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Sir Nathan • 5

by Sean Reid Scott



IT WAS A STARK AND GLARING LIGHT that shown on the parchment in Sir Nathan’s hands. He stared at it, reading carefully, standing in front of King Lancelot’s huge desk in His Majesty’s echoing chambers.

King Lancelot looked up from his desk, watching the huge knight silently read the report. “He cheated,” the king finally said, summing up the document.

Nathan peered over the top of the scroll with a piercing gaze. “A fact that I’ve been asserting since the very day he won the Challenge, Your Majesty.” He placed the document on the king’s desk and added, “Yet, no one believed me.”

“Your renewed protestations over Sir Casey’s Preeminence—as regards his new-found assignment to assimilate the Northfielders to life at Joyous Gard—spurred me to re-open the case,” the king said.

“I appreciate that you would have your men look into it, Sire,” Nathan said.

“And with the new information we dug up,” the king continued, “it became incontrovertible. Sir Casey defrauded you of the Preeminence you rightfully deserve.”

“If only you—and your men—would have listened to my protestations at the start.”

The king stood, and spread his fingertips out onto his desk, leaning forward. “Sir Nathan, might I re-familiarize you with the old tale of the Boy Who Cried Wolf?” He lifted one eyebrow with a scowl. “You must bear some responsibility for this, Nathan. If you and Sir Casey didn’t have such a history, it is entirely possible—if not likely—that we would have taken serious your claim of Casey’s devious ways. Yet, how could we—when you had been accusing him of treachery ever since the two of you first met?”

“Sire, with all due respect, I refuse to accept any blame for Casey’s guilt. He bears all responsibility for his actions.”

The king stood tall and cast a glance toward the window—a habit he returned to whenever he faced an important decision. He looked back to Sir Nathan and said, “Obviously, there must needs be another Challenge. Preeminence must always be earned in fairness.”

“I beg your pardon, Sire?” Nathan objected. “Clearly, Casey’s Preeminence should be summarily stripped—in its entirety! When a Knight of the Triangle Table is culpable of this kind of crime—as His Majesty has already acknowledged Casey is—his status is… well, it should be automatically stripped!” Nathan began talking with his hands now, his exasperation was unhidden as his mammoth arms moved with large gestures. “He should not only lose Preeminence, but Casey must be removed from the Triangle Table altogether!” Nathan drew a deep breath, and more calmly added, “Your Majesty, where in your kingdom is there room for a dishonest knight?”

King Lancelot sat again, and held the end of his desk with his knuckles. “Sit down, Sir Nathan,” he said softly.

Nathan obeyed his king.

“Know that this situation is not as simple as it seems,” Lancelot started. “As you are aware, Sir Casey comes from a very powerful family. If I were to declare his very knighthood in abeyance, I have no doubt it would stir unrest throughout the kingdom. Although I’m not worried about my authority prevailing in the end, what I do fear is a schism between factions. The result might well be a long-lasting rift at Joyous Gard. I cannot chance that.

“But sire!” Nathan protested.

“Nathan.” Lancelot’s countenance softened. “I have no doubt that you will be victorious in a fair challenge. But it must be done that way. I cannot make a summary judgement for Preeminent Knight. Not with impunity.”

“Sire?” Nathan cocked his head in confusion. “Are you not Sovereign? All your decrees are made with impunity, are they not?”

King Lancelot chuckled lightly. “With sovereignty, there must be wisdom, Nathan. You have to pick your battles. This is a battle that you yourself must fight, not me.”

Nathan sighed.

“And sir,” the king added, “you are as aware as I, in an honest contest you will prevail against Sir Casey.”

Nathan pressed his lips; he looked to the floor, thinking. His massive chest rose and fell in slow, contemplative breaths. He returned his eyes to the king. “Sire, then I request one thing.”

“That being?”

“Once I am victorious in the contests against Casey, then will you remove him from the Triangle Table, once and for all?”

King Lancelot nodded slowly. “Sir Nathan, once you are Preeminent, you will have my support. We shall issue a joint decree at that time, barring Casey from the Table. But that can only happen after you unequivocally defeat him in the Challenge. That way his supporters will have no choice but to see the proof for what it is: A damning repudiation of Casey.”

Nathan smiled slightly. Then a bit more. He’d longed to return to Preeminence, ever since it had been dishonestly taken from him. Now it was going to happen. Sir Casey wouldn’t be allowed to cheat this time. And Nathan would then reassume his rightful position—a position that Casey had stolen from him a year previous. Nathan’s smile broadened; his teeth showed now. He stood and extended a handshake to the Sovereign. “Thank You, Your Majesty.”

The king stood. “Tomorrow, I will announce a new Challenge for Preeminent Knight. It will be scheduled to commence one week from today.” As Nathan headed for the chamber door, the king stopped him with, “And Nathan…”

Sir Nathan turned to his king.

“You realize that Sir Casey will be quite discomposed over this.”

Nathan grinned. “Yes, Majesty,” he said. “I’m looking forward to that.”


SIR TANNER’S SQUIRE STEPHEN, AND SIR NATHAN’S SQUIRE DANIEL sat at one of the crowded tables in the castle’s Great Dining Hall, enjoying their luncheon. The room was abuzz with chatter about the King’s Royal Edict earlier that morning.

“So what do you think’s behind all of this?” Stephen asked Daniel. “Why has the king ordered a new contest for Preeminent Knight?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Daniel said. He leaned over his plate, across the table to Stephen and said in earnest softness, “But I can tell you this: last night when Sir Nathan returned to his suite… he was in the best of spirits.” Daniel’s face practically glowed.

Stephen’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you saying… he was amenable to the… unspeak…? With you?”

Daniel laughed. “You Northfielders will need to get over that antiquated reference. Nothing here at Joyous Gard is unspeakable. It is the most natural thing for us!”

Sir Tanner’s squire nodded, then said, “But still… Sir Nathan… and you… expressed yourselves to each other?”

Again Daniel laughed. He sat up straight. “Yes, I guess that’s a good way to say it.”

“Holy shit…” Stephen cursed. He immediately apologized. “But just the thought of… just seeing Sir Nathan up close like that, in all his glory… let alone of touching… or of actually….” He was unable to finish the thought.

“I will never be able to understand it,” Daniel admitted. “I have no idea which of the gods was pleased with me enough to preordain me to this position. I’m the most blessed man in the entire world.”

Starry-eyed Stephen gazed far away. “I believe you are,” he mumbled. He came out of his stupor and looked back to Daniel. “So, you have no idea why the contest has been scheduled? Did not Sir Casey win Preeminence over Sir Nathan a year ago? Has Sir Nathan issued a challenge?”

“No, it’s not possible for a knight alone to issue a challenge,” Daniel said. “In Joyous Gard, only His Majesty the King can decree that a contest take place—only when He believes a challenger has standing to make a viable claim, and has the chance to be successful.”

“But has much changed in one year?” Stephen asked. “Sir Nathan—has he become that much stronger in the intervening period?”

Daniel glanced around the table, and the room, assessing any stray ears or eyes. He leaned forward again. “Sir Nathan is as strong as a man can be. And I assure you, he has been as strong as a man can be, ever since I first heard of him. It is hardly possible that he has somehow gained more strength and virility.”

“So…” Stephen pondered thoughtfully. He looked up with a sudden thought: “So, it would seem that the only probability is that His Majesty has become aware of new information… regarding the Challenge of a year ago? Perhaps particulars have been uncovered regarding Sir Casey’s… um… rectitude… his behavior during the Challenge last year?”

Daniel broke eye contact. “Be careful of what you speak,” he said softly, looking down at his plate. “There are political forces afoot of which you are not aware.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Both squires looked up quickly—and with guilty faces—to see Sir Casey’s squire Aaron standing above them.

“Yes, of course, friend,” Daniel said scooting to the side a bit to give room.

“Thank you, friend,” Aaron smiled, sitting. He placed his tray of food in front of him.

“Aaron,” Daniel began, “This is the squire of Sir Tanner: Stephen, formerly of Northfield.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Aaron said, shaking Stephen’s hand.

“And yours,” Stephen replied.

Aaron took a bite of his meal, and with a half-full mouth asked Daniel, “So, what is it that Stephen is not aware of?”

Stephen perceived an almost imperceptible smirk on Aaron’s face.

