...Hercules continued to stagger towards the camp of his suck-slaves, fueled as much by rage as a gut-full of pump-juice. He would defend his men, annihilate his enemy, regain his honor! The intoxicating dream of VENGEANCE! flooded his brain again... Every land, every culture, every time has its Rules. In this time of gods and heroes, myth and legend, it was simple... SIZE RULES!!... Hercules and Conan had both lived by this code and it had made them Kings! Undefeated, it had won them great lands, worship and the finest slaves. Until they met each other.... There was another Rule... Only One Man Can Be BIGGEST!!!... That was why Hercules would drag Conan to the arena, that was why he would use the Barbarian’s body to pound a pit into the mud! That was why he would have slaves surround the Combatants with mirrors. That was why he would bury the enemy King, upright, up to his balls and butt in the mud! That was why he would now send the cum-spent onlookers away... Hercules’ victory was enough for the crowd, but it wasn’t enough for him! Only those who lived by the Rules would understand... Conan had challenged him and given him his first beating. Only total humiliation, only Conan’s complete acceptance of the Muscle-God’s utter superiority would satisfy the Rules!

Battered, sweaty, swollen; the two titans now occupied a new dimension of size! Both men’s arms now stuck out at right angles from their bodies, mammoth triceps resting heavily on flaring lats! With a huge difference... Conan was a mountain of bulging, beaten, raw meat. Buried up to his balls, he could not run, he could not even fall down! Defeated, he could not even move his giant arms to defend his face! He would be the Pounding Pole! And before him, the same grotesque size, but vibrating with rage and power, would stand the strongest being alive! Hercules would walk behind his foe, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Conan could not look away, his nodding head propped up by his own hyper-inflated pecs. Now Hercules would rest his log-size organ on Conan’s huge right trapezius, rubbing it threateningly by the Barbarian’s ear. Up until now, his face hidden by his matted hair, the only sign that the Wildman was conscious was his raging hard-on. Now a moan and a whimper could be heard beneath the cum-stained mane...

...”No more, ...no more, ...no more muscle, ...no more size!... Can't take no more!... no more...”

…The Muscle-God would close his eyes and throw back his head in rapture!... His captive’s words of submission would be sweeter than the worship of a thousand tongues!! His reply would be simple...

...”MORE!!!”...

...The whimpers would turn to frightened cries!...

...”I CAN’T TAKE NO MORE!! I AIN’T GOT NO MORE CUM!!!”...

...It was possible… The sweat and cum that had turned the soil of the arena to mud had come from the frenzied crowd, and more of it from Hercules, himself! But most of it would come from the punishment of Conan, dominated and overpowered by fear!! Hercules would thrust his proud member forward, resting his cannonball-sized testicles on Conan's chest! It felt good to sense the trembling of the vanquished body beneath them! Clearly the King of Size had enough sperm for both of them!!

...”And what of the gallons of cum I poured down your throat? The buckets I pumped up your ass?” ...the Dominator would reply…

...”Perhaps I can squeeze them out of you!!... A GOD CAN WORK MIRACLES!!!”....