Marvel: Upgrading Death 29 - Animal Lover, Burn The Witch & The Barbecue Incident

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/191gmHEcdLTn5iz5PJSEgHwT6TcbIKkvuATpESe5To1o/edit?usp=sharing

____________

Turns out, having a real space warlord smurf to act as your villain was far greater than the rotten teeth, funny-faced Yondu. Swiftly, reshoots were done, and Yondu was entirely cut out of the movie. 

Now Ronan was the villain, and the man looked intimidating. And the way he spoke was grand, noble, like he had a stick up his ass called blood supremacy. And the speech Ronan gave about humanity and the Kree being so powerful was Oscar-worthy. 

But it was a different thing that Ronan ended up in a grave once the movie was done filming, and Marshall was already tired of his new hobby. But at least someone was happy and decided to give him sloppy blows for a full week in a row. 

Marshall liked Marilyn Monroe. 

Not only was she a beauty and a great bed buddy despite being human, but she was also always prepared to talk about the most random things with him. Marshall would often discuss Marty's future, finding a female T-Rex, and having dino grandkids someday. She suggested going back in time. 

Marshall was willing. And right then, he remembered something. Agamotto, the first Sorcerer Supreme from a long ass time ago, had that thing that could reverse time. With that, he made up his mind to find the new Sorcerer Supreme and get them to bring a T-Rex lady from the past. 

Other than that, once the movie was done filming, he left everything in the hands of MGM, which Dinosia now owned. 

He took Marilyn with him and got her the citizenship she wanted. While she was no virgin, he usually took as per the ritual, he gave her the chance to be his 'maiden' for life honor. 

Besides, he had more important things. 

####

"She's what now?" Marshall blurted as he sat at the bar in his temple, eyeing the three women who stood before him. "I coulda sworn my nuts only fired live rounds for Asgardian chambers. What the actual fuck is this?"

There stood Hela, Gamora, and Shalla-Bal. Hela stood out the most, so tall and goddamn beautiful to Marshall's gaze. Then there was Gamora, his green assistant, and then Shalla-Bal, his herald or something. 

But that didn't matter. Somehow, the load he'd dumped in Shalla-Bal had turned into life, a feat that didn't make sense to him. Heck, his load didn't even work on Hela now because he was too different from Asgardian biology. 

And that begged the question. Was Shalla-Bal closer to Celestials? Was that why he could breed her? 

"I believe it is possible," Shalla-Bal spoke, her face, as usual, never showing many emotions. Calm, collected, and fuckable silver. "The Power Cosmic flows through me. You are its source now. That same force has made our bodies compatible enough to create life."

Marshall rubbed his bearded chin. He wasn't a smart man; he knew that, but with Galactus' mental inheritance, he saw the dots connecting. “Well fuck me. I already knocked up Death herself, so this barely even registers on the ‘what the fuck’ scale. So, what do you want? Wanna keep it?"

Shalla-Bal looked down, revealing a subtle hint of want. Her silvery hand rested on her belly. 

"Alright, keep it. Welcome to the family, I guess. Don't you call me master again, it's Marshall, that's my name." Marshall declared, standing up. Sadly, he couldn't get drunk. He walked over to Shalla-Bal and patted her shoulders. "Let's go. Time to see where you're sleeping. Wait, do you even sleep?"

As Marshall took Shalla-Bal away, Hela was left behind. She looked at the green woman, who appeared more than annoyed, arms crossed and brows creased. 

"And you are?" Hela asked. "Another one of his mortal playthings?"

"..."

"What di—No, I'm not. Not yet," Gamora replied. 

Hela smirked, then sighed before she left. "I never understand where he finds mindless women like you."

"How dare you!"

"Do you not wish to sleep with him?" Hela asked back. 

"..."

Hela chuckled at that silence and left. 

####

Camp Lehigh, 

The SSR met together to discuss the ongoing events. It was a meeting they scheduled monthly, but ever since the First Man returned, they sometimes met and spoke with each other bi-weekly. In the age of television and radio, the SSR feared the leak of information that could cause public panic. 