Daniel pulled down on his tunic, obviously gathering his thoughts. “Oh… well… our new squire has much with which to acquaint himself regarding Joyous Gard.” He shot Stephen a look of caution, then looked toward Aaron, at his right. “We were just discussing some of the traditions that Gardian Squires enjoy. You know, Aaron, such as… the annual exchange, the special missions, so many opportunities… you know.”

Stephen got the distinct impression that Daniel wished he could have given a more adequate answer to Aaron, but Aaron didn’t seem to question anything.

“Indeed,” Sir Casey’s squire said. “I especially enjoy the annual exchange.”

Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. Daniel saw it.

“Oh,” Daniel smiled, seemingly relieved to move the conversation forward, “that’s the annual tradition where the knights trade squires for a night.”

“Really?” Stephen asked.

“Yes,” Aaron answered. “It can actually be quite profitable, for the squires.”

Daniel looked at Stephen, obviously assessing the questions in his mind. “You see, Stephen,” he started, “depending on who your knight is, other squires tend to express their desire to trade, to exchange… with gifts, shall we say. All under the table, of course.”

“Oh?” Stephen said.

Aaron sat tall and proclaimed, “Yes indeed. In fact, you’re sitting with the two most popular squires in the kingdom when it comes to the exchange.” He glanced at Daniel and continued, smiling, “Being the squires of Casey and Nathan can be quite advantageous—monetarily and otherwise—during the time of the exchange.”

Daniel nodded.

“But of course, being the squire of Sir Casey,” Aaron continued, “I suppose even Daniel doesn’t have the kind of requests that I receive.” His smirk was disgusting.

Daniel rolled his eyes, out of Aaron’s view. Then he said, “Say, Aaron, what’s with the King’s Edict? Why do you think His Majesty has found it necessary to decree a new contest between our two knights? Hmm?”

Aaron pursed his lips with disdain. “I can only imagine His Majesty’s motivations,” he said. “But the reasoning behind the Edict is less important than the outcome of the contest itself, don’t you think?”

Daniel tamped down a smirk himself now. “Oh, it’s always fascinating to contemplate His Majesty’s motives. And from where I’m sitting, I believe the reason for the contest is definitely as important as its outcome. In fact,” Daniel sniffed, “the two things must needs be interlinked: the reason for a new Challenge, and its outcome will undoubtedly go hand-in-hand. Once the outcome is decided, it will be obvious as to the reason.”

Aaron’s scorn was blatant. He continued to eat, without responding.

“Well, we hate to leave you all alone to your own devices,” Daniel said, standing. He nodded at Stephen to follow his lead. “…but Squire Stephen and I have a full afternoon.” The two men took their lunch trays and left, not acknowledging Squire Aaron any further.


“WHAT IS BEHIND THIS?” Sir Casey stood at his desk, his face red with anger. He leaned forward and pounded his fist on the desktop. Clearly-defined blood vessels distended on his thick neck. “I want to know how the king found out about this!” The parchment he held in his other hand quickly became compressed into a small ball. He threw it at a window.

Two nervous knights stood in front of Casey’s desk. “Sir,” one of the knights said apologetically, “we are looking into that. Obviously, someone discovered… well, you know….”

“Well, I don’t know!” Casey shouted. He glared at one of the knights, Sir Dauntless. “I don’t know how this could have been discovered. Not without loose lips!” He leaned over his desk and spat: “And I want to know whose lips they were! Do you understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” Dauntless said.

Out!” Casey yelled.

The two knights turned and scurried into the corridor.

Out in the dank hallway, Sir Dauntless mumbled to his friend, “Damn, he gets me all hot and horny when he’s mad like that.”

Tell me about it…” the other knight said.


SIR TANNER AND HIS SQUIRE, STEPHEN, sat in opposite wingback chairs in front of the beautiful—and ample—stone fireplace in their capacious apartment, high in one of the keeps of Joyous Gard. They both nursed after-dinner cocktails as they conversed.

“So how are you adjusting, Stephen? To life in Joyous Gard?” Sir Tanner asked with a subtle smile.

Stephen answered with his customary, youthful enthusiasm: “Oh, it is such a splendid place. I feel so very fortunate to be here… with you, sir.” As soon as he answered, though, his countenance fell.

Tanner watched, thoughtfully. “And yet…” he said, “…you are pensive, my son.”

Stephen had dropped his gaze to the floor, but he raised it quickly and lit his face with earnestness: “Well, yes, sir. I suppose I am. I mean, Joyous Gard couldn’t be more magnificent, yes. But, well… it will take some time to get over Northfield.” His expression tempered as he talked.

“You speak truth,” Tanner encouraged. “No magnificence, of any degree, can replace home. That is a fact.”

Stephen nodded with pursed lips.

“And further,” Tanner added, “May I suggest that you not make the effort?”


“To get over Northfield, son. You—both of us—were born and raised there. It must needs always hold a special place in our hearts. Just because we have found a new home doesn’t imply that we should force our hearts to abandon the place of our youth. Northfield will always hold that special place for us. No?”

Stephen nodded with a slight smile. “Indeed, sir. It will.”

Sir Tanner raised his glass and smiled: “To Northfield then. May it always shine as a jewel.”

“A toast to Northfield,” Stephen mimicked his Knight. He paused, then added, “And may it grow and learn…” He cleared his throat and continued, somewhat distracted by emotion: “…may it be elucidated to the true, timeless, unencumbered reality of love. Love that may be expressed by anyone, for anyone.”

Tanner smiled. “Indeed, Stephen. Love expressed by anyone, for anyone.”

With a pop and a crackle, a large log on the fire fell into itself, nestling into the coals below. The resulting embers flew up the chimney with a burst of light. The two men stared at the warm blaze.

“So tell me, son,” Tanner continued between sips, “what are your thoughts regarding Sir Nathan? And, perhaps, the intriguing chain of events with respect to his upcoming Challenge of Preeminence vs. Sir Casey?”

For a split-second, Stephen’s eyes glazed over. Tanner knew the lad’s thoughts. It was difficult to contemplate Sir Nathan without becoming starry-eyed—and hard. Add to the mix the idea of a Challenge, and well… yeah, Tanner understood exactly what his squire was thinking.

“Methinks these Gardians are a strange lot,” Stephen said. “The whole concept of a Preeminent Knight is foreign to me. Yet I understand how this kingdom values the idea.” He sipped his brandy, then looked directly at his knight: “I had an interesting conversation with Sir Nathan’s squire at luncheon today.”

“Squire Daniel, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Stephen tried to hide a smile, but some of it showed.

“You fancy him?”

Stephen reddened. “I suppose. He is quite a good friend.”

“And easy on the eyes as well,” Tanner smiled.

“Yes.” Stephen bit his lip and looked into the fire. “That he is.”

“So, tell me of this interesting conversation,” Tanner inquired.

“Well, sir, Squire Daniel is of the opinion that the reason King Lancelot has called for a new challenge is due to recently uncovered information, regarding surreptitious and fiendish methods by Sir Casey which resulted in Casey’s winning Preeminent Knight a year ago.”

“Casey cheated?”

“Yes, sir,” Stephen said.

Sir Tanner stared into the fire. “Interesting news indeed.”


OUTSIDE THE CASTLE WALLS, in the small castle-supporting village of Gardia, Sir Dauntless snuck stealthily down a narrow cobblestone alleyway. His formidable build cast a dark shadow far in front of him. He arrived at a small door, stopped, and knocked softly.

An old hag slid open a tiny piece of wood in the door and peered out. “Who be there?” she asked with a growl.

“’Tis I, Sir Dauntless, of the Castle,” the knight answered.

“What ye want?” the old woman snarled.

“I need to talk with your son, the Strapping Rufus.” Dauntless turned his head, looking up and down the dark alleyway to make sure he hadn’t been followed.

“Lots o’ men of your stature bid an audience with Strapping Rufus,” the hag said. “What business do ye have wif ‘im?”

“Castle business.”

The woman slid the window shut. Locks on the door snapped, being released, then the door creaked open. “I swear that boy gets himse’f into more trouble than a turkey the end of November,” she mumbled as she bid the knight enter. Once he was inside, Dauntless’ frame filled the room. The woman eyed him up and down. “Yup. That Rufus entertains the best physiques around these parts,” she said with a glare. “What is it you gentlemen want with my boy all the time? He hardly has time for his studies anymore!” she said sternly. Then she raised a crooked, wart-infested finger to Dauntless’ face and said, “No need to answer, sir! It was a rhetorical question. Don’t think I’m dumb to all the lascivious, lewd activities you men like to do with him, back in his bedroom!” She sniffed loudly, then said. “Wait here.”

