Conan's red-hot iron bar pumped gallons of steaming cum into the wriggling and whining Hercules. Finally it began to calm down, and with the last spasm Conan heaved a long, deep sigh of pleasure. He drew the softening pole out of Herc's oozing ass and got up on his wobbly legs. Never before had he experienced anything like the ultimate satisfaction given by this brutal rape of the world's strongest man. But the punishment was far from being over. Confident with his victory, the barbarian decided it was time for round two.

Released from the pressure of Conan's bulk, Hercules was soon back on his feet. Growling with rage and humiliation, his whole massive body cried for revenge. This time there would be no mercy for this long-haired punk! With one huge punch he would smash Conan's scull, tear off his hands and feet, crush him into powder!

The man-god charged like gigantic battering-ram. Little did he know that Conan's manly juice in his entrails was depriving him of all his devine power and turning him into a musclebound mountain of meat that would be easy pray for any skilled fighter.

The first huge blow that should have caved in Conan's head missed its target. Instead, a smashing kick hit Hercules straight in the face. Another miss - and another kick into the back of his head, delivered by the powerful, agile leg of the barbarian. Hercules shook his head to overcome dizziness and amazement. "This can't be!", thought Hercules, when yet another precise kick snapped at his mighty chin.

Hercules tried to retaliate, but his massive muscles proved useless against this powerful and skilled warrior. Conan easily blocked Herc's heavy punches and, instead, delivered devastating blows into the defenceless ribs of the former champion. Both men were growling like wild beasts: Conan with triumph in his voice, Hercules - with helpless rage and pain.

Herc's musclebound legs were too slow to follow after Conan's graceful moves. The monstrous iron rod that was still standing out fully erected made moving difficult, and the swollen, aching balls were continuously in danger of being crushed between his bulging thighs. In one moment Conan was trying to break through the stone wall of Herc's abs, the next - pounding his defenceless kidneys and lumbago. It was like a giant bull being harassed by a predator that would wear down its pray and finally tear it into pieces. Finally, a sharp kick landed on Herc's ankle, and the man of muscle collapsed to the ground.

Hercules got up on his massive feet, only to receive another smashing kick that forced him down on his knees. Once again, the former superman stood up, but signs of exhaustion were starting to show. Hercules panted heavily, his movements became slower and attacks weaker, until his bulging arms were no longer able to block Conan's ferocious punches. By now, Conan's manly juices had numbed the magnificent body and brain of the man-god, the once proud warrior had turned into a muscle-packed boxing sack that his enemy could bang as much as he pleased.

The barbarian hammered Herc's bulging abs and huge pecs with sadistic pleasure. Unused to such treatment, those massive muscles blew red and filled with blood. Another object of Conan's jealousy and hatred were the gigantic thighs that got under a systematic bombardment by the barbarian's feet. Finally, those towering legs could take no more punishment, and Hercules fell to the ground like an age-old tree. It was truly a sight to behold: the world's strongest man, the most muscular, masculine being on earth lying half-conscious, totally defeated and helpless, completely at the mercy of his tormentor.

But Conan had no mercy for Hercules. Not before teaching the fallen hero what pain really means. Not before destroying each and every hypertrofied muscle in his flabby but still magnificent body. Conan jumped and landed his feet on Herc's rock-hard abs, breaking the thick armour of his stomach and leaving him gasping for breath. Next, the barbarian fell on Herc's huge chest, crushing the massive pecs with an out-streched elbow. Conan grasped Herc's right arm and attempted to cut the bulging biceps with chops by the side of his hand. After that, he put Hercules into bow and arrow, grabbing his leg and bending it back until his spine was about to break. The man-god howled in terrible pain and prayed for mercy with tears in his eyes.

- One last thing, growled the barbarian with a wicked thought in his mind. Conan grabbed Herc's useless manly weapon with two hands and his bulging arms raised the fallen muscleman high up into the air. The whole massive body was hanging down on the monster pole which felt as if it would tear off. The man-god could no longer endure the pain and passed out in a state of shock. When he came back to his senses, Conan had climbed on his mountaneous chest and was flexing his muscles as the triumphant winner.

- You have two choices, roared Conan with a strong Kimmerian accent. - You become my slave or I break your neck with this biceps, explained the barbarian, flexing his powerful arm right above Herc's face.

- I am your slave, ... Master, answered Hercules with a sobbing voice.

- On your knees, slave, ordered Conan, and Hercules had no alternative but to obey. The barbarian grabbed his head and started to stuff his stinking iron rod deep into his throat. Zzeben pressed himself against Herc's huge muscular ass and entered his rectum with a violent thrust. Both men were panting heavily, working their way towards the man-god's entrails. Finally, they both came, howling in extasy, convulsing in tact inside their newly-found slave, filling his guts with new portions of deadly juice.

For Hercules this was the ultimate humiliation. The once proud warrior had turned into a heaping mass of submissive muscle. His massive body was convulsing in agony, his churned-up ass and manly face were covered with steaming cum, his thundering voice had been replaced by a smothered whine. Luckily, the stunned muscleman had no idea of the horrifying plan that was maturing in Conan's sadistic mind...