HERCULES LABORS                    By 
ChipMasterson@yahoo.com

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND NONCONSENSUAL SEX IN THIS STORY

DON'T READ THIS IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY QUEER SEX.

(Note: some elements of these stories are not found in the ancient sources.)

Eurystheus looked the giant over.  Hera had promised Hercules would not be 
allowed to hurt him.  Still, the power that came of those muscles in waves... 
and he was just standing there, naked, as if carved in stone.  The bloated 
muscles shadowed each other, rising and sinking in a relief no sculptor could 
even imagine.  Each individual muscle, no matter how small on an ordinary man, 
twitched with living strength on Hercules, double or triple the natural 
thickness and so dense that stone spear points shattered in vain attempts to 
pierce them.  It was almost as if he had no skin and each sinew had been 
distorted for viewing by medical students.  Eurystheus, a confirmed womanizer, 
felt an undefined rage toward this man, toward how this giant made him feel.  
And he was just standing there.

"You have ten labors to perform for me by order of the Pythia at Delphi," 
Eurystheus began, his voice cracking.  That infuriated him further, this 
unwonted display of nervousness before a man who was his slave, given him by the 
Queen of Heaven.  "And I shall require a direct accounting immediately 
afterward.  Failure to perform any labor satisfactorily will mean death."

Hercules crossed his arms before his chest.  It was as if great trees had come 
to life and bent themselves across a massive cliff face.  His chest gathered in 
horizontal outcroppings above his gnarled forearms.  I wonder, he thought, how 
he would try to kill me?  Despite the fact that I'm half-divine, I'm too strong 
for anything HE could devise.  Well, it's academic anyhow.  I have never failed 
at anything.  Nor will I.

It was his pride of course that always tripped him up.  This time it would be no 
different. 

Hercules entered the valley of Nemea, where a wild lion had laid waste to the 
countryside.  Nobody could kill it, no matter how large the hunting party, and 
the lion slew and ate all contestants.  The great temple of Zeus, his father, 
was abandoned and defiled with the carcasses of people the lion had claimed.  
Herc's task was to bring the lion's skin back to Eurystheus.  His weapons: a 
quiver of the sharpest arrows in Greece and a club two athletes could barely 
lift from the ground.  He had torn a tree out of the earth and stripped it with 
his bare hands, and it had crushed many a skull.  With a bellow he called out to 
the lion and walked up to the temple.  He could hear the cat pacing inside the 
sanctuary but somehow it sensed it might have met its match.  So it sat in the 
shadows, crouching and watching.  Hercules bellowed his challenge again.

"If you won't come out, I'll make you come out."  He walked up the steps to the 
central pillar and observed the construction.  The stonework was finely fitted 
around the tops of the giant columns, each five feet in diameter and solid 
marble.  The frieze around the top depicted the ancient rites of Zeus.  "Forgive 
me, father," he prayed.  He grinned.

He'd heard of a so-called strong man in the east who toppled a temple by pulling 
two columns together with chains.  Hercules would show this lad how it was done 
by a real man.  

Spreading his heavy arms, he cracked his back and neck in a volley that sounded 
as if tree-limbs were snapping.  He put his hands around the column.  It was so 
thick he couldn't join his hands, but his grip would be no less for that.  His 
arms stretched three-quarters of the distance.  With a sharp intake of breath, 
he gripped the column.  And squeezed.

Muscles leapt like wild animals along his forearms as his gigantic pecs strained 
to draw them in towards his body.  His triceps stood out behind his arms 
farther, and farther in an obscene peak.  His biceps contracted against the cold 
marble and instantly a tinkling of cracks spread out from beneath them.  The 
fluted edges of the column crumbled under the pressure, his fingers cracking and 
digging at the stone.  Dust sifted down from his chest.  He now had the main 
bole of the column in his grasp.  

He took a second breath, and again tried to pull his hands through the stone 
towards his chest.  Deeper clinks rang out of the pillar as stress fractures 
opened beneath the blast of crushing power.  A tremor ran through the structure 
and the roof timbers whispered.  The lion within growled edgily.

Chunks of stone began to chip out around his constricting arms.  His pecs ground 
deeper depressions into the stone.  The column segments above him began to 
tremble as with an earthquake.  Hercules grunted.  His face grew red and a vein 
throbbed in his forehead.  His arms never released their pressure, but bore down 
as his back spread out to support them.

The marble split against the grinding force and Hercules poured power into the 
fault.  His knees dug into the pillar as well, pulverizing the stone fluting as 
his legs lifted.  Forcing the broken stone up against the roof, he raised tons 
of rock off the temple floor.  The musical tinkling of marble chips falling 
joined the deeper groan as the roof teetered.  But the broken column held: his 
arms bound the pieces together more tightly that the marble's own hardness had.  
With a final thrust upward, he sent the great stone cornice toppling backward.  
Great logs split and fell with shifting weight.  He pulled back to set the 
column pieces flying away from him and let go.  The stone column smashed into 
pieces as the rest of the temple crashed inward upon it.  Other columns swayed 
and fell amid the clamoring dust and stone shrapnel.  Hercules stood amid the 
raining rubble and batted it away with his forearms.  Roaring with triumph he 
watched the great temple rip open.

The giant cat had sought refuge within the inner sanctuary but that space was 
too confined for it now, and it boomed with the debris pouring onto it, cracking 
its stone.  With a growl the lion leapt past Hercules at lightning speed, taking 
a vicious swipe at his head.  Hercules dodged that paw and with reflexes faster 
than any wild animal grabbed the hind leg as it soared past.  His biceps bulged 
as it absorbed the impetus of the catch, stopped it and dealt it right back out.  
Swinging the half-ton lion around like a toy, his grip cracking the bones of the 
leg, Hercules flung the cat hundreds of feet through the air to land smack 
against a hillside.  He walked toward the dazed, floundering beast.

The lion got up, wobbly and limping on its broken hind leg.  Hercules felt a 
little winded so he grabbed the bow that only one other man could draw (and he 
was lost in the Trojan campaign), and shot an arrow with sure accuracy.  The 
arrow hit the lion over its heart... and broke.  Hmm, thought Hercules.  With 
dizzying speed he shot a succession of arrows, his hands a blur and the 
bowstring singing like a harp.  All along the sides of the lion the arrows stung 
and broke.  The lion leapt.

Now full of wild panic and hatred, it sprang at Hercules with such force that 
its over-half-ton weight was multiplied and drove the giant man back as he 
caught it against his chest.  The lion clawed with razor talons that tore at 
Hercules's skin, though they couldn't saw through his dense, ridged muscle.  The 
great teeth chewed the air near his head.  Those jaws might be able to get 
through his throat.  The animal's breath stank of death and decay.  Hercules's 
swift hands rose to close those jaws.

Holding the half-ton cat up in one hand by the scruff of its mane, Herc's other 
hand clamped down on the jaws, but they wouldn't close.  The lion exhibited 
enormous power, and Herc's forearm bulged and began to tremble with the effort 
that just now cracked solid marble.  The cat writhed, slashed at him, then used 
Herc's own wide chest as a launching pad to leap off.  The mane ripped out in 
Herc's fist and he barely had time to catch his breath before the cat was on him 
again, this time gnashing toward his cock.  Hercules reached for his club and 
with one hand raised the great wood into the air.  He brought it down on the 
lion's back with all his force: and two feet of solid ash cracked over the 
lion's back.  The lion leapt at his face again.  

The beast should be dead by now but it keeps coming back, Herc thought, his mind 
racing.  My weapons are useless.  Well, not all of them.  I have these biceps.  
Herc grinned and fell on the lion.  

Hercules didn't weigh a quarter of the lion's weight but his powerhouse thighs 
drove the cat over onto its back.  He clamped his arms around the lion's back 
and pressed his chest against the lion's rib cage.  Herc's thick neck drove his 
head up against the lion's jaw.  The lion struggled and ripped at him with 
savage claws but Herc's legs quickly moved underneath and around the lion's hind 
legs.  Herc's back flared out, his lats wider than the lion's compressing body.  
A strangled cry came out of the lion's mouth as Herc's head shoved and shattered 
teeth.  His chin ground down into the lion's throat.  

Rolling onto his back he held the cat above him.  Clasping his iron fingers 
together he crunched the giant beast between his biceps, against his thickening 
pecs.  The space containing the lion contracted, grew smaller and tighter with 
the cracking of vertebrae.  The lion's legs sought the ground and tried to press 
up, its back and shoulders writhing.  Again, Herc squeezed.  The lion's ribs 
bowed out.  Herc's legs trapped the hind legs of the lion and started pulling 
them out of joint.  The cat fought back but his legs held and widened into a 
perfect split; The cat screamed, its eyes wide with terror as its leg muscles 
ripped apart and tendons tore off the bone.  Straining to get up, to get away, 
only made it worse.  The bone couldn't stand the upward pressure of the cat's 
own muscle and the downward clamp of Herc's unforgiving strength, and the front 
legs snapped in spiral fractures.  Paws hung limply in the clawed dirt and Herc 
breathed in the animal's musk.  His cock grew hard and he dug it into the 
animal's belly as a final humiliation: here was this strong creature struggling 
for dear life and Herc was using it for pleasure.  Getting hard off its death 
throes.  Blood and foam crept out of the animals mouth and its eyes popped out 
of their sockets with the unyielding pressure.  Herc roared in triumph as his 
biceps tensed and shattered spine and rib cage.   Bone splintering out met those 
growing biceps and shattered again.  None of the cracking bone could pierce the 
animal's tough hide.  Internal organs, deprived of the armor of bone and sinew, 
ruptured in a wash of blood and gore out its ass and mouth, ears and eyes. 

Herc stood up, carrying the destroyed lion on his shoulder.  Without pausing for 
rest he began to run, half a ton crushed between deltoid and biceps, toward 
Eurystheus.

Eurystheus was on his throne when he heard the commotion.  His guards ran to the 
bronze doors sealing the room from the corridor when they rang out with a hollow 
boom and crashed open.  The hinges of one bent under the force and the door 
twisted off and fell to the floor with a deafening clang.  Hercules strode in 
with the fly-buzzing carcass on his shoulder, having never set it down.  He 
flung the animal at Eurystheus feet, silenced him with a steely look and 
proceeded to flay the animal with his bare hands.  Ripping the tough hide off 
the macerated muscle and broken bones, he forced Eurystheus to wretch on his 
royal robes and gilded throne.  Then, taking the red wet hide, he wrapped it 
around his body as the perfect shield and rested the animals horrified head atop 
his own as a helmet.  

He stood before the sickened Eurystheus, his massive body streaked with blood.

"Next?"

                              ***

A hideous monster had made its nest at the Well of Amymone in Argos.  The Hydra, 
a snake with nine heads, the middle one immortal, crushed in its coils and ate 
anyone passing by.  Eurystheus thought to give himself a good name by ridding 
the country of this pestilence.  Or rather, by having Hercules do it for him.

Hercules had sent for his servant Iolaus, but he had not come.  The Nemean lion 
skin had been cleaned and made field-worthy by the young athletes of the 
gymnasium at Tiryns, which only exacerbated Eurysthenes' hatred of the hero.  
Herc watched the Hydra from the swamp and thought through strategy.  "What the 
hell, I'll just kill it."

Having lost his trusty club to the lion, he looked about for something more 
sturdy.  The snake's reach was long and although the skin would protect him from 
the venomous fangs, he'd rather not get too dirty.  He walked up to a tree past 
the edge of the swamp where the ground was firm and dry.  It looked like it had 
just the right heft, not too long, about half the width of his chest.  It was 
old though, and thick roots dug into the ground like talons.  He apologized to 
the spirit of the tree and set to work. 

Bracing his thighs, each as big around as the trunk, he put his hands to the 
bole and began to push.  The wood creaked but stayed firm.  Working his 
shoulders in a rhythmic motion, he increased the pressure.  Sharp cracking pops 
accompanied the rising creak, but the roots held.  The upper branches danced as 
the force expanded up through the tree.  Birds flew off from surrounding trees.  
He pressed harder.  Slowly, the feet-thick truck started to bend.  Bark snapped 
and flew off.  It wasn't what he wanted.  He backed off and the tree sighed, but 
was too bent to straighten up.  

He had a suspicion the roots might come in handy with all those heads to contend 
with so he got down on his knees and reached around the trunk at ground level.  
His lats thickened and spread as he started to twist to the right.  The heavy 
roots held and again popping sounds trembled the ground.  He twisted to the 
left, his arms holding but not crushing the tree, manipulating it out of the 
solid earth.  Hard soil shook and broke into huge clods as he forced the root 
system to slowly agitate.  His twists got harder, his abs and intercostals 
responded by hardening into interlocked iron fingers.  His knees sank into the 
ground and he started to twist with an upward motion, as if unscrewing the tree 
from the ground.  Deep in the earth the lower roots ripped and tore loose from 
the earth or themselves.  He heaved again and again and forced compliance with 
his will. Finally the tree gave an inch to Hercules' muscle.  He doubled his 
efforts.  His back writhed as he tried to straighten up from a crouch without 
changing his grip on the trunk.  Five or six roots as big as a decathlete's leg 
shivered and wrenched.  With the pressure with which tree roots crack rock, but 
greater and faster, he gave final upward thrust.  The tree's rooted resistance 
buckled and the earth could not hold it against Herc's strength.  With a loud 
rip the tree wrenched out, throwing mounds of dirt off its trembling roots.  