Dauntless examined the dank, cold living area while the woman retreated to the back. He wondered how a lad of Strapping Rufus’ stature survived in such squalid circumstances.

“Sir Dauntless of the Castle,” the hag’s cracking voice interrupted his thoughts, “I give you Strapping Rufus, of the village Gardia.” Behind the woman a young man—not hardly into his 20s, if that—stood, dwarfing the woman who bore him. The mother stepped aside, and Dauntless was treated to the sight of the young, virile stud. His moniker was apt. Dauntless had seen Strapping Rufus many a time, but damn the kid was growing—and getting better looking with every moon. He had shoulder-length red hair, a sturdy neck, and arms that surely bested all of his peers. Top it all off with a face to-die-for, which dominant feature included a pair of the most pouting, luscious lips in all of Joyous Gard, and you have a Strapping Rufus who is quite distracting.

“Sir D.,” Rufus smiled as he extended his hand to the knight. “What brings you to our humble refuge?” God, his smile was intoxicating.

“Rufus, it’s good to see you again,” Dauntless smiled as they embraced after the handshake.

“Indeed it must be!” the old woman growled. She raised her crooked finger to point at the knight’s crotch. “The appendage ye hold there expanded quite a bit the moment you laid eyes on my boy!”

Sir Dauntless did his best to ignore the woman. He said to Strapping Rufus, “Is there somewhere we can talk? Alone?”

“Yes, sir,” Rufus said. He pivoted and bid the knight to follow him to the rear of the smelly apartment. “This way.”

“This way indeed!” the hag yelled. “Don’t think I’m ig’nernt to what you two intend to do back there!” She spat a thick wad of saliva on the floor. “Why… I have half a mind to call for the minister! And I’d do it, too!” Her tirade suddenly calmed into a mumble as she sat down at her spinning wheel and took up some yarn: “…if’n I didn’t ‘spect him to join in the despicable with ye….”

Dauntless didn’t hear any more from her; Rufus had shut his bedroom door to drown her out. The lad’s bedroom was much cleaner than the rest of the place. An occasional poster of Sir Nathan—and other muscular men in various stages of undress—adorned the walls.

“So, ‘sup?” Rufus asked, plopping his muscular late-teen body on his bed.

“There’s trouble,” Dauntless said.


“Sir Casey-kind. Seems someone leaked information to King Lancelot…”

“’bout what?”

Dauntless’ infatuation with the boy was waning quickly. “You know damn well ‘bout what! ‘bout Sir Casey’s advantage in his ascension to Preeminence, you dufus!”

“It’s Rufus, sir,” the kid said, rolling onto his back. He grabbed a fidget-spinner from his bedstand and stared at the ceiling from his bed. Dauntless moved closer, looking up to see a life-sized poster of himself, naked and erect, staring down at Strapping Rufus from the ceiling.

“What the?” Dauntless mumbled.

“Yeah,” Rufus grinned. “Dude—oh, uh, forgive me—Sir, you have no idea how many times a day I jerk off to you. Right here.”

Sir Dauntless coughed. “Re- really?”

Strapping Rufus moved his big, teenage hand to his crotch and mimicked the motions one uses when one is masturbating. He let his eyes go half-closed; he moaned. “Ohhhhhhh, yeahhhhhh…” he sighed.

Dauntless shook his head to get the cobwebs out. “Rufus. Stop. This is serious.”

Strapping Rufus took his eyes from the poster, in favor of the real thing. “Okay, I’ll stop. But only on the condition that when we’re done talking here, you let me see what you have going on under that tunic of yours….”


“WELL, THAT WAS ONE OF the quicker ones,” the old woman said when Strapping Rufus and Sir Dauntless emerged from the lad’s bedroom about a half hour later. Across the dank room from where she sat at her wheel, a rerun of “Medieval Hoarders,” or some such drivel, was on.

Dauntless shot a look at Rufus. The teen shrugged an innocent expression of, “I can’t help it!”

A minute later, Dauntless was outside, pulling his tunic tight around his neck. He looked up at the tumultuous, darkening sky, then turned back to the lad who’s gorgeous body filled the small door, and said, “Ye best watch yersef, Strapping Rufus. There’s a storm a-brewin’.”

“Yes, sir,” Rufus answered. “And thank you for the information. I’ll be watching my backside fersher.”

Dauntless resisted the urge to tell the young man that he’d like that assignment himself. He turned and headed back to the castle.


SIR DAUNTLESS knocked three times on the heavy wooden door that led to Sir Casey’s apartment in the Keep. Having received no response, he knocked again. 

Suddenly the door flew open, and Dauntless was treated to the visage of a shirtless Casey, in all his upper-body glorious musculature. The man was a singular physique. His rippling, bulging muscles undulated with his virility. The shoulder-length dishwater-blond hair grazed his traps with its slightly curly deliciousness.

At times like this, Dauntless found himself wondering if he’d ever get used to Sir Casey’s enormous size—or his incomparable gorgeousness. Every time he saw Casey like this, it was as if he was experiencing him for the first time.

It only took a second for Dauntless’ inspection and appreciation of Casey’s body to be violently interrupted: “What the hell do you want?!” Sir Casey barked.

“Begging your pardon, Sir Casey,” Dauntless trembled, “Best I come back at another time.” He pivoted to leave. No way in hell did he want to dump his news on Casey when the knight was in one of his moods.

“Cease,” Sir Casey ordered. “Remain.”

Dauntless turned back to Casey and stood silent.

Sir Casey stepped outside, into the corridor, and the proximity alone tightened Dauntless’ thickening boner to the next level. Casey’s scent alone was enough to make Daunt dizzy. “My apologies, Sir Dauntless,” Casey said softly. “I was, perhaps, a bit harsh.” He cocked his head to the room behind him and added, “I have a guest.”

“Begging your pardon,” Dauntless repeated.

“No affront,” Casey said. “It’s just that we were at a high point, if you take my meaning.”

Dauntless nodded. “Oh, yes. Begging your pardon sir.”

“Will you quit saying that?” Casey hissed. “Now, please get on with your business. My young man awaits.”

“Yes, sir. Well…” Dauntless still didn’t want to reveal his announcement to Casey; the man was obviously not in good spirits. Hell, Dauntless didn’t want to reveal his news to Casey even if the man was in best spirits! The only way he really wanted to give his news was if Casey was inundated by spirits. Maybe then. Regardless, Casey had demanded…. “Well,” he repeated.

Casey tapped his foot on the rock floor of the corridor, lifted his head backward, and rolled his eyes upward, staring impatiently at the ceiling. The motion caused his neck to thicken to freakish proportions, and Dauntless momentarily lost his concentration.

Regaining it quickly, Daunt proceeded: “Sir, I have searched low and high—even enlisted a small posse of men—and I am unable to determine who spilled the beans regarding your Ascendency advantage.” He shrunk as he said the words.

“What?!” Casey trained his gaze on the smaller (yet still formidable) man. “You dufus! I sometimes wonder why I enlisted you on my team. You’re worthless!”

Despite Sir Dauntless’ six-foot-three, 250 pound muscular frame, he shuddered in Casey’s presence, curling into himself.

Sir Casey leaned down and placed his face a few inches from Dauntless’ mug. In a controlled, measured, angry, but subdued tone he said: “Either you find out how word got to the king, or I’ll challenge you to a contest of my own, you sniveling drivel. Do you understand? I don’t care what it takes, who you have to pay, what stones you need to overturn…” His voice grew into a shout: “…find me the man who told the king! I swear I’ll de-limb you right in the Castle Square after I defeat you in a contest!”

Dauntless quaked and shook. He looked up at Casey with one eye scrunched closed. “Y-yes, S-sir.”

Casey stepped back into his suite and slammed the door closed. Dauntless heard the knight say, in a newly-happy voice, to his man inside, “Now… where were we?”

Dauntless shuddered for a few moments, checked both ends of the hallway to see if his humiliation had been witnessed by anyone, then nervously shuffled down the dimly-lit, rock-walled corridor.


