Pankration - match 5: Karma (written by Harry)

This is a new part of Harry's epic series Pankration that is set in Ancient Greece. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did!

Previous parts:
Pankration
Match 1: Tallus vs. Amun 
Match 2: Nico vs. Pollux
Match 3: Lysander vs. Ali
Match 4: Theaetetus vs. Amun

Warning: Can contain traces of cum.

Clunk.
Clunk.
Clunk.

Theo walked aimlessly along the shady colonnade of the Princes’ Palace. The stormy weather of the previous day had given way to a clear and quiet morning. Theo’s tempestuous mood from yesterday had likewise mellowed, and the Athenian was feeling reflective. Had he been too tough on the Amun during their match? Why had he been so jealous of the Egyptian prince in the first place? And why did everyone seem to think their sexy fight had been so boring? Theo closed his soft brown eyes and tried to clear his head, but the image of Amun’s defiant, muddy face persisted. “Snobby jerk prince,” he muttered, then continued on toward the athletic grounds.

Clunk.
Clunk.

The rhythmic thud of stone against stone clunked distantly. The sound made Theo curious, because maintenance was rare here in the remote and largely overlooked corner of the palace that was the de facto headquarters of the Lost Princes.

Entering the courtyard, Theo’s mood brightened upon finding his best friend. The Theban Prince Nicomachus stood in the center of the wide athletic grounds. He was throwing stones against a far wall. His broad shoulders gleamed with sweat and sunshine, and periodically the muscles of his lats and traps flexed as he released another stone, which was doomed to smash against the columns at the far end of the sandy expanse. Nico was a spectacular athlete, so very few of the stones missed their mark.

Clunk.

Theo waved, but Nico ignored him. The Athenian teen winced. Theo had expected his friend to be in a poor mood, and he silently cursed himself for not being able to hold his wine. Last night Theo had become tipsy when celebrating his hard fought victory over Amun. While talking too much and too loudly, he’d divulged his suspicion that the twins Castor and Pollux had secretly switched places during a match when Pollux defeated Nico. Nico had become instantly furious. Theo had tried to backpedal and explain that it was just his unverified hypothesis, but Nico didn’t hear him. Theo admired the Theban prince’s many fine qualities, but nuance was not among them.

Theo approached and cleared his throat, but Nico did not turn around. The prince’s sweat-soaked toga sagged below his firm hips. As his arm extended to fling another stone, the toga slipped down a tiny bit farther, and the top of Nico’s monumental buttocks came into view. Whatever he had been planning to say vanished from Theo’s mind. 

“So…umm…hmm. Wait! Does that stone have writing on it?” Suddenly Theo realized that Nico’s throwing game was more than it appeared: He was destroying the stones that were etched with the names of the Pankration competitors. Since drawing names was their official entrance into the competition, it seemed that Nico had decided to end the competition prematurely.

Theo’s heart sank. The prince flashed him a quick, sympathetic look.

“Yep, sorry,” Nico answered serenely before sending another stone to crash against the farthest column. Clunk. He reached down into the large urn, withdrew another stone, and wound up to throw it. Theo grabbed it out of Nico’s hand, and hid it behind his back. The sweaty blonde turned toward him expectantly. Theo gulped. Nico was seldom angry, but he never looked more royal than when his hazel eyes turned fiery.

“Nico, don’t wreck the Pankration,” Theo pleaded. 

“Why?” The prince’s voice was neutral. He was not swayed.

“Because…because it’s the most fun the Princes have had all summer!” Theo gushed. Unconvinced, Nico drew another etched stone from the urn and flung it against the far wall without breaking eye contact.

Theo tried to consider from his friend’s perspective. Nico had put on a carefree face about his recent loss, but having his nads juiced in front of all his friends clearly still stung his pride. Theo guessed wildly, “Because…if you wreck the Pankration, then you can’t have a rematch against Pollux?” he asked.

Nico’s serious face dissolved into his familiar cheerful grin. “My thought exactly,” he said. Reaching into the urn, he pulled out the only three remaining stones:

Nicomachus
Castor
Pollux

“Well,” he said, clapping Theo forcefully on the back and pressing the three stones into his hand, “You’re in charge. When do you want to draw the names for today’s match?” With a wink and a flash of white teeth, Nico hiked his toga back up over his hips and jogged off.

Theo looked at the remaining names in his right hand. All three were studs. Trained warriors who lived for the thrill of competition. In his left hand was one more name, rescued when Theo pulled it from Nico’s hand in the last moment, and forgotten by both of them until now. 

“Oh man,” he said aloud to the empty courtyard. “This might get weird.”

***************************

Hailing from all corners of the Mediterranean world, the Lost Princes of Thebes were fine friends and fierce rivals who loved to compete in every manner of game. The pinnacle of their sporting competition was the Pankration: a submission fight governed by few rules, and set by picking names from a great urn. The daily drawing was a big deal. Unsurprisingly, squawks of outrage and disbelief filled the Princes’ Palace that afternoon when Theo flipped over the nearly empty urn. Four stones inscribed with competitors’ names tumbled out onto the sandy courtyard floor.

Certain that a mistake had been made, the wild Gaul warrior Tallus pushed his head all the way inside the urn to make sure. He failed to find any more names, but he did find that the urn was difficult to remove from around his muscular neck. He staggered around the courtyard with his head stuck inside, giving a muffled yelp for assistance.  

Amid the general clamor, Theo caught Nico’s eye. Nico himself was the spirit of the Lost Princes—brawny and combative, gregarious and hospitable, a friend to all. But today he had a score to settle. Even though he was surprised to see four stones instead of three, he did the math for Theo by holding up his fingers. Three on one! he mouthed silently and slapped his chest to show his approval of his odds. His smile was as broad and confident as the open sky above them.

“Oh man,” Theo gulped quietly. As the architect of the Pankration, Theo was also the default referee (his side hustle as bookmaker for the competition notwithstanding). Gathering the stones, he proceeded to set the day’s match, deftly brushing aside questions about what had happened to all the other contestants’ names. Surprising even his best friend, Theo declared the first ever two versus two Pankration combat. The exciting prospect of double action was enough to quiet any dissent about the rigged draw.

Naturally the twin brothers Castor and Pollux were paired together. When Nico was announced as their opponent, the assembled Princes cheered their approval. Not only was Nico an admired and top-rank competitor, but the other Princes knew that he would be itching to avenge his humbling defeat to Pollux several days earlier. They anticipated an explosive contest. Adding fuel to the combustible matchup, Theo announced that the Pankration would begin as soon as he located Nico’s partner. He pocketed the fourth name and began searching through the crowd.

The twins Castor and Pollux didn’t wait to discover their opponent; they just jogged with languid grace to the center of the courtyard and began to limber up. The twins were inseparable, and they didn’t care who they fought. Nomadic hunters from far away Arcadia, they were constant companions who could communicate almost entirely without speaking. Their self-enclosed reticence won them few close friends among the Lost Princes, but their prowess in athletics and enthusiasm for feasting earned them some admirers. It didn’t hurt their popularity that the twins were astonishingly attractive to men and women alike. They were tall and well-proportioned, and their creamy skin rippled with smooth muscles. Their straight, platinum blonde hair was decorated with exotic feathers and fell in waves over their brows. Both teens wore simple leather bands around their biceps and soft grey loin cloths made of animal hides. Most of the spectators had no idea what they were packing under those loin cloths, but they all assumed it was spectacular. The brothers regarded the crowd cooly, indifferent to the eyes that roamed over their bodies.  

