Marvel: Upgrading Death 30 - Holy Punishment, Nerd Shortage, Dino Corp OP, Man-Hater & Blondie’s Trauma 

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DQWpQGM6ZxLr7ZObPquskDP2lb1c-UVXqseekGY7Pvo/edit?usp=sharing

______________

It was a very sunny day when Marshall decided to join Kennedy on his car ride. He had received his big plate of barbecue, and he was content. In front of the car, Marty walked with Cosmo barking from his head. 

"The Soviets had it coming after what they did to that poor dog. They're cracking at the seams now anyway. But let's be honest, none of this would've happened without our space race pushing everybody. Still burns me that only Dinosia has a moon base while we're still stuck kicking dirt down here."

Chomp!

Marshall gobbled on a rib, slurping the bone marrow. "Huh? You sayi-gh… dat… Dino-slurp… ain't sha-wring… tesh?"

"..."

"I… Dinosia isn't sharing tech? No, not that I know of, First Man. We haven't received anything." Kennedy replied. "Are they supposed to?"

"No idea. Odin's tits! This is good," Marshall declared and kept eating while the car moved.

Tap!

But then suddenly, he felt something pinch his head on the side. He grunted in annoyance. 

"Damn flies."

Tap!

Again, something pinched him. 

"Annoying shit." 

Splash!

Then suddenly, his entire massive plate of juicy meat toppled. It took him a second to get what had happened, as he saw a gunshot wound in Kennedy's leg. His head snapped towards the nearby tall building right away. 

"Who dares wreck my goddamn lunch!" 

Woosh!

Marshall flew up with fury. It was already chaos everywhere as the Secret Service realized that the President had been shot. The car sped away quickly into a safe place, then Kennedy was transferred into a secured, roofed car, and then taken to the hospital. 

Marshall, meanwhile, rammed straight into the window of the building. He didn't need to know anything; he could smell the damn gunpowder with his superior nose; he was a god after all. Didn't help when the attacker was praying to God as well. 

Boom!

"You!" Marshall boomed, shattering through the window. "Who sent you to ruin my lunch? Who?!"

"I-I… I…"

The scrawny man kept stuttering. Marshall, not having any of it, walked over and grabbed the man by the skull, his fingers stretched. He lifted the man with ease and read everything in his mind. 

"Russian? Them red motherfuckers again?" Marshall cursed and squeezed out all the information possible. He knew the face, the name, the place. 

"Sir!"

"First Man!" 

Right then, the nearby door burst open and Captain America, with his missus, Agent Carter, stormed in, both dressed in their hero costumes, both tall and muscular super soldiers. 

"Catch, pretty boy!" Marshall threw the assassin over to Steve. "Gotta track down some Russian cock-goblin… hold up! Track? Me? Fuck no. I'm a fucking god." 

Instead of going anywhere, Marshall walked to an opening on the floor and dragged an office chair. He sat down in the middle of the open area and closed his eyes, arms crossed. By now, Marshall had so many powers, and amongst them, even above Galactus', stood the Aspirant's. The very power that allowed him to bring back Marty. He also had the Aspirant physique and cosmic energy manipulation. 

On top of that, having inherited the power of the Tesseract, he held dominion over space manipulation as well. 

"Let's see… George Sergius de Mohrenschildt… Where are you hiding?" Marshall focused and tried to find the man. He knew the face, the voice, the name. All he needed to do was use the weird godly power that he didn't inherit but simply grew. If humans saw him as their god, then he was just that. "Got you!"

As soon as he had the target, he summoned a spatial portal, and in less than a second, the man appeared in front of him. Tall, dressed in a suit and tie, hair slick. 

"W-What?" 

George was confused as he stood there, looking left and right. 

"On your knees!" Marshall ordered. A flick of his finger was enough to press the man to his knees so hard that the kneecaps just shattered. 

"Aaaaaargh! G-God! First Man! Forgive me!"

"Forgive you? For what?" Marshall asked back. 

"..." George cried real tears, pleadingly looking at Captain America and Agent Carter. "P-Please… I don't know. But I must have done something utterly sinful."

"Damn right you did. You send this scrawny little fucker to blast my goddamn barbecue plate and cockblock my lunch?"

"..."

"Eh…" Steve suddenly approached his side. "Sir, I think their goal was to assassinate President Kennedy."

"Huh? Then fucking blast his skull already! Why ruin my plate of absolutely fine meat? That shit was perfection, juicy, flawless. Can't even fucking aim," Marshall snarled, yanking kneeling George through the air like a ragdoll. Seconds later, George's head was locked in his grip. He didn't need to touch to read, however. He just liked to crush their heads and give them headaches. 

"Hmm… what the fuck is this? A British guy plotted all this? Why? Goddamn tea-sipping cockwombles. Only thing I remember about those pricks is their shriveled-up dwarf queen."

Unseen, Agent Carter's jaw tightened behind. 

Since he'd seen the British guy in the memory, he summoned that man next. Again, two kneecaps were shattered. The man was old to begin with. Marshall again asked why they ruined his lunch. All he received was apologies and begging. 

