looked around him, “I’m in the past!”

 

“Page Eleven!” said the professor and as Roger flicked through it he found the page and started reading.

 

“The Victorian Hero bounded into the laboratory and bellowed “Halt, Professor Science, lest you incur the wrath of the Victorian Hero!”. The professor scoffed and switched on the gun that sent a thousand volt blast of direct current into the hero who grunted under the assault. “YOU…CANNOT…DEFEAT…ME!” he grunted, slowly walking towards the villain, “I…AM…THE…TRUE….EMBODIMENT….OF…THIS…NATION!” and with that he grabbed the gun and crushed it with his bare hands!”

 

“Ooooh!” moaned Roger as he felt his member harden and carried on reading.

 

“You think you have won, Victorian Hero?” continued the Professor, “I think not!” and with that threw a ball at the Hero which he caught. Before he had a chance to react, the ball exploded and when the smoke had cleared, although the Victorian Hero was still standing his face had a blank expression on it. “I have won!” chuckled the Professor, “that gas has wiped your mind. You have no idea who you are, or what you are doing here? But I know, you are now my willing slave!” and with that he roared with laughter”

 

“Wow!” thought Roger, “they really knew how to write stories in those days!” and with that handed the magazine to the Professor.

 

“Just imagine!” the professor said, in reply, “A man taller than the average, stronger than an elephant, more intelligent than the entire college staff of Cambridge and Oxford, and all I need is my brother’s semen!”

 

Roger thought for a moment and said “Sir, this evening I am supposed to challenge your brother in a test of strength. I believe that after that test, I will be able to get your sample for you!”

 

“Really?” remarked the Professor, “You’d do that for me? Oh, sir, I cannot thank you enough!” and with that shook Roger’s hand so hard that Roger felt it might be coming out its socket and added “on the understanding that if your theory is correct, you will give some of that power to me!”

 

“You?” he asked, “but from my brother’s description of you, you’re already quite powerful as it is?”

 

“I have only really been this powerful for the last year or so" replied Roger, as he remembered his life before meeting Porthos, "I looked after myself and kept myself healthy, yes, but I wonder, deep down I wonder, what I could have been if I had taken that first step when it was offered to me thirty years ago, when I was in high school and the sports teacher asked me if I wanted to become stronger"

 

“Sir” said the professor, wiping a tear from his eye, “you and me are kindred spirits. If you can obtain a sample of my brother’s semen, and my theory holds up, then I shall help you, in fact, better than that, I shall let you become my first subject and received the unbridled power that I believe my brother has!”

 

Roger's cock hardened at the thought of being endowed with the strength and power of Mr. Muscles and with that he stood up and said “Sir, I thank you. May I go into the garden for a few hours and enjoy this hot sunshine!”

 

“Be my guest” replied the Professor and as Roger left the house and the hot sunshine warmed him up, he closed his eyes and imagined himself as a twenty year old with all the strength and power of Mr. Muscles.

 

His cock was now starting to tent his dressing gown and as he walked towards a small forest, he took it off and allowed the heat to warm his whole body with his imagination running wild. He leant against an oak and started to rub, his memories of his hard gym sessions for the last year merging with every muscle movie he had seen where the hero was tortured, his muscles glistening with sweat, breathing hard to beat the torture whilst dressed in nothing more than a loincloth. The hero's muscles bulging, his breathing getting more and more powerful, his arms quivering, grim determination on his face. These memories were too much for Roger to endure and with a mighty “OH, FUCK!” that resonated throughout the forest he came soaking the ground with what seemed like gallons of cum and as he experienced the orgasm, his favourite part of being a man, he slumped to the ground moaning “Mr. Muscles, I will have your power!”

[Ro20316]

I really love your creativity. I really do

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Four : The Tables Turned

“Ladies and Gentlemen” announced the master of ceremonies as Mr. Muscles and Roger warmed up for their appearance, “on this very stage last night, Mr. Muscles, that powerhouse from Portsmouth, accepted the challenge that was laid down by him by a member of the audience. Tonight, he and the challenger will face off in that challenge, so please welcome onto the stage, his challenger, from the city of Fort Collins in the American Rockies, Roger the Powerhouse!” and with that he banged his gavel and giving Mr. Muscles a smile, Roger stepped out wearing one of the traditional strongman outfits at the time that resembled a swimming outfit and when he reached the centre of the stage puffed out his chest in a front lat spread.