"So… We just had an alien invasion?" Howard Stark asked, eyeing the members at the table. "And it happened because the invaders thought the movie was real and the aliens weren't actors but real invaders and… I don't even know where this joke ends."

"We can chalk it up to the First Man’s kind of movie magic," President Chester Phillips said. "But the real reason we’re here is the Soviets. They keep pressing our limits, and we’ve held back because we sit right next to Dinosia. Now they’re closing in around the Korean peninsula, and our hands are tied."

“Kim Il Sung has secured Soviet backing, and China has agreed to a southern invasion,” Peggy said, passing along what her network had uncovered. “They delayed long enough to see if Dinosia would react. It appears Dinosia no longer intends to.”

A united sigh left the table. 

"I should be deployed there," Captain Rogers said. 

“What exactly is your solo plan? Muscles are impressive, but two super soldiers versus a million is arithmetic, not heroics,” Howard added. "It's China, meat shields are what they have plenty of."

Captain Rogers gave Howard a look at the use of such a dehumanising word. "There must be something we can do. We didn't stop Hitler just for the communists to take over."

"Agreed," Major General Norris Roux voiced. "We should alert our stationed fleet to start patrolling the waters."

"That won't stop them," said John Flynn, a senior agent. "We need a conclusive plan. Maybe you should visit Dinosia again, Agent Carter."

Peggy stiffened at that. None but Chester knew the truth behind her visit. 

"No, I’ll go," Chester declared. "I'm the President, and our gesture should show our earnest intention. Sending just an agent won't do well."

Knock! Knock!

Right then, loud knocks came on the door. It opened, and a uniformed officer of Major rank rushed in. 

"Sir, there has been a new update related to the Korean situation."

Chester sighed, fearing the worst. The invasion must have started. He deflated in the chair and waved. "Brief us all."

"Understood. At sixteen hundred hours, our spy planes found strange movements in Moscow. We alerted our spies to investigate it. Now we have confirmation that the First Man landed on the Kremlin, obliterating the entire building. Every member of the Communist Party was hunted and killed, from the President to the undersecretary position. As of now, there is no Soviet government left alive."

"..."

"..."

Other than the creaks of chairs and loud breaths, no voices came for a very long minute. 

"Lucky day for us, I guess." Howard Stark clapped his hands. "I guess the First Man was listening to us."

"No, sir," the Major added. "This was completely unrelated to Korean matters. It was the Soviets who angered the First Man. It was related to the recent rocket launch they conducted. We’re still trying to piece it all together."

President Chester Phillips rubbed his old face. "First thing, stop our rocket launch test. I want answers on what set this off. Stark, head back to your place in Dinosia and see what you can turn up."

"Ugh, boring work."

Chester glared at the inventor and got the confirmation. 

“Carter. Rogers. Gear up. Your job is to take out Kim Il Sung and his successor before they try anything again. We’ll begin sending weapons south. China won’t step in with the Soviets falling apart right now.”

Finally, after passing all the orders, he looked at the Major. 

"Make preparations for my visit to Dinosia."

####

A few hours ago, 

Marshall was in bed, sleeping, naked as he loved. Right beside him was his equally naked half-wife, Hela, both barely draped by that quilt. They'd been at it for hours, and Marshall loved it because he could go very intense with her without the fear of killing her. 

But as he slept, he once again started to hear voices. They didn't belong to him, but they were far more numerous. 

Just once, please wake up. 

Save me. 

I'm hungry.

God, please make her say yes. 

Ah, Ah God, yes, Ah, ah, ah!

Bring back mommy, please. 

God, are you real? 

Why? Why did you take them from me?

.

.

.

Fuck you, God! 

Unnnngh! Yes, oh, god fuck yes!

God, thank you for this meal. 

With a sudden jolt, his eyes shot open. He grabbed his head, not in pain but in annoyance. "The bitch was getting cockslammed and praying to me… Ah, they're all praying to me?!"

He sat up as soon as he realised that. He looked to his left as Hela woke up as well, rubbing her gorgeous dark eyes.

"Marshall? What happened?"