A DARK AND HOWLING wind battered the castle. Driving rain beat down on the roofs and walls. The stormy, black night wasn’t fit for man nor beast. Inside Sir Nathan’s suite, the knight and his squire, Daniel, sat at the oversized fireplace, listening to the wind as it whistled, enjoying the warmth of the flames.

“Perhaps I should inquire with the Master Carpenter to fix the windows,” Squire Daniel said to his knight.

“Oh, please don’t,” Sir Nathan said. “I quite enjoy listening to the whistling wind during storms. It’s actually comforting, in a way.”

“Yes, sir,” Daniel said. He took a sip of his tea, then turned to gaze at the crackling fire. “Sir, shouldn’t you be spending more daily time… training?”

Sir Nathan’s eyebrows lifted. “For the Contest?” He lowered his teacup to the saucer in his other hand and it made a light clicking sound. “No, Daniel. I’ll be fine,” he chuckled.

“Oh, sir, of that I have no doubt. I didn’t mean to imply that you wouldn’t prevail.” He paused, cleared his throat, and said, “It’s just… well, Sir Casey is… quite formidable, is he not?”

Sir Nathan set his cup and saucer on the small end table next to his wingback. He lifted his right arm, pulled back the fabric, and exposed a bulging, peaking biceps. “More formidable than this?” he smiled. The thing was so huge, so veiny, and so rippling with raw muscles it almost seemed like a live beast.

“Uuuuhhhhh…” Daniel visibly blanched at the display of muscle.

“Thought so,” Nathan smiled, lowering his arm and pulling his sleeve back down.

Daniel averted his gaze from his private muscle man and stared, once again, at the fire. It was not effective in suppressing the growing hardness in his trousers. The damage had been done.

“Fret not,” Nathan said, picking up his tea again. “Sir Casey cheated in his Challenge last year. It won’t happen again. Cheating is the only way he can beat me, I assure you.”

Daniel nodded without looking away from the fire. He feared his boner might explode if he laid eyes on his knight right now.

“As a matter of fact,” Sir Nathan continued as he looked at the hourglass on his wrist, “I’m expecting a visitor this evening. Perhaps if you stay… and watch… you might be dissuaded from your lack of confidence in my muscular superiority.”

Daniel snapped his face back to Nathan now. Boner be damned. “Oh, sir, I must needs apologize. I certainly didn’t intend to reflect a lack of confidence in you. I am abashed! Please forgive.”

Nathan smiled and pulled down on his tunic. “No need, Daniel. It’s your job to keep me on my toes. I appreciate your perspective. Don’t want to take anything for granted. Sir Casey is indeed formidable, yes. Yet if you stick around, and play the proverbial fly on the wall, you might possibly be exposed to a display of my body that will offer you… encouragement.”

“I… I think I’d like that…” Daniel said.

Three knocks on the door brought Daniel to his feet.

“Ah, there’s my guest now,” Nathan said, standing as well.

As was his duty, Squire Daniel approached the door and opened it.

To Squire Daniel’s surprise, the man standing in the corridor was none other than his new friend, Sir Tanner’s Squire Stephen.

Daniel jerked aback in surprise.

“Might I enter?” Stephen asked. His voice was timid; his eyes averted to the floor. “I—I have been requested.” Clearly he was disconcerted with Daniel's knowledge of his presence—and reason for it.

Still stunned, Daniel found his voice, and composed himself. “Why, of course, friend.” He pivoted back and bid Stephen enter with a hand extended into the room. “Please.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said. His voice was hesitant, as was his countenance. Clearly he was nervous. He walked pass Daniel into the spacious suite.

Nathan now stood next to the chair he’d been sitting in. He had a polite smile. “Welcome, Squire Stephen. You must thank Sir Tanner for relinquishing you for the evening. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll thank him,” Stephen said as he approached the huge knight. It was apparent he was getting even more nervous. “Thank you for having me.”

Sir Nathan extended his hand and the men shook.

Daniel watched as Stephen looked up at Nathan. He looked positively frightened. Like a little mouse in the presence of a giant cat. Daniel knew the feeling. It still came to him sometimes. Although now that he’d been with Sir Nathan for a number of years, the fear was seldom. Mostly, it was simple awe, lust, and… need. Daniel closed the door and moved inside the huge room.

Nathan gazed down at his young guest. With a sincere smile he said, “I hope you are able to make yourself at home, Stephen. Is there anything I can get you?”

“A stiff drink,” Stephen blurted. He immediately flushed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I spoke without thinking.”

Nathan chuckled. He glanced at, then nodded to, Squire Daniel, who took the cue without needing words. He moved to the wet bar and prepared a Vanilla Vodka for the lad. Then, knowing it was his knight's favorite, he made a Harvey Wallbanger for Nathan.

By the time Daniel was carrying the drinks to the two men, both had sat in the wingbacks next to the fire. He placed the drinks, then moved backward, somewhat into the shadows of the room.

Stephen took an immediate swig of his drink—a healthy swig. Nathan was more reserved, choosing to take a polite sip.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Nathan said to Stephen, “but I have invited my squire to remain tonight. Do you have an aversion to audience?”

Stephen’s nervous eyes immediately found Daniel; as soon as they did, they softened. Looking at his new friend, he said to Nathan, “No sir. As a matter of fact, his presence might be somewhat calming for me.” He looked back to Nathan and continued, “I am, as you may have surmised, a bit nervous.”

Sir Nathan chuckled. “And having an observer would make you less nervous? That seems a bit puzzling.”

“Well, sir, I have found that Daniel is a trusted friend. And if I may, he has recounted to me that you are a gentle man, despite your… exaggerated features.”

“Exaggerated features,” Nathan laughed. “I’ve never heard it put that way!”

Stephen’s shoulders relaxed. A slight smile formed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re amenable to having Daniel stay. I have never found his eyes to be anything but pleasant,” Nathan said, turning his head to glance at his squire. He looked back to Stephen and said, “I’m sure you’ll find the same.”

Daniel warmed. God, he loved that knight.

Sir Nathan and Squire Stephen talked for the better part of a half-hour; Daniel, meanwhile, stayed in the background, ready to serve more liquor. Mainly he just got all hot and bothered while he watched the two men as they did their preparatory “dance” of pre-sex. This dance consisted mostly of conversation and furtive glances, which in its own way was totally hot. Nathan was doing his best to get Stephen to relax, and it seemed to be working. Stephen blushed occasionally, but his gorgeous, white-teeth smile made an appearance more and more often as the evening progressed. He even laughed out loud a few times, and more than once, Daniel could’ve sworn he had made overtly flirting eyes at Nathan. Daniel loved it.

After both men had finished their second drink, Nathan said to Stephen, “Do you have any thoughts as to who will prevail in this weekend’s Challenge, son?”

Without hesitation, Stephen answered, “You, of course, sir. There is no question of that.”

Nathan smiled. “I trust your confidence in my abilities will not be misplaced.”

“I doubt that’s possssible,” Stephen replied. His speech gave the slightest slur; the liquor was having its effect.

Nathan stood. He extended his hand to Stephen. “Shall we slip into something more comfortable?”

Squire Stephen stood, and immediately all the relaxed confidence he had garnered during conversation seemed to run out of him like water in a wicker basket. He looked up at Sir Nathan—easily a foot taller than himself—with sheepish nervousness.

“Not to worry, my gorgeous little man,” Nathan reassured, “I promise, we’ll take this as slowly as you want. I also promise that by morning, you’ll feel completely fulfilled and at ease.” He took Stephen’s sweating hand and led him toward the suite’s opposite wall—a healthy jaunt, actually—where a large four-poster bed stood. It was on a raised platform; the strong posts supported a gigantic maroon, velvet canopy that rose halfway to the room’s two-story ceiling.

Daniel watched with interest.

The two men conquered the few steps that led to the platform. The bed was populated with throw pillows. It was lavishly appointed with silk sheets and generous, luxurious blankets. Although adorned with a duvet, gold-trimmed fabrics and all the accoutrements one would expect a man of Sir Nathan’s standing to possess, it was a decidedly masculine affair.