 

“And the champion” continued the master of ceremonies, “that powerhouse from the South coast of this great nation, a man whose feats of strength have wowed this land and beyond, a man who perhaps could only be beaten by that famed Titan of yore, Hercules, Mr. Muscles!”

 

Mr. Muscles leapt onto the stage dressed in an outfit that reminded Roger of the Tarzan films he often came to and did fifty pushups in less than twenty five seconds. With his chest pumped, he flexed it hard at Roger and nodded. As with most Edwardian strength challenges, it was all a massive con and whilst, yes, Mr. Muscles and Roger would be testing their strength, the objects they were testing them on had been especially designed to show them off to their best.

 

“Your first challenge, gentleman!” announced the master of ceremonies, “is to take that block of wood in front of you and break it, using only your brute strength!” and with that both men picked up a block of wood that was at least three feet long, two feet wide and a foot thick. As they both nodded, the master of ceremonies announced, “This block of wood, ladies and gentlemen, is pure oak and can only be broken by the force of a winter storm!” and banged his gavel signalling the start of the trail. Roger placed the block of wood between his hands and squeezed, his chest bulging under the pressure, whilst Mr. Muscles opted for a more dazzling display by placing it on his neck. As Paul’s breathing became more laboured, a split started to appear in his block of wood and encouraged he took a deep breath and squeezed harder whilst at the same time, Mr. Muscles raised his piece of wood and waited for Roger's signal.

 

Roger roared as the wood split down the middle and as it dropped to the stage, Mr. Muscles also roared and slammed the wood onto his neck with also split and as the four pieces fell to the floor with a clunk, the audience roared their approval and both men shook each other’s hands and winked. Their deception had worked. No man, not even Mr. Muscles could snap a block of wood on their neck, which is why the block was actually made of silver birch, one of the most delicate trees in the world.

 

As the audience applauded this feat of almost superhuman strength, Mr. Muscles patted Roger on the back and whispered “Ready for the dumbbell?”

 

“Heck, yeah!” he whispered back

 

“For their second test!” continued the master of ceremonies, “these men will now lift a ten thousand pound weight and hold it at arm’s length for as long as they can. This feat requires all the determination, stamina and endurance these men can muster so please, ladies and gentlemen, this next section must have complete silence!”

 

As both men picked up the weight shaped like a pyramid with a handle on the top and stretched their arms out, they both smirked to each other before taking a deep breath and nodded. The master of ceremonies pulled on a cord and the rests the weights had been on were pulled away allowing them to test their strength and whilst their strength was being tested, it was not being tested to the degree that the audience were being led to believe. Each weight did weigh something, yes, but thanks to a comma and two extra zeroes painted on earlier in the day, the one hundred pound weight they were actually holding was being presented as a ten thousand pound weight and after a couple of minutes Mr. Muscles whispered “Now”.

 

Roger immediately started to grimace and pretended that his arms were being dragged down by the weight and a few seconds later Mr. Muscles followed. As both men faked groans of agony, several women in the front rows fainted and quite a few men looked quite uncomfortable. Slowly, but surely, both men pretended to succumb to the agony and both weights hit the ground at the same time.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced the master of ceremonies, “the final challenge, and the deciding one, is a test of pure physical strength. Both men will wrestle until one has been pinned and unable to move for a full thirty seconds. For this test, the participants have asked you to call out your favourite. Gentlemen, you may begin on my gavel!” and with that he hit the gavel and both men launched at each other.

 

As the theatre swelled with calls of “Mr. Muscles” and “Powerhouse Roger” both men wrestled each other with a vengeance. This was the only part that had not been faked or practised beforehand which is precisely how both men wanted it to be. Mr. Muscles to prove to Roger that his strength was even greater than he had shown him the previous day and Roger knowing that this sort of activity was bound to get Mr. Muscles aroused and make getting the sample of his semen child’s play. Indeed, only a minute into the bout both men were hard and another minute later, their cocks could be clearly seen bulging under their shorts.

