The street is empty
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 16
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Blitzo stood naked in the middle of the devastated street, seven feet of sweat-slicked, bronze perfection glistening under the afternoon sun. Thick, grease-like ropes of his own custard cum still clung to his massive chest, dripped from his pierced cock in slow, heavy strands, and painted glossy trails down his vascular thighs and calves. The ruined gym behind him groaned one last time, a final wall collapsing in a dusty puff. From inside the rubble came the faint, broken groans of the four bodybuilders he had just dismantled — wet, pitiful sounds that made his violet eyes flutter with pure pleasure.
He breathed slowly, deeply, chest rising like twin mountains, savoring the raw power that thrummed through every dense fiber of his body. “Fuck… this is what it feels like,” he whispered, licking his lips with slow, brutal hunger. “All that muscle, all that strength… I always knew it was sexy. But now? Now I *get* it. I’m a walking wet dream and a nightmare at the same time.”
Behind him, Stolas — still in his slutty cheerleader outfit, tiny pleated skirt flipping up to flash ghostly ass, pom-poms shaking — bounced in mid-air like a deranged mascot at the Super Bowl.
“Oh Blitzo, you’re so fine!
You’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!
Oh Blitzo, you’re so fine!
You’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!”
Stolas twirled, skirt flaring, voice pitched in perfect Toni Basil falsetto but dripping with filthy innuendo. “Oh Blitzo, you’re so thick!
Your big cock makes me so slick!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!
Gonna ride that muscle dick!”
Blitzo’s smug grin widened. He sauntered over to a parked SUV, bent at the waist so his huge, heavy balls swung low, almost brushing the asphalt. Palms slid under the chassis. With zero effort he lifted the entire vehicle straight overhead, metal creaking, tires spinning uselessly in the air. The car weighed over two tons; to him it felt like a toy.
Stolas squealed like a cheerleader on coke. “Yaaaay Master! Look at those arms! Those shoulders! Oh my god, you’re lifting that car like it’s my ass on your cock! Go Blitzo! Destroy it, baby!”
Blitzo laughed — deep, childish, megalomaniacal — and squeezed. Metal screamed. The SUV folded inward with a tortured groan, glass exploding, frame crumpling like paper. In seconds it was a dense, twisted ball of steel and plastic the size of a beach ball. He balanced it on the tip of one long, manicured purple nail, spinning it lazily like a basketball.
Stolas shook his pom-poms harder. “Spin it, Master! Spin that big hard ball! Just like you spin my hole when you fuck me raw! Hey Blitzo! Hey Blitzo!”
Blitzo flicked his wrist. The metal ball sailed over his massive shoulder. In the same motion he reached out, grabbed a thick concrete utility pole like it was a dandelion, and ripped it clean out of the ground — wires sparking, concrete base crumbling. He caught the spinning car-ball in his other hand, planted his feet, and swung the pole like a baseball bat.
CRACK!
The metal sphere rocketed into the sky, disappearing over the rooftops with a distant sonic boom.
Stolas flipped in mid-air, skirt flying, cheering at the top of his lungs. “Home run, baby! That’s my big, nasty, cum-spewing god! Fuck yes, Blitzo! You’re so strong it makes my pussy wet — I mean, my hole twitch!”
Blitzo turned, cock still leaking, and grabbed Stolas by the waist. He lifted the genie effortlessly, slamming their mouths together in a deep, wet, sloppy kiss — tongues tangling, saliva stretching in thick ropes when they finally broke apart. His huge hands roamed greedily over Stolas’s cheerleader body, squeezing ass, pinching pierced nipples, groping every inch of ghostly muscle.
Stolas suddenly froze mid-moan, red eyes narrowing with maternal concern. In a puff of purple smoke he changed back to his usual low-slung golden sarong and arrogant silver hair. “Darling… what’s wrong? You look disappointed. Talk to Mama Stolas.”
Blitzo glanced over one massive shoulder at the completely empty street — abandoned cars, swinging shop signs, distant sirens that never seemed to get closer. “No cops. No security. No one even tried to stop me.” He snorted. “I was kinda hoping for a little confrontation. Something to really test this body on.” He reached out, grabbed a heavy lamppost, and ripped it out of the sidewalk like a weed, concrete base shattering. “This is boring.”
Stolas tilted his head, claws gently stroking Blitzo’s pec. “You could just wish for an army of cops to fight, my love.”
“Nah.” Blitzo’s voice darkened. “What really pisses me off is I wasted the revenge. I should’ve fucked them. Broken them while I fucked them. Turned those big tough bodybuilders into sobbing, cum-drooling bitches begging for more.” He grabbed the corner of a three-story brick building and *pushed*. Cracks spider-webbed across the wall, but the structure held.
Blitzo’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck this. I wish I was super strong. Like, actually super strong. Strong enough to rip this city apart if I feel like it.”
Stolas’s gold-painted lips curled into a wicked, sexy smile. “As you wish, my delicious tyrant.”
Power surged. Blitzo’s muscles swelled even denser, veins thickening like cables. He grinned nastily, reached up, and grabbed the entire side of the building. With a savage roar he *uprooted* it — bricks, steel beams, and all — lifting the whole structure like it weighed nothing. Then he slammed his foot down.