Hercules snapped off the branches with ridiculous ease and, carrying the dying 
tree above his head, ran at the Hydra.  The immense weight of the tree sank his 
feet into the increasingly soggy ground but that didn't slow the giant, he 
simply kicked a trench open behind him as he charged.  The Hydra had three heads 
turned toward him as he ran.  It had never seen anything like this.  The tree 
suddenly swung through the air and knocked those three heads clean off their 
necks.  

His biceps rose in Olympian peaks as they reined in the power of the swinging 
tons of living wood.  His jaw dropped open.  To his amazement, two new heads 
were growing where only one was before.  The new heads bulged out of the ragged 
stumps, covered in blood and swelling into hideous fanged life.  Now the hydra 
had 12 heads.  In rage he smashed the tree-club down upon these six new heads, 
crushing the skulls beneath it.

The other heads flew at him, trying to pierce the lion skin with their teeth.  
Herc batted them away like flies.  Two coiled around him and began to tighten 
their coil.  Herc thought of his earliest memory: when he was two, Hera had sent 
two snakes to kill him and his twin brother Iphicles.  Laughing, he thought they 
were toys until they tried to bite him.  Already his muscles had become hard and 
tense and the snakes could sink their teeth in but couldn't remove them.  As 
they struggled against his thighs, baby Hercules grabbed them and crushed them 
in his hands, over and over mashing the bones and reptilian muscles until there 
was nothing left.  They hadn't bitten his brother and his body was already at 
work conquering the venom.  That had set the stage for everything that came 
after.

The two Hydra heads continued to close around him.  He relaxed, to let them get 
as tight as they could.   The snake bodies began to labor as they crushed 
against his iron body.  Suddenly he flexed every huge muscle in his body with 
such lightning speed the Hydra couldn't withstand or release.  His jumping 
muscles crushed the coiling snakes and sent pulped meat flying.  Blood and flesh 
gushed over his body as the broken snake-necks fell to the ground.  "Not again," 
he said.  

He stepped back to survey the remaining heads.  The two who had attacked him 
were broken almost at the main body, but now he saw two new necks growing out of 
the stumps like monstrous cocks.  When he picked up the log the six crushed 
heads beneath it fell away, and now 12 heads were extruding.  There were now 21 
heads to contend with, snarling and snapping and spewing a vaporous poison that 
made him feel dizzy.  Hercules grabbed his tree-club and retreated.  

Grabbing two hundred-pound boulders of flint, one in each hand, he smashed them 
together over and over.  Sparks flew and lit the roots of the tree on fire.  
With the blazing torches he again held the tree overhead and charged the 
monster.  The Hydra hissed and screamed as he ground the spreading roots against 
the heads, burning and cauterizing the wounds so no new heads could grow, his 
arm muscles writhing like greater, stronger snakes.   That left the middle, 
immortal head to deal with.

Since it couldn't be killed, it had to be stopped at least.  He'd seen how 
helpless the three necks had been underneath the log.  That gave him an idea.

There looked to be a sizeable rock poking out of the water nearby.  Hercules 
hurriedly swam out to it while the last head screamed and writhed in pain.   
Treading water, he tried to uproot the rock-but it was too heavy!  The smooth 
surface might have made a grip difficult for a normal man, but his fingers 
adhered like death and pulled, his legs churning the water.  The rock shifted 
but the deep mud sucked it back down.  He took in huge lungfuls of air and dove.  

The rock was bigger than he thought.  The water was ten feet deep and judging by 
the shape of the rock it might extend another twenty feet under.  It clearly 
weighed hundreds of tons, plus the weight of the water and the power of the mud.  
The swamp bottom was too thick to get a footing on, so Herc closed his eyes and 
dove under it.

His great thighs powered him through the viscous mud until he had bored to the 
bottom of the rock.  The surface of the swamp boiled with displaced mud and muck 
as his shredded quads drove his body down.  The mud was harder, more compacted, 
beneath the huge rock so Herc set his shoulders against it.  In the thick 
darkness iron muscle grew, and grew, and impossibly grew as he strained to 
dislodge the rock from its sunken bed.  The glue-like mud slowly lost its hold 
in thick sucking bloops.  But he was running out of air.  There was only one 
thing to do.

Crouching on the swamp bed he sank down into a full squat, the rock upon his 
shoulders like Atlas.  Driving his legs into the hardened bottom he flung the 
rock up through the water until it catapulted through the air.  Herc's thighs, 
driven deeper into the sedimentary bed, were locked-but not for long.  He flexed 
them again and cracked the hard sediment, and thrusting up he surfaced and 
watched to see if his calculations were correct.  They were dead-on.  

The tonnage of stone, driven by power only a volcano might equal, toppled trees 
and smashed branches.  Hundreds of tons ripped out of the earth and propelled by 
this god-man's muscle straight toward the squirming, terrified head.  Faster 
than the snake's reflexes it crashed into the ground, dragging the immortal 
snake head forty feet into the solid earth, trapping it. The force blasted the 
rock so hard it completely buried itself and the Hydra and all Herc had to do 
was spit on the grave.  He gathered up some of the broken heads and brought them 
back to Eurystheus.  As his gift.

Once again Eurystheus was enraged at Hercules' survival and triumph as he tossed 
those scaly heads into his lap.  He felt a maddening tenseness in his cock.  
Herc could read the distress on the man's face and saw through it: he had seen 
it many times before.  He walked up the steps to the throne without asking 
permission and stood before it, his own cock budging aside the leather loincloth 
in gentle, firm rocking spasms.  Clear precum glistened on the engorged head and 
dripped down onto Eurystheus's knee.  The king glared, his face twisted with a 
storm of emotions he couldn't explain or underst and, and as his own penis 
responded to the irresistible command of Hercules, he screamed out:

"Guards!  Get him out of here!  Now!"

-----------------------------                                                      
HERCULES LABORS, Part 2                        By Chip Masterson                                  
DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY QUEER SEX STORIES.

Hercules stalked through the woods of Oenoe.  The Cerynitian hind, a kind of 
Greek reindeer, had gilded horns and brazen hooves.  It should be easy enough to 
hear, he thought.  Of course, the problem wasn't hearing it.  The animal weighed 
three-quarters of a ton and was sacred to Artemis.  For its protection she gave 
it the gift of incredible speed.  No other animal alive could run as fast, and 
its enormous weight bowled over trees and blasted through boulders as it sped 
along, shattered by its golden horns and brass feet.  But then again, it had 
never raced against Hercules.  

>From miles away came a soft tinkling sound, like bells.  It had to be the hind, 
walking over rocks.  Listening more carefully, he gauged the distance: it must 
be forty or fifty miles away.  Herc moved surely in that direction; whatever 
stood between them, he should be there in under an hour.

His thighs got tight with the initial run over logs and boulders until blood 
flowed in, making them swell with supple energy.  He nimbly dodged trees and 
picked up speed.  The faster he went he kicked up leaves and soil until his 
footfalls began to shake the forest.  He sprayed dirt and undergrowth behind him 
in a fan as the wind whistled past him.  Now his feet didn't dodge, they 
crushed.  Logs cracked into splinters when his feet drove through them as if 
they weren't there.  He pushed himself faster.  Rocks were either propelled 
downward through the soil or crushed to pebbles as his unstoppable feet turned 
him into the fasting moving thing the world had ever known, or would know.  He 
came to a stream and made his first leap.  Those thighs gathered in his force 
and released it, shooting him through the air in a blur.  On and on he traveled, 
faster even than he could run, for hundreds of yards before his great weight 
pulled him down to the earth with a thundering boom.  The earth and trees shook 
with the impact and animals crashed through the woods, frightened.

He kept running, his breath easy in his massive armor-plated chest.  He leapt 
again, sailing faster and farther than the human eye could track, and hit the 
ground running.  He loved the feel of his muscles working together, of his power 
unleashed on the unsuspecting earth, of his blood flowing through his wide 
throbbing veins.  He leapt again, straight for a tree.  Closing his eyes, he 
reveled in the tingling stings as three feet of solid wood shattered against his 
pecs.  His torso sheared it clear through, and he was hundreds of yards ahead 
before the top of the tree had smashed straight down into the jagged stump.

The wood dust and splinters tried to dig into his skin with the G forces 
accumulating but his skin was thick and tough; they lodged between the ridges of 
his muscles and were ground to microscopic bits.  Even their atoms were 
threatened by the pressure of his working sinews.  He leapt again and this time 
he felt an invisible force press against him.  It built and built against him 
like a solid wall but his speed and power were too great.  A shattering BOOOOOOM 
rocked the forest as he burst through the resistance and flew on, landing at a 
run that churned the earth into huge furrows.  

Only a few miles away now, the great reindeer heard the boom and took off.  It 
nimbly leapt and ran faster than anything-well, almost.  It had a head start but 
terror froze its heart as a louder rocketing blast filled the forest.  Rock 
fragments flew after it and struck its ringing antlers, bringing welts and blood 
out of its tough hide.  Looking behind it saw a blur emerging from where the top 
of a hill had been.  A solid rock face had been smashed apart and the entire 
hill collapsed in on itself.  Hercules landed, sending out earth tremors that 
almost sent the hind tumbling.

In a panic the beast sped on, smashing its way through the forest in a blind 
run.  It could feel the breath of the giant on its ass; but the terror never 
came.  On and on it ran and still only felt the breath behind it.  Maybe it 
could win, outrun this monster.  But after hours of this, its resources began to 
fade.

Not Herc's: he was born to exert speed and huge strength.  He enjoyed running 
the hind down, watching its terror play with hope, feeling his own muscles match 
those of the beast and still restrain their full capacity.  They ran over fields 
and through other woods, hundreds of miles tattered and torn by their flying 
feet.  Herc began to run circles around the hind.

As fast as the beast could run, corner, dodge and spring, Herc bested it, was 
there on one side, then another, leaping over and always one step ahead.  
Nothing in its experience could ever prepare it for this encounter with 
Hercules.  Its strength began to flag, then fail.  It stumbled over its own 
hooves and spun out of control through leaves and rocks.  Herc pulled short in 
an instant, thighs sweating and bulging and trembling with the extremity of this 
sudden stop.  He looked over the hind and saw its stricken face.

Clearly the animal's heart was giving out.  He had to find help; he was enjoined 
to bring the animal back alive.  Its breath came in raspy and out hard.  
Slinging its enormous weight across his shoulders he took off at a run, almost 
equaling his pace before.  But before he could come across a settlement, a 
blinding light brought him to a halt.

Before him appeared Artemis and Apollo.  "Stop!" cried Artemis.  "Where are you 
taking my sacred hind?  I forbid you to remove him from this grove."

"Kind Artemis," Hercules said, "I would do the animal no harm of my own will.  
But Hera has bound me to Eurystheus, and he has commanded me to bring this 
golden hind to him alive.  It is ill with the hunt and if you would work your 
power to heal it, I promise I will persuade Eurystheus to let me return it to 
you sound and healthy."

"Are you kidding me?  Put her down, now!"  Artemis glared at him.  "Who gives 
the orders around here?  I'm the god, you're half a god.  Now put her down."

Hercules fixed her with his steely eye.  Nobody, not even a god, challenged 
Hercules directly, much less spurned his respect with unearned contempt.  None 
of this was HIS fault.  "Look," he said, "I won't put it down but if you really 
want to help it, you'd better start now.  I think its heart is giving out."

Artemis ran her hand over the animals shivering hide.  "I'll pay you back for 
hunting my hind.  I won't let you leave but right now I've got to save her 
life."  Artemis turned her attention to the animal and set to work.

"I'll take that," Apollo said, approaching.  Apollo was the youngest of the 
gods, the most beautiful, the paragon of radiant virile youth.  Hercules looked 
older and more grizzled, but was almost as large as the eight-foot tall deity 
that shook the earth with each step.  With a toss of gold hair, Apollo reach 
down to grab the animal by the antlers.  Still holding the unconscious hind over 
one shoulder while Artemis healed it, Herc shot out his free hand and grabbed 
Apollo's forearm.  The god's arm froze in the giant man-god's grip and for a 
moment seemed to match Herc's as his muscles swelled with resistance.  Herc 
tightened his fingers and now his forearm pumped up faster and bigger than 
Apollo's.  The god's eyes widened in disbelief as his divine strength was met-
and out manned.  The bones of his human shape began to bend together and Apollo 
winced in impossible pain as they fractured.  He grabbed Herc's arm with his 
other hand but his fingers couldn't dent the huge muscles.  He tried to pry even 
one of Herc's fingers loose and it simply tightened its hold.