"Voices screaming in my skull, Hela. I get it, every bastard praying gets rerouted straight to my ass instead of their precious god. It's driving me fucking batshit. Gotta shut this circus down." Marshall said, his eyes sadly unable to not leer at her melon-like orbs on her chest, pale as the moon. "You think your old man knows how to unplug this prayer hotline?"

Hearing Odin's mention, Hela slumped back down, eyes closed. "He should."

"Then I'll go visit him. You stay planted right here, gorgeous. I ain't even close to finished pounding you." He smashed a sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss on Hela's mouth, then fucking poofed out of existence

Hela let out a groan. "At least wear clothes, Marshall."

Of course, by then her half-husband was gone.

####

Asgard, 

Odin was relaxing, having fewer headaches to deal with than ever. No god was trying to challenge him. The Celestials were too scared to even come close. Hela was now a mother of two, making him a proud grandfather. And her son-in-law was perhaps the most powerful being in all of the universe. Even the dark elves were extinct. 

That gave Odin a lot of time to ponder and do nothing. Oh, he had another son with Frigga recently, named Baldr. Clearly, having time to spare helped a lot. 

Woosh!

"Ah! Marshall." Odin boomed at the sudden appearance of his son-in-law. 

Of course, he's naked. 

For some reason, this had happened multiple times. Marshall had appeared or gotten naked openly in Asgard plenty of times. And Odin wasn't one to shame a man for showing his impressive tools. It was a rather big one. 

"Odin, how do I stop listening to all these prayers?" 

Prayers? 

"I know not what goes on in your mind, my friend."

"I can hear every single one of these dipshits praying. Gimme candy, bring back my dead mom, oh, and yeah, while they're balls-deep railing each other, they still whine my name. I hear it all. I feel like a cuck while having nothing to do with it."

"..."

Odin nodded with understanding. He was no stranger to divine hearing. But that was something he had faced a long, long time ago. When he was still prayed to on Midgard. Now, he heard Asgardians, but he could stop it if he wished. 

"I believe they are praying to their god."

"Damn right, they are. Then why the fuck am I hearing it? Jesus should hear it, or Shiva, or some Kami or something. I ain't their god."

"But you are, Marshall," Odin said, his voice calm and certain. "The ones you named rule over pieces of existence. You stand at the beginning of it. You are the first father, the hand that set mankind on its path. Whether you accept it or not, your bond is to humanity itself, not temples or prayers. You belong to flesh and breath. The others are kept alive by belief. You exist because humanity exists."

Odin watched Marshall think deeply. He could see the change. Old Marshall would have argued, yet this one thought over what he spoke. 

"Marshall, if you can hear their prayers, it means your place among mankind has taken root deeper than any shrine. They may bow to local gods, yet they remember the First Man. When fear strips pride away, they call to you because they know you walk beside them. As for the voices, do not be troubled. In time, you will learn to quiet them without effort. The mind learns as the body does. Even a god must grow used to the weight he carries."

"Er… I never asked them to pray to me."

"And that only makes their faith stronger. A god who demands nothing and only gives. You may punish them, topple the world, at the end of the day, they believe in you, and the fact that your actions are for the greater good."

"Greater good, my ass. I do whatever I feel like."

"And that becomes the destiny of humanity, for they are your children."

"..."

"Hell fucking no! That'd mean I'm balls-deep in my own goddamn… nope. Just toss me a damn trick to muzzle these screaming bastards in my skull already!" 

Odin sighed. Marshall was still Marshall, however. "It all depends on your will. Will it, and it shall happen."

"Man, that's some bullshit. It's like I ask the oracle for my future and the wrinkly old twat goes 'You'll die someday.' No fucking shit. Of course, you die eventually. Fuck this noise, I'm out."

Woosh!

And just as Marshall returned, naked, the man vanished. Where he went, Odin no longer cared. But what he did care about was his wife Frigga standing beside his throne, also frozen in place, mouth slightly agape. 

"Enough, my wife. He has disappeared."

"Ah… I was only…"

"No shame in acknowledging it, Frigga. The man is indeed gifted."