BOOM.
The asphalt split in a jagged earthquake line that raced down the street. Windows shattered for blocks. Car alarms screamed.
Stolas immediately clung to Blitzo’s body like a horny koala, legs wrapped around one thick thigh, claws groping pecs and abs, forked tongue flicking into his ear. “Mmm, that’s it, my big bad god… imagine bending the mayor over your cock while you crush city hall… or making the entire football team your personal cum dumpsters… or wishing every mirror in the world shows you fucking yourself… you’re so fucking hot when you’re evil, Master…”
Blitzo moaned, loving every filthy suggestion, cock throbbing against Stolas’s thigh.
Before they left, he muttered, “One more wish. The incident here? Everyone remembers it. But no consequences. No complaints, no lawsuits, no cops. It becomes an infamous legend — the day a naked muscle god destroyed a gym and walked away laughing.”
“Done,” Stolas purred.
Back in Blitzo’s dorm (Moxxie still gone for the weekend), they destroyed the room all over again.
Blitzo fucked Stolas raw — bending the genie over the couch, slamming into him with brutal, possessive thrusts, then flipping him onto the bed, then pinning him against the wall. Furniture toppled. Walls dented. Cum flew in thick, endless ropes.
“SPLURGE!” — across the ceiling.
“SPLUURGE!” — painting the TV.
“SPLUUURGE!” — flooding the carpet until it squelched underfoot.
After the fourth orgasm they finally collapsed, curled together on the ruined mattress, Blitzo’s massive arms wrapped possessively around Stolas. The genie nuzzled into his chest like a content cat, one clawed hand lazily stroking a pierced nipple.
“You’re becoming something truly special, darling,” Stolas whispered, voice soft but poisonous. “No more silly little empathy. No more caring what ants think. Just pure, beautiful selfishness. Beauty. Power. Money. That’s all that matters now. The rest of the world exists to worship or break for you.”
Blitzo grinned, already imagining it. “Yeah… bigger muscles, more money, everyone on their knees. I’m gonna be the sexiest, richest, most feared thing alive.”
The copper lamp teetered on the shelf where Blitzo had left it. It tipped. Fell.
Blitzo’s hand shot out, catching it inches from the floor.
Stolas’s red eyes softened with something almost tender. “If you ever lose that, my love… you lose me too.”
Blitzo smirked, wicked and sharp. “Then I guess I’d better take real good care of it, huh, slave?”
He turned the lamp slowly in his huge hand, already thinking.
1. Blitzo wishes the lamp becomes a permanent tattoo on his groin, binding Stolas to him forever — an idea that makes Stolas moan with delight.
2. Blitzo wishes for an indestructible safe to lock the lamp inside, keeping it secure but separate.
He breathed slowly, deeply, chest rising like twin mountains, savoring the raw power that thrummed through every dense fiber of his body. “Fuck… this is what it feels like,” he whispered, licking his lips with slow, brutal hunger. “All that muscle, all that strength… I always knew it was sexy. But now? Now I *get* it. I’m a walking wet dream and a nightmare at the same time.”
Behind him, Stolas — still in his slutty cheerleader outfit, tiny pleated skirt flipping up to flash ghostly ass, pom-poms shaking — bounced in mid-air like a deranged mascot at the Super Bowl.
“Oh Blitzo, you’re so fine!
You’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!
Oh Blitzo, you’re so fine!
You’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!”
Stolas twirled, skirt flaring, voice pitched in perfect Toni Basil falsetto but dripping with filthy innuendo. “Oh Blitzo, you’re so thick!
Your big cock makes me so slick!
Hey Blitzo!
Hey Blitzo!
Gonna ride that muscle dick!”
Blitzo’s smug grin widened. He sauntered over to a parked SUV, bent at the waist so his huge, heavy balls swung low, almost brushing the asphalt. Palms slid under the chassis. With zero effort he lifted the entire vehicle straight overhead, metal creaking, tires spinning uselessly in the air. The car weighed over two tons; to him it felt like a toy.
Stolas squealed like a cheerleader on coke. “Yaaaay Master! Look at those arms! Those shoulders! Oh my god, you’re lifting that car like it’s my ass on your cock! Go Blitzo! Destroy it, baby!”
Blitzo laughed — deep, childish, megalomaniacal — and squeezed. Metal screamed. The SUV folded inward with a tortured groan, glass exploding, frame crumpling like paper. In seconds it was a dense, twisted ball of steel and plastic the size of a beach ball. He balanced it on the tip of one long, manicured purple nail, spinning it lazily like a basketball.
Stolas shook his pom-poms harder. “Spin it, Master! Spin that big hard ball! Just like you spin my hole when you fuck me raw! Hey Blitzo! Hey Blitzo!”
Blitzo flicked his wrist. The metal ball sailed over his massive shoulder. In the same motion he reached out, grabbed a thick concrete utility pole like it was a dandelion, and ripped it clean out of the ground — wires sparking, concrete base crumbling. He caught the spinning car-ball in his other hand, planted his feet, and swung the pole like a baseball bat.
