Supes' Vacation V

[aurelius]

Supes' Vacation V

 

 

I

“I wonder what it was like?”  Carlos is leafing through a magazine.

 

“What?” I ask.

 

“Building the pyramids.”  He shows me a big photo of one of the Egyptian pyramids.

 

“You know,” Dick says, “Slaves didn’t build them; mostly they were volunteers—and they got free beer!”

 

“Really?” Carlos says.

 

“I read that too,” I say.

 

“Still,” says Carlos, “I wish I knew what it was like: all those guys dragging these big stone blocks.”

 

“I doubt if any of them were as well-built as you!” Dick says as he walks over a plants a kiss on Carlos’ head.  Carlos looks up and brings Dick’s head down for a real kiss.

 

“As well built as Carlos?  Not bloody likely,” Bruce says, entering the room.  He comes over to me and now I get a kiss on my head—and I drag Bruce’s head down for a proper kiss.

 

“Well,” I say with a grin, “There’s one way to find out!”  Bruce immediately turns on me and says, “NO!  Not another damned historical adventure!”

 

I get up and kiss him again—and we linger.  “But if our kids want to know something, isn’t it our responsibility to find out for them?”

 

“But you’ll be gone a week!” Bruce says.  

 

“What’s this?” Carlos says.  Dick plops down beside Carlos: “Clark likes to go back in time and see what’s what.  He did a couple trips back to play with Hercules.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it playing,” I say.  “And I did love the guy—beautiful teenager—and better built than either of your guys!”  But I go over and put my hands on their shoulders, leaning down to kiss each of their cheeks: “But you guys have other charms!  I don’t think Herc could ever equal your gymnastic skills.”

 

Carlos still looks confused, so I say, “I fly around the world a thousand or so times and go back in time.  Blame Bruce!  He threw a grammar of Ancient Greek at me so that I would stop lusting after Dick.  Tell them, Bruce!”

 

“It’s true.  I did.  Clark got to fuck some athletic Greek boys and stopped lusting after Dick—so in a way, it was a good thing.  But—“ he says as he comes over and puts his arms around me, “I hate it when you’re gone!”

 

“But I’m gone a week when I’m in Metropolis, doing my job—do you miss me then?”

 

“Frankly, yes!”

 

I smile, break out of his embrace and lean down again to Dick and Carlos.  I softly say, “It’s nice to be missed!”  Then louder I say, “And so that’s another reason for me to go!”  

 

Dick is enjoying this.  He loves when Bruce and I “fight”—because we don’t really fight.  So I say to him, “Do you want a souvenir from ancient Egypt?”

 

“I guess you can’t bring back a crocodile from the Nile.  Maybe a scarab?”  Carlos immediately says, “I want one too!”

 

Bruce comes over and puts his arms around me again, “All I want is for you to come back, whole and in one piece, so I can fuck you hard!”

 

“Deal!” I say; then I bow like some medieval courtier:  “My ass, good sir, is yours upon my return!”

 

Dick knows what that means.  He pulls Carlos up from the couch and all three of them run up the stairs to the big balcony at the top of the manor.  I call the Planet and say I have an emergency back in Kansas and will be gone for a week.  By the time Bruce and the boys get to the roof, I’ve already spun into my suit and am checking to see if I have loincloth and sandals packed in my cape.  

 

Everything checks out, so I fly up to the balcony, kiss each of the most important men in my life, and I’m up, up—

 

 

2.

 

It’s not hard to find ancient Egypt.  And it’s not hard to find Giza—even though the pyramid of Khufu has only  started.  It has a big square foundation, and a couple rows of blocks.

 

I land in the desert—or what will be the desert.  This long ago—I had to add another hundred spins around the globe to go back further in time—what is desert now was grasslands.  I find a big boulder—something that normal humans couldn’t budge—and strip; I put my uniform under the boulder and hope I’m still in good enough condition in a few days, to retrieve the uniform for my spinning the opposite way around the globe, to go back to Bruce and the boys.  Then I put on my loincloth and sandals and fly—more like make several jumps—into Giza.

 

It’s not hard to find the slaves—they’re the ones being whipped.  But since I don’t look Egyptian—Herc said I looked Greek—I figure I’ll blend in more with the slaves.  So I join them.  It’s early afternoon and I fit myself in with a line of slaves pulling a large stone block.

 

But I forgot one important fact: all these guys are thin—some even skin and bones—while I look healthy and am packed with muscle.  So one of the slave masters motions for me to come to him.  He says something; he figures I don’t speak Egyptian, so he simply takes my muscular arm—which he stops to look at and feel (“muscles of stone” I hear echoing from Greece)—and drags me toward a different group of men dragging a different stone.

 

He says a few words to the crew warden there—not a slave master; I never see him use his whip—and soon I’m part of a smaller crew of men dragging a different stone block.

 

But that doesn’t last longer either.  Another crew warden comes over and talks with my crew warden, points to me and then points to yet another group of guys—an even smaller group.  But these guys have some muscle—so that’s a good thing!

 

Once again, I’m taken out of one line and brought to another group.  But one look tells me that this is where I belong.  Even though they are fewer in number—only twenty—they all have at least some muscle.  I smile.  Our crew warden barks out a slow cadence.  I don’t know the words, but it’s easy to figure out what it means: all the guys step together with the cadence and drag the stone block along.  I’m toward the end of the long thick rope, and I find dragging the stone block pretty easy.  And my comrades behind me seem to like that I can do some of their work.  They say things—again, I have no idea—and smile and laugh at their comrades on the other rope.

 

The crew warden notices, so he comes over and pulls me off that rope.  He puts me at the top of the crew—pulling two ropes.  I’m fine with that.  And so is the guy I replace—he’s happy to take a place behind me, on one rope.  So I pick up the ropes and start dragging.  And all the guys behind me start chattering and talking to each other.  Apparently I’m doing most of the work.  

 

But we get the stone block to the pyramid and push it into place.  The pyramid is one huge square of many stones with a burial chamber in the center and a pathway to it through the stones.  As we come down the ramp, some of my comrades put their arms up around my shoulders (I’m taller than all of them) and pat me on the back.  And I once again hear words that I imagine are “muscles of stone.”  I’ve made their jobs easier.

 

But the crew warden has a different idea.  He immediately takes five guys and directs them to another group of muscle guys.  So now, instead of leading a group of 20, I lead a group of 15.  The other guys grumble—they think that I’ve just made their jobs harder.

 

But, at the bottom of the ramp, we take up the ropes for another stone block and start dragging.  I put in a bit more effort, and suddenly the chatter and laughter returns to my team.  I’ve not made their jobs harder.  I’m just working harder.

 

So, when we get that block to the pyramid and shove it into place, I am once more surrounded by men who pat me on the back and put their arms around me.  I love this.  I love being surrounded by strong, muscular men who value my strength.  So the first thing I have to tell Carlos is that the men who built the pyramids loved their teams.

 

 

3

 

As the afternoon sun beats down, we have one more stone block to drag up the ramp to the pyramid.  But my team members—fast becoming my buddies—are not grumbling, are not unhappy.  We pick up the ropes; I smile at them; they smile at me—and we start dragging the stone block up the ramp.  I imagine that even to these guys with some muscle, I’m more muscle than they’ve ever seen.  And dragging stone blocks only makes my biceps and thighs bulge more.  I wonder if some of my crew like my body.  Their smiles suggest they might.  

 

Our crew warden barks a cadence; we match the cadence; he increases the tempo a bit and we match that.  But as the ramp incline increases, we stick with that cadence.  

 

Soon we’re shoving the block into place.  We look down at the other groups of volunteers and slaves and realize we’ve outstripped everyone.  My buddies put their arms around me and pat my back and kiss my cheeks—and I kiss them back.  It’s good to be in ancient times, when men can kiss and no one cares!

 

I have no idea where we’re going; I just follow my buddies.  They seem to know I‘m lost.  When we get to the bottom of the ramp, the guy on my right takes my hand and leads me along.  We go through several collections of mud brick houses, though dirt streets where kids play, cats roam, and women carry things.  Finally we get to a collection of houses closer to the Nile—I can just see the river through a few palm trees, over a hundred yards away.  

 

We go into a square surrounded on all sides by mud brick houses.  At one end is a table with a guy pouring something into clay cups.  Even from here, I can smell the brew.  All the guys rush to the table, lift their cups and drain the beer.  On another table are bread and figs and dates.  The guys help themselves.  I look around and wonder, where’s the meat?

 

A couple of guys open baskets and start taking out dried fish, putting them on large platters.  Suddenly several cats appear, rubbing their bodies against the men’s legs, some even hoping up on the table where the fish are; the men swat them down.  But all across the square, as men put fish on their plates and take their plates back to their places around the square, cats follow.   My buddies get me another cup of brew and we sit down on the sandy floor.  And I don’t have to get up or want for anything for the rest of the evening.

 

I sit and a plate of figs comes by; then a plate of dates; then a platter with slices of bread.  And then a plate of dried fish.  Another brew finds its way to my hands.  Apparently my new buddies want to make sure I’m happy and well-fed, and ready to pull for them tomorrow!

 

We’ve all had several brews; I’m starting to feel a bit amorous.  As men finish eating their fish, they toss the bones over to a cat or two.  They fight over the fish bones; the victor pulls it away; there are cats licking fish bones at all the edges of the square.  I notice that the guy who was to my right as we came down the ramp is still siting next to me: he has a good, muscular body, good arms, and his curly black hair reminds me of Herc, but several inches smaller.  He looks at me and smiles, I look at him.  Then he says a magic word: “Hellene?”

 

I’m shocked.  I thought Greeks would only be slaves.  But here he is, a Greek volunteer among all the Egyptians—and what’s more, he knows Egyptian too!  So I smile a big smile and say, “Hellene!” and give him a big kiss on the lips.  Now he’s the one who’s surprised.  But he says, “I thought you looked Greek, but I wasn’t sure.  Where are you from?”

 

I shade the truth: “From a farm in western Attica.  And you?”

 

“From Tiryns.  I came down here on a merchant ship.  But I fell in love with an Egyptian and now we’re both helping the Pharaoh.”  

 

I ask, “Where’s your love?”

 

He smiles and says, “On the other side of you!”  And I can see why—the guy to my left is Egyptian and built: about as tall as my Greek friend, muscular with straight black hair and a smile for days.  I spontaneously kiss him; he kisses me back.  I think a threesome has just been formed.

 

I find out that my Greek buddy’s name is Philo; and his Egyptian lover is Menes.  I introduce myself with my Greek name: Chilon.  Menes wears a black scarab on a thin leather strap around his neck.  With Philo’s help, I compliment Menes on his scarab.  He takes it off and puts it around my neck.  Philo explains that there’s a slave in our village that makes them—it can be easily replaced.  I ask him if I can get another one—I have a friend back in my country who would like one.  Philo talks with Menes, Menes nods, and in a day or two, I have another scarab on a leather strap, wrapped around my wrist.  Requests fulfilled!

 

 

4

 

We talk through the evening.  Of course, I’m always having to turn to Philo and ask him to translate what Menes said, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  And apparently Menes has a good sense of humor.  A couple of times, Philo has trouble translating because he’s too busy laughing!   I’m confused, but when the translation finally comes, I understand, and I get to laugh too.

 

Both Philo and Menes get me more beer, more fish, more dates.  I try to get up and they smile and push me back down.  I don’t mind being taken care of!

 

As evening turns to night, Philo and Menes get me up and we go to a small mud brick house a little ways from the central square.  They lead me into the house and immediately they’re on me: kissing, feeling my muscles, squeezing them and caressing them—Philo kissing me and then Menes kissing me.  I didn’t know they both liked me so much, but I guess they want to share me.  