He read the tea-fucker's mind and learned about a group called Hydra. So, Marshall summoned the man he saw in the memories, the supposed operator of the secret group. Everything repeated, and another mind was fucked. 

Finally, two names came, some Rothschild and some Romanov of Russia. 

Woosh!

Marshall summoned both men in question. Old fossils, but not that old. They were dressed in fine suits. By then, the floor was crowded with so many figures that Marshall had summoned. 

"Your Holiness." The man called Edward Rothschild bowed. 

"First Man, it's an honor." So did Romanov.

"Suck each other's tits!" Marshall ordered. "You ruined my meat, so now you gotta slobber each other and jerk each other off."

"..."

"Y-Your Holiness, I assure you—"

"Shut it, Ratchild," Marshall growled and pointed at the assassin. He sent a beam of phoenix flames and burned a hole in the man’s chest. "You want that? No? Then start sucking."

Thud!

What happened in that room was far too disgusting to even describe in words. The two men were old and wrinkled to begin with; their faces were prime examples of the horrors of incest. Fucked up teeth, fucked up nose, and sure enough, one was missing a ball, while the other had a cock that needed a magnifying lens to look at. 

"Uwaaa!" Peggy Carter vomited at the sight. 

Marshall looked behind and grinned at Steve. "Congratulations, son. Seems you're gonna be a daddy again."

"..."

"I-I don't think she's…"

Marshall shook his head. "I see all, kid. There's life growing inside her."

Steve stared at his wife, and Peggy also looked down at her belly. They had no idea, but since the literal god was saying it, it must be true. 

Marshall watched as the insanity resumed. Two old fuckers on top of each other. Best not to say more. Even Marshall frowned at times, finding the sight filthy and just off-putting. 

"Jesus! Roman, you're enjoying that, ain't you? Why the fuck are you moaning?!" Marshall frowned and stared at the Hydra leader. "You, go and diddle Roman's ass."

"..."

"You, tea-fucker. I'm sending you back home. Bring a videocamera, I'll count to a hundred."

Soon, the world's finest, filthiest movie started being recorded. Something that would shame ancient families.

"Tea-fucker, go and shove it in the Hydra guy's face."

"..."

At that point, Steve and Agent Carter had turned away. It was too much. 

"First Man… Sir," Steve murmured. "Shouldn't we find out why they tried to kill the President?"

"Ah! Fuck, should've done that first. All of you, stop. Ratchild and Roman sit there like good little dogs." Marshall ordered and swept through their minds. He avoided the newly made memories, and as he read everything, he became enraged. 

They were powerful, shadow rulers of many nations. Shadow hands that brought many man-made calamities. And worse, they were a part of a strange cult where they did horrible things to young ones. 

Instead of explaining all of it, he uploaded all that information into Steve's brain. The mighty Super Soldier sat on his knees right away. The man looked horrified. 

"I guess Kennedy boy was doing something good. Fighting you cocksuckers." Marshall growled, "Makes me wanna puke that you assholes pray to me like I'm your goddamn hall pass. Fine. You get a prize. You, your whole screaming bloodline, your friends who do the same, and their screaming bloodlines too. Poof. I'll erase every last molecule tied to your shitty DNA. I’m the First Man to humans, and you are… hellspawn."

It was radical. But Marshall was never kind to those who annoyed him. That was true for the old Marshall, and it was still true for the new Marshall. 

That day, tens of thousands of humans, men, women, and children just vanished from across the world. They were all important and influential people, some in secrecy and others in public view. Immense wealth was left behind. 

And Marshall was done with it all. 

"Sir…" Steve voiced. "What about the Hydra leader and the Russian?"

"Do whatever you want. My day's ruined anyway," Marshall said and got up, making a portal to Dinosia. "Teaching you humans to make fire was a goddamn mistake. Evil shits."

Woosh!

And just like that, the portal closed, and Marshall vanished inside it. 

Steve stared at his wife, sighing. 

"That was… extreme," Agent Carter commented. 

But Steve shook his head, having seen the memories. "I… don't think so… Peggy."

####

Dinosia, 

Azul S. Grant, also known as Apocalypse, was annoyed. Once again, he was thrown on the seat of Chairman of Commerce after a group of nerds voted to invoke emergency laws to protect the economy. 

"Ugh…" Azul put away the document. It was the recent law that First Man had ordered him to pass in Dinosia and force all nations across the world to pass as well or face First Man's fury. It was a law against sexual crimes against men, women, children, and animals, and the penalty was death by firing squad. 

In secrecy, Azul had advised these nations to hire mutant telepaths to make sure each death sentence was only given to the guilty. 

It was a sad thing that mutants were still not seen favorably around the world. Even after all that Dinosia had done and shown. But the change was happening. Mutants didn't suffer as much anymore. 

Now, his real problem was something entirely different. A crisis. It turned out that Dinosia was running out of nerds. The average IQ was dropping because the kids of the nerds weren't as intelligent as the nerds themselves. And that created a population of lower-intelligence people, who needed simple-minded jobs. Sadly, Dinosia didn't have any such jobs. 

The initial proposal was to expel all the dumb ones. But he felt it was inhuman to separate children from parents. 

