A tattoo
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 17
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Blitzo sprawled on the ruined mattress, legs spread wide, one massive hand lazily cupping the base of his still-leaking cock while the long, glittering purple nail of the other toyed with the gold ring in his navel. He twisted it slowly, feeling the metal tug at the sensitive skin, watching the way the motion made his ten-pack ripple and harden under the bronze sheen. Sweat and drying cum still clung to every striated inch of him, but his mind was elsewhere—turning over Stolas’s words like a predator circling prey.
I lose the lamp, I lose him. Lose the power. Lose everything.
He glanced sideways at the genie curled against his side. Stolas’s ghostly-pale skin glowed faintly in the dim dorm light, silver hair spilling across Blitzo’s thick pec like liquid mercury. The way those red-slit eyes looked up at him—adoring, submissive, hungry—stirred something unfamiliar in Blitzo’s black stone heart. Not soft. Not tender. But possessive. Greedy. He liked having Stolas. Liked the theatrical moans, the filthy whispers, the way the ancient being melted under his bulk and begged to be used. It wasn’t love the way weak people felt it. It was ownership. Worship. And Blitzo wanted to keep it.
A vision bloomed behind his violet eyes, sharp and intoxicating.
Towering cities of black marble and gold, skyscrapers shaped like stepped Egyptian temples, each crowned with a colossal statue of himself—seven feet made monumental, muscles hypertrophied to god-scale, cock erect and pierced, one hand raised in eternal command. Endless lines of humanity—naked, collared, branded—hauling stone, polishing bronze, kneeling in mass prayer. Their chants echoing his name. And at the center of every temple plaza: Stolas, chained in gold, kneeling at the foot of the largest statue, tongue extended to lap at a river of Blitzo’s cum that flowed from the stone phallus above.
He had to make it real.
Locking the lamp in a safe felt wrong. Too distant. Too fragile. A thief could still find it. A fire. An earthquake. No. It needed to be *part* of him. Always touching skin. Always close enough to feel his heartbeat.
A wicked, slow smile curled his lips.
He rolled onto his side, caging Stolas beneath one massive arm, and dragged the genie up for a long, wet, obscene kiss. Tongues tangled, saliva stretched in thick strands when they parted. Blitzo’s free hand slid down, one manicured nail tracing the obscene bulge beneath Stolas’s golden sarong before pressing flat against it, rubbing slow circles.
“Wish,” he murmured against gold-painted lips. “I want the lamp to become a permanent tattoo. Right here—” He guided Stolas’s hand to the root of his own cock, pressing the genie’s palm against the hot, veined skin just above his heavy balls. “Golden. Beautiful. Part of me forever. No one can take it. No one can lose it. You stay mine. Always.”
Stolas’s red eyes flared wide, pupils blowing out until only a thin ring of glowing crimson remained. A shudder ran through his entire body; his cock jerked hard under the sarong.
“Ohhh… Master…” he breathed, voice cracking with genuine ecstasy. “Binding me to your divine cock like a royal seal? That is the single most depraved, brilliant, perfect idea you’ve ever had.” He surged up, kissing Blitzo back with desperate hunger, forked tongue plunging deep, tasting every corner of his mouth while his claws dug into thick traps. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Stolas pulled back just enough to press one long golden claw to the base of Blitzo’s shaft. Violet-black light flared from the lamp still clutched in Blitzo’s other hand. The copper vessel glowed white-hot, then dissolved into pure shimmering energy. It floated upward, spiraling, shrinking, reforming—until a perfect miniature replica of the ornate Arabian lamp appeared as molten gold on Blitzo’s skin. The tattoo settled just above the root of his cock, the spout curving elegantly toward the thick vein that ran along his shaft, the body of the lamp nestling between the twin gold piercings like a crown jewel. Warm. Permanent. Pulsing faintly in time with his heartbeat.
Stolas moaned like he’d just been filled. “Look at that… my prison remade as your most intimate ornament.” He slid down Blitzo’s body, kissing and licking a trail over pecs, abs, navel piercing, until his face hovered over the fresh tattoo. “Now your lamp truly is a tool worthy of a god.” He dragged his forked tongue across the golden lines, slow and reverent, then lower—circling the head of Blitzo’s cock like it was the sweetest lollipop in existence. Long, wet licks. Swirling around the piercings. Sucking gently on the slit. Between each filthy stroke he murmured, “So what now, my eternal Master? The lamp is safe. Bound to your cock forever. Humanity waits to be broken and fucked. What delicious chaos shall we unleash first?”
Blitzo folded his arms behind his head, massive biceps and triceps bulging into obscene peaks, lats spreading like wings across the mattress. He groaned deep in his chest, hips rolling lazily so his cock slid deeper into Stolas’s worshipping mouth.
“Enslaving the world sounds fun,” he rumbled, voice thick with pleasure. “But first… I wanna play. Have some real fun. Feel what it’s like to walk into a room and watch everyone drop to their knees before I even speak.”
He grinned down at the genie between his thighs.
Two paths stretched before him.
1. Blitzo decides to hit the most exclusive, hedonistic nightclub in the city tonight—strobe lights, drugs, bodies grinding, VIP booths begging to be claimed. Time to see how many people he can make beg, fuck, and break before sunrise.