 

Of course, we all drop our loincloths.  They have good, strong bodies and I know at least Menes has a good-sized cock.  As they squeeze my muscles, I like feeling their firm muscles.  There’s some awkwardness as Philo and Menes decide who gets me where—they talk in Egyptian so I have no idea what they’re saying.  But I decide to help things along:  I get down on all fours.  This makes both Philo and Menes have big smiles.  Menes gestures to Philo that he gets my ass; Philo smiles even more and slaps my ass.  I turn around, smile and nod.  I’m already relaxing my hole.  

 

Meanwhile, Menes gets down on his back and starts playing with my cock.  He says something; I turn around to Philo and he says, “He likes your big cock!”  I smile and nod.  I like it that Philo has been massaging my ass cheeks and even puts two fingers into my hole.  He’s a gentleman.

 

Here I am, a couple thousand years BCE and guys are going to fuck and suck me—and not much has changed in 4,000 years.  I smile to myself.  I wonder if I love going back in time because I can get fucked and sucked without worrying about whether or not it’s a problem or accepted, or if anyone will get in trouble because I like fucking and sucking men.  But that’s a bit too much thinking for getting fucked and sucked.

 

And besides, Philo is a gentle fuck: his cock is entering me and I love how slowly he’s doing it.  I moan a little, to tell him I like what he’s doing.  I don’t have to turn around and see him smile—I can feel his hand on my ass, caressing it—he likes my ass.  Once he’s all the way in, I tighten my hole a little to welcome him in.  And his thrusts are pretty gentle, too.  But I do know the ancient Greek word for “More!”  and he pushes his big cock harder, and then faster.  But not so much that he cums—he knows how to stretch this out so that he and I both get pleasure.

 

Meanwhile, Menes sucks my cock—slowly and deliberately.  And I wonder if they’re so good at fucking and sucking because there’s not much else to do in ancient times, or if it’s because they really do love each other and have taught each other how to do things right.  Either way, I’m feeling the love!

 

And the two find a rhythm: Menes sucks as Philo fucks.  I do know there are board games, because archeologists have found them.  I see a couple of small boxes mixed in with the pile of clothes along the wall.  And there are two primitive beds: Egyptian beds with those strange headrests that don’t look restful at all.  But there’s not much else here.  

 

I can feel Philo’s cock hardening; I know my cock is hardening.  He’s moaning; I’m moaning.  Even Menes is moaning.  I know I have to watch that I don’t buck and put my cock through Menes’ head.  It’s too late to explain squeezing my balls, so I’ll just have to lurch backward—and take more of Philo’s cock.  Which he likes, and which Menes must also like, since he stops his rhythmic sucking. 

 

But my lurch backwards saves Menes’ head.  He will still get a lot of my cum.  And the loud “Ahhh!” and squirt from Philo tell me that he’s cum too.  He collapses on my back.  Menes lets go of my cock and soon scoots out from under me.  I roll over and down on the floor.  I reach for Menes’ cock.  He looks at me, smiles, but then shakes his head.  Apparently, either he wants to fuck me too—or he wants to fuck Philo.

 

It’s me.  Menes slaps my ass and stands up, so I get back on all fours and he rams his cock in my wet hole.  His cock is a bit thicker than Philo’s, so when I moan, it’s real.  But after his first thrust, he proves he’s not a brute: he slows down and fucks me carefully.  And Philo is now under me, sucking my cock.  He’s good!  My cock is getting hard again.  Apparently, the Egyptian I didn’t understand included, “You fuck him first, then I fuck him!”

 

Philo is a better cocksucker than Menes, and soon I’m not only hard but getting harder.  And by the time Menes is ready to pop, I am too.  These guys are both excellent lovers.  I think I’ll keep them!

 

 

5

 

After Menes cums—and I’ve cum again—I really am tired and my two fuck buddies let me lie down next to them.  There’s no way three of us can fit onto the two primitive Egyptian beds.  I get the impression that wrapping their arms around each other and lying down on the dusty floor is something these two muscle guys have done before.  

 

They both have their arms around me—I’m surrounded by good muscle, and I love it.  But then all of us realize we have to pee—we’ve each had at least three beers—so they get up, help me up—with my ass dripping with their cum—and we go outside.  They lead me through the streets to the edge of the collection of darkened houses until they know where they are: by a big trench which stinks.  It’s the village latrine.  So we all pee; then they put their arms around me again and lead me back to their house.  Then we lie back down on the dusty floor and I settle in between their firm arms.  

 

I hear birds and feel the light growing—it’s morning.  Each of us wakes up; I get kisses from each of my fuck buddies.  Once again, they get up, help me up and lead me out of their house, through the streets and to the latrine.  There are lots of other men there, taking a piss.  And further down, I can see little boys piss, and further than that I can see girls and women who have pulled up their clothes to squat and pee.  Menes and Philo and I all turn around, squat and shit into the latrine.  There are some green leaves nearby for cleaning up—not as soft as Charmin, but then not as harsh as palm leaves, either.  It’s all out in the open—and a far cry from Kansas and its puritan past.

 

Back in their house, we put on our loincloths and sandals.  Once again, my buddies put their arms around me—I feel like a prize bull, but I don’t mind—and lead me back to the square with the tables of food.  Dates and bread for breakfast.  Philo and Menes push me down in a corner of the square and go off to get food for themselves—and food and beer for me.  I look around the square and see all the other guys of our muscle team, all of them sitting along the edge of the square, picking up food with their fingers and shoving it into their mouths.  So I do the same.

 

After a while, our crew warden enters the central square.  He looks around at all the muscle guys and smiles.  He carries a whip but doesn’t use it—I gather that it’s part of his position, but he’s not a bad crew warden.  He spends some time going around the square, talking with one group of guys, and then another.  When he gets to us, he says something which of course I don’t understand.  Philo leans over to me and says, “He wants to know if you’re ready to pull stone again.”  I look up at the warden, smile and nod.  And he smiles back.

 

He goes to the middle of the square and says something loud.  All the guys stand up—Philo and Menes pull me up.  Then the warden says something else and all the guys line up.  I stay with Philo and Menes, but they push me out of line—and Philo leads me to the head of the line: “You’re our leader,” he says, and he gives me a little peck on my cheek.  The warden looks at me, smiles, then turns around and starts walking out of the square.  I follow.

 

We go back through the village, away from the Nile and toward the pyramid.  Way out in the grasslands beyond the pyramid, I see a pride of lions moving south from the pyramid.  Once again we’re at the bottom of the ramp.  There are three large stone blocks lined up—and I can see a host of slaves retreating from the line of stone blocks.  Our warden uses his whip to show me the ropes.  I go to the end of the long ropes and pick them up.  All of my muscle team take their place along the ropes.  I look back at them and then to the warden.  He walks ahead and says something loud; then he starts barking a cadence.  I figure it’s time to pull, so I start pulling.

 

 

6

 

I think the cadence is too slow, but then I could pull the block by myself.  I have to think of my teammates.  But once again they’re chatting and laughing, just like they were yesterday afternoon.  After a few minutes, our warden increases the cadence, so I increase my speed.  We’re going faster than any of the other teams.  I wonder if they’ll start to hate us.  

 

But we keep up the pace and reach the top of the ramp and push the stone block into place.   Most of the team don’t do the pushing: just Philo and Menes and me and a couple other guys.  But after we’re done, Philo and Menes put their arms around me.  I’m their prize bull and I love it.  I almost want to skip my way down the ramp, I feel so happy with these two guys.  But I know I can’t do that.  I can smile; I can put my arms around their shoulders.  I can even kiss them—but let’s not get too out of line!

 

We drag stone blocks all morning.  We drag three up the ramp and then our warden wants us to drag a fourth.  My teammates grumble, but I’m game.  My biceps are bulging, so are my thighs—they love the workout.  So I look back at my team and smile.  I pick up the ropes and start dragging the stone.  Menes and Philo are right with me—and so are about ten of our teammates.  But a couple others are still grumbling.  Then they too take up the ropes and we start up the ramp.

 

After dragging four blocks during the morning, we get a break at noon.  Not lunch, a break.  Some of the guys have little pockets in their loincloths where they’ve stored extra dates from breakfast.  They’re happy to share, so I get to have a couple dates during our break.  And we get to rest.  But no one has any beer or water—and that’s too bad; we’ve all been sweating. 

 

After a while, our warden shows up, says something loud; we line up and I know to go to the head of the line this time.  I smile because Philo and Menes are right behind me—I love these guys, and I’m pretty sure they love me—or at least my ass!

 

Back at the ramp, we have another three stone blocks to drag.  And we get them to the pyramid pretty quickly.  So we drag another one, and then another one.  As we come back down the ramp from dragging our fifth block, I can see our warden talking to another warden.  I imagine they’re talking about what to do with the fact that my group of muscle guys can drag more stone than the others.  It seems to me that we’re helping out the other groups.  Indeed, we get to sit down and rest.   And when the other teams come down the ramp, they see that there’s no more blocks for them to drag—and they’re pretty happy about it.  I turn to Philo and say,

 

“Are we causing trouble because we drag more blocks than the other teams?”

 

“From what I can overhear, yes.  Our warden is talking about how they can get slaves to drag more blocks to the bottom of the ramp.”

 

“Should we help drag blocks for the slaves?”

 

Philo gives me a dark look: “No!  Not a good idea.  First, this is the wardens’ problem.  They have to figure it out.  Second, if we help the slaves, then the other muscle teams will have to help slaves—and they’ll really hate us then!  Chilon, you have to leave well enough alone!”

 

I hadn’t expected so much emotion in his reply, but then I’m “not from around here”.  So I nod and say “Thanks!” and keep my mouth shut.

 

But all the muscle teams like the fact that there are no more blocks to drag, and we can return to the village early.  On our way there, I hear singing—not so much from my team as from the other two teams.  It’s strange music.  It doesn’t sound all that joyous.  But then, I’ve never been to ancient Egypt before!

 

Back in the village square, the food is not ready—the women and slaves who get things ready are surprised and a bit flustered.  They scurry around.  A couple of guys take long poles and head toward the Nile.  After a while, they will come back with bags of live fish—and many meowing cats.  The fish will be baked on a grill in the corner of the square—so we get fresh fish tonight!  But more importantly, a couple of slaves bring in a barrel of what I suppose is beer and start filling up the earthenware cups.  And with beer, everything is better.

 

 

7

 

On my third day, I lead our muscle team and drag blocks up the ramp four times in the morning, five times in the afternoon.  I ask Menes to bring a few more dates for our lunch rest.  Menes and Philo take care of me at supper.  And then as the evening turns to dark, we go to their house and fuck.  This evening, Philo looks at me and says, “Do you want to fuck me?”  I smile and nod.  And while I fuck him, Menes sucks his cock.

 

I try to be as gentle as Philo was with my ass.  And he loves it.  I caress his ass cheeks, probe his hole and find his prostate; I massage it and he moans.  I’m afraid my cock is a bit bigger than Menes’ cock, and Philo gasps when I enter him.  So I take things slow.  And I measure each of my thrusts.  I know I can get carried away.  I know I can thrust so hard that I can kill a man, so I’m very aware of what I’m doing.  Yes, it slows me down and takes away some of the pleasure.  I’ve seldom fucked with anything close to abandon—Herc could take it, but then he was a demigod.  So with a mortal like Philo I have to slow down and be careful.