 

After five minutes of manhandling, Mr. Muscles had Roger in an arm lock, but Roger had a trick up his sleeve and started to whisper into Mr. Muscles’ ear, “Yeah, come on you muscle stud you, crush me with your powerful muscles, make me realise just how strong you are!” and sure enough Mr. Muscles started to moan and his grip weakened. Roger was able to scrabble out of his and grabbed Mr. Muscles in a chest lock forcing his chest out and his stomach in which caused the monster to roar in agony and his cock to tent even more. This was too much for the master of ceremonies who quickly ushered for the curtain to fall and cover the scene saying “Ladies and Gentlemen, this bout is likely to go on for some time but I pledge that the winner will be on stage tomorrow and will place himself at your command!” and with that he banged the gavel signifying the end of the show.

 

As Roger and Mr. Muscles looked at each other, they smiled, they were now able to really go to town and with that Mr. Muscles loosened himself out of the grip, picked Roger up and made their way to their dressing room and continued their bout, this time with a more sexual theme in mind as no sooner had they closed the door than they ripped off their outfits and launched at each other again and within mere moments both men were on the verge of cumming with Mr. Muscles’ member now a staggering sixteen inches long. As Roger continued to pound the monster’s ass, he took out a small container hidden between his glutes the whole time and opened it with his teeth and then whispered to Mr. Muscles.

 

“You’re cumming aren’t you? Yeah, I know you are. I can sense that power surging from these” and with that he squeezed Mr. Muscles’ balls which caused the giant to moan, “So really make this one count. Your muscle juice is going to be put to a very good use!” and with that he placed one hand over Mr. Muscles’ eyes and the other at the very tip of the now seventeen inch member and whispered, “Cum, you giant, cum, you monster, cum, you…” but was stopped by a blistering turn of speed from the monster who now had Roger trapped in a chest lock with his legs and instead of moaning as he had been a few moments ago he was now chuckling.

 

“So” he said, “you want to take a sample of my semen eh? Well, that was never going to happen was it? You see, there’s one thing that my dear “brother” didn’t mention to you. He and I are the same person!” and with that he started to squeeze Roger’s chest, “this mass of muscle that you see is the result of a decade’s research into bringing out the monster in all of us and you, my dear friend, are the final element. What the Professor said was true to an extent, it is indeed semen that is the missing ingredient, but not Mr. Muscles’ semen, oh no, not by a long margin, it’s the semen of a man who is sexually attracted to Mr. Muscles”

 

By now, Roger was starting to gasp for breath and as he did he gasped “Why?”

 

“Because” Mr. Muscles smiled, “I am only able to be me during night time hours, with your semen, I can say goodbye to that boring Professor and fulfil my true worth” and with that he squeezed Roger with all his might, laughing as he did so, “as the only person to rob the Bank of England!” and as his laughter rang in his ears, Roger blacked out.

[Ro20316]

 I didnt see that twist coming. Kind of Jekyl and hyde.

Loved it.

[CardiMuscleman]

1 hour ago, Ro20316 said:

 I didnt see that twist coming. Kind of Jekyl and hyde.

Loved it.

Didn't you? Are you sure you didn't?

Quote

“Know him?” replied the man, “Sir, I’m his brother. Professor J. K. Ell at your service, PhD, BSc, MAD and OOPS!” and with that he carried on with his breakfast

J K Ell?

[Ro20316]

OMFG it was tehre all the time. 

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Five : The Treachery Revealed

Roger started to come to and instantly screamed in agony as indescribable pain shot down his back. As he panted from the agony, a voice filled the air.

 

“Ah, excellent” it said, brimming with malevolence, “I was hoping that you’d wake up soon. I have a few questions for you!”

 

As Roger opened his eyes, a figure started to form and as it did, he gasped in horror.

 

“Cardinal Richelieu” he exclaimed

 

“That’s “Your Eminence” to the likes of you!” he retorted and as he nodded his head another bolt of pain shot down Roger’s back and as he screamed in agony, the Cardinal chuckled. As Roger panted from the agony, he realised that was trapped. He was naked, save for a loincloth, on the one instrument of torture that not even Porthos tested his strength on. The rack. Gritting his teeth, he roared “I’ll tell you nothing!”