Daniel stepped to a panel on a wall and lowered the lumens of the candle chandelier and sconces near the fire’s sitting area. He left the lighting of the bed area brighter, to accommodate Stephen’s eyes, which, he knew, would soon be bugging out as they beheld Nathan’s musculature. After he took care of the room’s ambiance he took a seat in a darkened area, a dozen or so paces from the platform on which the bed rested. From here, he would have an unobstructed view of the “proceedings”.

“I hope you like my suite, Stephen,” Nathan said, slowly turning to face his admirer. The acoustics of the room were excellent; Daniel would be able to hear every whisper from where he sat.

Stephen nodded, silently.

“Why don’t you have a seat right here,” Nathan said, patting the foot of the bed. “You just relax. You don’t have to do anything at all for now. Just… watch.”

Stephen hesitantly obeyed.

It became immediately clear to Daniel why Nathan had asked him, earlier in the day, to erect a folding dressing screen near Nathan’s wardrobe area. The huge knight turned from Stephen and approached the screen, saying, “I’m just going to change out of my tunic and trousers.” He stopped next to the screen, turned to face Stephen and smiled, “I find most clothes to be quite… confining.” With a slight smirk, he turned and moved behind the semi-transparent screen. Nathan had made Daniel ensure that the sconce in the wardrobe area burned brightly. And the reason for that also now became clear.

Standing between the sconce and the somewhat transparent screen (as thin as a bedsheet), Sir Nathan’s silhouette filled the screen.

Stephen took a big gulp; his eyes transfixed on the screen.

Nathan began to undress. Stephen and Daniel watched as the trousers dropped, and the tunic lifted off. From the silhouette that filled the screen, it was apparent that the knight wore nothing in the way of lower underwear, save for a thong-like get-up. Daniel knew without a doubt that Nathan was wearing one. If he hadn’t been, the knight’s long schlong and low-hangers would have been dangling far down between his gigantic legs.

On Nathan’s torso, however, he did wear some kind of undergarment—a medieval T-shirt of sorts. It hugged the enormous muscles of the man: shoulders, arms, chest, lats. But around his waist, it hung loosely, flowing in such a manner as to conceal the actual tininess of his waistline, as seen through his silhouette. Facing the screen—or maybe he was facing the opposite direction, it was hard to tell which—Sir Nathan slowly pulled at the waistline of the undergarment and lifted it up. In a minute the knight’s shadow showed the outline of his astounding, unspeakably perfect muscle body, in all it’s glory—save for the fact that his genitalia were bound up. Nathan stood still, his arms to his sides. The freakish protrusion of his latissimus dorsi (back muscles that give you that “V” shape) forced his arms outward.

Stephen peeled his eyes off the screen for just a moment; his head slowly turned around to Daniel, who was more or less behind him. Stephen’s eyes were wide; his mouth open. Daniel pursed his lips, trying to convey a look of empathy for what Stephen must have been experiencing. Yeah, the kid must’ve been going crazy, what with the anticipation that in mere seconds, he’d be looking at much, much more than a simple outline—as stimulating and artistic as that outline was.

Stephen’s hand was on his crotch. Daniel got the idea that he wasn’t even aware that his friend was touching himself. But there he was, Stephen’s long fingers, squeezing and manipulating the growing tube under his tunic. Daniel gave a faint smile, and Stephen absently turned his head back to the muscular shadow on the screen.

“How you doing out there?” Nathan’s baritone was soft, concerned.

“O… okay. Okay, I guess,” Stephen stammered.

“Is it alright if I come out now?”

“Sh— sure.”

Nathan stepped out from behind the screen.

Stephen had told Daniel that he’d seen Sir Nate in all of his glory, fucking other men: once while they were in Northfield’s Dungeon, again in the jail cell, and again in Northfield’s main square right before Joyous Gard’s snipers rescued their party. But from the body language Stephen was now displaying, it was as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on the super-knight.

Sir Nathan stood at the side of the screen, relaxed. His face was calm, serious. He seemed to be pausing, just to give Stephen a moment to get used to his physique.

Daniel knew from experience there was no chance of that. No man had the cognitive ability to acclimate to Sir Nathan’s gorgeously muscular body. It was without peer—even considering Sir Casey, although that assessment was occasionally debated. But in Daniel’s mind, there was no man who bested his very own knight.

Sir Nathan started a slow approach to the bed—and Squire Stephen. When he walked, his mighty legs caused his pouch to move to the left, then the right, with each step. His lean waistline was an erotic juxtaposition to the monstrous proportions of his wide shoulders, oversized arms, protruding pectorals and colossal legs. And that pouch? Holy hell. Although Squire Daniel had often seen what it was now hiding, and had even experienced the dizzying organ up close and personal, right now the thing looked like a python!

Daniel remembered when Sir Nathan had instructed him to go to the King’s Seamstress Pool and order a number of pouches. The hags in the sweatshop laughed with cackles when Daniel presented them with the dimensions. “Why, that’s impossible!” one old woman guffawed. Others had chimed in: “No man has these proportions!” “I’d like to get my hands on that organ.” They nearly laughed him out the back door. It had taken Daniel almost a quarter hour to convince them of the accuracy of his measurements. And that only occurred once Daniel changed his tactic and said the pouches were actually a new-fangled carrying sack, for the purpose of collecting mushrooms out in the forest. “That makes more sense!” “Why’d ye taunt us with such nonsense about this being a man’s pouch?” The hags all had a great laugh, but then they got down to business.

The thin silk fabric hugged the thing—tight enough to reveal the cut of his cock head, as well as numerous veins that wrapped around the shaft. (The hags never did understand why someone would want a mushroom sack made out of silk.) The black silk perfectly matched the sheen of Nathan’s black hair. There were only two places on the knight’s body that had hair: The thick, wavy locks on his head, and a dusting of black hair that led from the knight’s belly button downward, in an unspeakably wonderful glory trail, into the silken pouch. Perhaps a tiny tuft of pubic hair was visible, since the pouch was actually being pulled out from Nathan’s torso, due to the preponderance of his organ. The hint of pubes bespoke the erotic virility of the giant.

“I trust my attire is acceptable, Stephen,” Nathan smiled when he arrived a few feet in front of the squire.

Still sitting on the foot of the bed, Squire Stephen gave a raspy, “Yes.” He gazed down at the black silk pouch and offered, “It looks wonderful.” He raised his eyes to Nathan’s and added, “You look… wonderful.”

Nathan smiled. “Thank you. So do you.”

Stephen demurred. Daniel wondered what his friend must be going through. Certainly Stephen was enthralled.

“I expect you and Sir Tanner have enjoyed many times together,” Nathan said. He glanced at Squire Daniel in the shadows and added, “…as Daniel and I often do.” Daniel’s face warmed with a flush. T’was definitely true. Daniel considered himself the luckiest person in the kingdom—to have access to the most gorgeous, hunky knight ever.

“Yes, sir,” Stephen acknowledged. “And yet, I hesitate to even consider my knight and yourself abiding in the same sentence.”

Nathan let out a resonant laugh. It came from deep within all that muscle. “You Northfielders have such a way with words.” He put his hand on Stephen’s head and tussled the lad’s hair. “And yet Sir Tanner is indeed a man among men. I suspect you are not complaining.”

“Oh no, sir!” Stephen said. “My allegiance is totally to Sir Tanner! I couldn’t be happier!” Daniel suspected there was a morsel of fiction in that statement. Given the countenance Stephen showed whenever he looked at Nathan—and given what any red-blooded man would want when exposed to the super-knight—one could only conclude Squire Stephen would be immensely happier in the service of Sir Nathan. Who wouldn’t? Regardless, that wasn’t going to happen. Daniel was sure. Of course, though, that didn’t preclude Nathan from enjoying the company of anyone he fancied—as tonight’s encounter demonstrated. And also, of course, Daniel was content with that. Hell, he had no claim to Nathan. Besides, Nathan always came home. And sometimes—like tonight—he brought someone with. These encounters were always enjoyable for Daniel. God, there was nothing hotter than watching Nathan with another man. Well, maybe actually being with the knight did eclipse that… but still.

“Undoubtedly,” Nathan smiled. “Your allegiance to your knight is well-known.”

“Really?” Stephen asked.

“Oh yes. There is no doubt of that.” Nathan gave a sideways glance at Daniel and added, “I just wish I had a squire who was half as dedicated as are you.” The grin on Nate’s face gave away his joking.

