The Kingmaker, part 1

[sexyactionnick]

The King sat upon his throne, stroking his scepter as local merchants, peasants, and businessmen from the town came through and asked him to solve their petty squabbles. He was a fair ruler, most of the time, but had little tolerance for weakness. Once, a merchant complained that a larger business threatened to swallow his. The merchant claimed that the business bought up his supplies and paid local townspeople to spread lies about his products.

The King narrowed his smoky grey eyes upon the merchant. ?Why didn?t you simply kill your competitor?? he asked, one hand trailing up his glorious scepter.

?M-murder is illegal, my liege,? the merchant stammered. It was common enough for the little people to be nervous, even frightened, standing before the might of the King. Even his own court was afraid to look him in the eye at times. He liked that.

?What?s illegal and what isn?t is for me to decide. Arm this man!? the King declared. One of his knights drew his sword and handed it to the merchant. A squad of thick-necked, muscular guards hauled in the competitor.

?What is the meaning of this? Do you people know who I am?? the competitor spat. The entire crowd went silent. Nobody spoke to the King that way. They lowered their heads, not wanting to see what followed, but their liege surprised them by not reacting at all.

?You?re Bartholomew Drie, one of the richest men in my kingdom, yes?? the King asked in a low, even voice.

?I am!? Bartholomew said, puffing up his thin, weak body in defiance. ?My taxes pay for this kingdom, this crown. I wonder what you should do if I decided to stop paying them. Would your guards even bother to arrest me if you couldn?t pay their wages??

The King smiled, his massive paw gripped tight on his thick scepter. ?Am I to take it that you believe power resides in wealth??

Bartholomew sneered. ?Of course it does. Nothing else matters! I??

It seemed as if he were going to say something else, but couldn?t finish the sentence given the sword that had just been planted in his neck. He squealed like a stuck piglet, the sound fading into a gurgle of blood before he dropped to the floor. The merchant, a relatively thin, frail man himself, struggled to pull the sword from his neck. The King snapped his fingers, and one of his burly guards effortlessly pulled the sword out for him.

?Merchant, that is how you do business. Murder and deception is how Bartholomew Drie became one of the most powerful men in my kingdom, but you just proved how little coin and status matter.? The King rose, showing his glory for the entire court. He was seven feet tall and nearly as wide, his muscles so large they threatened to burst through his skin at any moment. His scepter, two and a half feet long and thicker than a small tree, gushed onto the floor as he walked. A young servant scurried after him, cleaning up his royal spunk with a rag. Thick, soft black hair covered his chest and shoulders, the same color as the long black beard that rested on the top of his glorious pecs. He would have the same coal black hair on his head, only he shaved it every day. He wore no crown. A crown was merely a symbol of power, and his muscular body was enough to prove that he was the most powerful man of them all.

?Power does not reside in the mind, but in the body,? the King said, and flexed his right arm in the merchant?s face. Despite the fact that he was still covered in blood, the merchant began to kiss and worship the mighty arm. It was bigger around than a wine barrel and hard as rock. The merchant sported an obvious erection, but no one in the courtroom dared snicker, largely because they all had one too. ?Even the richest man in my kingdom can still be felled by a swing stroke of a sword. Pick it up.? The King pushed the merchant?s greedy mouth away from his powerful body. His grey eyes flashed as he backed up several steps.

The burly guard thrust the sword back into the merchant?s hands. ?Swing it at me,? the King said. He bounced his mighty pectorals to punctuate the sentence.

?My liege, I cannot. I would never?? the merchant stammered.

?That?s a lovely sentiment, but your King gave you an order. Swing that sword at me now!? The King bellowed, his thunderous voice shaking the torches off the walls. The merchant hoisted the sword up and ran at his lord protector. He pulled back and swung the sword as hard as he could.

The King didn?t move out of the way or do anything to stop the attack. He didn?t even flinch, keeping his smoky gaze on the merchant the whole time. The sword fell to the ground, the edge dented slightly where it wrapped around the mighty arm. His arm was cut slightly, really more of a scratch than anything, but the wound wasn?t even deep enough to bleed. ?The true power in this kingdom,? the enormous sovereign said, flexing a massive most muscular, ?is right here.?

He bequeathed the competitor?s entire lands and business to the merchant, with the understanding that he was to use the power wisely. The merchant nodded thankfully and turned to leave, but was hoisted into the air by one massive paw. The King returned to his throne and continued to hear cases, while the merchant worshipped his bulging muscles. The tiny, newly rich man sucked at the King?s thick nipples, almost buried under the hairy expanse of pectoral muscle. He drank the precum greedily and stroked his entire body against the King?s royal scepter.

When the King finally blew, the commoners were excused from the throne room. They would have to come back on the morrow, when their liege was refreshed. His entire muscular body swelled with power as he flexed, his grey eyes rolling back in his head with ecstasy as he blew his load in the merchant?s tight little ass. His seed gushed out of the tight hole, covering the King?s legs and his throne in spunk as he moaned and flexed.

Covered with sweat and panting, he pulled the merchant off his long shaft with one hand. The tiny man hung limp, completely exhausted from his marathon day of sex. The merchant had just enough strength to grope the King?s huge thighs one last time, which spread a grin across His Majesty?s rugged face.

His servants rushed forward with damp cloths and cleaned the sweat and spunk off his body. His royal scepter remained long and stiff as usual ? it took several orgasms for His Majesty?s majesty to finally rest.