Hercules dug his fingers into the god's flesh and ichor began to ooze out of the 
wounds.  Apollo put his mighty back into it and tried to wrest himself free but 
Herc merely turned his wrist and drew his arm tighter to his side, grinning at 
the god's unbelieving terror of him.  With one tight flex of his biceps he 
wrenched back and pulled the god's thickly muscled arm out of its socket.  For 
the first time since the beginning of the world Apollo screamed in agony, his 
beautiful features harrowed with unknown pain.  Herc chuckled.

"You can punish but you can't take it, can you?"

Sweat pored off Apollo's stricken face.  "I'm a god and you're only half divine!  
Your mortal strength in superior to my divine powers!  Your damned human muscle-
"

"Can take on any god, or all of them."  Herc twisted his wrist around and wrung 
a new howl of pain out of the beautiful god.  He forced Apollo to his knees.  
"Suck my big human cock."  As if on cue, that arm-shaped monster pressed out 
from Herc's loincloth and bobbed beneath Apollo's chin.  

"Never!" Apollo cried, tears falling from his holy eyes.  Herc squeezed and 
twisted again and Apollo sank onto one hip and writhed in the dirt, the fingers 
of his trapped hand flailing uselessly at the air.

"Let him go."  

Herc turned and saw that Artemis had finished her ministrations and the hind now 
slept.  He looked her in the eye.

"You want your share of this?"

"You cannot talk to gods that way!"  And she drew her bow and shot an arrow into 
Herc's side.  The divine arrow easily pierced the lion skin but barely sank into 
Herc's densely-packed intercostals.  With a grunt, Herc squeezed and flexed the 
spearhead back out.  It dropped helplessly to the earth, the iron point 
flattened and bent.  A trickle of blood ran down and got lost in the maze of 
Herc's muscles

She fell on him with all her fury, tearing at him with her hands but her 
wouldn't yield.  It was like a child playing on a statute.  While Apollo sobbed 
in the giant's horrible grip, Artemis flashed her eyes and revealed her glory.  
An ordinary man would have been burnt to a crisp but Herc's skin merely drank it 
in and glowed.   She flared and flashed and burned but Hercules laughed at her 
and shouted, "That's the best you've got?" And with that, he raised Apollo up 
into the air with his one hand and flung the broken, shrieking god into her 
blazing light and knocked them both to the ground.

With the hand that had crippled a god, Hercules grabbed hold of his turgid cock 
and stroked it.  The giant member easily took the grasp that defeated Apollo and 
pulsed out streams of steaming jism over the fallen gods.  When his ostrich-egg 
balls had released about a gallon of come over them, Hercules looked Apollo in 
the eye.  "I'll take this to Eurystheus, as I must.  You can deal with him about 
its release.  I guarantee I won't hurt it again."  And he walked off, leaving 
the stunned and humiliated divinities sprawled in the dust.  

                              ***

Eurystheus was beside himself.  What was he going to do with this reindeer?  He 
thought Hercules could never catch it, and now he would have to deal with a 
couple irate gods.  Too bowled over to think, all he could think of next was the 
Erymanthian boar, another beast ravaging a countryside.

Hercules took it as a vacation.  It wasn't sacred to anybody, it was just a big 
wild pig with tusks.  One look at Herc's bristling physique and determined eyes 
and the boar took off, scattering the bones of killed men beneath its hooves.  
Herc chased it, matching its incredible turns with feints of his own, until he 
tired of the game and kicked it.  The three-hundred pound boar, under its own 
speed plus the doubling power of Hercules' leg, flew a quarter of a mile before 
tumbling to earth; and Herc was there almost instantly as it struggled to gather 
breath.  Again, it had to be living, so Herc put it across the lion skin over 
his shoulders and trotted back to Tiryns.  At first it scrambled to get loose 
but Herc's one hand pressed down and pull a leg out of joint and the animal 
quivered the entire trip.  

While Herc was gone, Eurystheus had time to think of something impossible even 
for Hercules.  King Augeas' stables at Elis housed 3000 oxen, and they hadn't 
been cleaned out in 30 years.  The task would be to clean out all that rotten, 
compacted, composted shit in a single day, and make the floor clean enough to 
eat off of.  In fact... no, that would be pushing it.  When Herc dropped the 
cowering boar at his feet, Eurystheus was the picture of cool reserve.  When he 
told Hercules his next labor, he thought the giant blanched; but it may only 
have been the light.

"You just love getting me dirty," Herc replied, stroking his monster cock 
beneath its leather covering.  "Someday you'll know what its like being on the 
receiving end of this."  Before the king could answer in indignation Hercules 
turned and walked out, his firm high ass flapping the leather loincloth behind 
him.  When he got past the doors and at the passageway, he turned around and 
flexed his massive right biceps.  He licked the huge rock with his tongue (he 
barely had to turn his head to reach its bulging belly), then rubbed the spit in 
with his left hand, the fingers scrabbling over the dense striations, his fist 
pounding on the unmoveable muscle.  He looked at Eurystheus, opened his mouth 
slightly, then turned and walked away.  He smiled as the kings' howl of rage (or 
anguish?) echoed through the palace.

This one would take some thinking through.  Fortunately, there was a long boat 
ride to Elis.  He wanted to give his legs a rest.  At Piraeus Hercules boarded a 
trireme bound for Olympia, unaware that a rivalry between captains had reached a 
murderous pitch.  While Hercules staked out a place for himself, the rival 
captain's henchmen crept on board and slaughtered the captain and crew.  
Hercules heard the disturbance and rushed below deck.

Seeing the dying slaves chained to their oars and the assassins covered with 
blood, Hercules sprang.  He caught swinging swords in his hand and the tempered 
steel dulled and bent as his fingers crushed them into poles.  One blow of his 
fist was sufficient to crush the skulls of a dozen lined-up men, and the six 
murderers hadn't even time to think.  Gathering all six men up in his arms and 
shoulders, he climbed on deck and looked around.  Beyond the breakwater another 
trireme bobbed, its captain watching for his killers.  Hercules dropped his load 
of corpses and picking up two in each hand, reared and back threw them at the 
boat.  The big men flew through the air like dolls and landed on the ship that 
must have been a quarter mile away.  Quickly he threw two more, then the last 
two, all of them landing on the deck.  Then he went below, to the oars.

The other captain, amazed at this display of power and knowing who his assailant 
must be, wasted no time in cutting the anchor loose and spreading full sails.  
With the wind behind and three banks of slave-driven oars he should be able to 
make his escape.  Even so, he broke out into a light sweat.

The sails had not been raised on Herc's ship and he didn't bother.  Below he 
found the one man bleeding but not fatally wounded, and set him up to mind the 
tiller.  Choosing a pair of oars at random, he stationed himself between them 
and reached across with arms many times thicker than the wood.  

Hercules had never rowed an oar before in his life.  He had only the vaguest 
idea of the motion and technique a slave would use to conserve energy and still 
deliver sufficient power.  His first stroke was awkward, but he got the feel of 
the oar in the water.  The slaves, still manacled to the oars in his hands, 
rocked back and forth.  He put the oars in the water again, and pulled harder 
this time.  His delts hardened under this new motion and the riot of muscle in 
his back began to dance.  The ship creaked in the water and grudgingly nudged 
forward.  Normally one hundred men would strain to get the huge warship into 
motion.  The battering ram dipped into the still harbor water and nosed back up.  
Hercules pulled again.

Herc had forgotten to pull anchor, so the ship stopped at the end of the rope, 
the huge boulder locked into the harbor bottom.  He grew angry, and pulled 
harder.  His hands reached out and grabbed as second set of oars, his great 
palms manipulating them into synch.  The four oars pulled at the water, a little 
faster, and a little harder.  The anchor rope went taut, and Herc, sensing no 
movement and not wanting to waste time as the other ship traveled on, rowed 
faster, and faster.  The water around the oars churned and boiled and the ship 
began bobbing wildly up and down.  Cargo began to jump around the decks and the 
creaking grew louder and more anxious, with popping strains and groans.  The 
giant boulder pulled up out of the sea bed and dragged a few feet until a low 
stone caught it for good. 

Hercules was coated with a find sheen of sweat, like oil, and his growing 
muscles split in to visible fibers beneath his skin.  Grunting with each stroke 
he pulled, faster and faster until one of the oars cracked and snapped with the 
strain.  Without missing a beat he grabbed the oar behind him and dug deeply 
into the water.  The trireme groaned and at last the anchor rope began to jitter 
and fray as it dragged across the deck.  Splinters of wood fell into the 
churning foam and one by one strong hemp fibers snapped until the trireme leapt 
across the water.  Feeling the release, Herc only pulled harder to make up the 
lost time and distance.  

With the wind and a hundred slaves the murderous captain was almost to the 
horizon.  The oarsman at the tiller aimed for a speck and prayed it was the 
right one.  Waves of the turning tide broke against the hull but Hercules drove 
the creaking ship faster and faster.  Even without sails he was starting to 
catch up.  The slaves chained to the four furiously beating oars were starting 
to come apart, and with the breaking of skin and bone a stipple of blood 
appeared on Herc's tanned, engorging body.  Hating this situation all the more, 
he narrowed his eyes and began pulling even more fiercely.

His pecs broke into huge mountain ridges and remained six inches deep when his 
arms were at full backstroke.  His cock began to rise with the chase, and with 
the wild rocking of the flying boat come began to splatter the corpses around 
him.  Calling upon deeper reserves of strength he pulled through the water like 
it was air and the ship sailed faster than it had ever before.

The murdering captain looked back at the retreating coastline and his face fell 
in horror.  Impossibly he was being chased by a ship with no sails and what? Two 
sets of oars?  Their movement was so blurred they almost appeared to be rowing 
backwards.  And the distance was closing.  The ship was now speeding so fast it 
cut the waves like a knife and the battering ram rose high above the waves.  It 
was only a mile away, and growing nearer.  He could hear a buzzing that was the 
spinning of the oars as they turned the water to mist-or possibly steam.  

The captain ordered the slaves to pick up the pace.  The drum beat faster and 
whips cracked through the air as the slaves dug and pushed their bodies to the 
limit.  But Hercules held his head high, his heavy arms throbbing with power.  
The man above shouted down they were almost there, and Herc poured his power 
into the groaning craft.  The wooden sides were unaccustomed to so much speed 
and pressure and started to bow inwards as they hit the water.  Pitch began to 
crack and press inward and planks creaked and bent.  

The slaves in the chased ship were sweating and straining, but they couldn't out 
muscle Herc.  With a shocking jolt Hercules felt the battering ram crush into 
the stern of the other ship with such speed that it just kept going.  Screams 
and cries of slaves and crewmen were drowned by the splintering of wood as Herc 
drove his ship deeper into the hull of the other.  Oars before him snapped off 
and up above a mast of the doomed ship croaked and splintered down upon the 
deck. 

Now the two ships were wedged together, Herc's trireme half the way into the 
other and driving it forward.  With both ships filled with dead and dying men 
Hercules didn't stop but picked up speed.  Hours went by and still Herc exulted 
in his strength.  The steersman veered wildly through the archipelago as islands 
spun by and Hercules roared out his strength.  Passing ships witnessed the 
incredible sight as one ship butt-fucked the other through the wine dark sea, a 
propeller spinning out of each side and shooting so much water into the sky that 
it fell like salty rain on the mainland.  They traveled around Greece and 
arrived at the northwestern Peloponnese in a single day.  

At that breathless speed there was no way to stop, the oars simply snapped like 
twigs and the ships ran up onto the beach-and kept going.  Half a mile inland 
the ships finally ground to a creaking halt and fell over in a field.  Herc 
walked along the side of the hull to the deck which was now almost 
perpendicular, and with one kick cracked the thick wood.  With a second kick his 
foot went through and cracks spread up and down; after that, he walked through 
the wood and it gave before him.  

His steersman was delirious but still alive.  Nobody survived on the other ship 
except the cowardly captain, who was made to pay for all this destruction he had 
caused: Hercules put his huge arm around the sailor's neck as his enormous cock 
reamed the captain's ass.  He slowly flexed his biceps against his throat so 
that this man would know Herc's power as he slowly, painfully expired.  Then 
Hercules carried his wounded steersman to Olympia, entrusting him with a doctor 
and providing for his freedom.  He offered a sacrifice for the dead, ate most of 
the great ox himself, and strode off to find Augeas.

The land of Elis had a plague land.  Monstrous insects filled the foul air and 
people lived their entire lives with linen hoods over their heads to keep away 
the bugs and the filthy air.  At the heart of it was the obese Augeas and his 
rotten stables; every step was unbearable as he neared this pestilential site.  
Hercules was glad he had to perform this feat in one day, he didn't think he 
could stand staying here any longer.  Augeas wallowed on his porch, waiting for 
him.