 

Still, my cock gets hard and I know I’m going to shoot.  And I have to control this too—I have to breathe a deep breath and tell myself not to destroy Philo’s ass cheeks or his hole.  Slow and steady wins the race.  But in some ways, after all my control, my final cumming is even sweeter.  And I hear from Philo’s reaction that he cums into Menes’ mouth right after I cum.  Which is good!   And Menes likes this arrangement because he still gets to fuck me.  

 

But now both Menes and Philo have sucked my cock twice.  One more time and my buddies will fall down, convulse, sleep and add several pounds of muscle.  So, after supper the next night, when we’re back at the house, I sit down on the floor and take Philo’s hands and pull him down to the floor.  Of course Menes follows.

 

“There’s something I have to tell you.”  Philo looks at me, concerned.  “My cum changes men.”  Philo suddenly pulls his head back, his eyes wide and he says, “Are you a god?”  This again.  “No,” I say, “but I’m not really human—and when a man swallows my cum three times, he falls asleep and grows more muscle.”  I can already see Philo is figuring out that he’s sucked my cock twice.

 

Meanwhile, Menes is looking at Philo and me, confused.  Philo holds up his hand to Menes—he has questions he has to ask me: “If I swallow your cum again, will I fall asleep?” “Yes,” I say.  “Will it hurt?”  “No,” I say.  “Men fall asleep and don’t remember what happens as their body changes.”  “And how will my body change?”  “You will get more muscle and maybe grow taller.  Every man is affected differently.”  Philo looks less worried.  So I say, “But I am sure that you will gain more muscle.”

 

Menes can’t stand it.  He says something to Philo and Philo turns to Menes and they talk rapidly in Egyptian—and now I’m the one left out.  Philo relays Menes’ questions, the first of which is  “Is he a god?”—and although I shake my head “No”, I suspect that Menes doesn’t believe either me or Philo.  But Philo answers all of Menes’ other questions without asking me—so it seems that Philo trusts me.

 

I ask him, “Do you want to suck my cock and get more muscle?”  He smiles and says, “Yes.”  I strip and he heads for my cock.  Meanwhile, Menes looks apprehensive.

 

It seems that Philo warms to the idea of getting more muscle.  He certainly sucks my cock more greedily than he did before.  He even looks up at me and smiles a couple of times.  I tussle his curly head and smile back.  Meanwhile, Menes is looking more and more apprehensive.

 

I haven’t told Philo to squeeze my balls—it seems to me that I’ve already given him information overload.  So when I get close to cumming, I put my hands on my thighs and push hard as I cum—and I immediately wonder why I hadn’t thought of doing this before!  Philo gets a good load, sits up, smiles—and he falls down hard.

 

Menes is beside himself.  He can’t communicate with me, but he says a stream of Egyptian words.  I simply caress Philo’s back as he convulses some.  And then the change begins.

 

Philo’s arms get bigger; his back swells, and his legs get thicker and longer.  Menes looks at this with widening eyes and gaping mouth.  The bigger Philo gets, the more Menes is scared.  Then Menes scoots back and then he does an obeisance—I don’t know what else to call it.  He’s kneeling on the floor and he raises his arms above his head and then lowers them so that his arms and torso are prostrate before me.  

 

I shake my head and try to lift Menes up, but he insists; he repeats the gesture again.  I guess this is what happens when someone really does think I’m a god.  I start feeling very uncomfortable—wishing that Philo would wake up and tell his lover that he’s OK, and urging Menes to suck my cock too.  But for several minutes, Menes keeps bowing before me, muttering the same sounds in Egyptian—and I feel like a fraud.

 

 

8

 

Philo wakes up, looks at his bigger arms and smiles.  I help him stand up.  He’s now nearly as tall as me.  He’s not as muscular as me, but he’s a lot more muscular than he was: bigger biceps, wider shoulders, thicker pecs, thicker thighs.  I wonder if the increased muscle is connected to his pulling stone blocks.  Meanwhile, he can’t stop smiling.  He hugs me and says “Thank you!”  I gesture to Menes, who is still performing obeisance to me.  I say, “Help your lover up and tell him I’m not a god, just a guy who can give him more muscle too!”

 

Philo kneels down next to Menes.  He stops Menes from doing obeisance and slowly lifts him up,  When they’re both standing, Menes can see that Philo is a couple inches taller, where Menes and Philo were pretty much the same height before.  And then Philo shows Menes his increased muscle: he flexes his arm.  He takes Menes’ hand and hits his own chest with it—and it sounds pretty solid.  Menes says something in Egyptian which I take to be “But how is this possible?”  And Philo points to my cock and mimes holding it and sucking it.  Menes shakes his head; then he falls back down to the floor and starts performing obeisance again. 

 

Philo lifts up his lover.  I’m beginning to wonder if changing Philo might break up their relationship—something I had never considered and which I do not want.  I ask Philo if I should leave for a while, so that he and Menes can talk.  Philo looks at me with sad eyes but he says, “Yes, I’m afraid that would be best.  And can you find me some food?”  I smile—he’s acting just like every other guy who’s changed.

 

I put on my loincloth, leave the house and walk toward the central square.  I look around.  There are a few dried fish and a couple of uneaten slices of bread.  It’s not much, but it’s something.  There are. of course, cats wanting to get at the fish, which have been stored atop a wall and mostly out of the reach of the kitties.  One cat got one fish and is having to protect his treasure in a corner of the square.  I find an unused plate and put the fish and bread on it and take it back to the house.  Several cats follow.

 

At least the two lovers are still together; they’re kissing, which is a good sign.  I walk in with the food, lightly kicking a couple of cats so they stay outside the door.  Philo stops kissing Menes and runs to me, taking the plate out of my hand and biting into a fish.  Meanwhile, Menes is caressing Philo’s new muscles.  I think this may be the only way for Menes to accept the muscle change—but in some ways, it’s the best way.

 

I look at Menes.  I gesture to my cock.  He nods.  So I strip—but before I can sit down on the floor, Menes already has my cock in his mouth.  I guess he wants me to be higher than him, so in some ways I’m still a “god” to him.  Once Philo is finished with one fish, he tosses the bones out the door and several cats scamper after it.  Then Philo sits right beside his lover, already caressing his back and saying something softly in Egyptian.  I don’t ask for a translation—it’s part of their love.  I want them both to change and to enjoy their bigger bodies.

 

Menes looks at Philo a couple times, but he never looks up at me.  It’s clear to me that he’s doing this because he loves Philo—and I am touched by his trust in his lover.

 

But I can’t remember ever shooting my cum into someone while I was standing up.  I don’t want to buck and kill Menes, so as my cock starts to get rigid, I’m rapidly considering ways to keep myself from bucking.  I consider asking Philo to squeeze my balls, but that could lead to a long discussion.  Instead I decide to put my hands on my thighs and press down again as I shoot my cum.  I hope it works.

 

So, as I start to cum, I press down on my thighs—hard.  And I nearly jerk my cock out of Menes’ mouth.  But not quite, and Menes gets my load.  He takes my cock from his mouth, looks over at Philo, who kisses him—and Menes falls over.

 

Philo looks up at me: “Is this what I did?”  “Yes.”  I quickly sit down so I’m next to Menes; Philo is on the other side of his lover.  “And now, you just caress his back muscles and watch him grow.”

 

Menes convulses about as much as Philo.  “Did I do that?” Philo says. “Yes; it’s what happens to all men who change.”  But he bends down and kisses Menes’ head.  I say, “I love how much you guys love each other.  I think Menes was scared to suck my cock, but he did it because he loves you.”

 

Philo has tears in his eyes.  “Yes; that’s what he said when he decided to do it—he was doing it because he loves me.”  And now tears fall from Philo’s eyes onto Menes’ growing back.  Because the change is happening: bigger arms, bigger back, longer legs.  And, is it possible?  Could Menes be getting bigger than Philo?

 

Finally, Menes begins to stir.  He starts lifting his body up with his bigger arms.  He looks at his arms and smiles.  He turns to Philo and says something.  Philo translates: “It really did work!”  I tell Philo he will need to help Menes stand up.  So Philo gets up and then helps his lover stand.  Menes is wobbly—probably because he’s much bigger and taller.  He is bigger than Philo—about a half inch taller.  And he’s definitely got more muscle.

 

I think about saying something like “Tell your lover that he’s a muscle man now,” but Philo’s eyes say it better.  He starts squeezing Menes’ arm muscles; he punches Menes’ pec.  Then he hugs Menes and the two lovers hug and kiss and cry together.  And I smile.

 

 

9

 

Menes of course is hungry.  He eats what Philo left of the fish, but that’s not enough.  Like Philo, when Menes is done with his fish, he tosses the bones out the door and several cats scamper after it.  I say to Philo, “Should we go down to the Nile and catch some fish?”  

 

Philo smiles but says, “Or we could steal some bread.”  He says something in Egyptian to Menes, who smiles.  So I guess my two muscle buddies and I are becoming thieves.

 

Philo and Menes know where the food is stored.  And by now it’s the dark of night and no one is around.  They lead me through the dark streets with the stars and a crescent moon above us.   I sure hope they know how to get back to the house, because I’m lost!  They stop by a house not too far from the central square.  There’s a soldier guarding the door, but he’s asleep.  Philo looks at Menes; Menes knocks the guy on his head.  He falls over.  Philo and Menes jiggle the door open and go into the house.  I stay outside, just in case someone walks by.

 

Philo and Menes come out of the house with loaves of bread and fistfuls of dates and figs.  It’s not protein, but I guess it will have to do.  Menes starts eating immediately.  Philo also helps himself.  I carefully put the soldier back on his stool and close the door of the house.

 

Back in our house, Menes and Philo eat everything they took from the house.  I don’t ask for a thing—I know how hungry they are.  Philo asks me if they’ll be hungry forever.  I tell him only for a few days.  I say that it’s my turn to bring extra food to them.  Philo smiles and when he tells Menes, he smiles too.

 

Then Philo says he wants to use his muscles.  I say that’s also normal: some guys like to toss boulders around; other guys like to wrestle.  “But we have stone block to pull—so do you want to flex your muscles tonight?  Or wait until tomorrow.”  Philo translates for Menes, who smiles and says something to Philo.  I ask what was said.  Philo gets up, and so does Menes.  “He said that we should wrestle you and your muscles of stone!”

 

So they’re both up and I barely get to my feet before they’re already all over me, pushing me, pulling my arms and legs.  I fall back down and we’re rolling around on the floor.  We bump into one bed, then the other—and I wonder if we’re going to destroy the beds.  But the two guys aren’t great wrestlers—they’re still getting used to their bigger bodies.  And it doesn’t take long before I have them both in headlocks and they’re hitting my arms and my body and I’m chuckling and kissing each of them on their heads.

 

And when I let them go, they start kissing me—all over.  I guess this is their way of saying ‘Thanks!”   It’s not a bad way.

 

But it doesn’t lead to sex.  It could have—I know that Menes would be fine with fucking me.  But Philo is tired, I’m tired, and we do have to get up and drag stone in a few hours.  So instead of sex, we cuddle, and I enjoy feeling their bigger, stronger arms around my body.

 

 

 10

 

The next morning, while we’re eating dates and figs and bread, some of our muscle team are asking questions of Menes and Philo.  I ask Philo what they’re saying.  He says, “They want to know where we got our bigger muscles.”  He smiles.  “I say we got them by sucking cock!”  And he smiles even more.  It seems Menes knows what Philo is saying, because he nods and smiles.

 

Our warden comes in and yells for us to line up.  I’m in front and Menes and Philo are right behind me.  We walk through the mud brick villages and toward the pyramid.  We line up next to our ropes.  Our warden gives the order to take up the ropes, then he starts a cadence and we start pulling.