CRACK!
The metal sphere rocketed into the sky, disappearing over the rooftops with a distant sonic boom.
Stolas flipped in mid-air, skirt flying, cheering at the top of his lungs. “Home run, baby! That’s my big, nasty, cum-spewing god! Fuck yes, Blitzo! You’re so strong it makes my pussy wet — I mean, my hole twitch!”
Blitzo turned, cock still leaking, and grabbed Stolas by the waist. He lifted the genie effortlessly, slamming their mouths together in a deep, wet, sloppy kiss — tongues tangling, saliva stretching in thick ropes when they finally broke apart. His huge hands roamed greedily over Stolas’s cheerleader body, squeezing ass, pinching pierced nipples, groping every inch of ghostly muscle.
Stolas suddenly froze mid-moan, red eyes narrowing with maternal concern. In a puff of purple smoke he changed back to his usual low-slung golden sarong and arrogant silver hair. “Darling… what’s wrong? You look disappointed. Talk to Mama Stolas.”
Blitzo glanced over one massive shoulder at the completely empty street — abandoned cars, swinging shop signs, distant sirens that never seemed to get closer. “No cops. No security. No one even tried to stop me.” He snorted. “I was kinda hoping for a little confrontation. Something to really test this body on.” He reached out, grabbed a heavy lamppost, and ripped it out of the sidewalk like a weed, concrete base shattering. “This is boring.”
Stolas tilted his head, claws gently stroking Blitzo’s pec. “You could just wish for an army of cops to fight, my love.”
“Nah.” Blitzo’s voice darkened. “What really pisses me off is I wasted the revenge. I should’ve fucked them. Broken them while I fucked them. Turned those big tough bodybuilders into sobbing, cum-drooling bitches begging for more.” He grabbed the corner of a three-story brick building and *pushed*. Cracks spider-webbed across the wall, but the structure held.
Blitzo’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck this. I wish I was super strong. Like, actually super strong. Strong enough to rip this city apart if I feel like it.”
Stolas’s gold-painted lips curled into a wicked, sexy smile. “As you wish, my delicious tyrant.”
Power surged. Blitzo’s muscles swelled even denser, veins thickening like cables. He grinned nastily, reached up, and grabbed the entire side of the building. With a savage roar he *uprooted* it — bricks, steel beams, and all — lifting the whole structure like it weighed nothing. Then he slammed his foot down.
BOOM.
The asphalt split in a jagged earthquake line that raced down the street. Windows shattered for blocks. Car alarms screamed.
Stolas immediately clung to Blitzo’s body like a horny koala, legs wrapped around one thick thigh, claws groping pecs and abs, forked tongue flicking into his ear. “Mmm, that’s it, my big bad god… imagine bending the mayor over your cock while you crush city hall… or making the entire football team your personal cum dumpsters… or wishing every mirror in the world shows you fucking yourself… you’re so fucking hot when you’re evil, Master…”
Blitzo moaned, loving every filthy suggestion, cock throbbing against Stolas’s thigh.
Before they left, he muttered, “One more wish. The incident here? Everyone remembers it. But no consequences. No complaints, no lawsuits, no cops. It becomes an infamous legend — the day a naked muscle god destroyed a gym and walked away laughing.”
“Done,” Stolas purred.
Back in Blitzo’s dorm (Moxxie still gone for the weekend), they destroyed the room all over again.
Blitzo fucked Stolas raw — bending the genie over the couch, slamming into him with brutal, possessive thrusts, then flipping him onto the bed, then pinning him against the wall. Furniture toppled. Walls dented. Cum flew in thick, endless ropes.
“SPLURGE!” — across the ceiling.
“SPLUURGE!” — painting the TV.
“SPLUUURGE!” — flooding the carpet until it squelched underfoot.
After the fourth orgasm they finally collapsed, curled together on the ruined mattress, Blitzo’s massive arms wrapped possessively around Stolas. The genie nuzzled into his chest like a content cat, one clawed hand lazily stroking a pierced nipple.
“You’re becoming something truly special, darling,” Stolas whispered, voice soft but poisonous. “No more silly little empathy. No more caring what ants think. Just pure, beautiful selfishness. Beauty. Power. Money. That’s all that matters now. The rest of the world exists to worship or break for you.”
Blitzo grinned, already imagining it. “Yeah… bigger muscles, more money, everyone on their knees. I’m gonna be the sexiest, richest, most feared thing alive.”
The copper lamp teetered on the shelf where Blitzo had left it. It tipped. Fell.
Blitzo’s hand shot out, catching it inches from the floor.
Stolas’s red eyes softened with something almost tender. “If you ever lose that, my love… you lose me too.”
Blitzo smirked, wicked and sharp. “Then I guess I’d better take real good care of it, huh, slave?”
He turned the lamp slowly in his huge hand, already thinking.
1. Blitzo wishes the lamp becomes a permanent tattoo on his groin, binding Stolas to him forever — an idea that makes Stolas moan with delight.
2. Blitzo wishes for an indestructible safe to lock the lamp inside, keeping it secure but separate.
12 views
·
June 13
Log in to comment