 

“Oh” replied the Cardinal, “I don’t expect you to. However, your lover is a different matter!” and with that snapped his fingers and a cloth flew away from the table next to Roger. As I did he gasped “Porthos!” as the Titan was revealed, also naked and restrained.

 

“My lover” he moaned, “I have been betrayed. My strength has gone and I am being forced to listen to your screams of agony to confess what I know about the Queen and His Grace!” and with that he slumped back onto the table.

 

“YOU FUCKING MONSTER!” roared Roger but was quickly silenced by another bolt of pain down his back.

 

“Language!” warned the Cardinal, “I am a man of God you know!” and with that approached Porthos and casually flicked his six-inch-long nipples and said “Trying to torture Porthos physically was always a bad idea. Every device I had he’d break free of and humiliate the torturer at the same time. But then I had an idea, mental torture, and what better way to do that than to capture his lover and subject him to physical torture and get the Titan to listen to those screams of agony knowing that he had the power to save the life of his lover. Good eh?”

 

Roger was by now breathing hard and gritting his teeth pulled on the restraints but was stopped by another bolt of pain which caused his agonised scream to resonate. As he did, the Cardinal leaned in to Porthos and said “Now, when is Her Majesty next due to see His Grace?”

 

“I will never betray Her Majesty” grunted Porthos as he struggled vainly.

 

“Very well” said the Cardinal wearily, and with that snapped his fingers saying “Torturer, stretch the Titan’s lover by one notch every minute until the Titan begs for mercy. When he does, summon me!” and with that he left the chamber as Roger screamed in agony again. Panting for breath, Roger closed his eyes and whispered “Kill me, Titan. Kill me, it is the only way for you not to betray Her Majesty!”

 

“No” moaned Porthos, “I love you, Roger, I could never do that do you. You are the only lover I have had who knows my secrets, knows what it is to be a Titan, I cannot allow you to kill yourself!”

 

Another bolt of pain and another scream filled the room.

 

“Roger” moaned Porthos, “forgive me. I am responsible for this. I should be the one killing myself!”

 

“No” replied Roger through gritted teeth, “the world needs you. I need you!” and with that he pulled on his restraints causing his muscles to bulge, his cock to harden and his breathing to become more ragged. As Porthos watched, he moaned and then had an idea.

 

“Roger” he said, softly, “close your eyes, ignore the pain and listen to my words. Feel them resonate through you and act on them!”

 

Roger did as he was told but couldn’t understand why.

 

“One for all and all for one” said Porthos, softly, “Musketeers are always steady. One for all and all for one, helping everybody!”

 

Roger instantly recognised what Porthos was saying. It was the motto of the Musketeers, a motto that he had heard recited hundreds of times before, but as Porthos spoke, his rumbling bass seemed to fill Roger as if he was sitting on top of a washing machine on a fast spin.

 

“One for all and all for one” continued Porthos, “could sound pretty corny, but if you’ve got a problem, pal, think how it could be?”

 

Another bolt of pain shot down Roger’s back, but instead of howling in agony, it seemed to fuel Roger.

 

“We cross our hearts and pray” continued Porthos, his words resonating in Roger, “we cross our swords night and day, we drink our beer and swear we’re faithful to our King!”

 

Roger was by now panting hard. His heart was pounding like a steam engine, he was covered in sweat and felt powerful. As he pulled against his restraints, he joined in the recitation.

 

“No matter what you say” both men said, this time joined in by Roger’s grunts as he pulled against his bonds, “We’re never far away, We’re already ready to…” and with that Porthos turned to his lover and grunted “NOW!”

 

“FIGHT!” roared Roger at the top of his voice and broke his restraints. As he leapt up, he hit the most powerful most muscular pose of his life and as if fuelled by this display of raw, unbridled male power, Porthos roared, broke free of his restraints and joined in the pose. As both men flexed harder than they had ever done before, Roger could feel himself starting to cum. He jumped onto the other table, thrust his sixteen-inch cock into the Titan, and came with such force and power than as he orgasmed he felt as if he was inside Porthos himself which was then followed by a darkening as he blacked out.

 

As Roger came to, groaning, his world was completely dark, he couldn’t see anything but he could hear a guttural laugh.

 

“Ah!” said a voice that he recognised, “so you’re awake again then?”

 

“Mr. Muscles” he grunted in anger and tried to take the object off his head that was blocking his view but found his arms and legs restrained.