 

But it doesn’t take long for me to feel the slack in back of me—Menes and Philo are pulling harder—a lot harder—than they did yesterday.   So I take up the slack and pull even harder.  I hear grumbling from men behind Menes and Philo—I imagine that the other men think we’re going too fast.  Our warden steps aside to watch us, and he increases the cadence.  And he smiles.

 

We drag five blocks that morning; we drag another six that afternoon.  As we reach the bottom of the ramp and get ready to drag number seven, our warden tells us to sit down and rest.  Yes, we’re tired, and yes, the rest of our team are exhausted, but Menes and Philo and I are smiling—our biceps and thighs are bulging.  We are pumped!  

 

Our warden is looking at Menes, Philo and me very carefully.  Then he goes over to talk with another warden when he and his men come to the bottom of the ramp after dragging four blocks this afternoon.  When he comes back to our group, he points to five guys in the back of our lines, tells them to stand up—and then he takes them over to the other group.  As the guys get integrated with the other group, our warden talks to us.  Philo translates it: “He wants to see a race between our group of 10 guys and their group of 35.  He thinks we can beat them!”  Philo looks worried and astonished.  I look at Philo, smile and say, “I bet we can!”

 

Our two muscle teams get up and take up our ropes.  Guys in the other group are pointing at us and laughing—I guess they’re saying something like “How can a group of 10 guys beat a group of 35 guys?”  Indeed, how?

 

But we start pulling.  It’s actually pretty easy to keep pace with the other side: I’m pulling harder.  I can hear pants from Philo and Menes—they’re also pulling harder.  So I pull even harder.  And it gets harder to pull the block, the higher up we are on the ramp.  But we’re still keeping pace with the larger group of guys—and they keep looking at us, I guess expecting us to slow down so they can pass us.  And I see that they’re panting and sweating and straining—even though there’s 35 of them and only 10 of us.  But I stifle a smile.  I know full well that, if it were morning and I weren’t tired, I could beat the other group by myself.

 

But I can’t make it look too easy.  I’m Chilon, not Superman.  We keep pace with the other group, and then, just as we get close to the top of the ramp, I pull even harder—and we beat them to the top!

 

I turn around and hug Philo and Menes—but they’re very tired and they kind of fall onto me, clinging to my arms and shoulders.  And the other guys in our group—they’re leaning on each other; a couple are flat on the ground.  So maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.  I guess we could have lost and that would have been understood and accepted—and it probably would have been smarter.  Because now—given the look in our warden’s eyes—I’ll bet we just solidified our group at 10.  We’re going to need more muscle.

 

 

11

 

That evening, I make good on my promise to bring food to Menes and Philo—and I have to, since they’re both exhausted.  So I first bring them beers—which they chug, since they’re dehydrated.  I guess they need water more than beer, but no one drinks water—the Nile is polluted, since all the sewers go there.  But after my guys chug their beers, I bring them more.  And I make sure to bring each of them two fish, plus bread and dates and figs—plenty of food—before I get anything for myself.

 

But as Menes and Philo recover, they start talking to each other.  While I’m eating, Philo whispers in my ear, “We need more muscle.  Can you feed your cum to a couple of our friends on our team?”  I don’t really want to be a cum cow, but I guess I put myself in this position.  If we had lost the race, this wouldn’t have been an issue; our warden would have said something like “Good effort, but you were outnumbered, so it’s not a surprise.”  But because I wanted to win, now I have to “pay the piper.”

 

So I nod to Philo and he smiles.  Then he turns to Menes and they start looking around at our team, talking to each other.  It’s not hard to figure out that they’re considering the strengths and weaknesses of various guys.  So I lean over to Philo and say “Please choose guys who won’t blab!”  And he nods.  I do love this guy!  

 

Soon Menes and Philo are standing up and walking to the other side of the small square.  Menes goes over to a short, built Nubian member of our team.  Menes kneels down and whispers something to him.   Meanwhile, Philo has been whispering to a good-looking, curly-haired young man sitting next to the Nubian; he looks like a younger version of Philo.  He gets up with Philo as Menes gets up with the Nubian and they both come over to our side of the square.  

 

I get up and ask all the guys if they want anything more to eat, or if they want more beer.  But it seems that all the guys are pretty serious—and the two new guys look at me with anxiety and expectation on their faces.  Philo says, “We should go.”  

 

On our way back to the house, Philo whispers to me: “We’ve told our friends that you can give them more muscles if they suck your cock.  They both like to suck cock, and they won’t blab!”  I nod and smile.

 

Back at the house, Philo lights some oil lamps and Menes introduces the Nubian as Tambal.  I shake his hand: he’s got a firm grip and obviously he has some muscle.  He’s not as tall as Menes, Philo or me, but then few in Egypt are.  And Philo introduces his friend as Taras.  I shake his hand and say “Hellene?” and he smiles a beautiful smile.  I should have known that Philo would find a fellow Hellene.

 

 

12

 

On our way out of the square, I put several fish on a plate and carry it—I think I’ll need the protein, and so will the new guys.  And of course this means I have a group of cats following me back to the house.  I’m afraid that the new guys will want me to change them tonight.  It makes sense: get it done so tomorrow we have more muscle on our team.  But it also means I’ll have to shoot my cum six times.  Now I really wish I had let us lose that race!

 

So, while Philo and Menes explain the process, I strip and sit next to one of the beds.  I jerk my cock a couple of times and get it ready.  I ask Philo “Who’s first?”  Philo gives Taras a little shove.

 

He’s a kid—he really is a younger version of Philo.  I have no idea how this Greek kid got to Giza, but he’s good-looking and has a great smile.  He smiles at me as he sits down between my legs, bends down and takes my cock into his mouth.

 

He’s young but he sucks well.  I fondle his curly black hair and he smiles up at me.  He’s got the least amount of muscle in the house, but he’s also young—so I’m not really sure how this will turn out.  He does, however, have good, firm muscles, if not all that large.  And only then do I realize that once again, I haven’t explained about squeezing my balls, so when I get close to cumming, I bear down on my thighs as I shoot.

 

I don’t put a hole in his beautiful head.  And he gets a good load.  He gets up and wipes his mouth and moves out of the way.  Tambal is next.  He too has a nice smile, but this guy is already built.  Give him more muscle and he’ll be able to wrestle and beat anyone on our team except me.  He’s a greedy sucker—maybe he thinks if he makes me cum quickly, that will give him more juice.  Actually, that’s not what he should do, but I’m not going to stop him.  It’s going to be a long night.

 

Once more, I bear down on my thighs as I cum.  Tambal gets a good load and wipes his lips as he gets back up.  Philo asks, “Why do you push down on your legs before you cum?”  Menes kicks at a couple of cats who keep trying to come into the house, to get at the fish.

 

I take a bite of fish before I answer.  “Because, when I cum, I tend to buck—push my cock really hard—and my hard cock can put a hole in a man’s head.”  Philo looks shocked and says something in Egyptian to Menes, who also looks shocked.  I continue: “If a man squeezes my balls when I cum, I won’t buck.  But I keep forgetting to tell you guys that!”  

 

But Taras has heard me and so when he sits down between my legs, he cups my balls.  I smile at him; he smiles back, and he gets to sucking.  It takes me longer to cum, but Taras sucks so well that I enjoy it.   And yes, when my cock gets rigid and I moan a little, Taras squeezes my balls as I cum.  “Ahhh!” I say, and then as he gets up, wiping his mouth, I say, “Thank you!”  And that gets me a kiss from Mr. Greek Beauty.

 

I guess Menes has explained things to Tambal, because when he gets between my legs, he too cups my balls in his hand.  But I’m feeling the need for more protein and I take another bite or two of fish.  Then I nod to Tambal and he starts licking and stroking.  

 

It does take a bit longer for me to cum, but Tambal wants more muscle and so he wants my cum.  He squeezes my balls as I cum; he gets a good load, and wipes his mouth as he gets back up.

 

Meanwhile, I’ve finished off one fish and am most of the way through another one.  

 

 

13

 

After I finish my second fish, I throw the bones out the door to the cats.  I ask Philo, “Do Tambal and Taras understand what will happen to them when they suck my cock a third time?”  Philo nods and says, “I’ve told them that they will fall over, shake some, fall asleep and then grow.”  

 

“And are you and Menes ready to sit by them and caress their backs, to support them as they change?”  I get a nod from Phil; he says a string of words to Menes, and then I get a nod from Menes.  

 

“OK, then; let’s do this.  Taras first.”  The beautiful boy sits down in between my legs and takes my cock in his mouth.  It takes even longer for me to shoot, but once again he cups my balls, squeezes, gets a good load, sits up, smiles—and falls right over.  

 

Tambal is alarmed.  He says several things to Menes, frowning and pointing to Taras.   Yes, he and Taras are “more than just friends.”  But Menes puts his hand on Tambal’s big arm and says something to him.  Meanwhile, Philo has dragged Taras a few feet away and has sat down next to the boy and is caressing his back.

 

Tambal doesn’t look confident at all, but he sits down between my legs.  I put my hand on his shoulder and say, “You’re going to get a lot of muscle, my friend!”  Philo smiles and translates for Tambal.  That gets me a smile from the Nubian, and he takes my cock in his mouth.

 

I’m tired and hungry and eating my third fish.  It really does help to have something going into me as so much cum has come out of me.  I’m almost nonchalant about it: munching on dried fish as Tambal licks and sucks my cock.  But even while I’m not paying attention, I’m getting hard.  And when my cock gets rigid, Tambal knows I’m about to cum—he probably knows it before I do!   He squeezes, I cum, he gets my load, sits up, smiles and wipes his mouth—and falls over like a load of bricks.

 

Menes reaches down and drags away his Nubian friend with some difficulty.  This change will be interesting to watch.  Even before Menes has dragged Tambal away from me, the Nubian is shaking, convulsing, and he does it about four times.  So I figure he’s going to get a lot of muscle.

 

Meanwhile, Taras is growing.  His legs are longer; his arms are longer.  Usually the muscle grows first, but this kid is getting taller first.  And then the muscles grow: good, thick bulges—a lot thicker than what Taras had before.  He’s actually snoring as he sleeps and grows.  I guess the deep sleep is good for him and is helping him grow a lot.  He’ll easily be as tall and big as Philo, and I imagine he’ll be even more beautiful.  

 

Tambal is still shaking a bit.  But his muscles are bulging all over the place: bigger arms, bigger thighs, and a back that looks to be ballooning upward.  Yeah, he’s going to be huge!

 

I finish my third fish and am enjoying the muscle change show.  I wish I had a beer.  But I don’t think I can get up just yet—I need to digest the fish; I need to increase the protein in my body.  Besides, if I leave, I won’t get to see what Taras looks like with his new body!

 

The kid starts to stir.  Philo looks at me expectantly.  I smile back and say, “I think he’s going to be beautiful!”  Soon, Taras moves his arms; his triceps are bulging as he raises his body up.  He looks over at his arms and smiles.  They’re easily as big as Philo’s.  Then the kid looks at me and says “Thank you!” and I see just how beautiful he is.  My mouth drops open and I say, “You’re beautiful!”  Taras looks at Philo; he’s just as muscular.  They look like brothers.  And it’s nice to see brothers hug and kiss.  And I wonder if I’ve endangered Philo and Menes’ relationship.