Hence, he sought his father once again. He waited outside his father's chamber, as he could hear moans coming from inside, belonging to both Selene and Morgan Le Fay. 

Only once he was sure the 'ritual' was complete, he knocked on the door. As expected, the First Man appeared naked, drenched in spills. 

"World's ending?"

"Father, I need advice. We are running out of intellectuals. The… “nerds” as you call them, don't always create intelligent life as themselves. The average IQ of Dinosia is falling, and I do not know what to do about it."

Azul waited, watching his father rub his chin for moments. He knew there was a solution, and he knew his father would have it. 

"Goddamit, those nerds and their shitty cockjuices. Alright, call up Dino Corp in space, tell them to send some trainers down. We'll teach all the dumb kids how to shoot space guns, fly space ships, do space things, and then we'll send them to space. Fuckers will either make a name for themselves or breed like rabbits and expand humanity."

"..."

Azul was shocked. This was… truly the most magnificent solution. 

Even with lower intelligence, once those children learned space technology, even at the basic level, they'd be more advanced than any human child. And spreading humanity would make the First Man's worship spread to many more worlds. 

Father… you are too wise. 

"Go now, I gotta pound their asses next. Kennedy's coming later, we're gonna crack some Hollywood kitties."

Azul did just that.

####

Gamora was confused. What the hell was she doing in her life? 

She had everything now. She was the second-in-command of Dino Corp, the largest peace-keeping mercenary force in the universe. They had tens of millions of members, hundreds of thousands of ships. The mothership was practically a floating mega-city with its own districts, population reaching over a million. 

The truth was. Gamora knew she had already surpassed her father. The Mad Titan was mighty, but not this much. Thanos didn't have this big an army or fleet. Moreover, Thanos wasn't as strong as the Boss, who was called the First Man in his home world. 

Knock! Knock!

The door to her workplace slid open, and Yondu walked in with a big grin. 

"It's done, Admiral. We ended the global plague." 

Another world saved, as was Dino Corp's job. She just gave a nod and looked back down at the datapad. "The next is… pirate issues."

"On it, Admiral. Sent the 451st fleet to it."

"And the dying star?"

"We evacuated the entire planet using five fleets and two motherships."

She nodded and kept reading the list, getting an update. Finally, she gave more jobs and sent Yondu away. The man wasn't her first choice, but Yondu always got the job done. At least her work was less busy than her senior, the true Chief Admiral, Stakar Ogord. 

Forgetting how many signs she had made, she got up from her seat and walked over to the nearby viewport. The space was bright, and yet she didn't feel much excitement. Thanos felt insignificant, and there was annoyance. 

She was yet to share a bed with the First Man. She had started that plot long ago and had failed in the middle. Instead of her, it was Shalla-Bal who won. 

It left a bad taste in her mouth. 

"Soon… I'll return to Terra."

####

Kennedy won his second term by a landslide. After all, he was now able to send Americans to space with Dinosia sharing their tech. Though America wasn't alone in that. Any country with money to spare used Dinosian tech to send man to the moon. It was scaled-down tech, however. Dinosia remained at the lead. 

Kennedy would have won a third term if there were no rule for two terms set. The new president wasn't very popular; he was a man who tried to start a war in Vietnam, only to be almost impeached, and killed by Dinosia for promoting war. 

A massacre took place in the USA, Russia, China, Europe, and Africa after that. All elements that dared propose war and human conflict were killed. That was the end of the Global Military Industrial Complex, before it even took off properly. 

The First Man was worshiped still as Dinosia maintained peace across the world in ways the supposed superpower, the USA, failed. Dinosia gave special genetically modified crops to nations where the land wasn't fertile. Dinosia gave electricity to nations without it. Dinosia built giant water plants and cleaned rivers. Technology was shared regardless of political leaning. Communists, Socialists, and Capitalists all had the choice to improve. And none dared to organize wars. 

Some nations changed their entire governments to pro-First Man worship political parties. And because of First Man's well-known tolerant views about the human species being nothing but shitty apes, there was a strange unity amongst the human species. Sadly, that wasn't blindly extended to mutants. 

A nerd called Hank Pym developed Pym particles in Dinosia around that time. Instead of hiding it, the man offered it to Dinosia itself. And Dinosia gave it to Dino Corp, who used the magical particles to gain a foothold across the entire universe as the greatest logistics corporation.  

A few years later, the nerd called Howard Stark developed a true, miniature Arc Reactor using Dinosia's advanced technology. Instead of hiding it, Howard Stark allowed Dinosia to make use of it and provide clean energy to as many nations as possible, by keeping the main grid only in Dinosia to protect the futuristic technology. 

1976 was the year of another American Presidential election. After eight years of a shitty president, who didn't belong to Chester Phillips' faction, it was time to return the White House to the same faction. Chester Phillips retired from the SSR, now extremely old. John F. Kennedy was instead made the Director of SHIELD, guiding it as the hidden hand and nurturing the future generation of the agency. 

And the new Presidential candidate was someone nobody expected. 