Next the Theban prince Nicomachus jogged into the courtyard to loud cheers from all sides. The hometown stud was well liked, and his cheerful and genuine demeanor earned him friendships not bounded by cliques. He waved to his many friends and pumped his fists in the air to show his readiness for the fight. Years of training under the scorching Mediterranean sun had burnished his skin to a bright gold and strewn freckles around his eyes and across his shoulders. His adorable freckles alone drew long sighs from Nico’s many admirers. In traditional Greek fashion he lightly oiled his skin in preparation for combat and tucked his toga into the cord around his waist. A simple olive laurel tangled in his blonde curls was his only ornament.

As the three fighters prepared for their match, Theo sought out his usual seat on the edge of the sandy courtyard. He customarily shared the spot with his best friend Nico, but today he would enjoy the action solo. Or so he thought. No sooner had he reclined on the soft sand than a raspy voice intruded on his blissful solitude.

“Hey Theo! Hey, is it ok if I watch with you today?” Theo did not respond, but that didn’t matter. “I mean, I know you and Nico usually watch the matches together together, but since he’s fighting, I figured that maybe…” With or without Theo’s approval, the new arrival plopped down next to him anyway.

Theo scowled at the young Spartan Lysander. The boy smiled back awkwardly, hoping to appear cool and mature. His goofy grin made his Adam’s apple stand out on his skinny neck.

Lysander looked at the older Athenian teen sidelong. “So,” he began, overly casually, “who do you think is fighting with Nico today?”

Theo tried not to laugh. Lysander was just too obvious. Theo had kept the name of the fourth combatant to himself, so he was fully aware of the curious speculation that twittered through the crowd.

Theo generously offered Lysander part of the truth. “Actually, I couldn’t find him. But I left his stone on top of the urn where he would see it,” he explained, nodding in the direction of the urn.

Lysander’s grey eyes narrowed as he considered for a moment, then he bolted upright. “You mean, maybe it’s me? Should I go look for it?” he asked earnestly.

Theo shrugged noncommittally. Lysander was gone in a flash, and Theo chuckled and settled back into his seat. Now he would be able to watch the fight in peace! Scanning the courtyard, Theo was alarmed to find Nico staring at him expectantly. Castor and Pollux were stalking slowly around the perimeter, but their dark blue eyes darted to Theo also. Clearly all three of them were eager to get their match started, but Theo had failed to produce the fourth competitor.

The brunette smiled wanly at them and climbed back to his feet. He could not let Nico fight two against one, but the crowd was getting restless. He ground his teeth in exasperation. Where was Nico’s partner? Like a true Athenian, Theo figured he could buy some time by making a speech. But just as he stepped forward and cleared his throat, Nico’s deep baritone silenced the crowd.

“I know this is awkward,” the prince said, chuckling and swiveling left and right to where the twins circled menacingly. “And I’m sure you get this all the time…” The brothers stopped and listened to Nico curiously.

“But I honestly can’t tell you two apart.” Nico paused before delivering the punchline: “Which one of you is named Io?” Some of the rowdier audience member snorted and hooted.

The twins briefly tilted their heads, perplexed by the question. When they realized that Nico was taunting them, they resumed slowly circling.

Nico continued in a challenging tone. “Hmm. You both look fairly cow-like. But which one of you prefers getting stung on the ass?” He tapped his chin with his index finger. The brothers scowled darkly; they were no accustomed to being insulted.

“No volunteers?” Nico demanded, slapping his own prodigious glutes. He flashed a grin at the audience, who appreciated the trash talk even if not all of them understood what Nico was referencing. But by now Nico was done waiting. He turned his head sharply to the left and pointed at one twin. His voice dropped and sounded menacing. “It’s you,” he decided. Castor froze and swallowed dryly. Whether it was just a lucky guess or whether Nico had noticed some identifying tell, Castor was the twin who had secretly interfered with Nico’s previous match and cost him the victory.

Hostility broke over the courtyard like a wave. Although ten paces separated Nico and Castor, the prince closed the distance in just three bounds, crushing Castor against the colonnade wall before tossing him over his hip back toward the center of the courtyard.

Evidently Nico did not plan to wait for the arrival of his teammate. Theo still stood awkwardly on the edge of the melee. No speech in the world would stop the fight now, and he hoped desperately that Nico could hold his own. Scanning the colonnade once more, he dropped back into his seat.

To the delight of the hometown prince’s many friends, Nico more than held his own as the combat heated up. The brawny blonde darted between his twin opponents with unbelievable speed. Moreover, he showed the full range of his martial prowess—striking, dodging, grappling, and defending seamlessly. He landed an elbow strike deep into Pollux’s guts, ducking immediately as Castor attempted hold from behind and flipping the stealthy hunter over his shoulder and dumping him onto the ground.

Theo was entranced by the performance. With so many strikes, grunts, sweat, muscles, and testosterone in one place, the Athenian twink’s senses were overloaded. Just then a calloused hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him out of his reverie.

“What did I miss?” Theo seemed unable to escape Lysander’s raspy voice. The Spartan’s eyes were glued to the action, but that didn’t stop him from talking incessantly. “I looked for the stone with Nico’s partner’s name.”

Jab. Cross. Hook to the ribs.

“It wasn’t there. Are you sure you put it back on the urn?”

Back flip. Knee strike.

“Because if I accidentally missed the stone with my name, then I should really get in there…”

Lysander sputtered hoarsely on his words and looked down between his bare legs with wide eyes. Theo never took his eyes off the match in front of him, but his left hand was clenched around the bulge in the Spartan teen’s fundoshi. Lysander froze. His eyes watered as his fragile eggs were callously cracked in Theo’s grip.

“Theo, you’re hurting my…umm…” he whispered.

Headlock. Hip-over.  

“Lysander,” Theo said slowly. “You are not Nico’s partner.” The boy nodded rapidly his agreement with each pulse of his throbbing nads. “So let’s just watch the match. Quietly. Please.” He underscored each word with squeezes that made Lysander moan dully.

As soon as he was released, Lysander cupped his tender bits protectively and gulped air. Massaging away the numbing pain in his crotch, the younger teen pouted silently for a moment. Then something occurred to him.

“So, that means you want me to watch with you? Man, that is so cool! For a second I thought maybe you wanted to watch all by yourself. But that would be lonely, right?” Wrapping his arm around the bewildered Athenian, Lysander settled in to enjoy the match with one hand still buried between his legs. Theo rolled his eyes but determined to do the same.

***********************

In the center of the courtyard, Nico’s senses and performance were at their peak. Even as he tracked Pollux prowling just outside his field of vision, he could feel the grains of hot sand scratching between his toes. Even as his palm chopped across Castor’s pecs, he detected the echo of the stinging blow from the stone colonnade. Nico had trained his body every day and become a transcendent athlete. But he never felt more fully alive than when he put his whole, uninhibited strength against a worthy opponent. Today he was lucky enough to have two of them. 

Crack.

The back of Nico’s hand slapped against Pollux’s meaty chest, before switching back to punish his brother.

Crack. Crack.