The King walked to the training grounds, where his knights were enjoying the last hours of sunshine. Muscled, naked men wrestled and fought each other, driving other huge bodies into the grass and jeering and hollering each other on. Elsewhere, nude gladiators lifted and threw huge stones. The castle was built to survive the earthquakes as each stone crashed to the ground, though periodically a wall crumbled thanks to their might. It was proof that the wall was weak, and had to be rebuilt stronger than the last.

They called the training grounds the Kingmaker, for that?s exactly what it was. Six years prior, the King was himself a simple knight. He built himself into the largest, strongest, most muscular fighter in the realm. When he placed the erstwhile king into a submission hold, and slipped his mighty cock into the king?s arse, he won the kingdom and his position.

The erstwhile king, the Abdicator, was understandably upset by his conquest but did not question it. If he dedicated himself to his training and fought to increase the size and power of his muscles, the law permitted him to retake the throne, but the Abdicator was just happy that his son was now the ruling King. For generations, their line held the throne, but that was due to end with the current King.

The King was the tallest, most muscular man the kingdom had ever known. He weighed nearly sixty stone, though that was an estimate, as the scales used for weighing grain didn?t go that high. His biceps measured thirty-one inches at the peak, his massive quads forty. The seamstresses had to put together two lengths of knotted cord to measure his chest, which was eighty inches. He never wore his royal garments, preferring to spend all of his time in the buff, allowing god and country to survey his massive body at all times.

Like every ruler, he took men for lovers and sport, but forced himself to breed with women. He chose the largest, sturdiest, strongest woman from the village to bear his sons. It was his hope that one day (a good many years in the future), his son would become even larger than him and take his place. He feared the day he would lose his throne, however there was great honor in being overthrown by his own powerful son. His relationship with the current Abdicator was loving and supportive. The King sought the Abdicator?s counsel, and they enjoyed each other?s company the same as the King did with the other knights, many of whom were his brothers.

For all his size and power, the King?s only living son was a failure and a disappointment. He?d bred several times with several women, but many of the women died in childbirth and took his sons along with them. Royal babies tended to be larger and stronger than common babe, and the King?s enormous size was a curse in that respect. Of the five women he?d filled with his seed, four died before his sons could be born, his powerful boys draining their mothers of their lifeforce. Only one had lived, and was due to turn sixteen that week. He lived for the reason that his brothers had died ? he was too weak. He was normal-sized, a commoner, a peasant. It happened with all kings, but those boys were pushed to the side, adopted by a common family and encouraged to foster a trade while their giant brothers became knights to fight for kinghood.

The King could not stand to lose his only surviving son, Darryn. When he took the throne, he found the small boy and had him fostered by the royal mage. The boy was small, thin, and bookish. He required glasses to see and spent all of his time locked away with the mage, studying books and scrolls and making potions. Mage was an archaic term for physician, little more than a doctor, though sometimes their potions were frighteningly powerful.

In the Kingmaker, His Highness wrestled and grappled with his knights, proving without a doubt that he was their alpha. A smaller knight, though taller than most men and weighing nearly forty stone himself, panted and wheezed after he dropped a large stone. The King picked it up with one hand and threw it high over the castle wall. They heard it crash into the moat with a mighty splash. ?Fetch the stone,? he said, and slapped the small knight hard on his tight rear. ?Carry back here and place it before me. That will help strengthen your quads.?

The forty-stone knight kissed His Majesty?s royal scepter, and waddled out of the castle to fetch the stone. The King laughed and challenged any knight to defeat him. They threw themselves upon him in a dogpile, and he effortlessly knocked them all back and pinned them to the ground. The wrestling gave way to fondling, the snarls and growls gave way to moans, and the knights and their liege found themselves entangled in a large muscle orgy, as often happened. Giant men stroked and squeezed his muscles, fondled his nipples and bit playfully at his monstrous lats as other knights fought for the right to sit upon the King?s scepter.

The orgy went on for hours. The King blew his load in one arse, then stuck his mighty scepter in the next, roaring with pleasure as his court continued to worship his immense body. None of them were within ten stone of his weight, could hope match his power, but one day, it might happen. Only a handful of kings died on the throne. Most had been forcefully abdicated, some watched generations of kings take the throne before they finally passed on. The King could only hope that he was never abdicated. He couldn?t bear the shame of losing the throne to another bloodline, because his only son was so weak.

[iceman75]

I really liked reading this story. I'm into historical epics like this, the King was definitely a God among men here, weighing nearly 20 stones more than the nearest knight, and probably could've taken all the knights in a tug of war, judging by his muscle size and strength. It's a shame he couldn't have a progeny worthy of him, but I could understand why not, based on the explanations, what if one did survive, I would've loved to read about an Alpha scion and his growth from a boy to teenage to finally being the man to supplant his father. Great story anyway, would love to read more.

[muscl4life]

I am a sucker for this kind of fiction (and it is not a secret at all ). I loved the idea of a mighty massive King who actually felt lonely in such powerful position, I wonder how the little son feels and how can magic help him to overcome his physical limitations to surpass his mighty father.

Congratulations on your story, it is pretty epic already!

Cheers

[Mad Dog]

Just discovered this story. I really like the world you painted; one centered on muscles and strength. :3

[I<3Muscles]

Huh. The lack of responses to this topic is disturbing.

Great story! I like historical/fantasy muscle stories, and this one looks like it could be really good!