2. Blitzo remembers the sleazy underground strip club he used to perform at on amateur nights—back when he was just a pretty twink shaking his ass for tips. Now he wants to return as a god, take the stage, and turn every dancer, customer, and manager into his personal worshippers.
I lose the lamp, I lose him. Lose the power. Lose everything.
He glanced sideways at the genie curled against his side. Stolas’s ghostly-pale skin glowed faintly in the dim dorm light, silver hair spilling across Blitzo’s thick pec like liquid mercury. The way those red-slit eyes looked up at him—adoring, submissive, hungry—stirred something unfamiliar in Blitzo’s black stone heart. Not soft. Not tender. But possessive. Greedy. He liked having Stolas. Liked the theatrical moans, the filthy whispers, the way the ancient being melted under his bulk and begged to be used. It wasn’t love the way weak people felt it. It was ownership. Worship. And Blitzo wanted to keep it.
A vision bloomed behind his violet eyes, sharp and intoxicating.
Towering cities of black marble and gold, skyscrapers shaped like stepped Egyptian temples, each crowned with a colossal statue of himself—seven feet made monumental, muscles hypertrophied to god-scale, cock erect and pierced, one hand raised in eternal command. Endless lines of humanity—naked, collared, branded—hauling stone, polishing bronze, kneeling in mass prayer. Their chants echoing his name. And at the center of every temple plaza: Stolas, chained in gold, kneeling at the foot of the largest statue, tongue extended to lap at a river of Blitzo’s cum that flowed from the stone phallus above.
He had to make it real.
Locking the lamp in a safe felt wrong. Too distant. Too fragile. A thief could still find it. A fire. An earthquake. No. It needed to be *part* of him. Always touching skin. Always close enough to feel his heartbeat.
A wicked, slow smile curled his lips.
He rolled onto his side, caging Stolas beneath one massive arm, and dragged the genie up for a long, wet, obscene kiss. Tongues tangled, saliva stretched in thick strands when they parted. Blitzo’s free hand slid down, one manicured nail tracing the obscene bulge beneath Stolas’s golden sarong before pressing flat against it, rubbing slow circles.
“Wish,” he murmured against gold-painted lips. “I want the lamp to become a permanent tattoo. Right here—” He guided Stolas’s hand to the root of his own cock, pressing the genie’s palm against the hot, veined skin just above his heavy balls. “Golden. Beautiful. Part of me forever. No one can take it. No one can lose it. You stay mine. Always.”
Stolas’s red eyes flared wide, pupils blowing out until only a thin ring of glowing crimson remained. A shudder ran through his entire body; his cock jerked hard under the sarong.
“Ohhh… Master…” he breathed, voice cracking with genuine ecstasy. “Binding me to your divine cock like a royal seal? That is the single most depraved, brilliant, perfect idea you’ve ever had.” He surged up, kissing Blitzo back with desperate hunger, forked tongue plunging deep, tasting every corner of his mouth while his claws dug into thick traps. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Stolas pulled back just enough to press one long golden claw to the base of Blitzo’s shaft. Violet-black light flared from the lamp still clutched in Blitzo’s other hand. The copper vessel glowed white-hot, then dissolved into pure shimmering energy. It floated upward, spiraling, shrinking, reforming—until a perfect miniature replica of the ornate Arabian lamp appeared as molten gold on Blitzo’s skin. The tattoo settled just above the root of his cock, the spout curving elegantly toward the thick vein that ran along his shaft, the body of the lamp nestling between the twin gold piercings like a crown jewel. Warm. Permanent. Pulsing faintly in time with his heartbeat.
Stolas moaned like he’d just been filled. “Look at that… my prison remade as your most intimate ornament.” He slid down Blitzo’s body, kissing and licking a trail over pecs, abs, navel piercing, until his face hovered over the fresh tattoo. “Now your lamp truly is a tool worthy of a god.” He dragged his forked tongue across the golden lines, slow and reverent, then lower—circling the head of Blitzo’s cock like it was the sweetest lollipop in existence. Long, wet licks. Swirling around the piercings. Sucking gently on the slit. Between each filthy stroke he murmured, “So what now, my eternal Master? The lamp is safe. Bound to your cock forever. Humanity waits to be broken and fucked. What delicious chaos shall we unleash first?”
Blitzo folded his arms behind his head, massive biceps and triceps bulging into obscene peaks, lats spreading like wings across the mattress. He groaned deep in his chest, hips rolling lazily so his cock slid deeper into Stolas’s worshipping mouth.
“Enslaving the world sounds fun,” he rumbled, voice thick with pleasure. “But first… I wanna play. Have some real fun. Feel what it’s like to walk into a room and watch everyone drop to their knees before I even speak.”
He grinned down at the genie between his thighs.
Two paths stretched before him.
1. Blitzo decides to hit the most exclusive, hedonistic nightclub in the city tonight—strobe lights, drugs, bodies grinding, VIP booths begging to be claimed. Time to see how many people he can make beg, fuck, and break before sunrise.
2. Blitzo remembers the sleazy underground strip club he used to perform at on amateur nights—back when he was just a pretty twink shaking his ass for tips. Now he wants to return as a god, take the stage, and turn every dancer, customer, and manager into his personal worshippers.
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June 13
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