Posters started appearing across the United States. Posters depicting the face of Captain America with the words "I WANT YOU… VOTE ROGERS"

Captain Steven Grant Rogers, known as Captain America, the hero from World War II, finally decided to enter politics and run for office. 

It was too fucking easy. With barely any advertisements and just a few speeches, Captain America won by a huge landslide, nearly winning all states.

The first thing he did after entering the office was to direct the Federal Agencies to investigate figures and companies related to healthcare, defense, and the technological sector. It was his war against un-American forces, slowing down America's growth through monopolies and illegal means. 

The second thing Steven did was make government spending, other than defense, public. Make stock trading illegal for politicians. Make lobbying transparent, letting Americans know who paid for what and where, and to whom. 

There was a lot of pushback. But somehow, Captain America had turned into Politician America. The man invoked the name of the First Man against anyone who tried to stop him. 

Naturally, the world knew how close Captain America was to the First Man. And the First Man was a divine figure that everyone feared. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, China went through its own little revolution. In 1980, a student uprising took the nation by storm. Deng Xiaoping, the leader who promoted economic liberation, was against individual liberation. 

Tanks rolled in Beijing. Countless men, women, and children were murdered. But this time, there was no Soviet Union to back the CCP. The CCP leaders were declared terrorists by Dinosia, and Captain America's USA decided to cash in on the bounties put on those terrorists. 

China remained communist, however. But the CCP leadership that came next was made up of the younger generation. One who was scared of doing something insane again. 

Fear of the First Man somehow moved nations to quell corruption and maximize their governmental efficiencies. 

And since those hidden hands, those ancient families were gone, the world was free to progress as it pleased. 

####

1984, Camp Lehigh,

Marshall, atop his massive raft with Marty at his side, arrived at the military camp on the invitation of President Rogers. It was Steven's last term, soon coming to an end, and a successor was already chosen. Some old guy named Ronald Reagan. 

"Go take a little stroll, Marty. Don't make them shit their pants... yet." Marshall got off his raft and was greeted by a tall woman with long blonde hair made into a bun, in military fatigues. She looked young, probably twenty or above. "Well, goddamn. They rolled out the red carpet and stapled a pretty girl to it. They really know me."

"I'm a soldier, Sir. My face has nothing to do with it."

"And she's an annoying spitfire. FUCKING PERFECT!" Marshall grumbled and walked. "Ain't no harm in accepting compliments, girl. What's your name?"

"I'm a test pilot for the special branch, recruit Carol Susan Jane Danvers, sir. This way, the President is waiting for you at the containment facility."

Marshall shrugged and watched her ass as she led him. There wasn't a lot to watch, honestly. She was a slender woman. Though he knew she had a great shape under that uniform. It was her stuck-up attitude that was cockblocking. 

I don't think I got any smoking-hot blonde back in Dinosia. Marilyn's fake. 

With that in mind, Marshall eventually decided to seek out a hot, blonde bombshell. 

"In there, Sir."

Marshall walked through the door she opened for him. She didn't follow him inside, probably below her pay grade. As he entered, he found Rogers, Peggy, Howard, and Kennedy gathered around an operating table. 

A humanoid figure was lying on the table, hands and feet shackled. It was green with a wrinkly face. A face only a mother could love. 

"First Man."

"Sir!"

Marshall walked past them to the side of the table. "Who's this green ballsack?"

"We were hoping you'd tell us," President Rogers said. "It's an alien we recently caught. He was trying to impersonate my Chief of Staff by using a shapeshifting ability. I was lucky enough to subdue him."

Marshall hummed, licked his pinky finger, and probed it into the green alien's ear. Instantly, he got a reaction as the alien scrunched up. "Fuckers acting unconscious."

"..."

"I mean no harm!" The green alien yelped, opening his eyes.

"See," Marshall exclaimed, wiping his pinky on Howard's suit. "I think I know his species. Skull?"

"Skrull," the green alien said. "I belong to the species called the Skrulls. We seek refuge on this planet."

"By infiltrating my office?" Rogers asked. 

"I only wanted to know what you were planning. You humans are more tolerant than most other species I have seen. I was hoping for you to include aliens in your Mutant Normalization Act."

Marshall frowned. "What the fuck is that? They ain't normal? Have you seen Raven? She's fine as fuck."

"Ah, it's an act that will guarantee equal rights to all mutants in America, Sir," Rogers explained. "I'll face backlash for it, but I will get it passed before I leave the office."

Marshall shrugged, uncaring about politics. He eyed the alien again. "Can you turn into anything?"

"We… can."

"Then turn into a hot blonde bombshell with a big ass and rack."

"..."

All looked at the alien. Everyone but Marshall somewhat pitied the alien.  

"Why?" the alien asked. 

"Hold up! Yeah, why exactly? No way I can plow you. Ugh, shit! My brain's already imagining it. Goddamn you, you nasty space femboy. Wait, you ain't feminine… Fuck!" Marshall, annoyed, looked away and walked. "I'm gonna go find something to drink."

"It's in my office! Top shelf," Howard shouted. "My son might be there. Say hello to him."

Marshall waved and walked out of the room. He found the tall, slender blonde with a bitchy proud face. "You know Howard's office?"

"I do, Sir."