####

Earth,

Butt naked, Marshall appeared somewhere near the moon, instead of the planet. He didn't want to be bombarded by prayers and moans of random people. 

Help!

Where am I?

Yet, when Marshall appeared, he instantly heard a voice in his mind. It was young, boy-ish. It was the only voice he could hear, and it was coming from somewhere close. 

"Who the fuck got stranded here?" Marshall frowned and looked at the moon. He remembered Dinosia having established a moon colony, which was why the USSR and USA were fighting to do the same. But they were still at the stage of sending their rockets up. 

Anybody? I'm all alone. Where am I? 

Marshall sighed and started flying towards that voice. He was on the dark side of the moon, so he flew to the other side and then flew away from the moon. Eventually, he reached something that looked like a space pod. 

"USSR?" He saw the writing on it and got closer. There was just one little round window on it. Everything inside was also dark. 

Help me!

"Yup, coming from inside. Did they send a kid to the damn space?" Marshall frowned and first surrounded the entire pod with his invisible psionic shield, forming a bubble that would save anyone inside. Then, he clawed at the hatch. 

Woosh!

He negated anything that could have hurt the one inside. Since his bubble simulated earth, there was no pressure difference when the hatch opened. 

"Come out, kid." He ordered and waited. 

Moments later, someone did come out. Dressed in a space suit but…

"A fucking dog?!" Marshall gawked, wondering if he was dreaming. It was a cute golden retriever with the cutest face possible. But the expressions of those eyes were real and intelligent, scared and lost. 

"Thank you! Thank you for saving me."

"..."

"The dog talks!" 

Marshall never realised when the space dog floated over to him and snuggled against his chest. There were a few happy barks as well, and a tail that wagged out of the spacesuit. 

"Thank you! You are my favorite human! I love you forever."

Marshall looked down at the dog's face. He gazed into those cute puppy eyes and… 

The thing about Marshall was that he had lived with animals far longer than humans. In fact, he had lived with animals for over a hundred million years, and humans just a few thousand. So, his instincts and his perception of creatures were more tilted towards animals and… 

"Aren't you the cutest little boy," Marshall hugged the dog back, removed the damn helmet, and planted fast kisses all over the furry head. In reply, the dog licked him back, and he didn't give a damn. Marty used to bathe him in dino spit. 

"What's your name?"

"Cosmo! Woof."

Marshall regressed into baby talk. "Cosmo! My little Cosmo. Perfect name for the space doggy. Now…"

Suddenly, the smile vanished from Marshall's face, and anger filled his eyes. 

"Who sent you here, boy?"

"I don't know," Cosmo replied. "I was looking. Reading."

Marshall frowned and gently, as gently as he could, probed Cosmo's mind. He read the memories, saw the life since he was a puppy. Oh, how adorable Cosmo was. But then scientists took him, trained him, and sent him into the damn space to die. Luckily, some kind of mutation happened, and Cosmo gained psionic powers. 

Of course, by then, Marshall knew every damn bastard who had hurt the little dog. And when Marshall's brain made calculations on who was more important, those humans or a dog. Of course, the dog came on top. 

"Let's go on a little revenge mission. Then we'll get you tasty treats. Oh, my little Kael and Diana are gonna love you to death." 

"Woof! I love you, too!"

"Awwwwww!" Marshall melted and dived straight down towards earth, towards Moscow to be precise. 

####

Moscow,

Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev had just recently become the First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. He was pretty much the man at the top of the food chain in the USSR. 

Only a few years had passed since he took office. Things were going great. They had been testing Dinosia's limits by surrounding the Korean peninsula. And finally, they were about to invade the South. Plans were going according to plan. 

And of course, the space mission was also moving at speed. The goal was never to reach the same level as Dinosia, but the United States. 

Boom!

Poor Khrushchev failed to even feel his own death, or see it, or hear it. The entire Kremlin just collapsed into a fine paste of rubble. Every other Minister and Secretary present died on the spot. But that wasn't enough; the USSR space program was obliterated, all their launch sites were ruined, and all the intelligent scientists were abducted. 

Then, every ruling member of the USSR was killed. 

It all happened in the span of a few hours.