"I want to see this!  The great hero covered in rotting shit."  Augeas laughed 
and shook the flies off his drumstick.  Taking a huge mouthful, he laughed 
again, spraying meat into the dung.  Hercules looked at the vast stockyard, the 
oxen covered in sores and driven nearly mad with flies.  Of course he could move 
this tonnage of offal, but where to put it?  He had an idea.

He sunk into the mud up to his waist.  The distraught cattle threw their weight 
against the invader  but his mighty arms pushed back and moved them away.  Shit 
and flies covered him as he waded through the muck.  At the far end of the 
stockyard was a stone wall three feet thick.  Herc climbed over and down the 
other side.  

It was a well-constructed wall built to last centuries.  Hercules found the 
largest foundation stone and dug his fingers into the wall and worked his 
terrible grip into the rock.  Flakes of stone chinked out underneath them as his 
brawny forearms forced them into the cracks.  He thought he felt the wall sigh a 
little at this unaccustomed, new pressure.  Taking a deep breath (then 
regretting it), he stretched his neck with a sharp crackle and began to pull.  

A tremor ran through the rock wall, a vibration the cattle picked up and 
bellowed against.  Gritting his teeth, Herc's fingers pried the surrounding 
stones apart, moving tons of compacted, precisely-cut and joined stones with 
just his knuckles.  The weight of the wall bore down on this one stone and 
shocks ran through it as it budged under Herc's pull.  Sharp gritty scraping 
sounds, made by hard granite rubbed and cracked, were magnified by the stonework 
and Herc met them with forceful grunts.  His neck turned red and a vein ran down 
the top of his biceps and forearm, sprouting a network of veins below it that 
gripped the muscle and pumped blood in.  The ton- stone pulled out 3 inches, 
then four.  Herc worked up a rhythm of bursts that pulled the stone out five 
inches.  Six.  

But some part of the stone caught on the stone above it.  Hercules worked his 
shoulders up and around and now the whole wall felt his power.  The interlocking 
stones braced their enormous weight against him but he was too much.  His abs 
stood out like ingots as his back and shoulders pulled and twisted.  Suddenly 
with a sharp report the stone in his grip split through, too compressed by his 
hands to stand it, and he savagely yanked the two halves out.  The rest of the 
wall bulged and broke and fell onto him.  He stood there and let the boulders 
crack and bounce off his chest and arms.  When the rumbled died down he could 
hear Augeas screaming.

"What have you done to my wall?  You broke my wall!"

As if on cue the oxen plunged through the gap, dragging fetid shit along with 
them, and coating Hercules anew with filth.  The broken wall that could not 
withstand Hercules held against the onslaught on rushing beef as it squeezed 
through; soon the stable was empty as the oxen sought higher ground.  Augeas was 
apoplectic.

"Don't worry, fat man, it'll all be over soon."

But it was already 3pm, and he had little time to finish the stable before dark.  
There were two rivers that flowed on either side of the stable.  The Alpheus 
rushed through rocky rapids and the Peneus languished across the plain.  First 
he took on the Alpheus.

Using only his grip he descended the steep walls of the chasm at a place where 
the river bent away from Augeas' land.  Bracing himself with his thighs in the 
bend, the icy water raging against him, he reared back and punched the rock 
face.  Spider web cracks marked the spot his muscle and bone struck the cliff.  
He hit it again.  And again.  An ordinary man would break his hand against the 
unyielding stone but Hercules is the unyielding one and the rock cracked in 
snaps echoing through the canyon as the splits grew higher, deeper and wider.  
His fists pounded relentlessly as the swirling white water swept in vain against 
his thighs and now the crack reached to the top.  Water eddied into it below as 
Hercules put his fingers into the stone and started to pry it open.

His forearms bunched and hardened into iron.  His triceps twitched and twisted 
on his arms and his biceps crushed mercilessly against his pecs.   He could feel 
the mountain tremble and hear the deep rumbles as his triceps ripped apart the 
solid rock's natural coherence.  Peals of cracking and splintering emerged from 
the widening gap as his back broke into a chaos of strength, muscles cramming 
against each other.  At last the deepening split hit dirt and the immense 
tonnage of rock behind his right hand pulled out and plunged into the torrent.

Water swept into the riven stone face as it built up against the morass of 
broken rock in its course.  The force of the breaking rock released the power of 
his left hand and he shoved that tonnage back into the earth a hundred yards 
behind it, further opening the new path for the water.   The soil beyond the 
cliff face melted into mud as the icy water swirled against it and flowed 
directly toward the stables.

Herc climbed out over the rubble to watch the river flow in its new bed.  With 
distress he saw it lose power as it ran over and through the fields, so that 
when at last it reached the stockyard it merely formed a viscous sewage.  Now it 
was after 4pm and he had to work on the other river, fast.

The Peneus flowed broadly over the plain.  Hercules scanned the area and noticed 
a cavern descending beneath it.  

The rock was smooth and worn, as if it had once housed the river that now flowed 
above it.  Hercules crawled through the dark cave until he could feel a massive 
roundness that had to be beneath the center of the river.  He could barely 
squeeze his body into the rock and spread his arms out to either side.  With his 
legs and back, he tried to stand.

At first he was stuck and the solid rock remained solid.  But his muscles know 
no breaking point: and rock does.  He pressed his back up, rock against rock, 
then iron against rock.  He felt a tiny tremor flow down toward him and he 
smiled.  And pushed.

The huge weight of rock and water above him vibrated; anyone watching would have 
seen a ripple form in the middle of the river, like a fish surfacing; except 
that it continued, and grew in size.  Soon the water of the river grew more 
agitated around it, and the ground all around quaked.  Shearing cracks sounded 
in the earth and then there would be a bulge in the water as if something were 
surfacing.  Small at first, then larger and steadily larger; as if the entire 
river bed was rising.  Water began lapping at the banks and soon was flowing 
over as a deep grumbling was squeezed out of the ground.  The rumbling grew 
broader and louder and stones danced on the ground, trees swayed and animals 
spooked and bayed.  

Underground Hercules bore the incredible weight.  Water seeped into the cavern 
through the disturbed riverbed but flowed past him, down into the earth.  His 
body now was more solid that the rock he forced up and broke loose.  Standing 
full upright, he began to press the riverbed up with his arms.  Biceps bulged 
against his forearms up nearly to the wrist in distorted peaks of mighty brawn.  
His shouts now rivaled the plunging and shattering of rock that stressed and 
cracked loose above him.  Mud and water sloshed past his feet but Herc continued 
to heave until with a rock-splitting cry his arms were straight and trembling 
over his head.

People stumbled under heavy loads as a full-on earthquake shook the land like a 
dustrag.  The river bulged and eddied and ran off down the plain in a new 
direction, millions of gallons of water gathering speed and force as the land 
narrowed and deepened toward the stables.  Augeas barely had time to get his fat 
ass to high ground before this new wall of water poured into the stockyard and 
swept the putrescent muck before it.  Hercules arrived, wet and clean, and 
watched proudly as the two rivers raged through the stable and swept the manure 
before it.  New rivers he had created with sheer muscle power cleaned the stable 
for him.

Augeas raged from a nearby hill.  "Now I have a river running through my farm.  
What do you expect me to do?"

Herc's deep voice broke over the rushing water.  "Anything else."  And laughing, 
his pulsing body huge and gleaming in the setting sun, he walked off to Olympia 
to find some boys to fuck.

-------------------------------------

                    HERCULES LABORS, Part 3                        by Chip 
Masterson

DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY QUEER SEX STORIES.

[Note: some of these events do not occur in accounts of Pseudo-Apollodorus.)

Hercules spattered blood on the throne room floor.  The flesh-eating mares of 
Diomedes had put up a real struggle and their razor teeth kept taking nips out 
of Herc's skin, but those teeth broke against the dense, taut muscle beneath.  
It had taken all his cunning and skill to herd those mares back to Tiryns, and 
only Hercules could lead them up to Olympus, where they were set free.  The 
mares had eaten many of Herc's companions, and he was clearly exhausted from 
managing the entire herd. 

But Eurystheus reveled in Herc's continual dousing in gore and filth, even if he 
did drip it on the marble.  The small humiliation was the best he could come by, 
however, since Hercules was able to defeat him at every task. 

Recently Herc had stood before him covered in guano.  He had killed a couple 
thousand birds in Arcadia.  Wolves were stalking the forests so all the birds in 
the area congregated on Lake Stymphalus, raising a ruckus and a mess and driving 
out the fishing industry.  These birds were sacred to Ares so Hercules enjoyed 
shooting them.  He knew Ares would be hesitant to challenge him after what Herc 
had done to Apollo and Artemis.  Herc had local boys lined up with all the 
arrows he could find and shot them at the rate of about one per second, each 
arrow taking down three or four birds.  They flocked up and attacked the boys 
and Hercules so he was left on his own, batting them away from his eyes and 
feeling them break their beaks against his tough, bronzed skin.  He took a few 
more down with his club and frightened them with his sonic voice; finally they 
were all dead.  He lit out before they started to stink.  He couldn't do 
everything.

Then there was the Cretan bull, which had slaughtered a large portion of the 
populace.  Iolaus had been along and told Eurystheus how Hercules charged to 
meet the bull, grasping the tossing horns in his hands.  The bull threw its 
entire weight into the bout and actually drove Herc back against a cliff.  The 
cliff of course rocked with the struggle and avalanches of dirt and rocks 
crashed down around them.  Herc's lats winged out so far the Nemean lion's skin 
looked like a hair braid as it hung down his back.  Shoulders like bronze 
helmets gathered in the bull's power and arms that crippled a god stilled the 
fury of that beast's neck.  For a long while there was no movement or sound, 
just an eerie whistling from Herc's mouth and snorts from the bull as it its 
hooves tried for traction but gained none.  Herc forced the bull back a step, 
his own legs (almost as thick as the bull's body) digging into the earth.  Then 
a strange moaning bellow came from the bull as its lower lip trembled and the 
head began to tilt.  The skin on Herc's arms stretched over his iron biceps and 
triceps until jagged red thunderbolts appeared; and he twisted a little farther.  
Now the bull started to moan and bray and pull away from the human's grasp but 
Herc began to smile as his man's strength overwhelmed this killing beast's fury 
and panic.

The bull rolled its eyes but every buck away from Herc simply brought its head 
closer to horizontal.  Herc began to press downward on the low horn and up on 
the other to try to bend the enormous neck back.  The bull's teeth gnashed as 
its head rose despite all its strength and the adrenaline surging through it.  
Blood rushed out from the cut tongue and the braying became hoarser, more 
desperate.  Herc's golden face beamed as it looked the bull in the eye-and 
roared.  Urine and feces expelled from the helpless monster and Hercules, 
remembering with regret the beast must be taken alive, kicked the animal's 
foreleg out.  The animal flopped to the ground but not before a horn ripped out 
of the skull in Herc's fist.  Blood gushed from the side of the animals's head, 
and a bloody foam from its mouth.  The defeated beast fell into the mud of its 
own juices wrenched out of it by Herc's brawn, and Herc's cock, thick as the 
Delphic python, spurted its prophecy of doom all over the black, sagging 
carcass.  

As usual, Herc hadn't waited to clean up before reporting to Eurystheus, the 
huge weakened bull across his shoulders.  Now, with only two labors left before 
Hercules had fulfilled his ten labors, Eurystheus fulfilled a promise of his 
own.

His daughter Admete wanted the belt of Ares that Hippolyte, Queen of the 
Amazons, wore as a girdle.  No man had ever entered that queendom with hostile 
intent and survived; indeed, even the traders were often fucked to death by the 
women in their quest to bear more female warriors.  Their contempt for men would 
be just the thing to pit this god-man against.  Hercules would either die, or 
make his daughter happy.  This one was win-win.

Hercules pondered his situation.  After his last trip by sea, there wasn't a 
captain that would take him on board for love or money.  He asked at every 
vessel moored at Piraeus and Phalerum, then up and down the smaller villages of 
the coast.  He couldn't even rent a fishing boat.  And these Amazons lived in 
Asia minor, on the Thermodon in Pontus.  Walking would definitely take too long.  
It was Iolaus who came up with the scheme.  

It took some doing but they finally found a seamstress who could keep quiet.  In 
order to fully mask Hercules' musculature beneath women's clothes, they needed 
to construct an enormous false belly and bill him as The World's Fattest Woman, 
whom they were taking to join the Amazons after a successful circus career.  The 
ship's deck creaked appreciably as Hercules walked aboard, and his face flamed 
as the sailors catcalled and whistled.  Someone, somewhere, would pay for this 
humiliation.  He immediately secured a place below deck and refused to come out.  

The ship was stopping by Byzantium first to pick up a load of corn.  The cargo 
fairly blocked off Herc's berth and late one night the captain wedged his bulky 
frame back and stood over the brooding Hercules.  

"Time to pay for your passage, miss."  The captain chuckled and rubbed his rank 
penis.  

Hercules dropped the affected womanly speech and growled: "It's paid for 
already."