 

“Oh, you’ll see in a moment or two” chuckled Mr. Muscles in a voice that sounded a little different, but Roger put that down to the covering, “but first I think I ought to tell you something. Tell me, what did you think of my plan to rob the Bank of England then?”

 

“No one can rob the Bank of England!” replied Roger, “and even if you did, I would swear on any number of Bibles that you were the guilty party!”

 

“Yes” said Mr. Muscles, “which is why I have taken three precautionary measures. Whilst you were out cold, I drank a combination of your cum and my “brother’s” formula and let me tell you, talk about stimulation. Within seconds I was cumming like a man and as I think you can tell, my milk certainly did my body good. Once I recovered, I then set up the next stage of my plan before committing the crime of the century and with those muscles no one could stop me, I bashed the doors down to the Bank with my bare hands, knocked any number of guards out cold and managed to carry a seriously impressive amount of gold and then I deliberately left a trail of clues for the authorities to lead them here”

 

“You will be arrested!” chuckled Roger, “and brought to justice!”

 

“Oh, will I?” chuckled Mr. Muscles as he took the hood off Roger’s head and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he gasped in horror. There in front of him was himself, dressed in an outfit that resembled the clothes worn by the audience in the theatre.

 

“Behold” laughed Mr. Muscles, “the results of my experiment into the concept of mind transference. My mind is now in your body and…guess where your mind is? Answer: Trapped in my body and restrained. You see Roger, I have been practising transferring my mind in and out of my body for years waiting for this moment. Therefore it only took me moments to recover from the transfer, giving me plenty of time to restrain you!”

 

Before Roger had a chance to react, there was a mighty bellow of “Mr. Muscles, there is no escape!”

 

“And so it begins!” Mr. Muscles smiled and as the door to the cellar burst open, he started to whimper, “No, leave me alone, I will not be party to your crimes!” and then yelled, “HELP ME, Mr. Muscles intends to swap minds with me!”

 

“NOT ON MY WATCH HE DOESN’T!” bellowed a voice and before Roger could blink, a blurred white object raced past him, picking up his old body and left the cellar before arriving back a few seconds later. As he stared at Roger, his face was scowling.

 

“Mr. Muscles, we meet at last. I am the Victorian Hero, and you, you are destined for the hangman’s noose!” and with that the man dressed entirely in white, knocked Roger out again.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Six: The Unexpected Saviour

As Roger came to, he groaned in agony. He had a splitting headache and couldn’t feel any sensation in his arms or legs. Shaking his head to try and get his bearings, he became aware of the room he was in. It was only a little taller than the body he was trapped in and only a little wider. He was still restrained by his arms and legs and could barely move. In desperation he yelled “This is inhuman!” which prompted a door to open and the person who had called himself “The Victorian Hero” stepped into the room.

 

“And what would you know about that?” he asked as he approached Roger. He didn’t seem all that powerful considering the description he had read in that magazine, but anyone powerful enough to punch him out cold had to be respected. As he walked around the cell opposite Roger, his hands clasped behind his white suit, he stopped and addressed Roger directly.

 

“Sir” he said, “I still call you sir, you will observe, despite the infamy of your crimes. You have been caught and will face trial for your crimes. I am a person with morals and despite the fact that everything you have done in your criminal career revolts me, I feel duty bound to ask you this question. Do you plead for mercy?” and with that pointed a finger at Roger.

 

“YES!” shouted Roger, “because I am not Mr. Muscles!”

 

“Still you deny it!” said the Hero as he resumed his pacing, “Your crimes, sir, demand the death sentence and yet, I simply cannot see you hanging from the noose without offering you a chance to redeem yourself. Admit to the crimes that we don’t know about and I will plead with the judge to offer as much clemency as possible!” and with that he pressed his face against the bars.

 

Roger gulped. He was facing an actual death sentence by hanging and no amount of superhuman strength or muscles the size of melons would prevent him dying. He took a deep breath and said "I will admit all I can!"

 

“Then pray, sir” replied the Hero, “I am all ears!”

 

Roger took a deep breath and said “My name is Roger Dixon, I am a resident of Fort Collins, in the state of Colorado and I was born in forty years time I am a…” but was stopped by “Sorry, did you say, forty years time?"