####

Dinosia, 

"I'm Cosmo."

"I'm Kael."

"Diana."

"Helvar."

As soon as Marshall landed back home, everyone gathered on the temple's roof. They were all happy to see a superpowered speaking dog. 

Finally, with loud footsteps, Marty arrived. A strange, silent war happened that everyone watched. Marty, whose mere nose was bigger than the dog, glared down. Cosmo wagged his tail the whole time. 

"Woof!"

"Wraaaaaaah!"

And then, as if they just became best friends, Cosmo ran, jumped over Marty's tail, and climbed to sit on top of Marty's head. 

Marshall laughed from a distance, drinking a lemonade his good, big-breasted witch, Selene, had made. 

"Master, Wakandans want to see you," Selene voiced. 

Marshall shrugged. "Tell them to keep wanting."

"Hehe, that's what I did. But there's someone else who wants you more, Master."

Marshall stared at his horny witch, her big breasts jiggling, threatening to overflow out of her tight black gown. "Tonight. First, I gotta go and grab some mammoth meat. I'll look for an old one, and then we'll have a damn feast to welcome the newest good boy."

"Can't I come with you?"

"Girl, if you came, I'd come. So, you'd better not come. By the way, find me the current Sorcerer Supreme," Marshall replied with laughter and flew away, summoning his raft midway. He didn't disturb Marty this time as he was busy bonding with Cosmo. 

He flew so fast that he split through the clouds. By now, the town he'd allowed to exist was gone. Not only were the people gone, but every piece of non-natural structure was taken away. The electric lines were also removed. 

With ease, he found his beautiful mammoths, their numbers now in tens of thousands. That was also why he had to eat one or two to keep them from overpopulating. They had no natural predators, after all. 

Now, in his large lands, there was just one wooden loghouse, a nice outdoor fireplace. He landed there and prepared to find a willing volunteer amongst the mammoths. He would give it a gentle, quick death, away from the rest. 

Help… please!

"Who… the… fuck… is it… now?!"

Marshall nearly flattened the entire forest in anger. It was taking his every conscious thought to keep the voices away. He was just starting to get the hang of things. 

He just knew where the voice was coming from. He angrily stormed into his loghouse, ready to throw out whoever was squatting in his property. 

Bam!

"Get out before I—"

Marshall didn't finish his words. Tits, big and juicy, large skin-colored areolas, suckable nipples. Smooth belly with milfy squishiness, thick thighs, and a clean, shaved pussy. Her dark hair reached back to her hips, and her face was… pretty good. 

"I… I'm sorry. I got lost, sir. I was… I was lost and… I'm cold." 

Marshall watched the woman standing there, as if she had jumped from the bed. She was a head shorter than him and honestly, pretty fuckable. But he was no sex fiend.

"W-Won't you… Please warm me… with your body, sir?"

"..."

Common sense dictated it was a trap. Common sense was chasing Marshall, but he was faster. With a snap, his clothes disappeared from his body. His cock sprang to salute as he walked closer. 

"Fear not, sweet cheeks. Your friendly neighborhood heat source is gonna barbecue your shivering tits back to life."

Marshall valiantly walked over to her, letting her get on the bed first. She seemed to be wet and cold. Once she was down on the bed against the wall of the loghouse, he spooned her from behind, his fat cock perfectly passing through her thigh gap, his arms pulling up the blankets and then grabbing her tits. 

"What's your name, fine maiden? Your rack's pumping heat like a furnace while the rest of you's graveyard chilly.

"..."

"A-Agatha… Harkness… Dear First Man,"

"Ah, you know me?"

"How can I not? I'm saved. Thank you." 

Marshall nodded, massaging her breasts, pulling her nipples softly. "Nothing to worry about. Once you're warmed up, I'll drop you at the nearest town."

"Thank you."

Marshall kept his hand on her breasts, and his cock to the gap. However, it was she who made the move by beginning to rub herself on him, squeezing and sliding her thighs on him. Marshall said nothing; he was enjoying the warmth. 