 

But I don’t have time to worry about it—Tambal is stirring.  He too flexes his triceps as he bends his arms to raise himself up.  But his triceps are half again as large as Taras’ triceps.  And I can already see, from Menes’ face, that the front of Tambal is just as impressive.  Menes helps his friend up, and Tambal is about as tall as Menes and about half again as wide.  He turns around and once again my mouth drops open.  “Wow!  You’re big!” I say.  

 

And now I realize I should have taken even more fish from the square.  These two guys are going to be hungry!  I hand a fish each to Tambal and Taras, but then I turn to Philo and say, “I think you need to steal some more food—now!”  He smiles, says something to Menes.  Menes says something to Tambal; he nods his head, and soon all four of them leave the house.  I figure that Tambal can knock out anybody who gives them any trouble.

 

 

14

 

When Menes and Phil come back to the house without Tambal and Taras, I finally learn that the big Nubian and the beautiful Greek boy are indeed lovers and share a house.  I’d suspected, but I didn’t know.  But I’m glad to know it—it shows me that Philo and Menes were smart in their choices.  

 

I’m exhausted so I’m not up for sex of any kind.  But I enjoy watching Philo fuck Menes and Menes fuck Philo.  They’re both pretty good at it, both gentle to each other.  I was completely wrong in thinking Philo’s eye would be taken by Taras—the boy is beautiful but I’m learning the Menes and Philo have a good, enduring relationship.  It’s a pleasure to see how much they love each other.

 

So after their fuck sessions, they settle down with me on the floor and we all cuddle—easily my favorite part of the night.  And I’m already thinking that I’ll probably have to do this again, change a couple more guys to muscle men.  But I only have myself to blame.

 

The next morning, other members of our muscle team are talking to Tambal and Taras.  I ask Philo what they’re saying.  He smiles and says, “The same question they asked Menes and me: ‘How did you get more muscles!’  And Tambal and Taras are saying what we said: ‘By sucking cock!’”  

 

He smiles but then I whisper to him, “I’ll bet that we’re going to pull even faster today—Tambal alone will make us faster, but I suspect Taras will help too.”  Philo nods.  I continue: “But I’ll bet our warden will reduce our number again—maybe all the way down to seven.  And those last two will want more muscle.”  Philo has already started looking around the square.  I say, “I’ll do two more—and no more after that.  So choose the last two carefully!”  Philo nods and then turns to Menes and they talk for awhile.  They point to several of our guys. 

 

When our warden yells at us to line up, Philo and Menes are sorting guys.  Tambal and Taras will be behind Menes and Philo, but then my buddies move guys around so that they know who will be behind them.  I smile.  It’s good to have smart friends!

 

We’re taken to a new ramp, closer to the grasslands.  It makes sense.  We need to put blocks on that side of the pyramid.  And we’re joined by just one other team, so I guess we might have another contest.

 

As I imagined, we pull faster than ever—Tambal is a demon; he seems to relish flexing every muscle in his big body—and he always has a smile on his face.  Taras isn’t as strong, but he likes flexing his new muscles too, as his beautiful smile shows.  We pull six blocks in the morning and have to drag an additional block from the landing to get our seven blocks in the afternoon.  But before we drag the seventh block, our warden takes away some more guys and reduces our number to seven.   When we get to the top of the ramp, the two guys at the end of the line are exhausted.  Tambal and Taras have to help them back down the ramp.

 

Our sixth and seventh guys sit with us at supper time.  I learn their names—Zaid and Tau—and that they’re desperate for more muscle; they had a hard time keeping up with the rest of us today.  Tambal and Taras also sit with us, so we’re sort of the muscle mafia among all the muscle guys.  We all make sure to feed Zaid and Tau, and Menes spends most of our supper-time talking with the two new guys, since they’re both Egyptian.

 

With all of us fed, we get up two by two and head toward our house.  I’m last—I want to make sure no one is following any of “my” muscle guys.  I don’t want a bunch of wannabes hanging around outside the house while Zaid and Tau suck my cock.  But this also gives me a chance to wait until the square is mostly empty, so I can go over and fill up a plate with five or so fish to carry back to the house—followed, of course, by several cats.

 

Menes and Tambal are answering questions from Zaid and Tau.  I ask Philo if there are any questions I should answer.  “No,” he says, “I think Menes and I understand how this thing works.”  I smile and kiss his cheek.  I go over to one of the beds, put the fish nearby, strip and sit down.  Menes shoos some cats out of the house.  I notice Tau smiles at my cock.

 

I give my cock a couple of jerks and say, “Who’s first?”  Tau steps forward.  He doesn’t look confident, but he’s not completely scared.  Zaid is more scared.

 

 

15

 

I’m pretty bored by the whole process, and there’s nothing unusual about any of it tonight.  Tau sucks; Zaid sucks; then they both suck again.  I eat a couple of fish to replenish my lost protein.  I throw the bones out the door; cats scramble after them.  I ask Philo and Menes if they’ve gone over with Zaid and Tau what will happen when they suck my cock for a third time.  They nod.  And Tau and Zaid nod.

 

Tau hits the floor when he finishes sucking my cock for the third time.  Zaid looks worried and talks to Menes but Menes takes his arm and rubs his back while Philo drags Tau away and he and Tambal start caressing Tau’s back.  Tambal says something to Zaid, and soon he is kneeling before me and taking my cock in his mouth.

 

And when Zaid finishes and falls over, Menes drags him away and, with Taras, starts caressing his back.  I finish my third fish and throw the bones—and I’m glad that I’ve brought another four fishes for the two new guys.

 

Tau convulses, sleeps and starts to grow: he’s already looking a lot like Menes: taller and bigger.  I wonder if there’s some Egyptian genetic connection.  Of course, both Tambal and Taras ask questions—of Menes and Philo, but I only understand Taras’ question, which is just like Philo’s: “Did I shake like that?”  And of course Philo answers “Yes.”

 

When Zaid starts to grow, he also looks a bit like Menes, so my idea about Egyptian genetic connections gains some support.  With Menes, they will be four Egyptian muscle men: taller than they were; not as tall as Tambal or me, but thick with muscle.  And the seven of us will be obviously bigger and stronger than the guys on the other muscle teams.  I stop myself—is this a good thing?  Am I getting us into more trouble by spreading around my super genes?  I sure hope not!

 

When Zaid and Tau wake up and stand up, they are the same height and have pretty much the same muscle.  I toss my extra fish to them and they eat them rapidly.  Then Menes and Philo, Tambal and Taras all get glints in their eyes and take Zaid and Tau out for a food raid—I guess a “pantry raid,” but that’s pretty lame pun, even for me.

 

The next day, as we get to the ramp, there’s a pride of lions running up and down the ramp—looking for meaty guys, I guess.  I start toward them and discover Tambal at my elbow.  I know I’m not threatened by the lions, so Tambal is brave—I briefly wonder if he hunted lions in Nubia, or if he saw his father do it.  But the two of us look at each other and smile, and then we simply run at the lions, roaring—and they run away.  Tambal and I laugh and put our arms around each other’s meaty shoulders and go back to our rope lines.

 

We get more blocks to drag: seven in the morning and eight in the afternoon.  And we have to drag two blocks from the landing so we get up to our eight.  But although we’re all tired, no one is exhausted.  Indeed, Zaid and Tau look eager for more muscle challenges, and Tambal is still loving every time he gets to flex his muscles.   Meanwhile, I’m picking up feelings of fatherhood from Menes and Philo—indeed, I see echoes of Bruce and me in them—and I figure that I can leave the six muscle men to be the kings of the pyramid ramp in a day or two.

 

So, that night, after Tambal, Taras, Zais and Tau have left, I pull Philo down to sit next to me—and of course Menes follows.  I say, “I’m going to leave in a day or two—I have to go back to my own time and my own lover.  I love both you guys”—and I kiss Philo and a surprised Menes—“and I’m glad you have four other fine muscle men to help you drag stone, but I don’t belong here.”

 

Philo has tears in his eyes, and after he says a few things to Menes, he does too.  I love seeing muscle men who can cry—another thing that I love about coming back in time, another thing so different from the Kansas where I grew up.  Philo and Menes don’t argue with me; instead, they both kiss me and soon we’re in another three-way: Menes fucking me and Philo sucking me.  I get the sense that Menes is fucking me as hard as he can, since I know he’s more careful with Philo.  And although I haven’t told Philo that if he sucks my cum his muscles will get a bit stronger, he’s greedy for my juice.   I want them to have a good time fucking and sucking me.  I will miss them. 

 

 

 

16

 

 

I still think about the slaves getting whipped more because they have to drag more stone blocks for us muscle guys on the ramp.  So that night I slowly remove Philo’s and Menes’ arms from my body and quietly get up.  I quietly walk out of their house and look around.  Then I leap into the sky and fly over toward the landing where the blocks are off-loaded.   The moon is nearly half full and it’s almost a desert, so there are few clouds.  I can see where the blocks are waiting for slaves to drag them to the pyramid ramp.  Since our new ramp is even further away from the landing, I figure it’s only fair that I help out the slaves.

 

I land near the blocks and look around—with x-ray vision.  I see several soldiers asleep on their feet.  I blow as much of the sand as I can out of the way of the blocks.  I move one stone block as quickly and quietly as I can toward the ramp.   There’s some soft ssshhing from the little sand, but that’s all.  Once there, I look around again to see if any soldiers have awakened.  None have stirred.  So I fly back and push another stone block up to the ramp.  I look around again.  Still no one is stirring.  So I fly back and push a third block toward the ramp.  Then I figure I’ve tempted fate enough and I fly back to our little house.

 

As I lie down between Philo and Menes, Philo groggily asks, “Where’d you go?”  I tell him I had to pee.  He nods and his head falls on my shoulder.  I smile and am soon back asleep.

 

The next morning, as we walk to the ramp, our warden is called away to talk with other wardens.  There’s lots of gestures and even some raised voices.  Apparently the slave masters think we muscle guys have played a trick on them—or at least that’s what I guess, given that a couple of the slave masters keep pointing over to us.  But our warden keeps shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips and looking exasperated.  But after awhile, the whole kerfuffle is over; the warden and masters meeting is over; our warden comes back to us, shaking his head and sets a cadence for us—and we pull stone.

 

Our muscle mafia does our morning quota; we get our rest and drag stone in the afternoon.  But as we’re dragging our third afternoon block, a bunch of slaves and masters and wardens meet together and it seems that something is up.   A huge procession comes along the road that connects the pyramid to Memphis.  There’s drummers and soldiers and flute players and muscular guys carrying a litter and slaves fanning the man in the litter with huge ostrich-plumed fans.  So I get the idea that this is somebody important.

 

I ask Philo who it is.  He asks Menes and then tells me, “It’s Ankhaf, the pharaoh’s vizier, the guy who oversees pyramid construction.”  This Ankhaf guy stops his procession so he can look at us—my team of muscle guys.  We push our third block into place—and everyone’s helping.  I love the fact that, on our way down the ramp, not only do Philo and Menes have their arms around me, but Tambal and Taras have their arms around each other, as do Zaid and Tau.  As usual, my team is laughing and talking.  Our warden is looking at us, then looking at Ankhaf, and then looking at us and smiling.

 

When we get to the bottom of the ramp and are about to pick up our ropes, our warden is called away.  He goes over to Ankhaf; of course, we take a break to watch.  We see our warden bowing several times.  Then Ankhaf gets back into his litter, his carriers hoist the litter, and the whole procession turns around and heads back to Memphis.

 

When our warden gets back to us, Menes asks him something, and the warden smiles and responds.  Menes looks happy; he turns to Philo and says something—the other guys in the group start smiling and chuckling.  Menes pats my back.  Philo says, “Ankhaf has ordered that we be fed two sheep for dinner—every day from now on!”  He smiles and then says, “And we owe it all to you, Chilon!”

