Brett's Hercules - 1. The accidental time traveler

Brett Wilkinson, a titan of the bodybuilding world, known for his sculpted physique, handsome good looks and unwavering determination, was not a man accustomed to defeat. Yet, here he was, bound and gagged, his once-pristine physique covered in dust and grime, crammed into a filthy wagon, rattling along a dusty Greek road.

It all began with a freak accident. During a photo shoot for a fitness magazine, a strange energy surge swept through the studio, throwing him into a dizzying vortex of light and sound. When he regained his senses, he found himself in a world vastly different from his own. Gone were the gleaming skyscrapers, the whirring machines, and the cacophony of modern life. In their place stood ancient temples, sun-baked fields, and a sky filled with an abundance of stars he had never seen before.

He soon discovered he was in the wilderness of Ancient Greece, a world of gods and heroes, where physical strength mattered most. His impressive physique, honed to perfection through years of rigorous training, became both a blessing and a curse. His imposing stature, the rippling muscles, the sheer physical power he exuded, made him an irresistible target for a passing slave trader. He was captured, bound, and thrown into a wagon with other unfortunate souls, their faces etched with fear and despair.

The slave trader, a wiry man with a cruel glint in his eyes, saw a gold mine in Brett. He envisioned him fetching a hefty sum in the bustling slave market. The thought of a towering, muscular barbarian, a "Titan" as the trader envisioned him, serving as a gladiator or a personal bodyguard, filled him with glee.

As the wagon rumbled forward, Brett's mind raced. He knew he had to escape. He had to find a way back to his own time. But how? He was a fish out of water, a modern man in an ancient world, with no knowledge of their customs and their ways. The journey was arduous. The sun beat down mercilessly, the dust choked him, and the constant jostling of the wagon made his already aching muscles scream in protest. Brett, despite his strength, felt a growing sense of dread. From the other captives, he knew he was being taken to the slave market, a brutal place where men were treated as mere commodities, their worth judged solely on their physical attributes.

They arrived at the bustling marketplace, a cacophony of noise, smells, and desperate cries. The air hung heavy with the stench of sweat, fear, and desperation. Brett was herded into a makeshift pen with other slaves, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and fear. The slave trader, a man who reveled in the misery of others, approached Brett with a cruel smile. "Well, well, look at this specimen," he sneered, gesturing to Brett's imposing physique. "A real Titan, eh? A brute of a man. He'll fetch a good price, I'm sure.". He then ordered Brett to strip naked, his voice dripping with malice. Brett, his pride wounded, felt a surge of anger. But surrounded by the slave trader’s armed henchmen, he had no choice but to comply. He had never been treated with such disrespect, never been forced to expose himself in such a humiliating manner. He wanted to resist, to lash out, but he knew it was futile. He was a prisoner, a commodity, and he had no choice but to obey.

As he stood naked on the auction platform before the crowd, his muscles rippling under the harsh glare of the sun, a wave of shame washed over him. His wrists and ankles bound in chains, it was a totally different scene from the bodybuilding competition stages where he met with cheers and admiration from fans. He was a champion, a man of power, and yet he was now reduced to a mere object, an item to be bought and sold. The crowd, a mix of merchants, nobles, and soldiers, gaped at him. Some whispered, some chuckled, some openly admired his physique while some had eyes fixated on his manhood. The slave trader, his eyes gleaming with avarice, began his spiel, extolling Brett's strength, his resilience, his potential as a gladiator or a bodyguard.

Brett, his gaze fixed on the ground, felt a cold dread creep into his heart. He knew he was in danger. He knew he was about to be sold, to be owned by someone, to be used for their own purposes. Just as the bidding was about to begin, a figure emerged from the crowd. A tall, imposing man, clad in fine silks, his face hidden in the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. He approached the pen, his eyes fixed on Brett.

"I'll take him," the man said, his voice deep and resonant. He didn't even bother to inspect the other slaves. His gaze was solely on Brett. The slave trader, his eyes widening with surprise, quickly accepted the offer. The man, without a word, paid the price in gold coins, a hefty sum that left the trader grinning ear to ear. Brett, still naked, was led away by the mysterious man and his servants. He had no idea who his new owner was, what his fate would be, but he felt a strange sense of relief. He had been bought, but he was not going to be thrown into the gladiatorial arena. He was not going to be forced to fight for his life.

As they walked away from the bustling marketplace, Brett tried to catch a glimpse of his new owner's face, but the man kept his head bowed, his identity shrouded in mystery. He had been bought, but by whom? And what awaited him in the shadows of this ancient world? Brett's new owner led him through the bustling streets of Athens, past marble temples and bustling markets, towards a grand palace that seemed to rise from the very heart of the city. He was ushered through a series of opulent chambers lined with guards, each more lavish than the last. Finally, they reached a grand hall, where a feast was in full swing. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wines, and exotic perfumes. The tables were laden with delicacies, and the guests, dressed in fine silks and jewels, were engaged in lively conversation.

At the head of the table sat a man of imposing stature, his face etched with lines of power and wisdom. As Brett’s new owner took off his hat and bowed, presenting Brett as the precious found at the slave market, his fate became clearer as he was being offered to King Leonidas, the ruler of the city. Brett, still naked and chained, stood awkwardly before the king, his gaze drawn to the magnificent scene before him. This was a world far removed from the gleaming gyms and competitive stages he was accustomed to. This was a world of gods and heroes, of epic battles and legendary feats.

King Leonidas, his eyes twinkling with amusement, turned to a tower of a man who stood beside him, his face radiating with the strength of a thousand men. "Hercules," the king continued, "you have saved my kingdom, you have defeated my enemies, you have earned my eternal gratitude. What is your wish?"

Hercules, his gaze fixed on Brett, felt a strange sensation surge through him. He had seen many men in his time, men of strength and courage, but none like this. Brett's physique, sculpted to perfection, matched his own in its sheer power and beauty. His blue eyes and handsome face were mesmerizing. It was as if he was looking at a younger reflection of himself, a mirror image of his own strength and prowess.

"I want him," Hercules said, his voice echoing through the hall. He pointed to Brett, his gaze unwavering. "I want this man. He is a worthy adversary, a worthy companion. I want to test my strength against his, to see if there is a man in this world who can match my own."

The king, surprised by Hercules' request, chuckled. "Very well," he said. "He is yours."

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