He felt those creamy, soft thighs around his shaft like warm pillows, milking him with every tiny roll of her hips. He let his hands roam with lazy greed, abandoning any pretense of chivalry. Palm claimed her heavy breast, fingers sinking deep into her flesh until the pale mounds spilled between his knuckles like dough. 

His thumbs dragged over those wide areolas, circling the stiff peaks until they puckered tighter under his touch. His other arm slid under the curve of her neck, cradling her head while his fingers curled around the opposite breast. 

He rolled both nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently at first, then harder.

"Oh! It slipped in!" 

The words came out high and startled, but the little tilt of her hips that guided him was anything but accidental. Marshall knew it at that point. 

One smooth, practiced shift and the blunt head of his cock nudged past her outer lips, parting the drenched pussy with ease. 

Her soaked entrance sucked at him greedily, quivering as the first thick inch sank inside her tight, clutching heat.

"Yeah, slipped right in." Marshall groaned.

One thick arm wrapped around her soft waist, locking her in place, and he snapped his hips forward in one brutal thrust. Every swollen inch speared deep, stretching her open until his balls kissed the plump curve of her ass.

"Aaaaah! You really are… ah… god!" She moaned.

Marshall felt her pussy breathe around him. Clenching, releasing, clenching again in frantic little pulses that dragged heat up his shaft. But he wasn’t done playing nice. With a lazy grunt, he rolled them both, keeping her pinned tight against his front. 

Now she was sprawled on top of him, her back to his chest like he was her bed, his cock still buried to the hilt from behind.

The blankets were kicked aside in a heap. Agatha landed flat against his broad torso, legs splaying wide, heels digging into the mattress for leverage. Her moist pussy spread obscenely, tits heaving toward the ceiling as one of Marshall’s massive arms snaked around her throat from below. His other hand stayed clamped on her breast, kneading possessively while his hips rolled up.

Plap!

The first real upward thrust pierced wet and loud, his balls smacking against her drooling petals. Her pussy sucked him back in with a greedy slurp, gleaming juices already leaking down his shaft.

"There… get that?"

"Yes, oh! I… didn't know I… needed this!" Her words a trembling whine.

Marshall sneered and squeezed harder into that lock, enough to make her cunt flutter harder around his pounding cock. 

"Oh, you bet your sweet ass, sparkle-tits! Thought your fairy-ass magic was gonna zap me? Brace that tight hole, princess. I'm about to wring every last glittery drop of sorcery outta your sorry ass while I pound you stupid!" he growled, hips snapping up again, driving so deep her whole body jolted.

"W-Whaaat?!" Agatha’s moan fractured into a shocked groan. "W-What? How are you… You shouldn't be… in control!" 

Plap! Plap!

Marshall slammed up into her with force, each thrust rattling the rickety bed until the frame groaned. His thick forearm clamped tighter around her slender throat, enough to make her see stars. His other palm flattened hard against her lower belly. Fingers splayed wide, he pressed down so she could feel every brutal inch battering her cervix, the fat cockhead punching deep enough to bruise.

Slosh! Slosh!

"O-Ooooooh!" Agatha shattered almost instantly. 

Her thighs quivered and gave out, legs flopping uselessly like wet noodles. Her pussy clamped down in milking spasms, gushing nectar in messy pulses that drenched his shaft and balls. Her mouth hung open in wrecked bliss while high, broken cries tore from her throat.

“Ughh! Aghhh–! Ahh!!”

He didn’t let her ride it out. With a guttural grunt, Marshall sat up straight, shoving her forward onto all fours. His cock never left her drenched core, sloshing her clear honey all over his crotch. Still buried balls-deep, still throbbing, he kept drilling her from behind the moment her palms hit the bed. 

Pa! 

His open palm cracked across one smooth asscheek. The pale globe jiggled, red blooming instant across her skin.

"Mmmmm… Imposs—ible… ngh!" 

Agatha went limp, elbows too weak for support, her face mashed into the mattress. Drool leaked from the corner of her slack mouth as her body rocked forward with every brutal thrust. She was now just a trembling, cock-drunk witch getting railed into oblivion. 