 

 

 

17

 

Adding mutton to our diet sounds good, but it causes problems in our little village.  Do the sheep take precedence over the fish?  Is the grill big enough for a sheep?  That first supper, things are a mess.  Our warden sends for some construction guys to quickly build a bigger grill for the sheep.  We eventually get mutton that night—but it’s at the end of the meal, as twilight seeps into night.  Still, all of us stay around.  It’s nice to have real meat for a change!

 

Extra slave cooks are brought in, bigger plates are added and Philo and Menes are happy to bring me a plate with several cuts of mutton.  Menes even says something to our muscle mafia—and they all raise their beers toward me.  I ask Philo what just happened; he says, “Menes told the guys that because of you, we now get to eat mutton at supper!”   He pats me on the back and smiles: “We all love you, Chilon!”

 

The next morning, as we’re eating breakfast, I look over at Taras once, twice, and then I ask Philo to look at his Greek friend.  “Does he look bigger to you?”  Philo looks over at Taras and then says, “Yes, he does!”  He asks Taras if he’s bigger.  “Yes I am!” the Greek beauty says.  He flexes his bicep and then he puts his meatier arm around his lover and says, “I sucked his cock last night, fell over, shook, slept and woke up with more muscle!”  

 

I am dumb-founded.  This has never happened.  I quickly get up and go over to Tambal and Taras.  I ask Taras, “Are you sure you got bigger from sucking Tambal’s cock?”  “Oh yes!” he says, “Tambi said I fell over and shook and then grew.”  Tambal smiles.  I look at Taras—he is definitely more muscular—there’s not as much change as when he sucked my cock, but there is change.  And it looks like “Tambi” is happy to have a more muscular Greek lover!  I hug Tambal and say to Taras, “Tell your love that he’s going to have to let a lot of guys suck his cock in the coming weeks!  You’re going to have to share him!”  Then I go back to Philo and say, “Tambal can change men too!  You and Menes and Taras need to take care of him—pretty soon you can have a whole army of muscle men dragging blocks!”  Philo smiles and says something to Menes, and he smiles too.

 

Because we’ve dragged more blocks, the pyramid has grown.  So slaves have had to construct a steeper ramp on the other side of the pyramid.  But, as the pyramid gets higher, each layer of the pyramid has fewer blocks.  

 

Of course it’s harder dragging blocks up a steeper incline.  Gone are the days when I could do some work and my teammates could do a little work.  Now we’re all working hard with every step.  But it’s nice to look back and see biceps and thighs bulging on all the guys in our muscle mafia.  And we’re always the team that drags the most blocks and when we finish, the other teams are also happy because there are no more blocks to drag!

 

But then a messenger comes, just as we start dragging our third block of the morning.  He whispers into the ear of our warden; the warden looks surprised and asks for the message again.  The messenger tells him again—and even gives him a scroll.  The warden unrolls the scroll, re-rolls it and gives it back to the messenger.  Then the warden comes over to Menes and calls for Philo and me and Tambal to come over.  The warden talks with Menes and Philo translates: 

 

“Vizier Ankhaf wants to meet you, Chilon, and Tambal.  Menes told the warden that you don’t speak Egyptian, so when you go see him, I’m to go with you.  And he wants to see you this evening.”  But I say, “if he wants to see Tambal too, then Taras should go—he can translate for me just as well as you!”  Philo momentarily looks a bit disappointed, but then he brightens and says, “You’re right.”  I love a fair man, so I smile and give him a little kiss.  The warden talks with Menes again; Philo and Menes talk; then Menes talks with the warden, and then he goes to get Taras.  When they’re standing with me, Philo translates again: “You’ll have to leave work early; you’ll be taken to the Vizier’s palace; you’ll be bathed.  And then you’ll go to a feast.”  Menes then asks the warden a question, but the warden shrugs; Philo translates: “Menes asked when you’ll be coming home.  The warden doesn’t know.“

 

So, since Tambal, Taras and I will be leaving early, the warden tells Menes that we’ll have to work harder to get our quota done.  And he tells Menes that if Tambal, Taras and I don’t come back to work tomorrow, the quota will be reduced by two stones.  I immediately wonder what “if I don’t come back tomorrow” means.

 

But we all pull a little harder and get our quota done for the day.  The other guys are happy—they get to go home and rest before supper.  But when Philo, Menes and I go to our house, there are soldiers waiting for me.  They take me over to Tambal and Taras’ house, and they start walking beside me.

 

The three of us walk off, surrounded by the soldiers.

 

 

 

18

 

I’m really happy to have Taras and Tambal walking with me.  For one thing, we’re all built much better than any of the soldiers—I’m pretty sure we could take them all.  But then what?  More soldiers would come.

 

For another thing, it’s a long walk.  Memphis is on the other side of the Nile.  So we have to walk to the Nile, get on a boat, sail to the other side, get off the boat and then walk through grasslands to get to the city itself.

 

As we walk through small villages, I can’t help but notice the soldiers walking around.  I guess they’re also the police.  Little kids look at us and point as their mothers hold their hands.  That’s happened to me before, but I think it’s probably a new experience for Tambal and Taras. 

 

But I want to have some fun, so between villages, I get between Tambal and Taras and put my arms around them—and we start walking in lock step.  I even try skipping.  Taras gets it, but Tambal has trouble with it—the best he can do is a stutter step.  Still, it feels good not to be marching like the soldiers.  Of course, they look at us like we’re strange.  But what are they going to do about it?  Their orders are to bring us to the vizier!

 

At first I think I look dirty and grubby, but the further we walk, the more I see that we aren’t that much dirtier than the average Egyptian.  The suburbs are dusty: all the streets are dusty, and there are occasional small dust devils as a wind blows down a street.  But it’s also true that our loincloths are pretty grimy from wiping sweat off our big hands or from sweat falling down our bodies, carrying dirt and dust along.

 

But as we get to the city, I do begin to feel grubby.  This is where the rich people live—the people who can afford to take baths, who have water brought in from the streams and small rivers that run through the city.  The streets are cleaner and the soldiers are better fed, bigger and more muscular.  Some of them look closely at us, because Tambal and I are piles of muscle, and Taras isn’t far behind.

 

Finally we get close to a collection of white buildings.  Soldiers stand guard outside.  Our soldiers talk to them and we are shown inside.  Immediately the place is cooler.  The floor is a dark marble, and away from the door, it’s spotless.  Slaves scurry about.  Some women in beautiful gowns and men in nemes and clean, long loincloths stand around and look at us.  But we don’t get to see the fancy people for long.  We are soon taken down a more obscure passageway that seems to run along the side of most of the building—to the servants quarters in back.  And then we enter a room with steaming water and slaves in crisp white loincloths, and I figure we’re about to be bathed.

 

The slaves don’t want to touch us.  To them, we are grimy and dirty and barely human.  So Tambal and Taras and I strip, and I see a few male slaves smile when they see our cocks.  They gesture for us to get into three big tubs of water.  We do.  Then they take big brushes and scrub—as if we are dirty floors—most of the skin off our bodies.  

 

There’s no soap; instead there’s a paste which they put on us and then scrub off.  It makes the water kind of soapy so I guess it serves the purpose.  The slaves ask us to stand up.  We do.  And the brushes are applied to our asses, our thighs and our cocks.  Tambal doesn’t like the brush on his cock, but I sort of don’t mind it.  I just look at Tambal and shrug.

 

Then we are told to sit back down in the tubs and more water is brought and dumped on us.  And then we are asked to stand up and more water is brought and dumped on us.  No brushes—just water.  And then we are allowed to step out of the tubs.

 

Slaves surround us with towels.  There are a lot of slaves.  Four them dry me off.  One of them pushes at my muscles and seems impressed—I guess more “muscles of stone.”  I wonder how soon the slave’s observation will spread around the Vizier’s palace—and then around Memphis.  Oh well.

 

Our clothes and sandals have disappeared.  Whether or not we’ll get them back—I have no idea.  I wonder if anyone will notice that my sandals don’t look like ancient Egyptian sandals.

 

Instead of our original clothes, we are given new loincloths and sandals: very bright, white loincloths, and decent sandals—but they’re stiff, as any new shoes or sandals are.  

 

And then a female slave comes around and sprays us—I’m a bit surprised that they have the technology, but there it is—with what I’m guessing is a lavender water.  I guess we aren’t allowed to sweat and smell in front of the Vizier.

 

Finally, a slave with a medallion hanging around his neck comes and looks us over.  I’m thinking he’s a head slave or something—and he’s making a final inspection.  I guess if the Vizier thinks we’re not clean enough, or we smell too much like day laborers, this slave will get blamed.  So he looks us up and down and around and even comes close and takes a whiff or two.  It seems he likes the way I smell—after all, I’m not human—since he smiles a little after sniffing me.

 

The head slave then claps his hands and soldiers re-appear and surround us.  They turn around so we do too.  And we’re off to see the Vizier.

 

 

19

 

We are taken out of the slave quarters and back into the fancy part of the palace.  More fancy people in fancy clothes.  Women with gold earrings and necklaces and ostrich fans.  Nubian boys with long ostrich-feather fans on long poles which they use to circulate the air.  The Vizier is obviously a very important guy and I guess men hang out in his palace hoping to talk with him or get a tax break or a job or a government contract.  I imagine some things are pretty similar to my own time.  I wonder: are all these people coming to the feast?

 

When we are taken into the banquet hall, the space answers my question: yes, they’re all coming to the feast.  The place has large columns with pink and blue lotus designs at the top, large pastel urns of lotus blossoms and Nile grasses here and there around the room, and a large U-shaped banquet table where 50 people can be served.  Our soldiers hand off Tambal and Taras and me to some bigger and better dressed soldiers, who take us behind the head table and stand on either side of us.  I really wish I knew Egyptian.  A couple of these guys have good bodies, and I wish I could get to know them better.   And one of them gives me a good look—and is that wink I see?  

 

But Tambal, Taras and I stand perfectly still.  A drum sounds, then a flute and some other instruments play from a corner of the banquet hall.  The Vizier comes in with his retinue.  He’s wearing a pretty elaborate nemes on his head, with a jeweled cobra over his forehead.  He wears several gold rings on his arms, is dressed in a long white gown, and carries a gold staff.  Everyone else bows to him, so we do as well.

 

He walks over to Tambal, Taras and me and nods to us.  Then he gestures for us to follow him to the head table.  A couple of very fancy women sit on one side of him—I’m guessing his wife or maybe wife and sister—and then the three of us on his other side.  I make sure Taras is between me and the Vizier.  The rest of the tables fill up with fancy people—some of whom I remember from seeing as we were taken through the palace.

 

When every one is in their place, the Vizier looks at all the tables, nods, and we all sit down.  The chairs aren’t all that comfortable.  Then the Vizier claps his hands and suddenly all sorts of young people—young men and young women—appear with platters of food: pheasant with feathers and tails sticking up, lamb roasts, beef roasts, platters of fish—and everything already sliced.  Then there’s all sorts of platters with mashed vegetables of various hues: gold and brown and red and green—I’m betting the green veg are peas.  And then platters of fruits: dates and figs and melons and pears and apples.  And there are beautiful young men with big pitchers, filling up our wine goblets.  Apparently the poor drink beer; the rich drink wine.  It almost seems like the kids are racing to see who can get the food and wine to the banquet tables first.  And then, over in the corner of the banquet hall, I see Mr. Slave Manager looking at all the kids with a stern, watchful eye.  I guess if anyone drops a platter or doesn’t get to the guests fast enough, that kid will get a whipping.  I can’t help myself; a little sneer comes over my lips—I hate slavery.

