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Hercules, Hercu-less (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2021-08-26 17:31:42 +0000 UTCHi everyone! here is Part 1 of the most popular idea from my poll last month. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think in the comment section.
Almost everyone in Morningstar, Colorado, knew Nick and Sophia Jones. For starters, it was not a very big town – only about 2,000 people lived there. But mostly they were known for running the most popular restaurant in town: the Olympia Café. Both Nick and Sophia were 100% Greek, so don’t let the last name fool you: it used to be Ioneus, but Nick’s grandfather changed it to Jones to better fit in after he emigrated to the US back in the 1920s.
The food served at the café was also 100% Greek – authentic recipes handed down from Sophia’s grandmother to her mother and then to her. The meals were tasty, the portions were generous, and the prices were affordable – and to top it all off, Nick and Sophia were incredibly hospitable and did everything possible to ensure their guests had a memorable dining experience. Both restaurateurs were also known for their support of the community, and they were always ready to host a benefit or cater an event for any local cause.
Nick and Sophia’s eldest child, their daughter Athena, inherited their incredible kindness and always did her best to help others. Now 30 years old, Athena ran a successful public relations firm in nearby Denver and was constantly doing pro bono work to assist those in need. She also served on the board of several charitable organizations, and of course, made frequent trips back to Morningstar to visit her family.
The other child, Hercules, was two years younger than Athena and was given all the same love and attention she received from her parents, but instead of possessing a giver’s heart and wanting to bring kindness to the world, Hercules instead was cursed with something that no other member of the Jones family had: a massive ego. He only truly loved himself, and he only spent time on activities which benefitted him.
Hercules did receive two things from his parents, however – the first was a strong Greek profile, with his dark wavy hair, thick beard and mustache, and olive skin. If you saw him walking down the street, you would be 100% confident in his ethnicity and heritage. And second, both his mother and father were above-average in size, and they passed those genetics onto him. Hercules stood 6’4” tall and weighed 180 pounds when he graduated from high school a decade earlier, but thanks to rigorous weight training at the local gym, he had buffed up to 280 well-sculpted pounds and now resembled the demigod he was named after. He loved pumping up his muscles and growing his physique, and he was hoping to get up to 300 pounds before he turned 30 in two years. One look at him, even covered up in a coat or bulky sweater, and you knew you were looking at a stud.
What did he want to do with his amazing body? Teach others how to get in shape? Nope. Become a famous powerlifter or bodybuilder? Nope. Get work as an actor or model? Nope. All Hercules wanted to do was use his muscles to demonstrate his superiority over other men AND get women to sleep with him. Both of those activities thrilled him as much as weightlifting, and with the generous allowance he received from his parents, he didn’t need to waste time on a job or do anything he considered to be frivolous.
As a result, Hercules ended up spending most of his time at the town fitness facility, Morningstar Muscle, where he could lift weights, make fun of weaklings, and flirt with hot women whom he could take home and fuck. The gym was, at least for him, the perfect second home. The owner of the gym, a big-bellied ex-jock who was a good friend of the Jones family and received free food at the café, looked the other way at what he considered Herc’s relatively harmless frat-boy activities.
The other members of Morningstar Muscle also didn’t do anything to stop him. The women who hadn’t been with him yet of course assumed they could eventually change his bad boy ways once they slept with him (they couldn’t), and the women who had been seduced and tossed aside were hopelessly devoted to the idea that the big man (and yes, he was big all over) might pick them again in the future (he would not), so they continued to flirt and do anything he wanted (“Baby, go get me another protein shake. Daddy needs a boost.”). The men did their best to give Hercules a wide berth so they didn’t become targets of harassment, and so the bad behavior of the Greedy Greek went unabated for a long time.
But things finally began to change one August afternoon. It was 92 degrees outside, and the gym’s air-conditioning was struggling to keep the weight room cool. Hercules was there, as usual, and decided to work out shirtless due to the sweltering conditions, plus he figured it would also help him better attract some new lady friends for the evening. He was right about that – Herc possessed an amazing upper body, and everyone around stared as the sweat cascaded down from his massive pecs into the crevices between his well-defined ab muscles. He peacocked around the equipment to make sure that nobody missed out on the glory that was his physique.