The captain launched himself onto Herc and tried to plunge his cock into the 
allegedly fat- woman's twot.  But Herc had removed the stomach padding and the 
captain met the iron ingots of Herc's abs and an unexpected attachment.  But the 
captain's surprise was short-lived; in an instant he was whipped around and 
Hercules was thrusting his giant cock up the captain's defenseless ass, ripping 
the muscles and shooting brain-exploding pain into the captain's head.   He was 
unable to struggle for Herc's arms restrained him as if he were paralyzed.  
Hercules fucked on and on until the captain passed out.  He woke the captain 
with a sharp pinch, and continued, while the captain begged and pleaded for him 
to stop.

Of course, the punishment for a grown man getting fucked by another was the 
complete loss of Athenian citizenship (but only for the bottom).  The captain, 
besides the humiliation and agony in his ass, was faced with the loss of his 
livelihood.  So to cover his shame, he went up and informed his most trusted 
sailors the woman was a witch who had now taken the form of a monstrous man and 
intended to steal the cargo by craft that very night.  Armed with daggers and 
swords the sailors went below to grab Hercules and throw him into the sea.  

Hercules pummeled lightly but efficiently the sailors, burying them under 
enormous sacks of grain.  The sailors assumed it was witchcraft and fled to the 
deck, where they trembled, fearing to jump into the sea but fearing more the 
creature below.  Hercules threw off the female robes and strode naked up to the 
deck.  Seeing that it was Hercules only made them more afraid, as the rumors 
were that he killed the crew of his boat as well as that of the other boat in 
Augean adventure.  Iolaus pleaded for Herc, assuring everyone he would behave 
from now on if left alone.  Herc resented being treated like a child and had 
half a mind to break off the main mast and start showing who's who.  Instead, he 
simply sat there and waited for this journey to be over.

But there wasn't a woman-loving sailor on the crew who hadn't been stirred by 
the sight of Herc's manhood, the physique, the rugged face, the always-turgid 
cock and the immense strength that promised unlimited joys.  Under cover of 
darkness, one by one the sailors abandoned their watch or their bunks and crept 
to Hercules, begging him to let them touch him, anywhere, everywhere.  At first 
Hercules let them.  He loved having big, rugged men, strong and seasoned in 
their own right, fawn and melt as they pounded his pecs or tongued the grooves 
of his quads.  Tough sailors could squeeze his giant fig-like balls with all 
their might and it was sheer pleasure to him.  

Soon he had two, then three hairy sailors crawling over his body so he stood up, 
stretched out his great arms and balancing on one leg on the open sea, stuck the 
other out before him and let the men hang, tug and swing from his limbs as from 
a tree.  All the men pulling together couldn't budge him, so he looped a thick 
mooring cable around his wrist and let the eight sailors pull the other end as 
he flexed and curled his biceps.  More sailors joined in the doomed tug-of-war 
for there was nothing these salts could do to stop that muscle once he 
contracted it.  Herc liked the pump he was getting, and set the men cleaning the 
sea salt off his body with their tongues.  

Jagged teeth bit at his erect nipples and scraped at his cock as precum dripped 
onto the deck.  The humiliated captain watched in disbelief, then shivering 
relief as he realized his citizenship was no longer in jeopardy: nobody would 
report him if everybody did it.  It would be political suicide.  He stood and 
watched, his ass still aching from his rape, and despite himself he got hard and 
jacked off while his entire crew attempted to satisfy Hercules.

Finally the men were driven to distraction by Herc's pumping muscles and a cock 
they could do chin-ups on.  One by one they bent over to receiving him and Herc 
fucked each one long and hard.  His orgasms always coincided with each sailor's 
but he moved right on, his cock never losing its raging hardness.  He pumped 
quarts of sticky come into each man's ass and still had more for the next one.  
When the rosy-fingered dawn crept over the wine-dark sea, the crew lay 
slumbering, smiling, exhausted and oozing come out of their assholes.  Only the 
captain, Hercules and his few men were able to sail the boat until they docked 
in Pontus.

It was a short trip up the Thermodon to the country of the Amazons.  Fierce 
mounted warrior women escorted the men to Hippolyte, where Hercules made his 
request.  Hippolyte looked him over and could smell the sex coming off him in 
waves.  She agreed to give Hercules the girdle if he could outlast her in bed.  

"In bed, on the palace roof, in the stables," Hercules promised in his deepest 
voice.  "Let's do this.  Rather than doing it until one or the other gives out, 
I'll match you climax for climax.  Whoever has the most orgasms wins."

Hippolyte knew the 20-minute rule all too well.  They immediately retired to her 
chamber, where the spiritual bones of countless hapless men littered the floor, 
as it were.  Hercules wasted no time in picking her up and impaling her on his 
erect cock.  As she sat there, unsupported, he gently, delicately undressed her.  
Pleasure mingled with the realization that she might lose to this man.

Indeed, for every orgasm she had he had one.  As the night wore on, his 
intentions grew more serious.  He began to have two for her one, and finally his 
cock teased, pressed and dragged out of her more climaxes than she could bear.  
She shook and screamed as the pleasure tormented her body.  Her guards entered 
and struggled in vain to pull the man's limbs away from their queen.  Not only 
was he too strong, everyone become covered in the sex juices which coated the 
fuckers. When the guards drew their weapons he stopped, and suddenly looked 
sheepish.

"Guess I won."

He discharged the queen and let them take her, convulsing and laughing 
hysterically, to a doctor.  Then he collapsed on her bed, exhausted, and didn't 
hear them lock the doors as they left.

Hercules woke with the dawn, refreshed and full of vitality.  He was confused 
when he found the bronze doors to the chamber barred.  He thought for a minute.  
"Perhaps I could find another way out and sneak up on them."

But he was never much good at sneaking.  Floors groaning beneath his weight 
always gave him away.  So raising one leg, he kicked.  The solid bronze rang 
like a huge gong and the foot-thick beam on the other side creaked and cracked 
as the doors opened despite its solidity.  The doors swung back on their hinges 
and crushed the jambs; metal screamed and tore loose and the big doors banged 
back against the stone wall and fell clattering to the floor.  Hercules stepped 
out of the chamber and the stone beneath his feet sank-and fell.

The two huge objects fell about thirty feet into a dungeon-pit.  The heavy stone 
hit first, flat and solid, until Hercules hit it; that impact shattered it and 
Herc fell to the ground with a crash that shook the foundations of the palace.  
He didn't have much time to get his bearings, though.  Immediately the walls 
began closing in with a heavy scraping of well-oiled iron on slippery stone.  
His legs could easily have leapt up the thirty feet but the hole where the false 
stone had been was filled now with a grate of steel spikes so thick he couldn't 
see where to grab hold.  He jumped, fist first, and piled into the sharp iron.  
With sullen grunts the iron spike points bent away and back under his powerful 
thrust but that only made the iron thicker; something large rested above it.  
The walls were closing fast and nearly a span of his huge arms apart.  

He fell on one and shoved back. The floor was slick with oily water and offered 
no traction.  He slowed its progress but with a fresh burst of power it overcame 
his resistance and moved relentlessly toward him.  He reared back and punched 
the iron but it was so thick it only dented with a muted ring.  He hit again and 
again but the iron must be many feet thick, cast solid; it would take him too 
long to do it and there were no seams or joints for his fingers to tear into.  
Now he could lodge his feet against the one wall and press with the other but 
the slick floor still kept his reaching toes from finding their grip.  The walls 
progressed and were now only four feet apart.  Turning, he braced one foot on 
each wall and put his hands out to stop this nonsense.  

The walls slowed, but kept moving.  Something must be wrong, Hercules thought.  
His elbows bent under the pressure of the thick walls.  A high squalling sounded 
from behind the iron as his vast muscles tried to brake the crushing force.  His 
triceps now pressed into his lats.  His body bulged, biceps filling his arms and 
his forelegs pressed against the iron.  With a cold anger he took a deep breath 
and pushed outward from his core with all his strength.  The squalling became a 
whine and he felt the walls crawl to stop, his arms bent in half and muscle 
ready to explode under the pressure.  He held it there, resisting the implosion, 
for a minute, then two; the squealing had stopped but now he heard, distantly, 
whips cracking and men bellowing.  Still the crushing force boxed him in and he 
labored to breathe in the cramped space.  The whips brought animal cries like 
he'd never heard before, some army of trumpeting creatures.  He could hear and 
feel their huge feet pounding the ground as the whips drove them to continue and 
Hercules knew they must be immense, and a lot of them.  

As the trumpeting reached a feverous pitch the pressure began to build again.  
Hercules's head shook but he wouldn't give in, not to animals, however many 
there were.  He was a man.  The squealing began again as the great pistons 
driving the walls tried to compress the giant.  He looked down and could see the 
iron starting to dent around his hands and legs and he knew that they wouldn't 
stop until he was flattened.  Or until he stopped them.

Reaching deep inside he summoned every fiber of muscle, every steel tendon.  
Letting out a series of thick grunts he pressed his hands into the iron wall.  
The metal sank around his fingers about a quarter inch and then an earsplitting 
squeaking came from behind the walls as he pressed them back.  Slowly he began 
straightening his arms as the squeaking built into a squeal of straining iron 
gears grating between the two titanic forces of giant animals and Herc's humped 
back and solid arms.  Hercules kept his momentum and bowed his head as his 
shoulders swelled against the pressure.  His hands were an inch deep into the 
iron and it still fought him.  Shaking his head he unleashed his savage fury.  
Huge winches and thick iron gears felt it and lost ground.  Every pop, every 
snap, every shudder of the vast machine as it buckled between the terrified 
animal power and Herc's terrifying muscle power brought new surges of strength.  

His thigh pressed into the ground and it cracked and creviced.  He stamped the 
ground as he fought and stonework smashed beneath his feet.  With a blood-
curdling cry he locked his arms out at his sides and felt the iron lose its 
struggle against him.  The excessive strain his muscles applied to the machine 
surpassed the ability of solid iron to resist.  With a skin-crawling shriek the 
huge main pistons driving the walls inward bent up, gears bent double on 
twisting axles and chains pulled out of their moorings.  Hercules bellowed his 
superiority and grabbed one of the walls and charged with it, the crackled stone 
floor providing perfect traction.  Roaring, he shoved and drove it back into the 
engine housing as steel buckled and twisted and blew out of its anchors.  The 
iron wall stopped as the piled up wreckage met the fortress wall.  

Rearing back, he rammed the wall with hands outstretched, and feet-thick wall 
bent beneath them slightly, around the huge broken piston.  The five-foot thick 
stone wall cracked rumbled, and Herc walked back for a good run.  With a cry 
everyone heard he ran and landed his right side dead-center and the blast drove 
the tonnage through the exploding wall, cracked stone flying like deadly hail.  
People screamed and ran as the sparking machinery ground out through the wall 
and scattered across the yard.  The bent and dented iron wall lodged in the hole 
and started to peal.  Then it started to sag through the hole.  Louder and 
louder the wall rang, sagging and dimpling out until it too blasted through the 
remaining stones and flew out, beaten and warped.  Hercules emerged in the din, 
breathing deeply and nearly filling the hole in the wall with pumped, heaving 
brawn.  The upper stories of the palace sagged with their loss of support, 
timbers cracked and panicked cries filled the air from within.

Climbing atop the ruined ironwork, Hercules saw a dozen of the strangest, 
largest animals he had ever seen.  Huge grey beasts with snakes on their faces 
and enormous flat feet lay bleeding, exhausted and dying in the dust.  Each one 
had to weigh tons.  He walked around the palace to the other side and saw the 
same thing, gargantuan dying beasts harnessed to chains that ran up to tiny 
holes in the thick wall and powered the engine behind it.  The engine he had 
destroyed with his thrusting arms.

Hippolyte was carried to him on her litter, wobbly but erect.  "Brave Hercules, 
you have ruined our Punisher.  But I have another punishment in store for the 
disrespect you showed me."

Hercules locked her eyes and licked his lips.  Her own lips quivered and 
nostrils flared, and she looked hesitantly at her advisors, who steamed with 
hatred at Hercules.  Hatred, or envy?  Hercules answered: "Do your worst.  You 
don't think these muscles can defy your imagination?  But there is one 
provision: if I win, your girdle is mine.  And I and my men will leave freely."

The advisors gnashed their teeth but Hippolyte acceded.  "To the lake."

Hercules was led, unchained, to a large lake created by the Amazons by damming 
the Thermodon in a steep ravine.  In the lake were two large triremes, oars at 
the ready, facing away from each other.  Heavy chains ran from the bows of the 
ships to opposing shores, where another dozen elephants stood for each ship.  
More ropes and chains feed off for male slaves to join in, should that be 
necessary.  

"You've got to be kidding."  Hercules had never seen anything so ridiculous in 
his life.

Hippolyte bristled at his laughter.  "Normally we would have two elephants tear 
a man apart, slowly.  But you're no ordinary man, and you've already defeated 
two dozen elephants whose strength was magnified by winches and gears.  This way 
you will have no traction, nothing to brace yourself against.  This time you 
WILL be the weak link in the chain.