The Arcadian teens’ muscular pecs bounced painfully as Nico’s swift strikes left them unprepared to block or even flex. Their fair skin was stained an angry red as Nico’s chops and elbows pounded their abs, ribs, and obliques. A flurry of uppercuts to his V shaped lower abs made Pollux stagger to one knee. Pivoting to his other side, Nico didn’t even look before throwing a cross into the center of Castor’s chest, driving into the cavity below his pecs and just above his steely abs. The warrior’s breath was pummeled out of him, and he collapsed, gasping.

With the twins were reeling, Nico was able to slow down and show off his mastery of wrestling. Greek style wrestling is equal parts power, agility, and daring, and a skilled practitioner like Nico could make a beatdown look like an elegant dance. Toss after carry after suplex left the fair haired brothers drowning in the dust of the courtyard floor. Feeling their sturdy muscles give up resistance, Nico was ready to use his signature move: a brutal bearhug that would force the twins into submission.

The prince paused to enjoy his dominant performance and grinned at his friends watching from under the colonnade. His exertions caused his sweat to mingle with the body oil, so his muscular shoulders and arms shone under the bright sun. His damp toga rode low on his hips and clung to his impressive glutes. The fabric was translucent where it touched his skin. His battered opponents lay at his feet, their advantage in numbers not seeming so significant anymore.

“Hey, Theo? Are you alright?” Lysander whispered. His voice sounded worried. “You keep panting, and your face looks really red. Do you need some…”

“I’m fine!” Theo’s retort was a bit too loud, and heads turned toward him from around the hushed arena. Even Nico stopped fighting and squinted in Theo’s direction. The Athenian twink bit his lip and composed himself, giving his handsome friend a supportive wave. More quietly, he muttered, “I’m fine, Lysander.” And after another grudging second, “Thank you though.” The Spartan boy grinned; Theo was being unusually nice to him today.

Unfortunately, in battle the slightest distraction can have disastrous consequences, as Nico was about to discover. Still face down in the sand, one of the twins gripped Nico’s left ankle, attempting to pull himself back to his feet and back into contention. On Nico’s other side, his brother had regained his footing and was shaking the sand from his silver hair. By time Nico looked back to his left, the first brother was gone. He swiveled quickly back to his right, only to find that the other twin had vanished as well. Directly behind him, a tongue clicked mockingly.

Sharp, rapid blows to his back made Nico yelp in pain. One of the blows landed on his right kidney, temporarily paralyzing the Greek prince. Gritting his teeth and swinging around, Nico again found that his attacker had vanished. He barely registered movement in his peripheral before twin fists buried themselves in his ribs from either side. Whether he lashed out toward the left or the right, Nico was exposed on his other side. Jabs to his obliques and powerful uppercuts to his six pack abs softened up the fierce warrior, and his midsection was tattooed with welts and bruises. Gradually his offense slowed to the point of being perfunctory, and his defense was sadly porous against the double-teamed attack.

Castor and Pollux circled their prey cautiously but with growing confidence. How Nico was standing was unimaginable to them. Their flawless teamwork had destroyed several legendary warriors up to now, but this Greek teen remained on his feet, though beaten and disoriented.

The brothers silently agreed to toy with their victim before putting him down. Not because they didn’t admire Nico, because they did. Not as a demonstration of their skill, because they didn’t care what any spectators thought. But purely for the thrill of dominance. For the hunter’s thrill of bringing low something that had been great and strong.

Castor squared up in front of Nico, just out of striking distance. Under his sweat-dampened silver hair, his dark blue eyes glinted dangerously. The blonde Greek swayed on his feet but put up his fists anyway. A tug from behind made his sheer linen toga fall over his feet, leaving the prince fully nude. He swirled around stepping over the garment to avoid getting tangled up. He found Pollux wearing an identical look as his brother. Pollux raised one perfect eyebrow just before his brother’s foot lashed up between Nico’s legs from behind, smashing the brave warrior’s nuts upward into his pelvis. Nico’s bright hazel eyes shot wide open in horror, and he slowly turned around to block any further attacks from behind.

Castor mouthed “Oops” and looked at Nico with pity, goading him to put up his fists. No sooner did Nico fall gingerly into a fighting stance than Pollux dropped to one knee behind him and threw a devastating uppercut into the teen’s defenseless nads.

The Greek prince was a stud in every sense, and his testicles hung low and ripe in their smooth sac. The unapologetic blow rocketed Nico’s ripe fruit forward, causing his fat dick to slap audibly against his abs. Nico made a strangled sound in his throat and his eyes slowly crossed. By their own volition, his knees sagged and his hands moved toward his crotch to protect his looted treasure. But Pollux got there first. Again his fist exploded into Nico’s genitals, and his ample junk bounced around almost comically.

Nico moaned freely now in a husky voice. “Oh god, my n…”

“…nuuuuuuts,” Theo echoed sadly from the sideline. “Dirty cheaters!” he yelled. “Leave his balls alone!” Watching his best friend’s beautiful manhood getting trashed was an unwelcome feeling of deja vu.

Theo’s plea did not change Pollux’s mind, of course. His third punch from below pummeled Nico’s sac at the same moment as a clothesline from Castor. With his upper body rocked backwards and his testicles ricocheting forward, Nico’s feet were lifted fully off the ground. The audience watched in stunned silence as the prince’s body flipped backward in a full rotation before he crashed into the sandy arena floor.

Nico lay unmoving as the dust slowly settled around him. The only indication that he was still conscious was a rhythmic tick in his neck. Possibly from whiplash. His muscular limbs were sprawled in exhaustion and his smooth golden skin was a mosaic of glistening swat and nasty bruises. For the second time a matter of days, the prince had been publicly stripped and had his masculinity pulverized. He was naked apart from the olive laurel that adorned his curly hair.

Castor and Pollux approached silently from opposite sides, remaining wary even with their prey incapacitated. Pollux nudged Nico’s side. The downed boy did not stir, but his breath was slow and steady, as if he had passed out. The hunters’ mirrored eyes met for a matter of seconds; they never looked more rapacious than at this moment. Watching closely, Theo tried in vain to pick out their intent, but they were inscrutable as usual. He bit his lower lip, assuming the worst.

Flanking either side, the twins turned the Greek prince onto his back and each grabbed one of his ankles, so that his legs were spread in a V shape. All eyes in the Princes’ Palace settled automatically between Nico’s legs. His exceptionally low-hanging balls sagged toward the sandy floor, and his proud cock—magnificent even when flaccid—lay casually against his lower abdomen. The whites of Nico’s eyes were wild as he stared down over his own heaving chest toward his most precious parts, every bit of him exposed to the audience and to his rivals.

In synch Castor and Pollux wrenched his trunk-like legs apart, stretching his muscular groin and hamstrings to their limit and beyond, with no more effort than it would take to pop a wishbone. Nico screamed and bolted upright in anguish, clasping the insides of his legs. His groin muscles screamed white hot.

A second time they picked up Nico by the ankles. Moving as if in a choreographed dance rather than a battle, the twins leapt and raised their opposite fists into a wide arc. As they reached the apex of their jump, the brothers’ mirrored fists plummeted down into Nico’s crotch. Their respective fists thundered into Nico’s defenseless nads at exactly the same moment, crushing his testicles into the sand. With a strangled yelp he tried to sit up, but the pain shooting through his legs and stomach forced him back down again.