"Let's go."

Marshall once again followed her tight ass through a few corridors and guarded doors. Soon enough, she opened the door for him, and he walked inside. 

"Come on in, I'm gonna have a drink," he offered and looked around the room. Sure enough, there was a nice, clean bottle on a shelf. He grabbed it, removed the cap, and drank it neat. It was whiskey. He used his powers to chill the entire bottle. "Good shit!"

Sadly, he simply couldn't get drunk. He just liked the taste as it made him nostalgic. 

Lazily, he walked over to Howard's table and sat down on it. He looked towards Carol, who stood like a soldier in front of him; the closed door was behind her. He offered the bottle to her with a gesture, and she shook her head. 

"So spill it, what the hell is your pompous, stuck-up ass doing here?"

Carol frowned. "I joined the Air Force, First Man. But I was offered a position here as a test pilot for secret projects." 

Marshall nodded, taking more sips from the bottle. "Dating a guy here? Bet Rogers gets your tits twisted. Handsome, President, super soldier."

"..."

"I…" Carol's fists clenched, "I am not interested in men or women. I just—"

"Holy balls! You're telling me no one's ever rammed you balls-deep, raw, straight to brain-melting? You're robbing yourself blind! Fucking is the ultimate prize of the universe. Even aliens enjoy it."

"..."

Carol finally exploded, but not in anger. Her jaw fell, shocked by the audacity. But then she remembered this was the god of humanity, millions of years old, and hence had no filters on the tongue.

"It's a waste of time." She declared. "I'd rather spend time in the flight sim."

Marshall laughed. "Hah! Waste of time? How the hell do you know candy's any good if you ain't shoved it in your face yet?"

“I’ve seen this movie before. Exaggerated moans, dramatic finish, the whole play. Apparently, most women just fake it to keep the guy from sulking. I’ll pass. I don’t do charity work in bed.”

"Really? Then watch this. My recent session with Raven," Marshall said, and showed his memories directly into her mind. Since it was from his view, it showed Raven crying, moaning, going crazy, and loving every second of it. The way she slobbered on his cock, the way she rode him while screaming declarations of love.

"..."

There was a long moment of silence. But then Carol's defiance returned. 

"Hmph. Well, look at that. One whole point for you. I mean, you're the god, so forgive me for expecting literally anything higher than the bare minimum."

Marshall laughed again. "Contradiction dripping from those pouty lips? Face it, you're a cherry-popped-in-fantasy-only virgin who's spent her whole life yapping garbage and screaming at the sky every time life gave you a paper cut. You're fucking terrified, admit it. Scared you'll slam down on dick and go 'holy fuck this rules.' Boom. There goes your whole 'men are irrelevant' manifesto in a mushroom cloud."

"Fuck you!" Carol growled, "You don't know me."

"I know a virgin liar when I see one," Marshall called her out. "Screaming fuck at me doesn't rewrite biology. Deep down, you already know you're gonna slam that greedy pussy onto a willing dick and get hooked like a junkie. Own that. I'm not the morality police."

"No. I don’t need that. I’ve got my emotions under control. That’s exactly how I got here. No one handed me anything, and I never begged for a handout. I earned everything I have. End of discussion."

"Still a weepy, whining, never-been-laid virgin little bitch."

"You!" Carol fumed. "Fine! Why don't you do it then, First Man?"

"Huh? You want my holy rod in you?"

"Why? Scared?" But it was Carol who gulped, unknowingly licking her drying lips. “I’m not into men. Or women. Or anyone, period. But it’s no big deal, okay? It’ll hurt for like two seconds, and then it’s over. I couldn’t care less. And if my first time happens to be with an actual god, I’m not exactly going to cry about it.”

Creak!

Marshall suddenly got up from the table, walked over towards Carol, a few inches shorter than he was. From up close, she did have a pretty face. He kept walking until Carol's back was flat against the closed door. 

"You asked for it. On your knees, girl."

"Huh? I don't do that—"

"Then forget about it."

"You! Fine," Carol growled and fell to her knees. She knew what to do and removed his belt and strange lower clothing. She was firm on proving to him that she didn’t feel anything those mindless women did. That she was different.

"No need." Marshall declared, drank the entire bottle, and threw it aside to shatter on the floor. Then he simply made his lower clothes vanish entirely, his fat cock already halfway up growing. Veiny, meaty, purple, and threatening. "Slide it in. Let me help."

"What? I can do i—Mmmmmm!"

Before Carol could spit out another word, Marshall’s hands clamped her skull, thumbs pressing just under her forehead. He simply tilted her head back against the door and fed his cock straight past her lips.

This was new. So weird and new. Her eyes flew wide. The sudden stretch burned at the corners of her mouth. Her tongue flattened instinctively under the heavy underside as the swollen head dragged along it, painting her taste buds with salty beads of precum. 

He didn’t stop. Inch after thick inch followed, relentless, until the blunt crown nudged the back of her throat and kept going.

"Ooooommmmph!"

Carol’s hands shot up on reflex, palms slapping against his thighs. Half to push him, half just to brace herself. She felt every vein glide over her tongue, every ridge catching lightly on the roof of her mouth. Her jaw ached already, stretched wide. And still he pushed, slow and merciless, until her nose mashed into the coarse hair at his root.