 

I look for a knife or spoon by my plate but see none.  I look at people around the banquet table taking pieces of meat with their hands and scooping handfuls of mashed vegetables as well.  People are all perfectly happy using only their hands.  So I do the same.

 

The food is great—excellent flavor on all the meats.  I imagine Mr. Slave Manager has strict orders about how much spice to use for various meats.  And the mashed vegetables are good too—yes, the green stuff is peas!   And of course, the fruit is good.  There’s not much talking early in the meal: the Vizier talks with the women sitting next to him, but not to us.  Then, as the meats are eaten and we’re all eating fruit, the Vizier starts asking questions.  He turns to us and says something.  Taras translates: 

 

“He wants to know where you’re from.”  So I say what I told Philo—and Taras repeats it.  Then he asks why I decided to use my muscles for Pharoah—at least that’s what Taras says.  So I say I wanted to be part of this great project; the pyramids will last for thousands of years!

 

The Vizier smiles at that answer and nods.  Then he asks Taras if Tambal and I would be willing to demonstrate our strength.  Of course I’m expecting this.  You don’t invite a muscle man to a banquet and not ask him to show off!  I look at Tambal; he nods, so I tell Taras that of course we would be willing to show our strength.  

 

The Vizier turns around and motions to one of the good-looking guards behind us.  They talk a bit.  I lean over to Taras and ask what’s going on.  He says, “He’s arranging for two tugs of rope for you and Tambal—seven for Tambal, ten for you.”  I smile and say, “Good!”

 

The Vizier gestures for Tambal to step into the space in the middle of the U-shaped banquet table.  So he gets up, goes around the table and stands on the black marble floor in between the wings of the table.  Seven soldiers come in carrying a big rope.  They bring it over to Tambal.  He reaches down and takes up his end of the rope.  The soldiers at the other end take up the rope.  At a nod from the Vizier, the soldiers start pulling.

 

They’re got some muscle, but nothing like Tambal.  It’s a privilege to watch Tambal’s biceps bulge, and his thighs bulge as he bends his knees and takes a stronger position.  At first the soldiers pull Tambal to them, but then Tambal starts pulling the soldiers toward him.  He reaches out along the rope with his left hand, takes hold of it, and pulls it back to his right hand—and both of his biceps are bulging.  The extra rope dangles from his right hand.  And then Tambal reaches for more rope with his left hand, and the process begins again.

 

The soldiers are first astonished, then worried, then angry—how can one Nubian pull them to him?  But that’s what he’s doing.  And when he finally has all seven soldiers close to him, the Vizier turns to a soldier in back of him, and that soldier brings his staff down and shouts something.  The soldiers drop their rope—Tambal has won!

 

The soldiers and Tambal bow to the Vizier; the soldiers turn and leave, and Tambal comes back to his seat, smiling.  I get up smiling, shake his hand, hug him, slap him on his back and kiss him.  Now it’s my turn.

 

 

 

20

 

But I’m not facing ten men—more like twelve.  I smile as I see that the solider who winked at me is at the head of their line.  He’s good-looking but none of these guys is as muscular as I am—nor as big as Bruce.  I take my end of the rope and the soldiers pick up their side of the rope.  We bisect the angle of the banquet table.  The Vizier will be able to see all the muscle he wants.

 

At a nod from the Vizier, the twelve soldiers start pulling their end of the rope, so I start to pull my end.  I don’t pull hard at first.  I’m enjoying watching the biceps pop on the guys at the other end of the rope.  But after they drag me a few inches, I start pulling for real.  And I’m rewarded with seeing the biceps on the soldiers get even bigger.  I do like seeing muscles get bigger.  

 

Now I’m pulling them toward me.  I’m doing what Tambal did: pull some of the rope to me and then put my left hand further along the rope and pull more rope toward me—and then let some of the rope fall from my right hand as I reach and pull more with my left hand.  I’m slowly pulling these good-looking soldiers to me—and I’m enjoying every minute of it.  They, on the other hand, look a bit stressed and even tired.  I’m not sure if I’ve broken a sweat.

 

But I have enough time—before I grab more rope and pull the soldiers closer to me—to look over at Tambal and Taras.  They’re all smiles, so I guess I’m doing well.  The Vizier, on the other hand, is a bit astonished.  I imagine he’s chosen the biggest and best men—next to those who guard the pharaoh—and he’s not all that pleased that one guy is able to pull twelve of his best men across the floor.

 

But that’s what I’m doing.  The rope below my right hand gets longer and the distance between me and the soldiers is getting shorter.  They are slowly making their way across the floor, their sandals squeaking now and again as I pull them closer, take more rope from the distance between me and them, and let the rope under my right hand touch the floor.

 

Banqueters are gasping, turning to each other and expressing amazement.  Meanwhile, I’m having fun.  I want to drag that good-looking solder over to me so I can plant a kiss on his beautiful lips.

 

He’s getting closer and closer.  With one powerful pull, he’s right in front of me.  I can’t resist: I reach out to him, draw him to me and plant a kiss on his lips.  The guy bursts into laughter—as do all the banqueters.  Even the Vizier is laughing.  Then I hug the beautiful soldier and he hugs me back.  And then I go down the line, hugging and kissing each of the soldiers.  There are no hard feelings on my part.  And as I get to the twelfth soldier and hug and kiss him, there are no hard feelings among the soldiers either.  I soon have the muscular arms of many soldiers around me or patting me on my back.

 

All the soldiers and I bow to the Vizier.  Then the soldiers pick up the rope to carry it off, and I walk back toward my seat.  But I don’t get there.  The Vizier stands up and motions to a soldier behind him.  Then the Vizier motions for Tambal to get up.  We stand in front of the Vizier.  The soldier brings him what look like necklaces.

 

They’re small gold scarabs on gold chains.  The Vizier goes up to Tambal; Tambal bows his head a little and the Vizier puts a gold necklace around Tambal’s big neck; Tambal bows and smiles from ear to ear.  Then the Vizier motions for me to come forward.  I bow my head and he puts a gold necklace around my neck.  Then the Vizier steps back and gestures to both of us and the banqueters rise and applaud—a standing ovation!

 

As Tambal and I hug and smile and wave to all the banqueters, the Vizier gestures for the women on his right to stand up.  He pats Tambal and me on our shoulders as he leaves; the musicians in the corner of the room once more play some music.  Soldiers and Nubian boys with big fans follow the Vizier and his party as they leave the room.

 

Some of the banqueters come toward the head table.  They want to feel Tambal’s muscles, and then my muscles.  Tambal can answer questions in Egyptian, but I have to have help from Taras: “Were you always strong?”  “Yes.”  “Are other men in your country as strong as you?”  “Very few.”—although I soon realize that Herc won’t be born for another thousand years.

 

Eventually the banqueters drift away.  Soldiers soon stand around Tambal, Taras and me, and soon we’re being walked out of the banquet hall, then out of the Vizier’s palace.  At the door, the Vizier’s soldiers hand us over to thinner, dustier soldiers—we are going back down in the world.  And they start us on the long road back to our little muscle village.

 

“But the feast was fine!” I tell Taras, and he nods and smiles.  Once again we lock arms and start walking in lock-step.  And this time, Taras starts skipping and Tambal is able to do it just fine!   Tambal’s necklace gleams as it bounces against his big black pecs.  My own necklace bobs and wanders over my big pecs—another souvenir.  I wonder if Bruce will like it.

 

But we don’t skip the whole way back.  For one thing, it’s deep twilight and it’s harder to see.  A couple of soldiers up at the front have torches; so do a couple to our rear.  But the torches aren’t that big nor bright.

 

Across the Nile in a boat, and then we walk more quickly to get home.  I kiss Tambal and Taras at the door of their house, and then I’m taken to Philo and Menes’ house.  Once there, the soldiers leave me—I’m home.  Menes and Philo have a ton of questions.  I tell what happened, and when I tell about kissing the soldier I pulled to me, Philo laughs, tells Menes and then he laughs.  And then, of course, we fuck.

 

 

21

 

Last day.  I’ve been here longer than a week.  It was harder to fit in, and then I felt obliged to feed my cum to six guys.  But with Tambal able to help men get more muscle, I don’t feel bad about going.  

 

I tell Philo and Menes that I’ll be leaving in the evening; they’re sad, but they’re pretty understanding.  I ask Philo if I should tell the rest of our crew.  He says he’ll tell them at supper time—and they can all say goodbye that evening.  He says, “How are you going to leave?”  I say, “I’ll fly away.”  Menes wants to know what I said, and when Philo tells him, they both look dumb-founded.

 

I try not to pull as hard today—I want the guys to get used to their own strength.  In fact, on our second block of the afternoon, I sit down at the side of the ramp and watch the other six guys pull.  I can see it’s a strain—and our warden yells at me; I imagine he’s saying “Why aren’t you pulling?”  He goes over to Menes and Philo and talks with them.  He looks at me a couple of times, but the second time, he’s not as angry.  I hope he realizes that I’m helping the guys get used to my not being there.

 

I also hope he understands that he needs to ease up on the other six guys.  When I rejoin the crew, I talk over my shoulder with Philo: “You’ll need to talk with Tambal about letting a big guy suck his cock three times.”  I wait a few moments, “And you and Menes need to talk with Tambal about the guy you want to invite.  Because you do need seven muscle guys dragging blocks.”

 

Since they’ve dragged a block with only six, I’m sure that Philo and Menes understand why they need to find a replacement for me.  As we go back down the ramp, several guys talk with Menes and Philo about why I didn’t help with the previous block.  It’s pretty clear that Philo tells them I’m leaving, because I am soon confronted by Tambal.  According to Philo, Tambal says, “Why are you leaving?  You’re my brother!  We beat the soldiers together!”  And he even shows me the golden scarab hanging around his thick neck.  He’s angry.  But then he hugs me.

 

I hug and kiss Tambal, and then I hug him again.  I pull myself away and make sure that Philo hears what I say, “My friend, I have to go home!  I am not Egyptian nor Nubian—nor even Greek.”  I hug him again.  The other men of our crew are around us.  “I have a lover at home, and I miss him.”  I look around at everybody and say, “You are all strong men.  Tambal, you need to find another strong man and let him suck your cock three times.  He will replace me.”  Philo says all this but Tambal shakes his head: “No one can replace you!”  And he hugs me and cries on my shoulder.  I hug him and pat his massive back.  It’s going to be hard to leave.

 

At supper, all the guys are glum.  We all eat fish and mutton and Menes and Philo revert to their practice of bringing things to me.  Taras breaks out of his dumps, kneels down to give me a kiss on my lips, and then stands up, raising his cup of beer.  “To Chilon!” he says.  All the guys get up—I get up too.  And they all say “To Chilon!”  I make sure that Philo is standing near me; I say, “To a great bunch of guys!  I love you all and will miss you!”  I can feel tears falling down my face.  And soon I feel muscular arms around me.

 

On our way to Menes and Philo’s house, I say, “I have to change clothes!” and I fly off—probably startling my comrades.  But I soon find the big boulder where I stored my uniform; I move it, retrieve my uniform and whirl into it.  I check to see that I still have one scarab wrapped around my wrist, and two around my neck, hanging inside my uniform.  Then I fly back to Menes and Philo’s house.

 

The guys are still outside the house.  Phiio says, “You really can fly!”  Then Menes says something which Philo translates: “Did you do any flying while you were here?”  I say, “Yes—I was the guy who moved the blocks for the slaves that one night!”  When Philo says that to everyone else, they all smile and chuckle.  And Philo says, “Of course you did!”