Theo could barely watch. His optimistic friend had been so eager to avenge his previous loss, and now he was suffering worse than ever. Seated next to Theo, even Lysander grimaced in empathy. Or maybe it wasn’t empathy exactly?

“Gosh! That’s got to hurt! Theo, do you think that punch broke Nico’s privates? Sure looked like it.” The Spartan teen paused, thinking seriously about the potential outcome. He conjectured aloud: “So, what if Nico’s balls really were squashed to mush? Do you think he would still be a boy after the match? Can you be a prince if there’s only mush in your sac?” Lysander waited for Theo to provide an answer, but the brunette’s attention was still glued to the horrifying spectacle in courtyard. 

Relishing their show of dominance and their opponent’s pitiful condition, the twins seized Nico’s ankles a third time and held them in a wide V. Again they rose gracefully into the air and slashed down. This time Castor went low and nailed the very root of Nico’s juicy cock, and Pollux’s palm cracked across his sensitive dick head. Nico’s gaping mouth screamed soundlessly. The devastating attack on every inch of his manhood left him on the border of consciousness.

Believing that their victory was now guaranteed, the brothers set the beaten teen up for submission. Since they had milked victory out of him in their previous battle, they would demand verbal submission this time. Nico remained facedown in the dust, in too much pain even to clutch his battered nuts. His testicles were swollen and dragged awkwardly behind him.

Castor and Pollux positioned themselves on either side and dropped one knee each into Nico’s lower back. Squatting low and grabbing one arm each, they pulled their opponent’s shoulders and upper body upward while bearing down on his back. Each of Nico’s arms was hung over the brothers’ spread knees so that he was locked in a double Camel Clutch. His curly head sagged and rolled on his neck as his shoulders were wrenched back. The unnatural curve of his back looked like his body was at the breaking point.

Murmurs passed through the crowd. Nobody had ever seen a submission hold like this before, so they were impressed by they twins’ teamwork and tactics. But they disliked seeing their charismatic prince in agony, and many in the audience scowled and shook their heads at the unfair double teaming. Pollux grabbed Nico by the hair and pulled his head back, waiting to hear his submission. Although shrouded in torment, the prince’s hazel eyes burned with defiance and fury. He shook his head once. Theo and several others cheered their resilient champion but worried about his prospects.

Lysander did not share Theo’s worries over Nico’s well being. “Man what a move! He’s bent almost in a circle!” he effused. “What would you call that move, Theo? Do you think his feet can touch the back of his head?”

Theo had tried to be patient with the young Lost Prince seated next to him, but he’d had enough. How could anyone watch Nico get beat down and degraded and continue to chatter so blithely? He spun on Lysander with a look of rage, fully prepared to rip his tongue out if necessary.

Lysander blinked up at Theo in alarm. His mouth was full of a snack he had somehow produced, even though his fundoshi had no pockets. The teenager’s wide grey eyes showed no malice, just enthusiasm and adrenaline. As if the brutal fight was just the most ordinary way to spend a pretty afternoon. Theo shook his head in disbelief, vowing never to visit Sparta if he could avoid it.

Lysander was attempting to knot a small feather into the hair over his ear. The feather was shabby and probably belonged very recently to a pigeon. Moreover the Spartan’s black hair was cut quite short and resisted the ornamentation.

“What is that?” Theo demanded, his eyes fixing on the feather.

“Oh!” By his tone Lysander was clearly pleased that the older teen had noticed his accessory. “Cool right? I found it earlier when I was looking for the missing stone.” He smiled brightly and showed off his new look—until the feather fell of his head when a mild breeze passed. Turning back to the fight, he carefully studied his idols Castor and Pollux, concentrating to see how they managed to tie the exotic feathers in their silvery locks. Meanwhile his rough hands fidgeted with his own small feather. 

The Spartan babbled on, but Theo was no longer listening. His eyes were fixed on Castor and Pollux, and he’d noticed the twins’ faces subtly change from cool confidence to distant. Their deep blue eyes seemed focused elsewhere than what was in front of them. Pollux’s eye twitched, which was about as emotive as either brother ever got. Something was wrong. Then, just beyond Nico’s listless, adorable head, Theo spotted a flash of scarlet.

“Lysander, shut up,” Theo said with happy relief. “Nico’s partner is finally here.”

The scolded Spartan looked up with interest, but he saw nothing. “Where? Where?” he asked, tugging on Theo’s toga. 

Hidden behind the Theban prince’s arched back, and between the low squat of Castor and Pollux applying the Double Camel Clutch, nobody besides Theo was aware of the presence of the fourth competitor.

Or so it seemed. In fact Castor and Pollux had just become very much aware.  So far their reaction did not give anything away, but the famous hunters were inwardly furious with themselves for being lackadaisical. Customarily they were keen about their surroundings, but the adrenaline rush of destroying the Theban prince had made them overlook the presence of the fourth fighter—until they had become his prey. From just behind them, their opponent’s soft, musical voice chimed:

“Two against one? Hmm. You are naughty guests of the Prince. Perhaps I can play also?” 

Before long others in the audience had observed the heavy pink flush that had crept into the brothers’ creamy white cheeks and necks. In fact they were starting to look rather sick. Finally Pollux cursed aloud and let go of his hold on Nico. Castor followed right after and the prince was dropped back into the dust, nothing visible but a tangle of blonde curls and a lopsided olive laurel.

As Nico fell the Persian acrobat Ali was revealed behind him, grinning at the dumbfounded crowd. He rose nimbly to his feet and attempted to bow in appreciation for their sudden cheering. As Ali stood, Castor and Pollux jumped to their feet just as quickly. And, strangely, when Ali bowed, the twins seemed to double over at the waist, pitching forward and rising onto their toes as if the sand had started to burn their bare feet. The crowd cheered exuberantly. Several of the Lost Princes were furious at the twins for bullying their friend, and they were relieved that the numerical advantage had been neutralized.

Lysander was incredulous, not understanding why the fearsome hunters did not attack. Theo soon noticed what was going on behind the scenes and burst out laughing. Joyfully he elbowed Lysander. “Look closely, young Spartan. Understand, you will.”

Lysander scrunched up his face for a minute, then his eyes lit up with realization. “Woah,” was all he was able to say.

Wrapped around Ali’s outspread hands, two thin cords trailed out toward the midsections of Castor and Pollux, disappearing somewhere behind and below their soft grey loin cloths. The cords appeared taut, indicating that they were tightly afixed to something underneath. Even an innocent teen like Lysander did not have to wonder where on the twins’ anatomy those cords terminated. Suddenly it made sense that when Ali stood, the twins stood. And when Ali bowed, the twins bowed. How the merry trickster had managed to tie cords around their bulging scrotums without being caught was a mystery, but regardless the brothers were now in a very sensitive predicament. Their eyes appeared distant, since their attention—understandably—was on the tight cords that bound their testicles to their adversary's hands.

Amid the noise and dust, despite the adrenaline and testosterone, Ali remained a consummate showman. He skipped forward and his unwilling entourage scampered forward too, like groupies unwilling to be left behind. Ali paused, awaiting instruction.