She felt it deep in her gullet. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Only feel his shaft throbbing against her tongue, swelling thicker, sealing her airway. 

"Ngh!" 

The gag rippled up her gullet. Her whole body jerked, throat clamping down around his cock. Saliva flooded her mouth, spilling hot and messy over her lower lip, dripping in shiny strings onto the front of her uniform.

Carol’s throat convulsed around him. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming fullness. Her chest heaved, lungs burning.

This wasn’t her plan. She was supposed to be in control, her choice. Not this crude animal claiming against Howard’s office door. Anger flared in her chest. She glared up at him through watery eyes, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening around his cock.

Carol sucked in another ragged breath the moment his cock slipped back to her mouth, but the relief lasted only a second. Her mouth gulped the drool, forcing her to suckle on his tip. The raw ache at her core suddenly grew sharper. She hated how her body responded. Hated even more that part of her that didn’t want him to stop.

"Now we're talking. Roll that tongue on it," Marshall said with amusement.

His fingers tightened in her hair again, and then he started truly fucking her face.

Each thrust slammed forward until his pubes scraped her upper lip, his balls swinging to tap her chin. Then he pulled back slow enough for her tongue to drag along the thick underside, letting her taste every musky inch before he rammed in again. 

Glurk! Glurk! 

She choked and gagged repeatedly. Spit poured from the corners of her splayed lips, dripping in shiny ropes down her chin, soaking her slender neck.

Carol’s eyes watered harder, tears streaking her flushed cheeks. But in the blur, she could see his face. Head tipped back slightly, jaw slack with raw pleasure. An actual god was losing his calm because of her mouth.

Strange pride bloomed hot in her chest. She’d done that. The stuck-up test pilot no one ever touched. She felt it coil low in her belly, right alongside the shameful throb between her thighs.

Without thinking, her fingers stubbornly dug into the firm meat of his ass. She started moving, pushing her face forward to meet each slam, tongue curling greedily around the swollen crown every time he pulled back far enough. She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks.

Thunk! Thunk!

Her head knocked rhythmically against the cold metal door behind her as he fucked her harder. The impacts rattled her brain, but she didn’t fight it anymore. She was breathless, dizzy, strands of blonde hair slipping free from their tight military bun until the whole thing broke free around her face and shoulders. 

"Damn! You're pretty with hair down!" Marshall laughed.

The words landed like a spark in her lower belly.

Heat raced up her neck, flushing her cheeks darker. She didn’t know why those crude words made her feel so… good. But they did. Her nipples ached against the damp fabric of her bra. Between her legs, her untouched pussy clenched, hot juices dripping steadily down the insides of her thighs. She felt pleasure, even needing more of it.

And then she felt his cock throb, right against her tongue. The vein along his underside pulsed violently against her lower lip. She knew what it was. 

"Drink it all! Good soldiers… always swallow! Dammit… tight throat!" he snarled.

Finally, she felt the First Man ram it all in, grinding hard. Her head was shoved flat against the door behind. She felt his cock flex, once, twice, then erupted in her throat. 

The first jet splashed the back of her throat so hard she choked instantly. Thick cream coated her tongue, viscous and salty-sweet, flooding her mouth faster than she could swallow. Her nose flared. She tried to gulp it all down, but it was too much, too slow; sticky globs backed up, forcing their way past her lips in long, filthy strings with every shallow thrust he kept giving her.

Spurt! Srlk! Slurrp–!

He fucked her mouth through his release, smearing godly batter and spit across her cheeks, her chin, even her hair. Foam bubbled and frothed at the corners of her lips.

Finally, the First Man pulled free with a wet, slimy tug. 

His cock glistened, still rock-hard, still angry-red and veined, dripping the last pearly drops onto her swollen lower lip. That grin of his looked down at her cum-ruined face.

"Time for the main course."

"You meh-an… here?" She asked in surprise, words slurring from her numb lips.

He didn’t even answer; Carol already found herself pulled to her feet and turned around, facing the door. His broad hand planted between her shoulder and pushed down, forcing her back to arch and lean, hands on the door. Her smooth ass jutted out, legs trembling. 

“Oh!”

The cool office air suddenly kissed her delicious legs as he yanked her uniform pants and panties down in one rough tug, leaving them on her ankles. 

Carol gasped and looked down. Her inner thighs were already gleaming, shameful evidence of how wet she’d gotten just from choking on him.

Before she could process it, she heard him drop to his knees behind her with a heavy thud. Hot breath ghosted over her drenched lower lips. Then she suddenly felt his warm, slithering tongue drag a slow, wide lick from clit to entrance, flattening against her sensitive nub and gathering every drop of her nectar.

"Ooooh!"

She’d never felt anything like it. So filthy, so good. She couldn’t help the buzzing sensation running up her spine; she wanted more. No, she needed more.

"Sweet! But I ain't waiting!" he muttered against her pussy.

Carol heard the rustling as he stood back up again.

