Sorry about that

I woke up feeling like I'd been trampled by a herd of particularly enthusiastic centaurs. Every muscle in Hercules' godlike body ached, a stark reminder that despite my impressive physique, my mind was still very much that of a sedentary academic.

"Rise and shine, Hercules!" Iolaus called out cheerfully, already up and about. "We've got a long day ahead of us!"

I groaned, pushing myself up from the ground. "Why does everything hurt?" I muttered, momentarily forgetting to stay in character.

Iolaus laughed. "Don't tell me the mighty Hercules is sore from a little camping! What happened to the man who could wrestle giants and not break a sweat?"

"Right, yes, of course," I said quickly, scrambling to cover my slip. "Just, uh, lulling you into a false sense of security. Keeping you on your toes."

As I stood up, I misjudged the strength in my new legs and launched myself a good three feet into the air. I came down with a resounding thud, leaving two very distinct foot-shaped impressions in the ground.

Iolaus stared at me, mouth agape. "By the gods, Hercules! Are you trying to start an earthquake?"

I laughed nervously, trying to play it off. "Just, you know, doing my morning stretches. Got to limber up before facing a deadly lion, right?"

The real challenge began at breakfast. I reached for a piece of bread, misjudged Hercules' strength, and ended up crushing it into dust. Iolaus watched, bemused, as I tried to salvage the situation.

"Just... making breadcrumbs," I mumbled, sprinkling the remains over my porridge like the world's saddest garnish.

Breaking camp proved equally disastrous. I pulled up the tent stakes, only to send them flying into the stratosphere. One narrowly missed Iolaus, embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk with a solid 'thunk'.

"Testing your javelin skills before the big fight?" Iolaus asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Never hurts to stay sharp," I replied weakly, wondering if Hercules had ever accidentally impaled a friend during routine camping activities.

As we set off, I felt like a bull in a china shop - if the bull was the size of a house and the china shop was the entire world. Each step was a potential earthquake, every gesture a possible calamity waiting to happen.

Midway through the morning, we came across a fallen tree blocking our path. Iolaus sighed, reaching for his axe. "This'll set us back a bit. Maybe we can cut through it or find a way around—"

"Stand back!" I interrupted, seized by a sudden urge to prove myself. "I'll handle this!"

Before Iolaus could protest, I gripped the massive trunk, tensed Hercules' impressive muscles, and heaved. The tree lifted with surprising ease – so much ease, in fact, that I lost my balance and stumbled backward, the entire tree held aloft over my head like the world's largest, most unwieldy umbrella.

"Hercules!" Iolaus shouted, diving out of the way as I spun in a clumsy circle, the tree's branches whipping through the air like a leafy cyclone.

"I've got it! I've got it!" I yelled, even as I clearly didn't have it. 

With a final, desperate effort, I hurled the tree away from us. It soared through the air in a graceful arc, landing with a tremendous crash somewhere in the distance. A flock of startled birds took to the sky, and I could have sworn I heard the indignant bleating of some very surprised goats.

Iolaus slowly picked himself up, brushing leaves and twigs from his hair. "Well," he said, his voice a mix of awe and exasperation, "that's one way to clear a path."

I stood there, panting, staring at my hands in disbelief. The sheer power at my disposal was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. 

"Sorry about that," I managed, trying to regain my composure. "Guess I don't know my own strength sometimes."

Iolaus shook his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes I forget just how strong you are. But perhaps next time, we could try for a little less... airborne forestry?"

By midday, I was a nervous wreck. How did Hercules manage this on a daily basis? It was like trying to navigate the world while perpetually drunk and wearing oversized boxing gloves.

Iolaus, to his credit, remained patient. "You seem tense," he observed as we paused for lunch. "Is it the upcoming fight? You've faced worse than this lion, you know."

I nodded, grateful for the excuse. "Just... feeling a bit off-balance. It'll pass."

As we continued our trek, I focused on controlling Hercules' body. Small victories - like not snapping a tree in half when I leaned against it - felt monumental. I began to appreciate the fine control Hercules must have developed over years of wielding such immense power. It wasn't just about being strong; it was about knowing when and how to use that strength.

By the time we made camp that evening, I was exhausted but slightly more confident. I managed to gather firewood without uprooting entire trees and even successfully ate dinner without bending my utensils. Progress, however small, was still progress.

As we sat by the fire, Iolaus regaled me with tales of our past adventures. I listened, enraptured, feeling a mix of awe at Hercules' feats and a growing determination to live up to his legacy - at least until I could figure out how to get back to my own time and body.

"You know, Hercules," Iolaus said, his voice thoughtful, "you've been full of surprises lately. It's like you're seeing the world with new eyes."

I smiled, feeling a mix of pride and apprehension. "Maybe I am, Iolaus. Maybe I am."

As I settled down for the night, my muscles aching but my spirit buoyed by the day's progress, I couldn't help but wonder what other challenges awaited me. I was slowly getting a handle on Hercules' physical abilities, but the true test was yet to come.

After all, learning to move like Hercules was one thing. Facing the twelve labors that awaited me? That was going to be a whole different kind of heavy lifting. But as I sat in front of the campfire, listening to Iolaus's words, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull this off.

At the very least, I probably wouldn't accidentally throw any more trees. Probably.

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