And Daniel loved that. He loved that he and Nathan had a relationship where jibes and jokes like that were a sign of affection. In response to Sir Nathan’s jab, Daniel coughed loudly from his shadowy post.

“Kidding,” Nathan reassured both men.

Squire Stephen smiled sheepishly. He looked down at his fidgeting hands. It was clear, despite Nathan’s easy-going—and even fun—manner, the young man was still nervous.

Seeing this, Nathan called to Daniel, requesting his man bring them more beverage. Daniel quickly made two dirty martinis and brought them to Nathan and Stephen. The look on Stephen’s face was priceless: his big blue eyes showed awe and wonder; his lips betrayed his lust; his rosy cheeks made plain his nervousness; the dimples of his cheeks definitely displayed his enthusiasm for his situation. Daniel returned to his spot.

Sir Nathan and Squire Stephen stared into each others’ eyes while they sipped their drinks. “Are you feeling more comfortable, Stephen?”

Daniel knew the feeling that pulsed through his veins whenever Nathan said his name. He could only guess that Stephen felt something similar at the sound of his name.

“Ooohhhh, yes,” Stephen answered. “Much so.”

Daniel squinted as he watched his friend. It seemed the lad was indeed getting… more comfortable—with every sip.

“Good,” Nathan said, moving to place his martini glass on an occasional table. He returned to Stephen. He stood in front of the sitting squire, about two cubits away. Without a word, he lifted one arm. Slowly. With the grace of a gazelle, he extended his arm horizontally, then slowly lifted his forearm to vertical. As he did so, the biceps muscle grew and grew. It actually seemed to distend from the rest of the arm, forming into a gigantic ball of brawn. Then, Nathan hardened it even more. Stephen’s eyes bugged out while the super-knight redoubled his flexing, causing the arm muscle to grow thicker—but much more fascinatingly, taller. Soon, the biceps split into two distinct balls. Nathan examined his muscle, studying it for a moment, then the arm began to tremble slightly as the man forced it even harder, thicker and higher.

Stephen let out a gasp, and somehow, a simultaneous moan. Daniel knew it was involuntary.

Nathan slowly rotated his forearm, and all the veins and muscle fibers danced with insane definition. It was unbelievable. Like a map of the trails and roadways surrounding the castle, the veins of Nathan’s thick, enormous forearm bulged away from the skin. The forearm was thicker and bigger than many a man’s upper arm! Its veins pulsed with life.

The veins on the biceps and thick triceps followed suit, surging with almost freakish definition. It seemed there was no fat under the skin. Just sinewy muscle and a network of feeding veins. The peaked biceps muscle resembled the mountain range of Bronton! They should be snow-covered! Surely the altitude of those arm peaks was insurmountable!

Nathan turned his attention back to Stephen, apparently satisfied with his brawny display. “What do you think?”

“Oh… ohhhhh… holy…”

Nathan chuckled, keeping his flexed mountain at attention. “Do you want to touch it?”

Stephen actually didn’t respond, save perhaps, for a pronounced gulp.

Nathan leaned down and forward. He placed his mighty arm right in front of Stephen’s face. “Go ahead. Feel it.”

The squire’s eyes grew even more, but he dared not move. Still, Nathan kept his mighty arm right there. Only inches from Stephen’s face. The knight didn’t speak. He was patient. He knew Stephen wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off it.

Sure enough, Stephen finally brought a hand to it, placing it on top of the vertical peak. His long, youthful fingers moved over the globe of flexing muscle. Daniel watched as his friend’s eyes widened even more. Soon the lad’s hand moved a bit, and his palm began exploring the arm’s great harness and size. Daniel chuckled as Stephen quickly downed the remaining contents of his martini glass and tossed it on the bed next to his leg, obviously so he could bring both hands to bear on the astounding mass of meat.

Nathan patiently held his position, occasionally rotating his forearm while he flexed, in order to provide Stephen’s hands with maximal stimulation and hardness. Again, the huge man’s body trembled with his flexing effort; the brawny virility that Nathan’s body emitted was dizzying.

Both of Stephen’s worshipping hands moved over, under, and around Nathan’s flexing arm. Stephen even felt out the spectacular thickness of Nathan’s forearm. Obviously, Stephen had never seen or felt anything like it. The laddy moved back to the bulging upper arm and squeezed it (unable to dent it), fondled it, and massaged it for what seemed to Daniel like forever.

Satisfied that his adoring charge was at least cursorily acquainted with his arm, Sir Nathan stepped back and stood erect. “You like big muscles, Stephen?” he smiled.

As soon as his hand had slipped off the arm, Stephen retreated into motionless silence.

Daniel only now realized how hard he was getting. He didn’t know how long he’d been growing, but watching the unfolding scene was definitely having its effect.

Having received no answer, other than a silent gaze of obvious worship, Nathan lifted both arms now, and flexed them into a display of power that was simply mind-blowing. The man’s arms were easily bigger than most men’s upper legs. Yet they were perfectly formed, shaped like melons that had coconuts emerging on top. And they rippled with powerful definition.

Now Stephen let out a guttural moan.

Nathan treated the lad to a few minutes of double arm muscle, and then flexed into a few other poses, accenting his jumbo legs, his ridiculous abdominal separation, and his broad, vast shoulders. Then he turned around and presented the lumpy ranges of back muscles to Stephen’s gaze. But the coup de grâce was when Sir Nathan turned around to face Stephen again, and began to flex, roll and harden his astronomically thick pectorals.

The chest that now undulated in front of Daniel’s friend was like nothing any man could hope to encounter. Rippling striations moved in waves—slow, sensual, powerful waves—from left to right, right to left, top to bottom, bottom to top, then into and outward from Nathan’s unfathomably deep cleavage.

Stephen had been frozen with lust—and perhaps intimidation—but now Daniel detected something. A slight movement of Stephen’s entire body. Stephen put both hands on the mattress, beside his legs. His eyes went half-staff. A more pronounced movement jerked his body. Was he coming? In his tunic? Without even touching himself?

Indeed. Sir Nathan’s powerful chest—pectorals that now rippled in sensual waves right in front of Stephen’s eyes, had definitely pushed the young man over the edge.

Nathan continued flexing his chest for Stephen, and it wasn’t clear if the knight understood what was happening. Most likely he did. Nathan knew very well the effect he had on all men. And as Daniel watched Stephen’s involuntary response to the implausible muscularity, he concluded that Nathan knew very well what was happening.

Stephen did his best, it seemed, to hide his uncontrollable reaction to Nathan’s physique, but it was pretty apparent that he had been elevated to another level on the muscle-appreciation scale. His hands gripped the bed covers, pulling fabric into his fists; his body tightened. He groaned.

Nathan flexed.

Daniel watched. He suddenly realized his hand was on his crotch. He was squeezing himself. If he didn’t back off quickly, he knew he’d find himself in the same state as Stephen.

Sir Nathan relaxed. He stood still and erect.

A cursory examination of the knight’s pouch told Daniel that Nathan was enjoying the effect he had on the young man. Nathan’s cock was growing. The resulting gap between his waist and the silken pouch was large—and getting more pronounced.

Nathan smiled down at Stephen: “You like my big muscles, don’t you.” He folded his arms across his chest, and the resulting mass of muscle was astounding.

Stephen didn’t respond.

“You look uncomfortable, Stephen.” Nathan leaned down. “Here, let’s get you out of these clothes. I think you’ll be more at ease when you’re not so confined.” As Stephen was revealed, his muscular body glistened with horny sweat. And it was quickly obvious, from the globs of semen on his pubes and lower abdominal area, that he had indeed come.

A few minutes later, Stephen was naked, standing now only a cubit or so from Nathan. “Much better,” Nathan smiled. Stephen’s recovery time was quick. But then this was a normal thing with Nathan. What with all those gorgeous muscles staring at you, it was hard not to get hard—regardless how soon it was after your orgasm. The young man’s penis protruded upward, pointing toward Sir Nathan’s face.

Nathan looked at it, then gently took it in one hand. He moved his thumb into Stephen’s wet pubes. “Oh, did I make you do this? Did my muscles make you come?” he asked with faux innocence. He tenderly moved his hand up Stephen’s shaft and added, “…and are you all hard again… just for me?”

Daniel loved it when Nathan played coy like this. The man was just so adorable. Of course Nathan had that effect on Stephen. But seeing him play and tease like this… it was intoxicating.

