Back at the camp, Hercules’ elite squad of suck-slaves waited restlessly. It was always like this. Endless beatings when the King was here. Unfulfilled fantasies flooding the muscle-hungry heroes’ minds when the King was gone. They passed huge jugs of pump juice back and forth. This was the favorite drink of the gods, heroes and barbarians of that age. It was the source of their swollen bodies and perpetual horniness. Achilles, Mars, Theseus, Apollo. Each one a peerless champion in their own lands, with suck-slaves of their own to command. Hercules had taught them to regret the reputations of which they had once been so proud. He hunted them down, brutalized them in front of their people and bound them in perpetual worship to his incomparable body. God of Muscle... King of Size... He was out hunting the barbarian king, Conan, even now. Newest, youngest and hugest of the squadron was the one they called Kid Samson. Alone of the suck-slaves he had sought out King Hercules himself. Undefeated in his own land, his body aching for new challenges, he gave up his kingship and went searching for the man who dared call himself the muscle-god. An angel-faced meat-monster, the awesome 17-year-old raped his way through the countryside. He made his victims swear to run ahead: “Go, tell your master of the golden-haired Power that is coming!” And the rumor and wailing preceded him, even to the Temple of Size, the great arena where King Hercules held his orgies. Countless studs gathered there to watch; only the biggest dared to participate. The battered refugees fell at the foot of his throne. “Who dares to interrupt the servicing of the King?” They told their story...”Save us, Master! You’re the only one big enough!” “Let the big punk come!”

...And come he did.

The next night the road to the arena was lined with torches. An overflow crowd waited without and within. Gasps greeted the young blond warrior as the sea of bodies parted before his.

As a test, the great iron doors of the arena had been double-barred against his entry. He burst them to smithereens with ease. The greatest of the guards were useless, blown away by a hurricane of muscle.

King Hercules waited...

He stood in majesty before his Throne of Power at the top of a high staircase. His crown on his head, a great robe hung from his shoulders to the floor. His torso was clad in a thick steel chestplate, two holes let his threatening, monster nipples protrude. The only other flesh visible was his angry cock: the hard, thick red dragon rearing two feet in front of him. Looking down, he saw a near-riot breaking out as Samson crossed the arena to the foot of the stairs.

The young musclehead silenced the crowd by hitting a mind-blowing bodyshot every few steps, never taking his eyes off of his opponent as he mounted the staircase, daring Hercules to refuse his challenge.

Samson sized up the competition. They were about the same height, with the same defiant logs between their legs.

“Think you're big, huh?”, he sneered, “I ain’t afraid of you.”

He bellowed out a challenge to Hercules and the packed arena.

“CHECK IT OUT!!!”

”275 POUNDS OF SUPER-HUGE, VEINY, UNDEFEATED, OUT-OF-CONTROL, HORNY, TEEN-AGE BULKMEAT!!” THINK THERE’S ANYBODY, ANYWHERE, BIG ENOUGH TO TAME ME?!”

He turned slowly on the platform, letting Hercules and the awe-struck crowd take in every over-developed square-inch.

Grim as he was, Hercules could not help licking his lips. This crazy young bull was turning him on! Big time!!

Pumping furiously now, Samson continued his march up the stairs. His face was now just a few feet away from Hercules’ bobbing dick.

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT, BIG MAN!!”, yelled Samson.

Quieter now, he sneered again,..

...”Impress me!”...

The King’s cock and nipples began to bulge and throb in unison. Samson saw his own begin to do the same. He knew neither one of them could keep control much longer. He picked up the rhythm, jutting out his pecs and banging on them like a demented gorilla. A sound like pounding kettledrums echoed through the arena. His challenge would not be ignored.

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!!!”

”WHO’S BIGGEST?!!!?!!!?”

King Hercules nodded to the slaves on either side.

Slowly, they parted the robes that had shielded Kid Samson’s eyes from the spectacle that opened before them now.

First, ripped quads that would send a Tyrannosaurus rex running for cover with his tail between his legs, ballooned out on either side of the King’s vein-covered man-meat.

The robe was gone. Mammoth arms were bared. Even relaxed, thick bands of muscle fiber seemed to coil and writhe of their accord.

The straps that held the chestplate were unfastened. The thick steel had been holding the muscle IN!!.. Now released, they exposed an armored abdominal wall... Engorged lats flared out to deltoid mountains that extended beyond Samson’s astonished field of vision... The Meat-Master could now fill his titanic rib-cage, expanding it to its full size stretching and swelling the unbelievable meat-slabs he called pecs into a gigantic arc that blotted out the night sky as they hung over Kid Samson’s head...

Hercules was a man of few words...

...”Three twenty-five!”...

A single, freakazoid flex blasted through the God of Muscle’s body. Rising from his grotesque calves up to the traps that welled-up by his ears. His rippling torso treated steel as nothing.

A warning shot of cum splatted onto the bulk-boy's face. It was Hercules’ turn to sneer...

...”Spunk on a punk”...

...”WHO'S BIGGEST?!”...

The epic size display rocked Samson’s body like a thunderbolt, knocking him to his knees as an orgasmic tidal wave swept through the stupefied on-lookers.

Gazing up, he said for the first time the words he would be forced to say again and again...

”MIGHTY HERCULES”...

...”GOD OF MUSCLE”...

...”KING OF SIZE!”...