“Strip them!” came a voice from the crowd, followed by hoots of approval. Ali raised his eyebrows, feigning reluctance. But the with an almost imperceptible snap of his left wrist, Ali made the cord crack across Pollux’s ass cheek. As the hunter jumped in pained surprise, Ali hooked a thumb inside the band of his soft, animal skin loin cloth. The result was that Pollux effectively jumped right out of his clothes. Now exposed to the crowd, Pollux flushed in embarrassment and clasped his nudity in his hands.

On Ali’s right side, Castor had twisted away as far as his leash would allow, unwilling to succumb to the same trick. Ali frowned disapprovingly, but his hands were full of the cords, so his options were limited. Tilting toward Castor on one foot, the resourceful Persian stealthily bit into the band of his loin cloth. Just a quick chomp and yank later, Castor was as buck naked as his brother, and his loin cloth hung from Ali’s mouth. The diminutive fighter grinned so broadly that his prize quickly fell to the courtyard floor.

Ali’s purple eyes sparkled behind his shaggy bangs. He acknowledged that the rules of Pankration allowed the twins to double team their opponent. Even to pound his nads if that’s what it took to submit him. But like the rest of the Lost Princes, Ali felt that their behavior was unsportsmanlike and not worthy of a fierce competition between rivals. And judging by the other Princes’ reaction—and Ali never judged a crowed incorrectly—they felt that some revenge was in order.

“Drop your hands.”

Castor and Pollux ignored the command and obstinately cupped their junk. Nudity was not a source of shame to them per se, but to be paraded in front of a crowd was demeaning nevertheless. A steely snap of their cords made the brothers reconsider their pride, and they grudgingly dropped their hands to their sides. The crowd of young men hooted a mix of derision and appreciation as the twins’ full glory was revealed. Their long, smooth cocks draped limply toward their opposite legs, their skin as clean and white as the rest of their bodies. Their hoods were mostly drawn back, revealing soft pink mushroom heads. Below their perfect cocks, twin sets of testicles bulged fat and bright red. Ali’s knotted cord looped around the base of their sacs, pushing their sensitive organs tight. Whether from shame or from the blistering Greek sun, both brothers were sweating profusely. The perspiration trickled down the grooves of their abs in rivulets, glistening over their waggling dicks and down their muscular quads. Dripped softly into the warm, dry sand.

While the audience soaked up views of the beautiful, bound hunters, Nico gathered his strength and rose slowly to his feet. Limping tenderly, he stretched his lower back where he had been twisted in the camel clutch. He cupped his junk, grimacing at the bruises on his heavy testicles and an angry-looking red mark on the underside of his cock. The prince looked skyward and cursed his luck.

“Why do they always have to go for my nuts?” he muttered. He tugged on his thick shaft a couple times to satisfy himself that everything was in working order.  

The revived Greek warrior stepped forward and draped a heavy arm around his Persian teammate. “Man, your timing is…something. Thanks for your help, my friend.” The freckles around Nico’s hazel eyes melted into a warm smile, and the assembled Lost Princes rose to applaud the change of fortune. Ali beamed and gave two thumbs up in reply. As Ali raised his hands, the gesture caused the twins to bounce on their tip toes to relieve the taut pressure on their bound gonads.

Nico’s eyes widened as he took in the predicament of his opponents. He cleared his throat. “If they aren’t too tied up, I was hoping that Castor and Pollux might want to wrestle a little more?” The blonde prince was still ready for action, but he was happy to play along with Ali’s show.

The diminutive trickster looked up from under his shaggy black bangs. From an outside perspective, it would have appeared strange that three naked, proud warriors would wait on the approval of a scrawny young man in a vest and ballooning pants. But Ali gave no indication that there was anything unusual about the situation. With a flick of his wrist, the cord that was wrapped around Castor’s scrotum loosened and dropped to the ground. No sooner was the silver-haired hunter free, than he was scooped up in a reverse bear hug. Having overcome his own pain, Nico relished the feeling of his power returning, and he squeezed the breath out of Castor with enthusiasm.

Turning to their other opponent, Ali flicked his wrist again. Pollux yelped, but the cord binding his testes remained fixed. Ali frowned and flicked his wrist again, with more force. Pollux squealed as the momentum jostled his nuts and made his cock fly up against his abdomen.

Ali’s look darkened. He disliked wardrobe malfunctions when he was performing for a crowd. Holding the cord taut, Ali glanced at Pollux for a moment. The teenage hunter’s look was lost and helpless, and he felt pulled into the Persian’s wild, violet eyes. Ali stamped his bare foot down on the cord. Choked as it was around Pollux’s scrotum, the unlucky knot squeezed his round balls almost perfectly flat as it was pulled off. A vice could not have squished them more thoroughly. Pollux keened like a dying animal and instantly collapsed to the ground, grasping between his legs as if afraid of what he might (or might not) find.

Hidden under his shaggy bangs, Ali grimaced in apology. Of course all was fair in the Pankration, but he felt badly for the broken young male who was mewling at his feet. Kneeling beside the miserable mass of muscle, Ali rolled Pollux onto his back and gently pulled his hands away from his crotch. Ever so tenderly, he cupped the beaten ball bag to assess the damage. Ali’s mysterious eyes stared into his opponent’s fearful blue ones.

“The twins will be fine,” Ali whispered with a sly smile. “But they might hurt for a while.” Pollux exhaled in relief and collapsed back to the ground. Like all males he was willing to endure anything as long as his virility endured.

Supine and shivering with relief, Pollux opened his eyes after a short time. His nads throbbed wickedly and his legs felt frozen, but he began to take in his surroundings. There was a weight on his chest and a shadow covered his view. Then, somewhere inside the shadow, two bright violet circles flamed to life. The hunter’s instincts told him to flee, but he found himself increasingly drawn to the flickering violet lights. The weight on his chest felt much, much heavier now. He blinked once more in defiance, then his firm jaw fell open and his resistance was drowned in Ali’s eyes. 

Hi Pollux! Are you ok, handsome? Let me help you feel better…

**************************************

While Ali and Pollux were frozen in their battle of willpower, their respective partners were a blur of motion. With his brother out of commission, Castor was forced to fend off Nico one on one.  Not only was Nico fired up, but the normally agile hunter was slowed down by the unfamiliar pain in his groin. The twins were so fearsome in combat that their opponents were seldom bold enough to attack below the belt; the leaden pain that washed down Castor’s legs was a novel and unwelcome sensation. He circled Nico defensively, buying time to pull himself together.

Nico recognized his opponent’s struggling, but after the brutal moves that the brothers had applied to him, he was not in a sympathetic mood. “You’re looking a little green there, Pollux. Do your little nuts feel funny? Bring them here so I can have a look.” 

Nico cupped his junk as he taunted the other teen. Dark bruises were starting to show through on his own sack, but he gritted his teeth through the pain and grinned provocatively. Ever since he hit puberty, his ample boyhood had been a target for mischievous sparring partners, so he was regrettably familiar with the agony of a good racking. And even though the twins had bashed his gear to the limit, he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cower. Prince Nicomachus would never submit to them.

“I’m not…” Castor hesitated. The taciturn Arcadian teen was not accustomed to speaking in front of a crowd. “I’m not litt…” He blushed crimson, not sure why he felt like he needed to argue the point. The twins were undeniably well endowed, and their smooth, cream colored penises and juicy balls made them the envy even of older males. But by now Castor had had his hands all over Nico’s junk and knew that the Theban prince outclassed him and his brother below the belt. Nico’s testicles were even weightier and lower slung, and his cock glistened powerfully. They would never admit it, but Nico’s superiority was part of the reason the brothers had wanted to take him down in the first place.