She felt the blunt, dripping head of his cock tap once, twice against her virgin entrance. Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists against the door. She squeezed her eyes shut. Heart hammering, thighs shaking. Every nerve screaming in dread and perhaps, anticipation...

"Here comes the… one and only, holy cock…! Damn tight!"

"Aaaaaaah!" Carol bucked and nearly screamed at the sensation. 

Her spine snapped into an arch as the thick, blunt tip of his cock split her open. The stretch was raw, splaying her like leather nailed to a rack. Her virgin depth gave way, walls quivering in panic around his girth. She felt every ridge, every throbbing inch as he kept sliding deeper without mercy, splitting her apart.

“Ungh!”

She felt it; something tore inside. Sharp, fleeting sting, gone in a heartbeat. The virgin barrier she’d never even thought about, shredded under the First Man’s relentless press. No romance. Just the wet, irreversible claim burying itself to the root. At least, it was to a god, she thought. 

"Aaaaah! So… big!" 

She hated the needy sound of her own voice. She’d sworn she’d stay silent, keep her pride behind clenched teeth. But the desperate words spilled anyway, as another thick inch sank home.

But it was true, he was so big, too much. Each slow inch he fed her stretched her toned belly from the inside, a hard, hot bulge she could almost feel pressing against her own skin. It felt foreign, like something that shouldn't be inside her, so deep, so hard, and scorching hot. 

"Gaaaah! All in! What’s the review, soldier?"

Carol groaned. "I… Can… take it."

"Alright,"

Thunk!

She felt his rough hand clamped around her nape, shoving her face forward until her cheek and jaw flattened brutally against the door. And then, she heard it. 

Plap–!

She couldn't see, but she felt everything. The first full, savage thrust slammed deep. His hips crashed into the firm roundness of her ass, balls swinging heavy against her sensitive kernel.

Her soaked pussy lips dragged back and forth along his glistening length with every push and pull, petals clinging to his girth, walls sucking like her life depended on it. She felt the obscene tug-of-war in her own pussy, trying to keep him inside while he pulled out. Only to ram back in even deeper, swollen tip knocking at the entrance of her womb.

His other free hand slid down the cleft of her ass. A thick finger circled her untouched back door, pressing just enough to make her shudder and clench everywhere at once.

She gritted her teeth harder. Pride still clinging to her bones. She would never sur—

Pa!

But it shattered when his palm cracked across one pale asscheek. Heat bloomed instantly, a stinging ache that raced straight to her swollen, sensitive nub.

"Gaaaah! Oh! I… it feels weird!"

"That's called an orgasm, soldier. At ease and just enjoy."

She knew the word. But she never felt it before, never bothered wanting to. Her legs suddenly felt like jelly. A molten pressure coiled in her belly, strangling. Every brutal plunge of his cock punched against something inside that made it even more unbearable. Her walls started to flutter, then clamp, then ripple in waves.

She came like a dam bursting.

Clear, hot nectar gushed from her in squirts. First one, a hard jet that sprayed against his plunging shaft and splattered the floor, then another. Her pussy spasmed wildly around him, milking, flooding. The puddle grew under their feet, spreading across polished stone. Her thighs shook, knees buckling; only his grip on her neck and the thick cock pinning her to the door kept her upright.

She cursed under her breath, her eyes squeezed shut in burning shame. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t how it should be. Not like a broken faucet. 

First Man didn’t slow down. If anything, he went faster.

Squelch! Plap! Squelch!

Marshall stared down at the sight. Her ass was firm, athletic, barely any give when his hips slammed home, but the way it jiggled with each impact made his balls tighten harder. Pale skin already blooming pink from his handprint. Her tight pussy gripped him like a fist, so wet it slurped with every thrust, creamy froth coating his shaft and dripping in thick strings.

"Gonna… pump it all in!"

"What?!"

"Easy… my little tadpoles don't work on humans."

He kept her cheek mashed against the door and used the angle to grind deeper. His other arm snaked around her waist, thick fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing in merciless circles. He fucked her through the aftershocks and made her dance helplessly on tiptoes as her legs gave out again and again.

It didn’t take long. She shattered a second time, harder and wetter. 

His cock was enjoying the smooth slip and slide.

"Mmmm! I… can't feel my legs or… insides." Her whole body jerked, thighs quivering, another smaller gush of slick dripping.

"Welcome to the club, Carol," Marshall chuckled and slammed to the hilt one last time.

Jet after thick jet of hot cream flooded every nook and cranny of her inner walls. His hips jerked with each spurt, grinding deep until she was stuffed thoroughly. It was so much it couldn’t all stay inside, spurting out around his buried cock with every pulse, splattering her inner thighs, dripping in globs to join the puddle already cooling on the floor. 

He stayed buried to the root and kept grinding deep. One massive palm flattened hard against her lower belly, pressing inward so she could feel the sinful bulge of his cock shifting under her skin.

"Oh god… you’re… breaking me!"

"No need to thank me," Marshall replied. His hands slid up under her rumpled shirt, fingers shoving her tight bra out of the way, and cupped her small, firm breasts. His thumbs flicking over stiff nipples. "Next time, let's do it on a bed. “

"Yeah… Wait, next time? I don't want a next time."