Now, Sir Nathan leaned forward, and keeping his hand on Stephen’s hard boner, he kissed the young man. It was a long kiss. Nathan brought his free hand to Stephen’s face and cupped his cheek. They kissed for nearly a full minute. Nathan gently caressed Stephen’s shaft while they kissed; Daniel wondered how long it would be before Stephen’s second eruption.

Nathan broke the kiss, let his hand drop from Stephen’s shaft, then flexed his pectorals again. Right in Stephen’s face. “Sir Tanner confided in me that you’re kind of a chest man,” Nathan said. He looked down at his rippling, undulating chest, inspecting it with apparent satisfaction, then brought his eyes back to his trembling worshipper.

Stephen’s cock dribbled with new deposits of pre-cum. He stared, slack-jawed, at Sir Nathan’s taunting, inhumanly massive chest; it rippled and fluttered with mind-blowing virility and power, right in front of the squire’s face.

Nathan lifted a hand to his own chest. He placed two fingers in the deep, dark cleavage between his pectoral muscles. Tightening the gigantic globes, he slowly enveloped his digits, closing his mega pecs around them until they were completely hidden between and behind the quivering muscles. He watched himself with apparent pleasure, then lifted his eyes to Stephen. His free hand tenderly took hold of Stephen’s steel-hard cock again. He said: “I’d like to put this…” he squeezed Stephen’s shaft, “…right here,” he wriggled his buried fingers just enough so they poked out from their muscle cocoon. “Would you like that? …to put your cock between my pecs?”

Nathan relaxed his chest muscles, lowered his hand to his side, and let go of Stephen’s cock. His smile was subdued, but provocative: “Hmmm? Would you like to put your shaft between my pectorals, and let me squeeze it? Wrap my chest muscles around your hard cock? Massage your boner with them?” He smiled fully now, then continued, “I would like to bury your penis in my cleft, and flex my chest, surrounding your hard shaft, rolling and tightening my muscles. I would love to massage your quivering cock with my chest, until you come, Stephen. Would you like that? What do you think it will feel like to have me bring you to climax, just by squeezing your little organ with my chest muscles? Just by wrapping my hard, warm pecs around your cock?”

Stephen was nearly panting.

Nathan flexed his chest for the squire, slowly.

“Do you want me to jack you off, just using my chest? I doubt you’ve ever done that with Sir Tanner. He’s quite well-developed, yes. But I suspect he wouldn’t be able to completely engulf your shaft in his chest like I can. I say, we should give it a try, Stephen. You won’t know what it feels like until you try it. Hmm?”

Stephen swallowed hard, then moaned.

“I thought so,” Nathan smiled. “You can’t wait, can you. I promise, you’ll like it.” He leaned forward and kissed Stephen’s forehead lightly. He chuckled, then stood erect again. “It’s going to be so good for you, because while I’m masturbating you with my chest, I’m going to let you feel all of my muscles. All of them. Would you like that? While I jerk you off with my pecs, your hands will be able to move all over my body. You can feel anything you like. All of my muscles. They’ll all be there for you to touch. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

Still, Stephen remained silent, unable to respond.

Then, Nathan looked down at his pouch. Daniel saw it too. Nathan’s mighty tree-branch cock was growing harder, thicker and longer. Without an intervention, the thing would surely rend the silken fabric asunder. The growing organ now pulled the fabric away from Nathan’s waist so far that much of the base of the giant, thick cock was now visible. “Oh my,” Nathan said. “I need to do something about this. Good pouches are difficult to come by; heaven knows the King’s Seamstress Pool stocks only so much silk.” He began pulling the fabric down. It protested greatly, but within moments, Sir Nathan’s monumental cock sprang forth into the room. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Daniel would never get used to seeing it revealed. It immediately sprang to horizontal, and quickly moved higher. Nathan pushed the straps down around his mighty legs, and then flicked the garment toward Daniel.

Stephen looked down at the expanding shaft and the low-dangling avocado-sized testes with wide eyes and open mouth. The thing pulsed with Nathan’s heartbeats, moving higher and higher; longer and longer; thicker and thicker. Stephen stared at it, then at the entirety of Sir Nathan’s completely nude muscle body.

“Well, that was close,” Nathan smiled. “God, that feels so much better. I always feel better when I’m free to… grow.”

All three men watched as Nathan achieve full erection: nearly 15 inches of gloriously thick and muscular shaft, supported by a pair of testicles a stallion would envy. Clearly, there was no set of genitals, on any man, even close to what Sir Nathan possessed.

Once his cock was pointing at the ceiling, Nathan stretched. His arms ballooned and his entire body tightened into a delicious, muscular yawn. He relaxed, examined his beautiful genitals, then looked at the squire. “It feels so good to get everything out in the open.”

Stephen just stared, frozen with lust.

“No, really,” Nathan continued. “It feels so good. It feels really good. Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Stephen lifted his eyes to Nathan’s. They widened. Almost pleaded.

“Please,” Nathan gestured to his cock, “go ahead and touch it.”

The young squire moved a hand. It twitched, unable to set a stable course toward it’s destination. Eventually Stephen’s fingers landed on Nathan’s shaft.

Nathan smiled, encouraging the lad.

Stephen caressed the tree branch. He moved his trembling hand up it.

Nathan gave him plenty of time. “You like touching it?” he smiled.

Within moments, Stephen was squeezing it and fondling it. He moved downward to Nathan’s king-sized balls and tested their weight and hardness.

A rush of howling wind buffeted the suite’s large window while Stephen continued to move his hand on Nathan’s hardened pipe. The two men barely moved, save for the fondling caresses of Stephen’s hand.

“Oh yes,” Nathan smiled, never losing his composure. “You like fondling me, don’t you. Go ahead. I’m glad you like it.”

While Stephen caressed the large testes in one hand, he brought the other hand up to continue exploring the ridges, veins and thick hardness of the cock.

Nathan continued to talk, in soft tones: “You know what Stephen? After you are done touching me, I’d like to get back to what I was talking about before… masturbating you with my chest. Would that be okay?”

The sound of sloshing interrupted Daniel’s voyeuristic enjoyment. Suddenly, he realized where the sound was coming from. It was his own hand, on his own wet, pre-cum-drenched, stiff cock, sliding up and down. He hadn’t been aware of shedding all of his clothing, and only now did he realize he’d been masturbating while watched, and heard, Nathan taunt Stephen with the shocking prospects the knight was suggesting. Totally naked, Daniel was enjoying this show like he had rarely enjoyed any session watching Nathan with others.

Stephen’s hands trembled while Nathan spoke; his fingers and palms moved up and down the knight’s mighty shaft, slowly. They pet it. They cupped his heavy balls. Nathan’s pre-cum dribbled onto Stephen’s hand. While Nathan talked, Stephen kept one hand on the huge knight’s balls, then began to slowly stroke the immense shaft with the other.

Nathan continued with his lascivious narrative, seemingly unaffected by the young man’s manual stimulations: “I can’t wait to masturbate you, Stephen, just with my chest. What do you think my chest muscles will feel like wrapped around your hard boner? While your hands feel the rest of my muscles? Will you squirt all over my monstrous, hard pectorals as I roll them, ripple them, and tighten them around your trembling, throbbing cock? Hmmm?”

Nathan placed his hands on the young man’s square shoulders. “Come. Let’s get on the bed. It’ll be more comfortable there.”

Stephen’s hands reluctantly left the knight’s sex organ.

Nathan directed Stephen onto the gigantic bed, placing the squire in a standing position in the middle of the bed, facing the foot; the canopy above the oversized bed was high enough to allow this. Nathan then kneeled on the firm mattress, right in front of Stephen. The super-knight’s gigantic chest was now level with the squire’s achingly-hard, throbbing, dripping cock.

Daniel couldn’t stand it. He had to get a better view—a better angle. He cautiously stepped toward the bed. His hesitancy wasn’t warranted. Nathan and Stephen were deeply involved with each other. They weren’t going to be distracted.


AS SQUIRE DANIEL MOVED CLOSER to the musclesex scene unfolding before him, he saw Sir Nathan gently take Stephen by the waist, and pull him close. The resulting action brought the young man’s stiff cock to the deep, deep crevasse between the knight’s thick pecs.