“I’m not Pollux,” Castor concluded, sulking.

“Then you’re just the brother I was looking for,” Nico growled. He spring toward his opponent impossibly fast, spearing through his ripped torso and tackling him to the ground. Nico remained on his toes and spun behind, scooping Castor up and suplexing him backward over his head. Castor landed hard on his upper back, forcing the breath from his lungs. Twice more Nico repeated the move, gracefully combining precise timing with raw power. After the third toss, Castor was panting in a heap, while the audience had a newfound appreciation for Greek style wrestling.

Nico’s hazel eyes remained fixed on his downed opponent. He’d learned his lesson from the beating he took after he was distracted the first time. As Castor pawed the sand and struggled to one knee, Nico wrapped a firm hand around the back of his neck. Hauling the dazed fighter to his feet, Nico crouched and bent him backward across his shoulders, hoisting Castor up with one hand gripping his neck and the other wrapped over his thighs. Castor found himself parallel to the ground with his back bent across his rival’s steely shoulders. He had no leverage to defend or to land a counter attack, but he kicked his feet and waved his arms in vain.

“Ohhhhhhh shit!” Theo exclaimed. He punched Lysander on his shoulder in enthusiasm.

The black haired boy grunted in annoyance. Lysander was getting nervous about how long it was taking his Arcadian idols to reverse their fortunes and pull out a victory. “What’s the big deal?” he asked.

“The Torture Rack. Have you seen that move before?” Theo prodded with a knowing look.

Lysander was a knowledgeable wrestler, but not a shrewd observer. It took him a minute to recognize that Nico had locked Castor in the same move that the silver haired warrior had  used to submit the Greek prince to win their first contest several days earlier. From the looks of it, Nico was not just out for victory, he was out for some payback.

“Oh shit,” Lysander said dully, recalling how devastating the move had been when Castor used it on Nico.

The Spartan fan boy watched helplessly as his hero’s struggles wore out, until he hung defenseless across his rival's shoulders. Castor’s silver hair hung limply from his rolling head, and perspiration poured over his ribs and serratus as the sun beat down on his pale torso like a spotlight. Castor was already naked except for the bands wrapped around his biceps, so the crowd got an eyeful of the beautiful teen specimen.

“Oh shit,” Lysander repeated dumbly. “Hey, Theo? Theo, do you think Nico would try to make Castor…uh, you know…”

The more experienced Athenian chuckled but played dumb. “Make him what, Lysander?” he asked teasingly. 

Lysander bit his lip awkwardly. “Make him…submit his seed?” he whispered, using the formal jargon Theo had invented as the rules of the Pankration.

“Do you mean, ‘make him spunk himself’ or ‘empty his loser balls until they are the size of grape seeds’?” Theo leaned forward with interest, happy with any of the possible outcomes as long as Nico won and the twins were brought low for their cheap tactics. Next to him, Lysander grumbled vaguely about “honorable fighting,” seeming to forget that Nico had fought fairly all along, while the twins had used several dirty tricks. 

In the middle of the courtyard, karma and Nico were double-teaming Castor and teaching the handsome warrior a humiliating lesson. Dizzy from the blood rushing to his head, the worn-out teen did not immediately recognize the poetic justice of his current position. Nico was kind enough to remind him.

“If I remember right,” Nico said in a low voice, so only Castor could hear, “you used this hold on me when you snuck into my match against your brother.” The dead weight on Nico’s shoulders neither confirmed nor denied but merely made a quiet choking sound.

“I haven’t practiced it before, so can you give me any pointers on the next part?” Castor’s head was pounding, so he was not really following what Nico was saying. But when Nico’s rough fingers began drumming on his exposed nuts, he got the idea. Nico was surprisingly gentle, but even the light touch made Castor shiver with pain, since he was totally inexperienced with this kind of vulnerability. The silver-haired warrior jolted when Nico’s roving fingers flicked his dangling penis, making it jump back to lie against his smooth lower abs. As the sting of his humiliation intensified, a rosy flush crept down from his pale cheeks to his neck and chest.

“G-g-get you hands off of my junk,” the shamed teen stammered as he was prodded and displayed. But he was in no position to make demands. Where the fuck is Pollux, he wondered in desperation.

For his part Nico had no intention of finishing off his opponent as Castor had done to him when their roles were reversed. The cheerful prince enjoyed poking fun at his proud rival, but he would rather wrestle him than jerk him off. However, the audience was clearly enjoying the spectacle. Nico teased few members of the audience who looked especially interested in Castor’s splayed body, making them blush and laugh. He gripped his captive’s penis at the base of his shaft and waggled it at the crowd, sardonically noting that the teen warrior was well on his way to a full erection. He gave a couple sharp tugs, making Castor wilt in shame as his rod grew fully hard.  

But in his heart Nico was a warrior, and he wanted to defeat his opponents in combat. He even felt a twinge of sympathy for Castor. After all, Nico himself had been paraded around in a similar state of excitement, which he was sure he would not live down for some time. He dropped Castor off his shoulders with casual confidence, leaving the boy in the dust.

Meanwhile, since they had been engrossed in the main event between Nico and Castor, nobody had really noticed the struggle between Pollux and Ali. But it was easy to reconstruct, since Pollux was now closing in to resume the double team on Nico, while Ali was nothing more than a heap of baggy clothing discarded in the sand. A nasty looking welt was forming around the Persian’s eye.

After Pollux had regained his senses, a quick left cross was all it took for him to take Ali out of the fight. “Stay out of my head, asshole,” he muttered, then stalked decisively toward Nico and his brother.

But something looked a little off about the silver haired teen who shuffled forward. His hunter’s eyes lacked their usual sharpness, and his feet seemed clumsy. The changes were subtle, so probably none of the watching Lost Princes could tell the difference. But Nico noticed. There was something submissive in Pollux’s posture. He decided to test it out.

“Just a minute,” Nico said, raising a hand nonchalantly. Bravely and with an excess of confidence, he shook out his aching shoulders. “Sorry, I’ve been lifting a lot recently,” he said, nodding his head toward Castor, who was groaning on the ground. Pollux stood there, dull and obedient, as Nico went on to stretch out his back, limber up his neck, and massage his tired quads. From the right angle, it might have almost appeared to the audience that Nico was flexing. Some chuckles rolled through the crowd as they took in his impressive muscles and well-proportioned nude form.

Finally Pollux shook his head, and his deep blue eyes seemed to sharpen. He lunged forward, hoping to catch Nico unaware. But the prince had been biding his time on full alert. He evaded the takedown and twisted around behind Pollux, scooping him up in a reverse bear hug.

The bear hug was Nico’s favorite move. He loved the feeling of pitting his strength against that of another fighter literally muscle to muscle. His rippling shoulders and broad back flexed to their fullest extent, the definition of his torso glinting under the sun. Pollux struggled vigorously, but once his feet were lifted off the ground he found that he had no leverage to break the hold. Once more the audience was treated to the sight of a beautiful Arcadian hoisted helplessly in submission. Pollux’s taut abs flexed to resist the squeeze, and his long, smooth cock waved like a pendulum as Nico shook him senseless. His head slowly fell forward, so his silvery bangs fell over his eyes.