The big man had just finished up a set of bench presses – he was getting close to pushing his personal best to 500 pounds – when a voice spoke to him from behind. “Excuse me, can you please clean up the bench?”
Herc turned to see who had spoken. It was a smaller man – well, everyone was small compared to him – but this guy was particularly tiny. He was no taller than 5’2” or 5’3” and couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds. “What are you talking about, shrimp?” he asked.
The man repeated his request: “Can you please clean up the bench?” He then pointed to where Hercules had just been laying, and indeed a layer of sweat from his back had pooled there.
Hercules laughed. “What are you, the fuckin’ sweat police?”
The smaller man then pointed to a sign on the nearby wall that read: All Members Must Clean Equipment After Use. “It’s just common courtesy,” he added.
“Well, nothing about me is common, dipshit. If you’re such a baby that you can’t deal with a little sweat, maybe you should work out at home?”
“Really, name-calling?” said the man. He was a new member named Tanner Cross, who had just moved to town a few weeks earlier and didn’t know Herc’s nasty reputation. “Wouldn’t your time be better spent following the rules?”
Hercules had had enough by this point; not only was the little man interrupting his pump, but he was also way too confident for his size. “Listen up, fuckstain, I don’t know who you think you are, but let me tell you who I am. The name’s Hercules Jones, and I do whatever the fuck I want to do, or don’t want to do, in this town. I don’t give a shit that the bench has some sweat on it, and there’s no fuckin’ way I’ll be cleaning it up. That is fucking woman’s work, and I ain’t no fucking girl, got it?”
Tanner was shocked at the outburst. He was about to apologize, but Hercules didn’t give him a chance to respond. The bodybuilder placed his big hands under Tanner’s armpits, picked him up, and shoved him hard against the wall where the “Clean Equipment” sign was posted.
“Anyway, why the fuck are you so interested in my sweat, pervert? Let me guess, you think I’m hot and you’d you want a taste, right? You want to lick my body all over, huh?”
“Please…put me down!” said Tanner as he tried to wriggle free of Herc’s grip, but he was unable to do so.
“Look at the little man now. Too weak to get away. Maybe you *should* lick up some of my sweat – I bet it’s full of protein and could help you grow some much-needed muscle. Would you like that, wimp? To have big muscles like mine? To have 20-inch arms and be able to lift anything in your way? To be able to do anything you fuckin’ want because everyone is either too turned on or too scared to stop you? Look, I got a bunch of sweat right here on my chest…right there on my big ol’ pec, just dipping down. You can just slurp it right up. Go ahead, lick my nipple, boy.”
Tanner continued to struggle but was making no headway. Hercules laughed again and took his right hand off his target. He then swirled his index finger across his pecs until it was wet with his perspiration. “Jesus, you can’t even get free when I hold you with one hand. But that’s OK, baby, ‘cause I got some muscle sweat for you to gobble down.
Hercules pressed his sweaty finger against Tanner’s lips, and the smaller man did his best to look disgusted. But deep down, he was turned on, and thankfully his somewhat loose pair of sweatpants hid his erection (granted, it was only 4 inches long when hard, so it’s not like there was much to see). Tanner had moved to town a few months for a new job, and he figured his new life in a new place would be the perfect opportunity to pursue his secret desire: to finally put on some real muscle. He had always been the smallest and weakest guy wherever he went, and his masturbatory fantasies involved himself growing huge muscles like Hercules. Sure the man was a bully, but it was difficult to ignore his super sexy brawn and the swagger that accompanied it. Tanner tried not to stare, but Herc’s massive left arm was only inches from his face, and it was bigger than any he had ever seen before. He would give anything – his money, his brains, his eventual firstborn – to have that kind of raw power. He realized at that moment just how badly he craved muscle for himself, and he was more determined than ever to get it.
After a few seconds of trying to get the little man to suck his finger, Hercules gave up, released his grip, and let his victim slump to the floor. “Fuckin’ pussy! Stay out of my way from now on, or you’ll really regret it.”
Tanner looked up and watched Hercules walk away, all the while licking the sweat the big man had rubbed on his lips. As he stared at the Herc’s juicy ass bouncing up and down in the tight gym shorts, his cock couldn’t take it anymore and spewed forth a stream of cum inside his own shorts.