Marshall’s big hands clamped down on her asscheeks. He spread her wide, staring down at that tiny, untouched pucker above her creamy cunt. But he held back. That hole was reserved for special ladies, not scheming little sluts playing games.

"Take that, you sad little witch! You really think your sparkle-fart magic is gonna do jack shit to ME?"

“Uuuunnghhhh Ungh ung—!” Agatha came again while her body kept jolting from his merciless thrusts. A strangled wail ripped out of her as her knees collapsed completely. She flattened prone under him, ass still high, face buried.

Marshall followed her down without missing a beat, pinning her flat to the mattress and prone-boning her into the ruined bedding. One massive hand clamped around the nape of her neck like a collar, the other shoved down hard on her lower back, arching her just enough to keep her pussy up for his relentless pounding.

Plap! Slosh! Plap!

Her asscheeks slapped wetly against his groin with every merciless dive, her juices spurting out from the slim gap around his shaft.

"Ugh… There you go! The holy cleansing!" Marshall groaned as the pressure finally snapped. 

He didn’t slow down, he didn’t freeze. He fucked her through his own burst like he was trying to hammer her in. Brutal, relentless, hips pistoning so fast the impacts echoed out of the logcabin. His cock swelled thicker inside her spasming walls, then erupted.

Thick batter blasted straight against her in punishing jets, flooding her so fast the seal broke instantly. Creamy overflow gushed out around his cock with every thrust. Sloppy, white rivers spilling down her pussy, soaking the bed, painting her thighs in filthy white streaks. He kept pounding through it all, grinding deep, forcing every last drop deeper while her pussy fluttered and milked him in helpless aftershocks.

Slosh! Splurtttt–! Slosh!

The sounds turned downright obscene. He fucked his own load back into her battered cunt like he was trying stuff her full of cream.

Then, abruptly, he was done. Marshall yanked himself out, cock still twitching and glistening. Thick globs of white drooled from her gaping, swollen pussy. He stepped off the bed without a backward glance.

"Hah! Hahaha!" 

Agatha started laughing, however. She rolled onto her back, legs splaying wide in shameless display. Her pussy was a wreck; lips puffy and red, inner folds glistening, his batter leaking in rivers down her crack. 

She shoved two fingers deep inside herself, scooping out a messy glob of his cum. She brought it to her mouth and sucked them clean with slow, nasty licks, tongue swirling.

"Hahahaha! This was… the plan! All I needed was your seed… Oh, you fool!"

Marshall was already summoning his clothes back onto his body with a casual flick of his will.  Then he threw his head back and laughed. "Bah! You really thought I’d bless your greedy little hole with my holy juice? Bitch, I knew your game from the jump. But hey, when pussy’s handed out free, who the fuck says no?”

"What?" Agatha’s smirk faltered. She scooped out another thick fingerful, licked it clean, tasting deeper with whatever magical senses she possessed. Her brow furrowed. 

"What? Salty and sweet, ain't it? Fuck yeah it is! In-house Dinosian Mayonnaise! Fresh-squeezed straight outta the temple's goddamn kitchen," he scoffed.

"..."

Agatha ate more and frowned. It did taste like that. 

"H-How…"

Marshall shrugged, already walking away. "I've got a few tens of millions of years on you, witch. You ain't as ancient as you think. Burn in hell."

With a wave, he stepped out of his loghouse. A few paces away, he flicked his fingers once. A single, tiny ember of phoenix fire sparked to life and drifted back toward the loghouse. 

It caught instantly. Flames roared up the wooden walls, swallowing the cabin whole in seconds.

"Now, time to find a mammoth."

####

Marilyn Monroe's entire world had changed. She wasn't just an actor now, but also a director. She found respect from everyone. No more walking half-nude to be eye candy. It all happened after the release of the global blockbuster, 'Hand of God'. That movie alone earned five-hundred million dollars globally. No movie in history had done that well. 

It made MGM so much money that they bought out so many other studios and music labels. Dinosia was a business management powerhouse. The power of nerds, she believed it was called. The top brass of MGM was all nerds who worked with mathematics to determine every decision, and left the artistic matters to the art-nerd staff. 