Despite his pride, the teen warrior had no leverage, no breath, and no choice but to submit. However, he did still have a brother. Just outside of Nico’s vision, Castor was poised to return to action.

Almost in slow motion, Theo saw Castor sneaking up behind Nico, preparing to pounce. All the while Nico was smiling broadly, enjoying the cheers and the thrill of defeating his sneaky rivals. From the sideline Theo waved desperately to indicate the coming danger, but his warning was lost in the general tumult. Nico’s attention was elsewhere.

Wrapped in the submission hold, Pollux’s dry lips parted. He felt that his ribs would crack under any more pressure, and the lack of oxygen had dulled his sense. “Ug..ug..okay..” Nico tilted his head, listening closely. Now Castor was crouched just behind the handsome prince, his muscles coiled. Theo shouted a final desperate warning. And somehow despite the noise and adrenaline of the moment, Nico’s joyful hazel eyes darted over to meet Theo’s for just the space of a breath. Nico’s blonde curls hung damply over his eyes, but Theo felt sure that he saw his friend wink at him.

“I…gi…” Pollux wheezed hoarsely. From his predatory crouch, Castor sprung at Nico from behind.

Theo couldn’t watch. He buried his face in the shoulder of his nearest companion, who happened to be Lysander. The earnest Spartan teen was taken aback by his older friend’s embrace. He tentatively raised his hand to stroke Theo’s head, but his cool grey eyes never left the action. Lysander noticed Nico shift his weight imperceptibly. He spotted the foot that the prince dragged backward, anticipating a pivot. He saw Nico’s powerful shoulder’s relax as Castor darted forward. Lysander held his breath.

Castor was airborne, determined to tackle Nico before his twin could submit the match. Alert to the challenge, Nico swiveled his hips and swept his leg around. Still trapped in the reverse bearhug, Pollux swung around with no say in the matter. Which made him the first competitor to meet his brother’s attack. The twins’ foreheads clashed together, followed shortly after by their chests. For a frozen moment they stared into each other’s mirrored blue eyes in surprise.

Nico relaxed his grip on Pollux. With the brothers stunned, he flexed his arms as wide as possible and wrapped them again around both brothers. Pollux’s back was still against Nico’s chest, and he was face to face with his twin. Nico’s finger tips just barely met around Castor’s back. He tested his grip and took a deep breath. The muscles in his back rippled, and he lifted the brothers in a mighty Double Bear Hug.

“Wow,” Lysander whispered. “What a stud.” He nudged his companion, who was still hiding his eyes. “Hey Theo, you might want to see this part.”

Theo looked up to find his best friend’s power displayed to its fullest. Nico’s freckled cheeks were flushed from the exertion, but he managed to keep both his opponents pinioned in the crushing hold. The twins’ toes dragged over the sand but gained no purchase. Their advantage in speed and numbers had been neutralized, and the brothers regarded each other in numb dismay. They were glued together by a sheen of sweat that ran down from their tightly pressed cheeks and over their smooth pecs. Each time Nico hoisted his grip, their twin cocks slipped alongside each other, forcing a low moan from the customarily silent pair.

“Guys, this match was incredible!” Somehow Nico had reserved enough breath to congratulate his opponents. “Seriously. But Theo says you have to officially submit, or I have to keep dishing it out.” Nico paused expectantly, but the twins stared at each other vacantly. Nico cleared his throat. “So…this is awkward…I forgot who is who again. Who wants to submit first? Castor?” the victorious prince asked brightly.

But as Nico was settling his score, his eyes fell on the crumpled heap of shaggy black hair and tattered linen on the edge of the courtyard. In all the excitement he had forgotten about his partner, and Ali did not appear to be moving. Without a second thought, Nico dropped Castor and Pollux and sprinted over to help Ali.

The scrawny boy was breathing steadily, but he had a wicked looking shiner around his left eye. He’d probably been knocked out in a single blow as Pollux resisted him. Ali opened his marvelous violet eyes as Nico nudged his shoulder.

“How did we do?” he croaked, wincing as he put his fingers against his temple.

“Great!” Nico replied, laughing and helping Ali to his feet. “Thanks to you! I owe you big for the save back there. I was even more surprised than the twins that you were my partner. But the match is pretty much over now,” he said indicating the broken teen warriors on the ground behind him.

Ali was still dizzy but smiled happily. Then he blinked. “Pretty much?” he asked.

“Well, Theo says that the losers have to submit out loud, but I know those guys are done. Let’s go celebrate!”

Ali redirected Nico’s attention to the audience; there was clapping, but nobody had moved. The match was still on.

Ali led the way back to the center of the courtyard, where the twins were recovering and had staggered to one knee. “I’ll just see how Pollux feels about submitting,” Ali said with a sly smirk. “Will you hang on to Castor?”

“Sure,” Nico said, “But which one is…” But Ali had already identified Pollux. Grabbing him by his chiseled chin, he commanded his opponent to look deeply into his eyes. Ali’s head was still pounding from the straight hook that he had taken, and he did not wish to take any more chances. His expression was frozen in intense concentration.

Nico shrugged. Not wishing to be left out of the action, he grabbed Castor by the back of his neck. When the hurting warrior twisted away, Nico maneuvered smoothly behind him and scooped his arms up in a Full Nelson. Castor groaned as a he once again found himself imprisoned by Nico’s steely muscles. The pressure on his neck gradually forced his proud head down until his silvery bangs lolled in rhythm with Nico’s wishes.

Nico was mugging for the crowd when suddenly Pollux was right in front of them. But this time nothing in his posture seemed threatening. His wide blue eyes did not blink, and his mouth hung slightly open. He seemed distracted and shuffled unsteadily. Ali was just visible behind the frame of his muscular opponent. From Nico’s view, the Persian teen’s face was mostly covered by his shaggy hair, but his mouth showed a devilish smile.

Pollux dropped to his knees in the sand. Nico assumed that he was going to formally submit the match. Then Ali snapped his fingers and Pollux reached forward and took hold of his brother’s semi-erect penis. Locked tightly in the Full Nelson, Castor could not escape as his dangling manhood was groped and jerked by an all-too-familiar hand. Pollux’s supple wrist work made Castor’s teen cock inexorably harden, and in no time the humiliated hunter was standing at full attention.

The captive brother’s mouth opened and closed if he had been struck dumb. His mind could not process that his his own twin was working over his throbbing meat—while they were still supposed to be fighting! Surely this was just a nightmare and he would wake up any minute now! Castor tried to shout at his brother, but his voice died in his throat as Pollux squeezed the hooded head of his erection without mercy. In under sixty seconds Castor had gone from unaware to twitching and drooling. His face was beet red.

The Lost Princes and other spectators lining the gallery had been noisy throughout the match, stomping and cheering on the clash of muscles and testosterone. But now a hush had fallen. Theo’s mouth was agape. Lysander’s youthful face was screwed into a lopsided frown, partly horrified and partly sympathetic. Until now Lysander had been the only Prince to fight against Ali, and even though he couldn’t figure out how, Lysander suspected that the scrawny Persian was responsible for Pollux’s unimaginable behavior. 