Hercules shook his head and boarded the small boat that rowed to the center of 
the lake.  Slaves attached chains with links six inches thick to his wrists.  
They were joined by two other, struggling boats who brought the ships' anchors 
out to meet them.  Herc got into the water and treaded.  These anchors were 
attached by similar chains to Herc's feet; the only way the slaves could release 
the quarter-ton boulders was to capsize the two boats, then the all boarded the 
original boat and rowed quickly, a little frightened, to shore.  

The rocks sank quickly and dragged Hercules under the water, at first.  The 
heavy chains on his hands made surfacing difficult, especially since he hadn't 
had much time to rest.  He gathered the chains up in his hands and pulled 
himself taut, and out of the water.  Hippolyte made him wait like that a long 
time.  

The queen drew her sword, slashed through the air and the rowers dipped their 
oars.  A hundred men on either side drew the creaking crafts forward and Herc 
gripped links and felt the tension stretch across his chest.  The ships stopped 
and creaked some more.  Drum beats off the ships increased in volume and speed, 
and the slaves began to churn the water.  The waves from the oars washed back 
toward Herc and made breathing difficult.  

The rocks hanging off his feet weren't enormous by his standards but they grew 
heavier with time, stretching his ligaments and forcing him to divert his 
attention to his legs, which hung uselessly, unable to supply power to his arms 
and back.  The rowers were spending themselves as fast as they could; the 
warships bucked and rocked but Hercules' grip was stronger than the iron that 
bound them together.  Whips cracked and the elephants began to pull.  A louder 
croaking came from the triremes as the strain on them increased, for Hercules 
was not only holding them back but struggling to draw his hands together.  His 
chest mounded above the waves and his shoulders trembled with strength, and 
veins emerged all over his bloating muscles.  Elephants trumpeted and pounded 
the earth, and Herc felt his arms begin to stretch out; his tendons popped and 
bones hurt.  Cracking sounds came as ship timbers around the bowed hulls began 
to flatten, the ribs of the ships forced inward.  Herc's handsome face was riven 
with anguish as his joints lit on fire.  

Herc's forearms bunched into clubs the size of some men's thighs.  Slowly the 
chains twisted above the churning water and with the twisting Herc lost his grip 
on the links.  He dipped below the water until the tautness pulled him up by his 
wrists.  His fingers sought another link to grip and mashed his fingers into the 
iron.  He knew he could force these links apart with his fingers, but that 
wasn't the spirit of the punishment and it would only lead to another one.  It 
was best to defeat them on their own terms, human muscle versus machine, animal 
and slave.  Drawing his shoulders together he heaved.  The elephants felt it and 
trumpeted as they lost their footing, for the moment.  Further whip cracks drove 
them on and clouds of dust floated over the water from their earth-shaking 
stamps.  

Glancing at the shore, the tortured Hercules saw one of the queen's advisors run 
a man through with her sword.  Fighting broke out and another advisor took 
Iolaus and held a dagger to his throat.  Enraged at this betrayal, Hercules 
bellowed in pain and anger... and started to swim.  

Adrenaline and testosterone exploded in his biceps and they mounted over his 
arms like storm clouds.  A noise of creaking and popping echoed across the lake 
as he drew his hands over his head and forward through the water.  The ships 
bobbed back and turned, and the elephants stumbled.  Male slaves ran to the 
auxiliary ropes and chains while the elephants' trainers got them on their feet.  
Herc's thigh biceps contracted and even with a thousand pounds hanging from his 
feet his legs rose and began to kick.  He longer felt the pain in his limbs or 
in the hundreds of muscle attachments in his back.  His hands raised and 
stroked, and he moved through the water.  Cries of alarm rang from the warships 
as their sterns turned toward Hercules and thick planking cracked and splintered 
along the lengths of the twisted boats.  Slaves ashore couldn't gain a footing 
and the fallen elephants were dragged on their flailing backs and sides into the 
water as Herc kicked and swore and stroked his way across the lake.  

Confusion broke out when the Amazons saw what was happening.  The queen's 
advisors were the first to drop their arms and flee, and Herc's men chased after 
them, with Iolaus in the lead.  Hippolyte remained on her throne litter, yelling 
for order.  Herc swam through the water faster and the torque on the boats, 
between Herc's sideways swim and the lengthwise weight and pull of elephants and 
slaves, caused the hulls to crack and cave.  Water gushed in among the slaves 
who dropped their useless oars and begged for rescue.  Still Hercules swam on, 
picking speed as if the chains and boulders were nothing to him, his wake 
washing into the foundering ships.  Reaching the shore he walked forward, 
dragging the entire torture device behind him across the lake.  Elephants 
struggled to swim ashore as the chains on their feet dragged them farther into 
the water and the shore-bound slaves let their ropes and chains go.  

Herc's feet kicked the boulders onto the shore and without taking his eyes off 
the queen he reached down and twisted the iron manacles off his feet, then off 
each wrist.  Each hand grabbed the chain and flexed, and those double-peaked 
biceps launched the quarter-ton boulders into the air.  Twirling the rocks above 
his head until they gained enough force, he let one fly at Hippolyte.  She 
hadn't time to tear her eyes from the spectacle before the giant rock crushed 
her and continued rolling on through the air, into the thick of the Amazon 
warriors.  The other one he swung faster and harder, and gripping with his other 
hand he whipped it around until it was just a blur.  Letting it fly with his 
deadly precision it flew into the sky and was gone, in the direction of the 
queen's palace.  A distant sound like an explosion, minutes later, confirmed his 
accuracy and the power of the bomb.

Tearing the belt of Ares off the queen's broken corpse he called for his men to 
return.  He had one last thing to do.

Elephants floundered in the lake, unable to swim due to their chains.  The boats 
listed as slaves too tried to free themselves from the shattered wood.  There 
was only one way he would help them.  He walked to the dam at the end of the 
lake, a rather sophisticated arrangement of bricks and wooden palisades.  He 
stood behind the foundation that sunk into the bank, and spent his rage pounding 
the rocks into fragments and the wood into dust.  A dam built to hold back 
raging flood waters shook and crumbled under this attack of manly fists.  The 
rocks along the shore cracked and lost their grip on the dam and with a deep 
roar the water collapsed the weakened structure and swept down into the valley.  
The water level dropped rapidly and Herc walked away to join his men.

"It was Hera, disguised as an advisor," Iolaus declared, panting.  "She told the 
Amazons you were planning to abduct Hippolyte and they attacked us."

"That bitch," Hercules growled, his fists clenching and pressing the thick iron 
bars of his forearms out of the skin.  "Someday we'll settle that score once and 
for all."  And Hercules strode off towards the seacoast and a boatload of 
sailors eager for his return, to take the damn girdle to Mycenae.  

 --------------------------------

                    HERCULES LABORS, Part 4                        By Chip 
Masterson

DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY QUEER SEX.

[Note: these tales are a departure from the established ancient sources.]

Eurystheus was apoplectic.  Not only had Hercules retrieved the belt of Ares 
from Hippolyte, he had decimated the Amazon army and destroyed the palace to 
boot.  There was even a bill for some elephants he had killed.  What the hell 
were elephants?

What made it worse was that, since the last trial was a water torture, Hercules 
arrived perfectly clean, not dripping with gore and offal as he had previously.  
The king gazed malevolently at the shining god-man and decided on a new course 
of action.

"Now, by all rights you should have only one task left but as I reckon it, you 
failed a couple of times."

Hercules crossed his arms in front of his chest, creating a block of solid 
muscle that made the king feel weak.  But Eurystheus continued.

"The Hydra wasn't killed, you simply buried it."

Hercules growled: "It's immortal."

"Nonetheless.  And Augeas, well.  I ordered you to clean his stables in a day, 
not destroy them.  I have a lawsuit pending that could cost me a pretty drachma.  
I'm discounting those two.  When you finish this next labor, report back for 
your next assignment."  The king couldn't look Hercules in the eye as he spoke.

The giant walked up the steps to the throne and glowered at Eurystheus.  
Reaching down, he grabbed the arms of the marble throne and grunting softly, 
lifted it and the king up to eye level.  Eurystheus' knees were crushed between 
the heavy marble throne and Herc's marble abs, and he felt the giant's manhood 
stir against his shins.  The marble pinged and tinkled beneath the giant's hands 
but Herc waited, immobile, until Eurystheus met his gaze.  He smelled the man's 
musky breath as Herc spoke between clenched teeth.  

"I've had just about enough of you.   You tell me everything you want me to do 
and I'll bring it all back at once.  I'm tired of reporting back to this stinky 
palace only to be sent off someplace else.  Let me have your worst and I'll 
finish it all within a week or you can have me for ten more years.  Deal?"

Eurystheus swallowed on a dry throat; his eyes watered and he gagged for air.  
He could feel Herc's arms throbbing with untapped power as they held the 
enormous throne with him in it effortlessly in the air.  His knees were numb and 
his feet tingled from the pressure that increased with each breath Hercules 
drew.  Finally he squeaked, "Please put me down."

Herc smiled; he'd never said "please" before.  He set the throne down and 
Eurystheus stole a glance at where the arms had cracked and chipped away under 
Herc's grip.  Herc waited, towering over him, his swelling cock bulging out the 
leather loincloth right in front of Eurystheus' mouth.

"Alright," the king said, his voice cracking.  "Here's the deal.  Geryon lives 
on the island of Erytheia, in the western sea.  He has three bodies.  He has 
oxen.  I want the oxen.  Then, to the south, in Libya, near where Atlas holds up 
the sky, grow the golden apples of the Hesperides, guarded by a dragon.  I want 
some of those."  He felt very bold asking for this, as they were sacred to 
Athena and no mortal may possess them.  If Herc should even survive that, he'd 
never survive this next.  "Then I want you to bring me Cerberus.  If you can do 
all this, and in a week's time, you'll have your freedom."

Without a word Hercules turned and walked out.  Calling Iolaus to him, they 
walked the twenty furlongs to Phalerum, where the ship of hungry crewmen awaited 
him, fending off all other offers of business.  The tide was against them but 
Hercules manned the oars and rode the pushing waves out to the open sea.  The 
sailors covered his straining muscles with their hands as he stroked, feeling 
the liquid iron bunch and stretch, and greasing the oars with their come.

They came to the end of the ocean where two mountains, Calpe and Abyla, created 
a strait between Europe and Libya.  Due to rock slides and tidal forces, the 
strait was too narrow and shallow for the boat to pass through, and Erytheia lay 
farther out to sea.  Hercules considered his options, and dove into the water.  

He swam easily through the rough sea between the huge rocks.  He had moved earth 
before, lifting the bed of the Peneus and forcing it through sheer muscle power 
to flow in a new course.  But that was a single river.  This was two continents.  
He smiled and dove.

Gauging the immensity of each rock, he braced himself against Calpe, on the 
European side.  Coiling his great thighs, he kicked off and launched himself 
against Abyla, skimming just under the surface of the water.  He hit the rock 
where it was thickest, and the huge rock shuddered.  Turning quickly, he then 
shot back across the strait toward Calpe, and rammed his open hands into the 
thick stone base.  Tremors ran out from the impact and shepherd began hurrying 
their flocks to safety.  Hercules picked up the pace.

His thighs gathered their strength and shot Hercules across the strait faster 
each time.  His arms like battering rams hammered into the rocks, carving away 
small plates of stone with each strike.  But his hands dissipated the force 
through the rock, away from the shattering ground zero of his impact, sending 
his power more broadly through the rock base, into the immense continents 
themselves.  

At first Iolaus couldn't discern what was going on beyond the inhuman, yet all-
too-human beating Herc was dealing out to these stone mountains, but slowly he 
realized he was seeing more and more sky between them.  The western ocean on the 
far side of the strait was lower than their sea and water started to surge 
between the rocks.  The undersea tremors caused the boat to rock as Herc 
continued his battery, and suddenly the gap was noticeably wider.  Still Herc 
kept on pounding, launching and smashing into the stone-and then there was 
quiet.  And no Hercules.

Fearing something impossible had happened while the man-god worked the 
impossible with his muscle power, the ship rowed closer, into the strait that 
was almost wide enough for the oars at full spread.  Not far beneath the 
churning surface they could see Herc's hair waving in the water.  Then they 
heard a terrible roar, the fury of earth uprooted and shoved around like the 
weakling it was.

Hercules grabbed the base of Abyla and braced his feet against the base of Calpe 
where they met at the bottom of the strait.  His biceps bloated with surging man 
power, his back gathered like an army of unstoppable gods, he lifted and pushed.  
Deep underwater crashes carried to the surface and the sailors stood, awestruck, 
as they watched Abyla move away from them.  The entire coastline shook and moved 
back, and the ship dipped and nearly capsized as water rushed down into the 
wound opened in the ocean bed.  Opened by Herc's hot hands.  Bubbles like giant 
jellyfish rose and brought Herc's straining cry as he let loose his last 
reserves of air in the thrust that moved the entire continent of Libya away, 
immensities of rock crushed and shoved aside before his muscle power.  The 
sailors raced about to secure the ship, and Hercules surfaced.  "One more time," 
he said with a grin, and dove back down.