She was overjoyed to have been given the chance to become a studio representative and slowly climb as an assistant director and then a director, all the while acting in movies from romance to action and comedy. Dinosia had the best writers in the world. They even had unreleased Shakespeare plays that the man wrote while sending applications to be accepted into Dinosia. 

And she took special pride in being the First Man's lover. While it was a secret matter, everyone knew she was close to the First Man. Besides, she was a Dinosian citizen now. 

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Stark. You have a lovely home." Marilyn shook hands with the well-known genius industrialist and inventor, Howard Stark. The man had just gotten married and organised a housewarming party for his new LA mansion. 

"Come on, Ms. Monroe. We're both Dinosians. Strangers? Please. Between you and me, I’ll take Dinosia any day. Fresh breeze, no one trying to sell me bad gin, and everybody’s got a brain that actually works. Beats the alternative."

She chuckled and nodded in agreement. "I understand you, Mr. Stark. I feel at home at Dinosia's acting academy. First Man was quite the visionary to create that land."

"Ehm…"

She turned to look, as did Howard. She didn't lose her composure seeing this man, as she'd been so intimate with the First Man. There was nobody above a god. And this was just the President of the United States. 

"Mr. President." She greeted, shaking hands, recoiling when he kissed it. "Where is Mrs. Kennedy?"

####

President Chester Phillips' two terms had come to an end. But he had planned well and given his all to raise his new protege, John F. Kennedy, to the office. He did that to ensure SSR would develop as intended and fight against the external interest groups that wanted to take over America's political system. 

It was a silent war of money and influence. A few powerful ancient families that believed they should rule it all. Chester had fought them with everything, and now it was Kennedy's turn. 

However, Kennedy was young and impulsive. Going to parties, breaking security protocol, and trying his luck with famous women was anything but common. 

The audacity, however, shocked even Chester when Kennedy personally wrote to invite the First Man to his Texas tour. He heard about it only afterwards, and he was inclined to reprimand his protegee, but then the First Man accepted, as long as his demand for unlimited barbecue was met. 

Chester really didn't understand gods sometimes. They were at times so unpredictable and godly, and at times so human. He allowed it, but kept the word on the First Man secret, or else Texas would have seen a wave of mass migration from across America to see their beloved god. 

However, to increase the tour's impact, Chester arranged for a live telecast. Everything from the President's motorcade to the final speech would be shown, in which the First Man would also be visible. It would near-guarantee Kennedy's re-election later. 

So finally, when the day arrived, Chester also arrived in Dallas. He remained in the hotel, distant from the planned route. He was now the head of SSR, not the president. Beside him stood Captain Rogers and Agent Carter, both super soldiers in uniform. 

In front of them was a large television that showed everything live. The public gathering exceeded all plans, since the word of the First Man being there leaked. Chester believed it was Kennedy's doing. 

More security had to be called to keep the crowd under control. And then… At last, it appeared. 

"He really brought Marty along," Captain Rogers muttered, watching a large T-Rex walk at the front of the motorcade, "He's got a dog on his head."

Finally, the roofless car appeared on the television. First Man was visible, a big plate in hand, full of barbecue meat. Kennedy was waving his hand at the crowds. 

"What was that?!" Peggy blurted, a deep frown on her face. "Something flashed against the First Man's head. Like a spark! There, again! It's a bullet ricocheting!" 

"..."

All three of them leaned towards the TV screen and stared. And sure enough, another shot came and… this one struck the plate in First Man's hands, toppling the entire thing and ruining all of the decorated meat. But not just that, the bullet tore through the plate and struck Kennedy's leg. 

"Fuck!" Chester cursed, but not because Kennedy was shot. No, he saw the First Man turning furious. Of all things the shooter could shoot at, the bastard chose the forbidden plate. "Cut the live broadcast. It'll be bloody… whichever poor soul it is."

"..."

Captain Rogers was speechless.

"Director… Shouldn't we rush the President to the hospital?" Agent Carter asked.

"He'll be alright. Deserves it for not listening to me. We'll go to the scene now. Let's hope there's something left to interrogate by the time First Man is finished."