Ali’s voice chimed softly and Pollux leaned forward. While lazily jerking his own cock, Pollux aimed the swollen rod of his brother’s manhood between his thumb and forefinger, gently rolling back his foreskin over the bulbous head. Pollux’s thin lips parted, showing his perfectly white teeth. His pink tongue stuck out ever so slowly.

“Oh god, don’t…” Castor closed his eyes tightly, and he turned his head away defiantly. His breath hissed out as Pollux’s soft, wet mouth enveloped his cock head. He was already leaking freely, and his salty juice lubricated the gentle suction that hummed along his pole and vibrated the rest of his body.

Nico and Castor were similar in height, so as he held the Full Nelson, the blond prince did not have a clear view of what Pollux was up to. When Nico rose up onto his toes and saw Pollux’s throat wrapped around his twin’s cock, he dropped Castor’s arms to release the hold. He took a couple steps back, scratching his curly head in bewilderment. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on the sandy courtyard to watch.

Castor fought against the familiar tingling in his loins, but all his training and muscles were powerless against the electric surge from the nerve endings of his vulnerable penis. Desperate now, he lashed out with a kick. His bony shin smushed into something soft and the pressure building in his groin eased ever so slightly. He kicked again and registered the same smush of bone against flesh.

Pollux’s mouth popped off of his brother’s dong as his nads were blasted by the second kick. His left hand still pinched the base of the glistening erection, and his right hand instinctively reached forward to keep his balance. He steadied himself by pulling down on Castor’s bulging nuts. With those two secure handholds, Pollux hauled himself to his feet and came face to face with his brother.

Still standing off to the side, Ali’s shoulders relaxed. He shook the bangs away from his eyes and plopped down in the sand next to Nico. The incongruous teammates lounged casually, leaning back on their elbows while their bare feet crossed in the sand in front of them.

“Are you…doing that?” Nico asked, nodding toward Castor and Pollux. He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question.

“Nope,” Ali said lightly. “Well, not any more,” he corrected. He looked sidelong at Nico, who appeared deep in thought. The Theban prince was as devoted to fairness as he was to competition, and Ali seemed to find short cuts.

“Huh,” was all Nico said. “So this is all them? One hundred percent?”

Ali nodded and grinned mischievously. “I think we’re going to win this one.”

The twins stared into each others’ eyes for a long moment. Pollux no longer seemed woozy or vacant, merely stupefied, like he had woken up and found himself in a distant place. His lips felt a little puffy and there was a taste in his mouth that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Unfortunately for his brother, Pollux did not have the presence of mind to unclasp his fist from Castor’s junk, and the death grip was making his knees slowly buckle.

“Bro…my nuuuutts…” Castor begged his twin to snap out of it. No luck. Pollux’s dizzy, angelic face did not register the torture that he was putting their family jewels through.

With no options remaining, Castor reached down and grabbed Pollux by his own balls. He had to make him snap out of it one way or another. Pollux’s smooth cheeks flushed and he sucked air as his fragile orbs were mashed together. His low moan joined that of his brother. Both boys leaned imperceptibly closer to relieve the pressure on their prime assets.

But Castor’s shock treatment plan backfired. Rather than winning a reprieve, the nauseating pain that flooded Pollux’s guts made him clench down harder in reflex. His jolting grip crushed Castor’s nads into an indistinguishable mass of pain, and the weakened warrior’s head rolled back as tears streamed over his cheeks. 

Castor rose onto his toes, ratcheting up the pressure on Pollux’s balls and causing their erect cocks to cross. Each teen felt the familiar orbs in his palm, firm but pliable—the details of which he knew with complete intimacy. Each boy felt the aroused shaft of his opposite, steely and arrow-straight—the heft and thickness of which he knew with complete imtimacy. Neither boys’ hardness yielded to the other.

Nico was briefly bummed out not to be part of the action anymore. “Who do you think is going to bust first?” he asked Ali curiously.

Ali shrugged mysteriously. There didn’t seem to be much reason to favor one over the other. The grunts and moans of the brothers wrecking each others sex lives punctuated their conversation. Nico chose a side anyway. “Pollux! Pollux!” he cried, starting one faction while Theo started a cheer for Castor.

The Arcadian twins were obstinate to the end. Under their leather armbands, their biceps bulged with the effort of wrecking their own brother’s fertility. Perspiration poured down their exquisite chests, dripping and gleaming off identical erections. They were majestic even in their pain.

Castor had taken more abuse, so it was he who staggered backward first, drooping in submission. As his knees buckled, so did his grip, which yanked Pollux’s ball bag down to its extremity. Pollux stumbled forward in nauseous agony, pulsing his grip on his brother’s bruised nuts and pushing him past his limit. They stumbled together, chest to chest, just as the tips of their raw penises touched and they drove each other over the edge. Their wide blue eyes locked in shared agony and ecstasy as hot cum began spurting from their cocks. They trembled in unison as the creamy semen shot over their abs and pecs, gluing them together from the neck down. Each time one brother sputtered, the other had another volley to match it. Finally their exhausted balls were emptied, and they sank to their knees in a numb mutual embrace.

Some spectators poured taunts over the proud brothers who had been brought so low. Others began chanting Nico’s name, recognizing the popular prince’s superhuman effort and successful retribution. Nobody seemed to notice Ali, who made his quiet way toward the shade of the colonnade.

“Hold up!” Nico called, jogging over to his tag team partner. He held out a brawny fist for Ali to bump. “You were amazing. Thanks for the save back there.”

Ali beamed from underneath his shiner. “It was my honor. And congratulations to you too. You’re 1-1 now.”

Nico hadn’t considered it from that angle. “Huh. And that makes you…” He looked back at the heap of defeated muscle that they’d left in the courtyard; then he winced at his own bruised abs and slightly swollen balls. Finally he glanced over his waif of a partner—a jumble of skinny limbs, tattered clothing, and miraculous violet eyes.

“2-0,” Ali murmured. “Do you think that I’m a natural for Greek wrestling?”

Nico scrunched up his hazel eyes. “Well…you know, our Pankration isn’t exactly normal Greek wrestling.” Nico saw the insecurity flicker across the scrawny boy’s expression, so he brightened his tone immediately. “But, you know what? Don’t worry about that! You’re shaking up the system, partner. The other guys better be on their toes!”

Nico was immediately rewarded when Ali’s face lit with a genuine smile. No smirking, no guile, just ebullience. Nico thrived on that kind of positive energy; he turned back toward the streaming sunlight.

“Let’s see if Castor and Pollux feel up for a drink. I have a feeling they are a little dehydrated,” Nico chuckled. But when he looked back to wink at Ali, the mysterious prince was nowhere to be found. Nico shook his curly head.

Meanwhile Lysander and Theo had wandered into the center of the courtyard to inspect the damage. The twins had remained kneeling upright with their heads leaning against each other’s necks. Their handsome faces were serene, but below the neck they were an absolute mess, plastered together with cum and sweat and sand. Their drooping cocks drooled the last of their seed uselessly into the sand, and their proud balls had been devastated. It seemed to Theo that he could still see the grip marks on their desiccated sacs.

“What a waste,” Theo said dryly, “That stuff could have made some beautiful babies.”

Lysander looked sheepishly at his former idols. He poked one of their shoulders but got no response. “Hey, Castor,” he began, but Theo grabbed him by the ear and led him away to find Nico and share a well-deserved cup of wine. The hard won payback would make it taste sweet indeed.