This time he went farther below, into the opening, and putting his hands up 
under the base of Calpe, began walking over the cracked bedrock with the 
mountain in his hands above his head.  A deafening splintering ran down the 
mountain and rocks tumbled into the sea along the northern coastline as Herc 
visibly moved that continent further north than the forces of earth had placed 
it.  More water surged and roared into the breach and the sailors struggled to 
remain seaworthy in the tempest raised by Herc's brawn.  A crack ran up the side 
of the mountain in zig-zags and Hercules surfaced again, breathing deeply and 
bellowing his joy.  He swam back and climbed aboard.

"Let's get moving," was all he said, before he went back to the stern and fell 
fast asleep.  The sailors kneaded his swollen, aching muscles and Hercules 
smiled as he slept.

They arrived at Erytheia as the sun set, bathing the island in the redness that 
gave it its name.  The red oxen were ruminating on a hill visible from the 
coast, and Hercules, club in hand, went straight there.  Suddenly Orthus, a two-
headed dog, lunged at him from nowhere, the spiked teeth snapping at his face 
and neck.  Orthus was too close to club so Hercules reached out and grabbed each 
neck as the dog sprang.  The two thickly-sinewed throats swelled against Herc's 
fingers as the mouths snapped vainly at his bulging arms and his paws clawed 
against Herc's steel-plated chest and belly.  Bracing its legs on that body 
Orthus tried to spring away but Hercules held firm, his fingers digging through 
the muscle and tightening his grip.  His forearms rippled with widening cables 
of power, a biceps-sized swell just below the elbow evincing the cruel strength 
squeezing closed the throat of the noble beast.  Hercules apologized to the dog, 
knowing it was only doing its duty, as he crushed each esophagus with his thumb 
and cracked vertebrae with his fingers.  The dog spasmed and foamed, then went 
limp in the human's outstretched arms.

"You have killed an offspring of Typhos, sire of the Nemean Lion I recognize 
across your shoulders."  Hercules looked over his shoulder at a giant standing 
behind him.   "Sire of the dragon guarding the apples of the Hesperides.  Sire 
of the Sphinx besieging Thebes, the eagle devouring Prometheus' liver, and 
attacker of Zeus himself.  Should Typhos seek revenge against you-"

"I'll crush him as I've crushed his feeble brats.  I need those oxen.  Yield or 
die."  Hercules was tired of mincing words.

"I'll do neither."  And the giant, Eurytion, herdsman of Geryon, swung at 
Hercules with a fist the size of Herc's head.  Hercules caught the fist backhand 
and whipped the giant's arm around, shattering the elbow.  "You'll do both," 
Hercules snarled.  Lifting the howling giant by his broken arm, Hercules heaved 
with one hand and sent the giant flying over the herd head first into the rocks 
of Mount Abas.  The giant's own weight coupled with the force of Herc's biceps- 
powered propulsion crushed his thick skull like an egg.  Hercules began herding 
the oxen down to the beach..

While Hercules watched the sailors bored the cattle, the ground beneath his feet 
shook and turning, he saw Geryon approaching.  Geryon was over ten feet tall 
with three stout bodies joined in one gigantic waist, from which issued three 
sets of legs and three enormous penises, each slinging huge balls beneath.  "You 
want my oxen?  I'll fuck you bloody before you'll take them from me."  And his 
penises began to fill and grow grotesquely larger as he chuckled deep in his 
hairy chests.

The echo-like laughter disoriented Hercules but he leapt at the giant anyway.  
Landing in the crotch between two bodies he dug his heels into the giant's hard-
muscled waist.  Six arms as thick as Herc's waist grappled with him, closing 
over his head and arms and legs.  Those huge arms couldn't pull Herc's legs out 
and the giant screamed through three mouths at the pain his heels pinched into 
the muscle.  Other arms twisted and pulled on Herc's arms but the god-man's 
enormous biceps, dense beyond any giant's own thickness, pulled out of their 
grasp like butter and reaching up, broke the fingers that tried to crush his 
head.  The giant drew back, triple howling and Herc, bracing against the ribs of 
the central body, pressed the other body away with his arms.  Blood burst 
beneath the skin and the giant clawed at Hercules as against some flesh- eating 
beetle but Hercules clung and pushed, feeling the hot blood spurt up as the skin 
stretched and broke open, as the muscles beneath were mastered by his and ripped 
apart, as the great hips beneath were unsocketed by the pressure.  The giant 
fell the ground, his wound gushing from his one crippled body, and leaving the 
howling giant there, Hercules washed at the shore, boarded the ship and sailed 
away.  

Libya was now a little farther away than before.  Hercules landed and hiked up 
into the Atlas mountains, seeking the titan himself.  Climbing the sheer face of 
the tallest peak was no challenge to Hercules, who pounded hand holds into the 
rock and broke away overhangs with muscles that had already dislodged two 
continents.  At the cold, windy summit stood Atlas, on whose shoulders an 
bulbous, immense blue pillar of adamantine rose up and disappeared into the 
heavens.  

"Brother," called Hercules, his great voice rising through the thin, cloudy air.  
Hercules could not see his head.  

"What do you want?" called the titan, his strained voice resigned to this 
punishment.

"I need three golden apples.  The dragon they say has a hundred heads and as 
many voices, and is a child of Typhos.  I've already killed of couple of Typhos' 
offspring.  If you wouldn't mind, I'll relieve you of your burden and you can 
bend down and fetch these apples for me, avoiding the dragon altogether.  What 
do you say about that?"

Atlas considered the foolishness of Hercules in making this request.  Of course 
he'd let the heavens crush this tiny man.  The mountain could hold up the sky as 
easily as Atlas could, as it did before he was sentenced to do so.  Bending 
down, Atlas lowered the sky and stepped out, straining to hold it with his 
gargantuan arms as Hercules relatively minuscule body positioned itself beneath 
the vault.  Herc's arms reach up and felt the weight as Atlas let loose and 
stretched his aching body out.

"Holy god, this is heavy!" Hercules shouted as instantly sweat broke out all 
over his body.  His muscles screamed and bulged, threatening to rupture beneath 
the insane weight of Heaven.  He steeled his will and contracted his muscles to 
a density that could shatter Zeus' lightening bolts, but even so his biceps, 
peaked as high as the mountain he stood on, began to tremble.  He ducked his 
head to set the weight down on his shoulders, taking the load across his broad 
back and bearing it through thighs that pressed together despite the wide 
placement of his feet.  He looked up, grimacing, and saw Atlas stretching.

"No hurry, brother," Hercules said, and Atlas bellowed laughter that shook the 
sky on Herc's reddening shoulders.  

"Alright, I'll be back in no time."  The titan stepped over mountain peaks and 
disappeared beyond the clouds.  It seemed like ages as the weight bore down on 
its uncrushable support.  Herc's breathing began to labor and the sweat 
continued to drain off him in a stream that trickled down the mountainside.  
Finally, when his thighs were ready to burst, he felt the pounding of Atlas' 
feet and saw an immense hand drop three beautiful, golden apples at his feet.

"The dragon couldn't even dent my hide.  But you know," Atlas said lazily, "I 
kind of like being released.  I didn't realize this big body of mine could be so 
light.  Like a feather."  Atlas jumped up into the wispy air and slammed back 
down, jostling the mountain where Hercules perched.  

"Thanks for that."  Hercules looked up and tried to smile.  "You know, brother, 
you do have a raw deal.  If you'll deliver those apples for me, I'll relieve you 
here for a while.  Just let me adjust this lion skin as a better pad for my 
head."

Atlas shrugged and with fingers the size of triremes, he grabbed anew the pillar 
of heaven and gave Hercules enough room to adjust his pad.  Or slip out and down 
the mountain.

Hercules scooped up the apples and laughed at Atlas.  "Looks like you're stuck, 
brother!"  The titan's curses followed him down the mountain as the dizzying sky 
strained back up onto Atlas' shoulders.

Before he could reach the ship, however, the giant Antaeus blocked his path and 
demanded the apples for passage.  "And a fast fuck."  Hercules had had enough.  

Hercules dropped the apples and approached the nine-foot tall giant.  Antaeus 
stamped the ground, grinned and charged.  With a savage blow he clocked Hercules 
on the chin and sent him sprawling.  Hercules, stunned, shook his head and 
Antaeus was upon him, trapping Herc's arms with his knees and pounding away at 
Herc's face.  Hercules, seared with unaccustomed pain at another's fists, raised 
his arms, lifting the huge bulk off the earth, and bucking with his hips sent 
Antaeus head first into the dirt.  A sharp crack signified Antaeus' broken neck.  
Herc got up and dusted himself off.  Movement caught his eye and before he knew 
it Antaeus was behind him, bending Herc's neck forward in a full headlock.  Herc 
didn't understand but his body reacted nonetheless: his great arms rose and 
hammered down to break the headlock.  But they didn't, and his stomach tightened 
as Antaeus increased his pressure and Herc felt his vertebrae sing beneath his 
straining traps.  Herc shook his body but that only brought more pain, more 
pressure on his vein-riddled neck.   With a look of helplessness, Hercules tried 
to flip Antaeus over his back, and the near-ton of Antaeus' body rose off its 
feet a few inches.  That was all, but that was enough for Herc to slip out under 
the headlock.

Turning, he pummeled his great fists into Antaeus' body, feeling the giant's 
muscles soften and flattened against the barrage, hearing the ribs splinter, 
watching the skin redden with trapped blood.  Antaeus flopped to the ground and 
while Herc gasped for breath, watched with amazement as the blood drained away 
beneath the skin and the ribs seemed to inflate.  Antaeus sat up, chuckling, and 
sprang again.  This time Herc jumped into the air and landed his feet against 
Antaeus' chest, hearing the breastbone snap and driving the giant into the soil.  
Herc landed with an earth-shaking thud but arose the same time as Antaeus, whose 
chest again rose with a sickening snap as the giant stretched his shoulders back 
and bobbed his head back and forth.

"You'll have to come up with better than that, puny man."

Herc put everything into a solid blow that Antaeus dodged.  The giant grabbed 
Herc's shoulders and jerked him backward.  Herc's back bulged against the 
giant's chest--and Antaeus quickly grabbed Herc's wrists.  With godlike strength 
he began to pull Herc's arms behind his body.

Herc's belly crawled.  This was impossible, nobody alive could treat the mighty 
Hercules this way.  But Antaeus put one foot into the small of Herc's back and 
bent him like a bow with agony for an arrow.  Herc's biceps, thick as iron poles 
and slightly peaked even at full stretch, strained to come forward, but Antaeus 
outmuscled him and Herc felt his biceps fibers began to snap with sharp pings.  
His chest twitched and writhed and the muscles began to spasm with the ordeal.  
Antaeus' hands clamped down on Herc's wrists and pain shot up those arms into 
his tormented shoulders.  Antaeus now pulled sincerely, and Herc felt his arms 
dragged behind him against his will as the giant's foot ground into the cedar-
shaped tree of muscle at the base of his spine, mashing those muscles against 
the bone.  Hercules labored, struggled and lost, finally knowing what all those 
iron bars felt when he twisted them in half; what the god Apollo experienced as 
Hercules ground him into the dust.  For the first time in his life, he was 
afraid; and his face showed it.

But fear brought a new surge of adrenaline and a life-or-death keenness to his 
mind.  As his arms were outmatched and pulled almost out of their sockets, he 
let his left arm go limp.  Antaeus overbalanced and with the speed of a lion 
Herc twisted around with his right arm and spun Antaeus' arm around as well.  A 
sickening pop sounded as the bone snapped and tore through the skin of his 
forearm, and Hercules yanked Antaeus off his feet and kicked him through the 
air.  Antaeus hit a hillside and his weight shook rocks and debris upon him.  
Hercules stretch out his aching limbs and back and tried to clear his head.  

Suddenly a huge boulder flew past Herc's head and dodging he fell to the ground.  
Antaeus exploded out of the dirt and ran, his broken arm fully healed as his 
fingers grabbed for Hercules.  Antaeus spun Herc around and locked his arms 
around Herc's mighty chest from behind.  Herc reached back and slammed his fists 
into the giant's head.  He could feel the bones shatter, but the giant never let 
go.  The giant laughed and squeezed.  

The air blew out of Herc's chest as Antaeus' forearms ground into his pecs.  
Herc's iron musculature tightened against the power of the giant's arms but it 
was too late, the giant was already bending Herc's ribs and caving in his 
sternum.  All his thick muscles were no protection against this huge man's 
unstoppable force.  His blows fell weaker onto Antaeus' head as Antaeus picked 
Hercules off the ground, allowing Herc's mighty legs to kick uselessly against 
Antaeus' oak-trunks.  Antaeus laughed again, hot rotten breath washing over 
Herc's red, agonized face.  Antaeus began to nuzzle Herc's neck, and press his 
enormous, steel cock against the marble slabs of Herc's ass.  Herc felt himself 
weakening under the dire insistence of that cock, and those bone-cracking arms.