 

Then he asks, “Why are you wearing all those clothes?  Aren’t they hot?”  I smile and say, “I live in a part of the world which isn’t as hot as Egypt.  And when I fly high in the sky, it isn’t hot there, either.”  Philo looks up in the sky and says, “But it’s closer to the sun—doesn’t that make the sky hotter?”  And once again, I’m faced with the differences in seeing the world, between 4000 years ago and my time.

 

But all of the guys are touching my uniform and playing with the cape.  Tambal punches my chest and then says something which Philo translates as “What is the thing on your chest?”  I say, “In my time it’s an “S”; in my world, it means hope.”  Philo nods and translates what I said into Egyptian.  All the guys nod.  Menes says something—and kisses me.  Philo translates it: “My love says you brought us hope!”

 

There’s no good time to go, but this seems to be a decent time.  I hug and kiss all the guys.  Tambal hugs me hard; he cries on my shoulder again.  It takes an effort for me to separate from him.  But then I have to hug and kiss Menes and Philo; I hug the two of them to me, and we three cry for a while.  Other guys gather round us, putting their muscular arms around us—it’s a real group hug.

 

But I have to end it.  I step back from Menes and Philo.  I say “goodbye” one last time, and I’m up, up—

 

I look down at six muscular guys looking up at me and waving.  I wave back.  Then I turn and start spinning around the globe—more times than I can count.

 

 

22

 

Because I went further back in time, I have to spin around the world more times,  And it tires me out.  I decide not to go to Metropolis.  Instead, I head for Bruce.  

 

As I fly down toward Wayne Manor, I see Bruce and Dick and Carlos in the pool in back of the house.  So I land in the yard next to the pool.  And I have to sit down.

 

“Where have you been?”  My love, always blunt, usually honest, gets out of the pool, comes over to me and gives me a hug and a kiss.

 

“It takes a lot of spins to go to and come back from ancient Egypt, the time of the pyramids.  But I did remember you guys!”  I pull out the gold scarab on the gold chain out of my uniform and over my head.  I stand up, smiling, and hand it to Bruce: “This is for you, my love!”  He looks at it, smiles and says, “I’ll bet there’s a story behind this!” and gives me another kiss. 

 

Dick and Carlos look like puppies, waiting for their treats.  “For you guys,” I say, “I also have scarabs.”  I take off the one around my neck and unwind the one around my wrist.  “These scarabs were given to me by Menes, one of my best friends in Egypt.  He and Philo, a Greek, were lovers.  Philo translated all the Egyptian words for me.  I met them on my first day there.  And when they took me back to their mud-brick house, they were all over me.”  The boys put their scarabs on; they’re more muscular than most of the muscle guys dragging blocks up ramps.  I like how the scarabs connect the boys to each other and to my muscle guys back in Egypt.

 

“No wonder, Boy Scout,” says Bruce with a smile,  “You always look like a million bucks!”  

 

“And you, my love, look great with that gold scarab hanging around your neck on your big pecs!”  I can’t resist hugging him and feeling the scarab on my big pecs.  I move my head back and say, “It makes you look both more noble—and more fun!”  And I give him a little kiss on his lips and giggle.

 

I’m feeling hot—of course—so I say, “Do you guys mind if I get out of these hot clothes?”  And I spin out of them and  put on my Egyptian loincloth.

 

Carlos asks, “Is that what you wore in Egypt?”  “Yep,” I say, “with sandals—you want to see some real ancient Egyptian sandals?”  Carlos nods, so I rummage in my cape, find them, unfold them, and give them to Carlos.  “Those aren’t the ones I took to Egypt.  They’re the ones I got when I was invited to the vizier’s palace to do a tug-of-war against twelve soldiers.”

 

Bruce chuckles and says, “I’ll bet they didn’t stand a chance!”  I smile and give him a hug.  “You’re right.  But it was fun drawing them to me, inch by Inch, watching their biceps bulge.  When the cute soldier in front of the line got to me, I kissed him.  He burst into laughter.  So did the rest of the guests at the banquet.  Then I kissed all the other guys.  And soon I got that gold scarab!”

 

I sit down on the grass.  Carlos joins me immediately; he’s looking at the sandals as if they’re a portal back in time.  Dick and Bruce soon join him on the grass.  Carlos has some questions:

 

“So, what was it like, dragging those stone blocks?”

 

“We had teams—teams of guys with muscle who dragged the blocks up the ramp to the pyramids.  Guys became attached to their teams.  I loved my team, and I think they loved me.”

 

“Or at least your ass!” says Bruce.  I smile and give him another kiss.  It’s good to be home.  I continue:

 

“Slaves dragged the blocks from the Nile to the bottom of the ramps—except for one night when I pushed a few blocks from the river to the pyramid in dark of night.”

 

Bruce chuckles again: “You just can’t keep yourself from making things better, can you?”

 

I look over at him, reach for him and drag him to me; I put my arms around him and say, “No, I can’t!”  He kisses me and says, “And that’s why I love you!”  And I melt a little.

 

But Carlos still has questions: “So, you’re on a muscle team, dragging stone blocks up a ramp—blocks that slaves have dragged from the river.   How many muscle guys are there?”

 

“I guess there were about 100 muscle guys.  But the group I was in kept getting smaller.”

 

Dick is smiling: “Because you couldn’t help pulling harder!”  I say, “Smart boy!”  Then I pause.  “But then, after Menes and Philo sucked my cock a couple of times, things got interesting.”

 

“Did you change them?”  Of course Bruce is the one who asks.

 

“Well, they each sucked my cock twice, so I had a little talk with them.”

 

Dick says, “Did they think you were a god?”

 

“Yep—in fact, when Philo started changing, Menes started doing an obeisance toward me.”

 

“What’s an obeisance?” Carlos asks.

 

Dick says, “It’s where a guy kneels and then puts his arms up and then brings them down to the floor—like this.”  And he performs a perfect obeisance.

 

 

23

 

“So,” says Bruce, “you changed Menes and Philo—what did their buddies say when they saw their new muscle?”

 

I chuckle.  “They asked them where they got the new muscle.  And Philo said, ‘We got it from sucking cock!’”  And I can’t help laughing.  And all of us laugh.

 

”So then what happened?”  Carlos is giving me the third degree.

 

“Well, our group of guys pulled harder and faster than the other groups.  We had ten guys; the other group had 35—and I was stupid and made sure we beat them to the top of the ramp.”

 

Dick is sharp:  “So that meant your group got smaller—right?”  I lean over, kiss him and say, “Right, smarty-pants!”

 

“But it also meant that we had to find more muscle.  So my winning led to my becoming a cum cow for a couple of nights.  Menes and Philo asked two of their friends—a muscular Nubian named Tambal and a beautiful Greek kid named Taras—if they wanted muscle.  Well, of course they did.  So they came and sucked me dry one night.  And Tambal got even more muscle—and taller—and Taras got even more beautiful.”  Meanwhile, Bruce is grinning; he says, “I’ll bet they made your group even smaller and you had to let another couple of guys suck you off!”

 

“Yeah, Mr. Big Smart Pants!”  I pause and smile; then I say, “I made my own hell because I wanted our team to win.”

 

Carlos asks, “So how many men did you give more muscle to?”  

 

“Six in all—Zaid and Tau were two Egyptian friends of Menes—and they turned out to look pretty much like Menes.  I wonder if there were common Egyptian genes involved.”

 

Dick says, “So with you, there’s a group of seven muscle guys.  And you probably beat all the other groups.”

 

“Yep,” I say.  I look around at my group of muscle guys here, outside Gotham.  I see a lot of muscle—and like it.  But then I grin my best devilish grin and say, “But then something happened: one night, after he sucked Tambal’s cock, Taras got more muscle!”

 

Bruce looks at me, astonished, and says, “What?  How is that possible?”

 

“I don’t know,” I say, “but Taras got more muscle after he sucked Tambal’s cock.  And I talked with both Taras and Philo and told them that they had to let other muscle guys suck Tambal’s cock—so they could first, replace me, and second, get more muscle guys to drag stone blocks!”

 

Carlos looks lost in thought, but he soon says, “So then, after you left, Tambal creates more muscular guys and that’s how the pyramids were built—with muscle men dragging stone blocks up the ramps!”

 

I love the kid; he figured out I was Superman, and now he’s figured out the secret of how the pyramids were built.  So I reach over, drag him to me and give him a deep, long kiss.  Dick laughs nervously, so I finally stop.  

 

But it’s time for some reflection for me: “You know, I think I figured out why I like going back to ancient times.  I can kiss and hug and suck and fuck other men—and no one cares!   After we dragged that block up to the pyramid that first day, Philo and Menes put their arms around my shoulders and kissed me—and I kissed them back.  And when Tambal and Taras and I went to see the vizier, we skipped, and we did it again when we came back!  Of course, we were more muscular than any of the soldiers, so they couldn’t have stopped us if they wanted to.  But it just feels more free there!”

 

Carlos does not like what he’s hearing.  “But would you rather live in ancient times—and not with us?”  He really is alarmed.

 

“I didn’t say that.  I just said that men were freer with their sexuality back then—and I love that about those times.”  I look at Bruce and say, “After all, we’re protected here—by Bruce’s money.  There are kids all over America who grow up scared to admit that they like boys and men.  Remember—I grew up in Kansas.”

 

“You’re right,” says Bruce.  “Ancient times were more free in some ways—but they didn’t have science.”

 

“Well,” I say, “the Egyptians had enough science to build the pyramids!”

 

 

24

 

Bruce’s phone does a little jingaling.  Bruce gets up and steps away a few steps.  I imagine it’s Commissioner Gordon.   But when Bruce comes back and sits down with the rest of us he says, “The strangest thing just happened.  That was the Metro Museum.  They called to say that a dig in Giza, Egypt has found a couple of strange scarabs.  And they sent them to the Metro.”  He turns to me: “And they’re marked with a Superman ’S’!  That’s the way he described it.  He wants me to call you and set up a meeting so we can see them.” 

 

“Oh wow!” I say, and my eyes are already getting teary.  “I’ll bet Tambal went to the village smithy and had them made.  It was hard for him to let me go—he said we were brothers.”  I stare off into the distance. “I imagine all six of my guys wore them.”  Now I’m welling up with tears.  “They wanted to remember me!”

 

Carlos jumps up and has his arms around me.  “No!  You’re not going back!  We love you!  Stay with us!”  And soon Dick also has his arms around me.  Of course I could pull myself away, but the love in their arms is stronger than anything I can do.

 

So instead, I hug the boys to me and lift off.  I don’t have to look at Carlos—his whole body is smiling.  Dick chuckles and say “Clark, are you taking us back to Egypt?”

 

“No, my love, just a few feet.”  I fly over to Bruce and pull my arm from Dick—who puts his arms around my neck—and then fly down pick up Bruce.  I love that he doesn’t seem to mind.  He may have an idea about what I’m going to do, but he only smiles.

 

“I love you all,” I say, as I kiss each of the men in my big embrace.  I love how I can do things and still fly.  I’m flying my muscle men slowly but inexorably, over to the pool.

 

I stop flying and we all fall in the water with a huge splash!   As we all come up for air, I’m giggling, Bruce is chuckling, and the boys are laughing.   I hug and kiss them.  “I love you,” I say to each one.  And after I’ve hugged and kissed them all, I say to Carlos, with a glance toward Bruce and Dick, “And I’m not going back—you are the muscle guys I love most!”

 

 

The End