Stephen’s young penis actually nearly vanished into the cleavage, even without any effort on Nathan’s part. And despite Nathan’s earlier assessment of Stephen’s cock size (“little organ”), it wasn’t small. Any young man would be proud to possess  one like Stephen’s. Nathan’s chest was so massively developed that even relaxed, his pectoral cleft was so deep and pronounced that the squire’s cock almost completely receded from view. Daniel nearly gasped. He froze in place, now in a position to more closely watch the proceedings.

Stephen moaned as his cock was enveloped. Sir Nathan began a slow dance with his pecs. He spoke softly: “Does this feel good, Stephen?” He he bulged his muscles so that they wrapped around the shaft. The young man’s low-hangers dangled beneath the cantilevered chest plates. Stephen’s cock was now totally buried in Nathan’s cleavage. Daniel could see none of it. Stephen whimpered, giving a soft yip, and then a loud, “Ohhhhhhhh.” He bucked his hips, obviously pushing himself harder against Nathan’s chest.

Nathan studied Stephen’s face while he slowly, sensually masturbated the lad with his pectorals. Occasionally Daniel saw the helmet of Stephen’s cock emerge at the top of the vertical canyon of muscle. But then Nathan would rock back, roll and tighten his pecs again, and the entirety of Stephen’s member would be once again swallowed up in a warm, hard cocoon of chest muscle.

Stephen placed his hands on Nathan’s broad shoulders to steady himself. He tilted his head back. Nathan held Stephen’s taut waist. The pec masturbation continued; both men were obviously enjoying the action. For all of the anticipation Daniel had had, regarding watching Stephen’s hands move all over Nathan’s gigantic muscles while the knight massaged with his pecs, the young man wasn’t actually moving his hands anywhere. Daniel understood. It looked as though Stephen was having a hard enough time merely standing—much less feeling all of those muscles. There would be ample time for that later, anyway.

For now, Stephen just held on for dear life, edging closer and closer to climax. His cock head popped above the cleft, then back in, out—then in.

Nathan’s mighty chest rolled and wave with stimulating movements. Occasionally Sir Nathan gritted his teeth and his entire body tightened, obviously with the effort of swallowing Stephen in his cleavage and contracting his pectorals hard around Stephen’s organ.

Stephen grew louder.

The top of Nathan’s sternum glistened with deposits of Stephen’s pre-cum.

Nathan reduced the rocking action, instead now simply tightening and relaxing his pectoral muscles around the squire’s cock. Hard, then soft. Waves of muscle wrapped Stephen’s throbbing shaft in a massage better than any hand could provide.

At an inconspicuous position next to the bed, a solitary hand flashed up and down a steel-hard, wet shaft. Daniel watched in uncontrollable lust.

Stephen’s body tightened. He began gulping air. His back arched. His teeth gritted. His fingers turned white as they tightened on Nathan’s impenetrable shoulders.

Nathan distended his pectorals totally around Stephen’s shaft and tightened. Hard. He bared his teeth. Mere millimeters of movement now coaxed Stephen into the climax of his life.

With a loud groan, and the sound of spraying fluid erupting from the slit of Stephen’s cock, a violent burst of cum splashed up from between Nathan’s pecs, jetting a rope of white jizz onto the knight’s chin. Then a second pressurized ejection. And a third. Volley after powerful, uncontrollable volley burst forth—a veritable geyser of semen inundated Sir Nathan’s chin and neck, welling into pools of white fluid, dribbling—then full-on running—down the knight’s neck, filling the void between his pecs, lathering Stephen’s cock with his own essence. With each successive ejaculation, Stephen’s vocalizations increased. Soon the room was blue with unrepeatable words.

Nathan bent his neck, lowering his face as far as he could. In this position he was able to capture the subsequent discharges of Stephen’s semen with his open mouth. He lapped it down.

When all was said and done, Stephen fell forward, unable to contain himself. His torso draped onto Nathan’s shoulder. The knight gently lifted the squire—effortlessly—and moved the young man down to a resting position. Once Stephen was on his back, panting with recuperatory breaths, Nathan enveloped him with his gigantic body, supporting himself on top of the squire with his elbows, so as not to crush the man. He kissed Stephen. And kissed him more. He began humping, rubbin his enrmous cock shaft against Stephen’s abdominal wall.

Stephen kissed back. Then Nathan raised up, pulled his ass back, grabbed Stephen’s ankles, and spread the squire’s legs. Stephen let out a loud yell, then a gasp, then another holler. Nathan began shoving his log into the man.

Daniel watched as the knight’s ass moved forward, and the super-cock penetrated Stephen’s sphincter. Stephen cried out, then screamed.

Daniel knew well the plight. He knew how bad it hurt. He knew how good it hurt.

“Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” Stephen bawled.

Nathan pushed farther in.

Stephen’s head rocked from left to right while his hands formed fists-full of bed covers. The man’s entire body was red, tight with incomprehensible pain and pleasure.

Once Nathan had moved inside as far as he could, he fell forward, covering Stephen with his huge body. He slowly began rocking his hips. He buried his face between Stephen’s cheek and shoulder. His enormous lat muscles completely covered Stephen’s smaller body. His ass muscles flexed and relaxed, tightening with unbelievable sensuality.

Nathan moved, in and out. Slowly at first, then a bit faster.

It only took a minute or so. Indeed, in a very short moment, Daniel’s semen was plopping onto Nathan’s back. Daniel had moved to the base of the bed after Nathan had penetrated. Now standing just behind Nathan’s glorious ass, his squire shot his load. Rope after hot rope of liquid worship fell onto the clam-shell, wide back.

Nathan and Daniel had become very close in their years together. Daniel knew that as soon as his knight felt the deposits of jizz on his muscular back, Nathan would be moved. Over the edge. Over the top.

Nathan lifted his head. His entire body tightened. It was as if his skin dissolved, so that all Daniel could see now—and Stephen could feel now—was pure, magnificent, hardened muscle. With one last ripple of sinew on the super-knight’s ass, Nathan steeled into solid, iron-hard muscle. He froze. Then, with a slight jerk of his body, he let out a bellow. His head dropped back to Stephen’s shoulder again and rhythmic orgasm took control of his godlike body.

Daniel’s orgasm was only renewed by this ultra-virile, manly display of supreme power. He shot blast after blast onto his demigod’s back side. His orgasm finished long before Nathan’s though. Long before. The knight seemed to go on forever.


NATHAN REMAINED INSIDE Squire Stephen for quite awhile. Indeed, the young man had been rendered unconscious from the stresses on his body—most notably in the area of his intestines, undoubtedly.

Nathan cuddled Stephen, coaxing him back to consciousness with gentle kisses and barely-audible whispers of sweetness. Eventually Stephen’s eyes fluttered open. His rosy-red cheeks glowed when he looked up at Nathan. He said nothing.

Nathan gently rolled onto his side, then his back, bringing Stephen with him. The squire now lay on top of the mountainous super-body. The two lay there, Stephen still impaled, for a very long time, while Nathan tenderly stroked Stephen’s hair.

“Shall I call for the medical practitioner?” Daniel asked. It was a familiar routine. Often there would be damage.

Stephen answered before Nathan could. His first post-coital word was an emphatic, “No!”

Both Daniel and Nathan chuckled.

“I… I want to remain like this for as long as possible,” Stephen said with a raspy voice.

Nathan chuckled again. “As long as possible? Son, you have to know I can remain hard indefinitely. Do you know what you’re saying?”

Stephen smiled. “Well, I guess I can’t remain in your bed forever, Sir Nathan. But please… just awhile longer?”


CREWS HAMMERED AND POUNDED on the temporary platform in the middle of the Castle Square. The Challenge was only two days away, and Joyous Gard was reacing a fever-pitch of anticipation. The oddsmakers gave a slight advantage to Sir Casey, but as the day drew closer and the reason for the rematch became more widely known, that gap was narrowing. By the day of the Challenge, it would be almost even money.

But that didn’t dissuade the people from laying down their hard-earned cash in hopes of a win. Loyalties were fierce, and more than one fight had broken out between clashing groups.

Neither Sir Casey nor Sir Nathan had been seen lately, and no one expected them to make an appearance before Saturday’s Challenge. [No really, 'smore story cummin'....]


[There will be more. Promise.]




[Supporters for Sir Nathan's coat of arms by the artist "Matt." Isn't his stuff dreamy?]

© 2018 Sean Reid Scott

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