Herc realized who this was: Antaeus, son of the Earth-goddess Gaia.  He drew his 
strength from the earth, was healed by it, and nothing ever known could kill him 
so long as he could draw his strength from the earth.  Well, Hercules drew his 
strength only from himself, not from some other object or some little god.  
Hercules had defeated the earth already, redirecting rivers and replacing 
continents.  Herc would simply have to crush the earth yet again.

Hercules grabbed Antaeus' wrists and crushed.  The giant met his strength with 
strength, and bore down on Herc's stressed rib cage.  Using his thumbs, he 
pressed into Antaeus' wrists and sent blinding pain into the giant's head.  
Antaeus relaxed his grip momentarily, allowing Hercules the moment he needed to 
sink his fingers into the cords of Antaeus' arms and pry them off his body, 
twisting the bones beneath his hands.  

In an instant his own strength regathered and he grabbed Antaeus around the 
waist, hoisting him up into the air.  Antaeus rained blows on Herc's head and 
back that would have killed a mere normal man, but Herc didn't waste any time.  
Grinding the giant's thick belly against the dense slabs of his pecs, pressing 
his granite biceps into the giant's unprotected intercostals, and digging his 
fists into the giant's spine, he bent back and held Antaeus perpendicular to the 
ground.  The giant groaned and screamed as he felt his guts compress, and he 
called out to the earth for help.  Gaia responded with an earthquake that 
toppled trees and leveled hills, but Herc stamped his feet into the cracking 
earth and rooted himself.  Every jolt and tremor he sent up into Antaeus' 
shaking body, as the biceps of Hercules squeezed his bones into pulp.  Slowly 
Antaeus' reserves of strength began to give way before Hercules' omnipotence.  
As his hands dug into the giant's back, Antaeus felt his spine bend, his ribs 
spread apart and bend inward at the same time.  Herc's cock rose and tickled 
Antaeus' sagging balls and flaccid penis, making that penis grudgingly thicken 
and rise.  As he grunted with each terrifying squeeze, Herc nibbled at Antaeus' 
enormous, brown, erect nipples, flooding the giant's body with pleasure that 
sang against the screeching of blood pressed up into his head, and the torment 
of bones rending into slivers beneath Herc's punishing arm strength. 

Antaeus' breath became heavy with emotion and the constricting pressure.  His 
limbs grew limp, his vision dimmed, and he roared in confusion at the pleasure 
and pain Herc was dealing out in irresistible, unrelenting waves.  Bending down 
further, his thighs exploded, launching Antaeus high up into the air.  Antaeus' 
body hung like a rag dozens of feet above him, then descended with gathering 
force.  Herc positioned his enormous phallus and caught the speeding giant 
firmly up his virgin ass.  Antaeus' feet glanced off the ground momentarily, 
just enough to send renewed power to his sphincter as the pain forced a 
shattering shriek out his battered chest.  But the sphincter simply massaged 
Herc's massive pole and the muscles tore around Herc's plunging domination.  His 
near-ton bulk supported only by this he-man's cock, Antaeus quivered.  Blood 
mixed with precum dripped down Herc's swelling thighs and he grabbed giant's 
knees and crushed the bones to keep them from bending toward the earth.  Antaeus 
tried to bend backward, flailing with his arms, but Herc's rigid pole prevented 
that stress-cracked backbone from moving.

Hercules glared up into his pain-riven eyes, bent on revenge.  How dare he make 
Hercules afraid?  Locking eyes, he wrapped his arms around Antaeus' barrel 
chest.  The giant was too large for Herc to get around, in fact Herc's arms went 
straight back and grabbed his lats.  Digging his fingers into the muscle he 
pulled Antaeus to his chest, pec against pec.  Herc's biceps ground their chests 
together until Antaeus screamed, flailing his hands at Herc's head.  So Herc 
released him for a moment, reached up and re-hugged the giant, this time 
trapping his arms at his side.  Still ramming his meat into his intestines, 
Hercules squeezed his arms together, punishing the giant's chest with his own 
armor plating.  

Antaeus struggled but couldn't move Hercules' arms away from his sides.  Herc's 
biceps bruised and ruptured the giant's own.  Herc continued to try to bring his 
hands together behind the vast back of the enormous man.  With each grunt 
another bone bent and cracked, and Herc set up a rhythm of pressure that bounced 
Antaeus on his cock like a rag doll, his near-ton weight still held up by Herc's 
powerful virility.  Herc let Antaeus' broken legs dangle and hit the ground for 
added torture.  With each contact renewed strength and healing surged through 
Antaeus' body, only to be met with Herc's ferocious, breaking fury.

His arms continued to crush Antaeus' chest cavity but were still feet apart.  
Antaeus moaned and gurgled as Hercules growled and snarled and squeezed his 
heart close to stopping.  Just when something would burst inside the giant, with 
no way out as long as Herc's cock plugged the hole, the giant's  foot would hit 
the ground and instantly heal the organ; but the space for it was severely 
restricted.  The giant's heart labored in the narrowing cavity as his torso 
muscles were pounded into mush.  Each press of Herc's arms smashed the giant 
against his unyielding pecs, which broke bones with each flex.  Ribs broke 
through the skin of his back with wet, frightening splashes, his spine twisted 
in agony, his foot dragged on the soil and Herc's forearms pressed deeper 
trenches into his body.  Now the god-man's hands were only one foot apart and 
the giant's belly was bulging obscenely below his narrowing chest.  Antaeus 
wheezed as Herc's muscle forced air out of his lungs and prevented their 
inflation.  Antaeus felt his sternum split and grind together as Hercules joined 
his hands and leaned back.

Pulling out of Antaeus' ass, Herc shot a geyser of steaming come into the air 
between the giant's shattered legs, and with a final deep scream that rivaled 
the earthquake Gaia had attacked him with, he squeezed all life forever out of 
the hulk.  Bones were pulverized and tore apart the skin and gore gushed out of 
the giant's head and ass onto the earth (and the man-god).  Herc pulled his arms 
toward his chest and flattened the invinceable Antaeus.  His spine snapped, the 
vertebrae separated and broken, and Herc's final squeeze bent the giant double 
until the back of his head bobbed on his ass.  

He held Antaeus over his head, biceps purple and shaking and hot, still 
streaming come onto the earth that was helpless to save her son, his fingers 
unconsciously macerating the flesh and bone beneath them.  He walked to the 
cliff overlooking the pounding sea.  Herc heaved the body up into the air, and 
as far as his superhuman sight could tell, Antaeus never came down into the sea 
but might have gone clear up into the heavens.  Never to be resurrected again.

Depositing the apples into the ship's safe, Hercules set sail for Taenarum in 
Laconia, the entrance to Hades from the Peloponnesus.  The sailors cleaned him 
of the remains of Antaeus and massaged his weary, bruised muscles; massaging 
their come into his skin as well, for to touch him was to go erect, and soon no 
man could withhold a worshipful orgasm while embracing the sleeping hulk.

The ship landed and Hercules set out immediately.  The entrance to the 
underworld issued sulphur and steam and wasn't hard to locate.  Hercules strode 
boldly into the cavern and lingering shades fled at the living footfalls.  The 
last man to descend alive was Theseus, a self- styled imitator of Hercules who 
had tried to abduct Persephone and was held prisoner.  Cerberus' howls and bays 
rang up out of the earth.  Hercules followed the sound and stood before the 
beast, relaxed and ready.  

Cerberus' three heads slavered and gnashed their fangs.  Snakes grew out of his 
back and a dragon weaved where his tail should be.  He was determined to let no 
living thing past.  "Fine," thought Hercules, "I'm not going past."  And 
stretching the Nemean lion skin around his body to protect against the venomous 
vipers, Herc leapt high into the air.

Cerberus rose up on his hind feet to meet Hercules but the man descended feet 
first, smashing teeth and sending the dog skittering.  Cerberus whined at the 
unforeseen attack and quickly regained his footing.  He was about to leap again 
and Hercules clenched his fingers in eager anticipation.  Suddenly Pluto arrived 
with a gust of bone-chilling air.

"Hercules," the god said.  "Why are you harassing my dog?"

"Not that I wish to, lord.  My master," Hercules answered, frowning, "enjoined 
me to bring him this dog and that's what I intend to do."

"I can't spare him."

"Then I can't spare you."

Pluto laughed, a deep grumbling, grating sound.  "You will kill the god of the 
dead?"

"You'll fit right in," Hercules grinned.

Pluto raised a hand to smite Hercules but Hercules buffaloed him, driving his 
shoulder into the god's belly and piling him into the wall.  Cerberus leapt at 
Herc's back but the lion's skin wouldn't yield to the dog's broken teeth.  
Hercules stood up and pressed his titanic pecs against the god's chest, and 
began grinding the god into the rock.  Wriggling and writhing, Herc grinned into 
the deathly face as it paled even whiter and gasped for breath.  Herc ground and 
crushed, arms wide as his fingers dug into the rock and his biceps bruised 
Pluto's arms to the bone.  With a single backward kick Cerberus went flying 
again, snake heads crushing as the dog smashed into the rock face and dropped, 
unconscious.  

Hercules backed away and the god of the dead fell to his knees, coughing and 
gagging and rubbing his bruised bones.  Herc crossed his arms over him and saw 
his cock had gotten hard in the contest.  He gave Pluto one more chance.

"In exchange for your life, I'll take Theseus with me as my dog-walker.  Have 
him brought to me before the mutt wakes up and no further harm will come to you 
or the realm of the dead at my hands."  Hercules waiting, impassive, while Pluto 
sagged at his feet and feebly waved to an attendant to perform Herc's will.  

Theseus rattled up out of the darkness still in chains.  Hercules patted him on 
the shoulder.  "I like your style," he said, then gripped the manacles.  The 
iron peeled away with a screech and Theseus was freed.  Then Hercules stretched 
the chains out above his head, doubled them, doubled them again, and then again.  
Watching Pluto's reaction, he pulled, lats spreading and thickening, and the 
iron shivered and twisted in his hands until links pulled apart, the iron 
bending and breaking with sharp pangs against Herc's pull.  His fingers closed 
on the broken links and crushed them together into two mashed balls of tortured 
iron.  He walked over and dropped them in Pluto's lap.  "The next time someone 
comes to imitate me, remember I may not be far behind."

Grabbing Cerberus by the scruff of its central neck, the snakes along its back 
and tail cowering away from the mighty hand, Hercules led Theseus back into the 
light and left the shaken underworld behind him.

Now, scarcely four days after his departure, Hercules returned with everything 
the king had asked for.  Red oxen trampled through the palace, three divine 
apples sat in his lap and a very scary dog sat at Hercules' feet, growling 
whenever Eurystheus moved.  His voice cracked again when he spoke.

"Herc-Hercules, I grant you your freedom."  He looked away, fearing the time 
Athena comes to claim the apples.  He had no idea what he should really have 
been afraid of.

He felt himself floating in the air.  This time Hercules lifted the throne with 
one hand, its massive weight drawing veins out of his forearm and an erotic peak 
to his biceps but really nothing compared to the weight of the sky.  Herc's 
other arm grabbed Eurystheus like he was a boy and, dropping the throne with a 
thunderous crack, carried Eurystheus to the wall.  Kicking aside the broken 
chunks of marble throne, he turned Eurystheus around and pressed his body 
against the stone with one big hand.  "Now we'll see who's master to whom."  

The king felt sharp lightning bolts of pain as something hard rammed up his ass.  
His own cock sprang to life at the thought of the man-god, continent-dislodger 
and giant killer, finally spending his power on his feeble ass.  Eurystheus was 
pressed so tightly to the marble he couldn't move his hands, and his nose went 
numb against the cold stone.  His cock whacked and mashed itself against the 
wall as well, and disappointingly soon it spurted its meager load.  Still the 
iron shaft rammed into him, over and over until the king's painful erection 
reasserted itself, and then his rapist shot come up into his quivering 
intestines.  

"Hercules, you are my mast-" he began, then heard an inhuman growl and a release 
of the pressure.  He turned his head and saw Cerberus standing behind him, ready 
to mount again.  He screamed in horror and revulsion as the hell hound came back 
for seconds.  

                              ***

Locked securely in Eurystheus' bedchamber, furniture piled and broken before the 
doors, Hercules, Theseus, Iolaus and some other selected men proceeded to smash 
the king's massive bed into kindling with their wild wrestling and fucking.  
Hercules holding three men up in his arms, stuffing their cocks in his mouth at 
once....Hercules piling a daisy chain of men onto his cock and holding them all 
aloft.... mouths on biceps, heads gently squeezed into armpits, three men 
struggling to break free of Herc's scissors hold.... and all the palace guards, 
trying to batter their way into the suite to join these warriors in their orgy.  
But the doors were closed....

                            THE END

ChipMasterson@yahoo.com