 

Roger nodded as he looked up and a faint glimmer of recognition swept across the Victorian Hero’s face.

 

“You were born in 1954?” he asked slowly, “and your name is Roger from Fort Collins?"

 

Roger nodded as hard as he could manage.

 

As he did, the glimmer became more and more evident and slowly a sense of realisation dawned on the Victorian Hero. As it did he gasped, and slowly went to the door and closed it before coming back to him and saying “Do you swear on the Bible, that everything you have said since coming here has been the truth?”

 

“Yes" Roger replied, "I would swear on any number of Bibles, the Torah even the Qur'an!"

 

“Roger!” exclaimed the Victorian Hero and with that grabbed the bars and prised them apart. Without a word of explanation he grabbed Roger's restraints pulled them off him and as the body of Mr. Muscles fell on him, he shouldered the weight saying “Roger, it's me, John!"

 

Roger looked at the person in the suit and squinted and as he did the Victorian Hero took out a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on and asked “Does this help?”

 

Roger stared in disbelief. “It is you!” he exclaimed and the two friends hugged each other with all their might.

“So all those stories were true then?” Roger asked, sitting down next to his friend as they both sipped cups of tea.

 

“As a character on my favourite history programme says” replied his friend, “one hundred percent accu-rat!” and smiled

 

“You became a superhero on those journeys with Mr. Fogg?” he asked and his friend nodded

 

“But, hold on” he said, “in that last story you sent me, you lost your powers when you freed that book!”

 

“I did indeed!” his friend replied, “but I got them back again with interest!” and with that he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeve and flexed his arm. Roger stared in disbelief at the ball of muscle and as he held it tight, his friend put a finger to his lips and smiled “Shush, spoilers!”

 

"Spoilers?" Roger asked

 

"As far as I can concerned" John replied, "it is 2026 where I come from and in that time I have written twenty books about my adventures here. If my memory serves me correct, you have only bought three of them which means that you are very much behind the times" and with that chuckled as he said “Just to wait until you get my book about my time on the Nautilus, you think that Hans was strong, just wait to see what see Ned!"

 

“So what are you doing now?” Roger asked

 

“Liaising with His Majesty’s Secret Service!” his friend replied and produced a leather wallet that he flipped open to reveal a badge that read “The Victorian Hero, licensed to kill with his bare hands if need be” and pocketed it with “but have never done so. Guess I am too Victorian in that regard. Been working my way up the ranks and am now level with a Captain I believe!” and with that chuckled, “The number of times I’ve been saluted, you would not believe!”

 

Roger chuckled as well and then asked "But what about me? I'm going to hang, surely!"

 

His friend nodded and then paused and suddenly started to smile.

 

"Tell me" he said, still smiling, "Would you like to challenge me?" and with that he unbuttoned his shirt and presented Roger with two firm melons of a chest "After all" he added, "how often are two friends, normally separated by a minimum of seven thousand miles and forty years in age able to meet up in the same place at the same time with, if I may note, two bodies that could probably endure what people like Branch Warren would only be able to manage for a minute before begging for mercy?" and with that he nodded. Roger chuckled again, and placing his cup of tea down, placed it on the mighty pectoral being shown and pushed, moaning as he did so.

 

“Wow” he said, “That is one serious pec!”

 

"So, are we agreed then?" his friend smiled as he buttoned up his shirt.

 

Roger nodded and with that his friend stood up, placed his jacket back on and put his fingers to his lips. He went to the door and opened it saying “Mr. Muscles is refusing to co-operate, but I believe I know a way to get the truth out of him. May I be permitted to take him to my office?”

 

“Ah, ha!” said a distant voice, “going to use that mind reading machine on him eh? Okay then, just don’t hurt him too much!”

 

Gesturing for Roger to stand up, his friend walked over and grabbed hold of his wrists whispering “When we leave this room, pretend to plead for mercy and every so often wail “Please, I beg you, not the mind probe!”. I am taking you home to have the biggest, most powerful and most stimulating workout of your life!” and with that he walked to the door announcing “Mr. Muscles, you are coming with me, the truth will be found out!” and as they left the room Roger played his part to perfection, leading the bobby in charge to take off his hat and whisper “God rest his soul!”