Plop!

He pulled out with a wet slosh. The sudden emptiness made her pussy clench, a flutter that sent another trickle of their mess sliding down her inner thighs. 

Carol’s legs gave out instantly. She dropped to her knees right into the sticky puddle on the floor.

"We'll see about that," Marshall said as he summoned his clothes again. He stepped over to Howard’s liquor cabinet, plucked another bottle of whiskey like he owned the place, and took a long swig. 

"I'm a mess. How am I going to clean myself?" Carol panicked.

Marshall glanced down at her, something almost like pity flickering in his eyes. “Get up. I’ll do it.”

Carol tried. She really tried. Her arms shook as she gripped the doorknob, hauling herself upright on trembling legs. She yanked her pants and panties back up, cold and filthy now. Her hair hung in sticky strands, face blotchy, lips swollen. She looked exactly like what she was, thoroughly fucked.

Snap!

He snapped his fingers for the dramatics. In an instant, the mess vanished from her uniform as if it had never happened. Her face smoothed out too, flushed cheeks cooling, tear tracks gone. Pristine again, almost. 

"Can't do anything about the hair," he shrugged.

She shot him a death glare, but her hands were already moving. She twisted the tangled mess back into a hasty bun. The truth was, he could fix her hair, but he just didn't bother. Because he liked that messy, flushed, ruined look. 

"Let's go." Marshall walked towards the door, bottle in hand.

"Wait! What about the mess on the floor?" Carol asked, face red in shame as she gestured weakly at the floor. There was so much, a wide, glossy puddle. Clear, red-ish nectar from her climaxes swirled with thick ropes of his spill. It was impossible to miss.

"Eh, forget it. Gift for Howard. I'm too busy anyway. Gotta go to Central Park and play catch with Marty."

"..."

She didn't argue and followed the god out of the room while closing the door. 

The office fell silent behind them. Empty, but a noise suddenly came from underneath the office table. 

Creak!

The heavy chair behind Howard’s desk moved. A figure peeked out from underneath it like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment.

A boy looked over the edge of the desk. Dark hair, wide, gleaming eyes. A smug grin split his face. His faded t-shirt proudly bore the Stark Industries logo across the chest.

"First Man… What an animal! Hell… fucking… yeah!!"

####

New York, Manhattan

Emma Frost felt all alone. Years of hiding her powers, years of being ignored, years of being hated by her own family, and then loathed by the man she liked. She felt broken at twenty-one. 

And finally, when her family learned about her powers, what they did was more than cruel. They threw her in a mental institution. She was drugged there, kept in a state where she couldn't do anything. 

She spent half her days asleep, the other half strapped to a chair. Emma had lost all hope and will to live. And in her little room, which she saw as a prison, she made up her mind to end it all. There was no point in living like this. No real human connection, nobody to talk to, it was just misery. 

Patiently, she devised a plan. She used a plastic spoon and chipped it to be sharp and pointy enough. All she needed to do was jam it in her throat. It was strong enough for that. 

She didn't really think much at that moment. She just wanted to escape the institute at any cost. She felt scared of using her powers for some reason. She had a tiny window in her room. She could have escaped through it. But she never tried. 

Emma had built a prison around her own mind, entrapping herself. 

That morning, she decided to do it. She placed her chair facing the tiny window. She saw the sky one last time and sat down, holding the shank against her own neck. She didn't shiver, didn't cry. Just stared at the window. 

"Don't even have someone to say goodbye to."

Finally, she closed her eyes and pressed the shank. She felt it. Its tip was very sharp and…

BOOM!

She thought her life would collapse in silence. But the opposite happened. Somehow, for some reason, when she opened her eyes, all she saw was that her cell's window wall had collapsed entirely. The ceiling lights had also fallen.

There was dust everywhere, and near her slender feet, a strange stone ball the size of a football rested. She looked at it in confusion, then at the opening in the wall. Her cell was on the 20th floor. She reckoned she could jump and…

Woosh!

Before her thoughts could complete, she saw a man in strange, ancient clothing fly into her tiny room. His hair was blonde, and his beard was short and rough. His eyes were big, his lips curved in a big smile full of life and happiness, the very opposite of hers. 

"F-First Man!" She recognized him very quickly. 

"Fuck my actual life! Apologies, ma'am. That fatass Marty yeeted the damn ball into goddamn orbit again."

"..."

For no reason, tears slid down Emma's face. What sort of strange turn of events was this? God came to save her? Or was this a mere coincidence? Whatever the reason was, she lost her grip on the shank. 

"Fuck! Don't cry. It's just a wall. I'll slap a fresh one together before your tears dry."

"No… No, no… Thank you," Emma cried. Seeing the First Man, she remembered something. A place where mutants were welcomed. 

"Alright… I guess."

"No!" She jumped to her feet right when First Man was about to leave. "Take me with you! I'm a mutant! They're holding me against my will! Please! Please, First Man!"

"They're what now?"

Emma recoiled in disbelief at the sudden shift in energy and air. The First Man looked furious and… never before had she seen someone get angry for her. 

It was almost… heartwarming.