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Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 20
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Danny strode out of the convention center with the smug certainty of a man who had already won the world but was merely collecting receipts. The expo had been useful—eyes on him, whispers trailing like perfume—but advancing the real plan mattered more. Enslaving humanity wasn’t going to happen by posing for protein-powder billboards. It required infrastructure: money, influence, pawns. Crystal was pawn number one.
On the way home he stopped at a greasy chicken joint called Wing Kingdom. The place smelled of hot oil and desperation. Behind the counter stood two teenage girls in tight polos—one blonde, one brunette—giggling the second they saw him. Two scrawny boys worked the fryers, eyes down.
Danny leaned on the counter, silver shorts riding high, gold T-shirt stretched to translucency across his pecs. “Three family buckets. Extra crispy. And make it quick—I don’t wait for mortals.”
The blonde blushed crimson. “Y-yes sir.”
He let his gaze drop to her chest, then lower. “You’re cute when you stammer, sweetheart. Bet those little hands are good at handling big orders.” He reached across, gave her ass a firm, possessive squeeze through her khakis. She squeaked but didn’t pull away. The brunette bit her lip so hard it turned white.
One of the boys cleared his throat. “Uh… that’ll be forty-seven ninety-five.”
Danny didn’t even glance at him. “Run along, twig. The grown-ups are talking.” He slid a hundred across the counter without looking. “Keep the change. Buy yourself a personality.”
The boy flushed red and scurried to bag the food. Danny turned back to the girls, voice dropping. “Next time I come in, wear something shorter. I like easy access.” Another squeeze—this time the brunette. Both giggled helplessly. He walked out with three steaming buckets, their eyes glued to his ass the whole way.
Back in the apartment he kicked the door shut, set the buckets on the coffee table, and flexed.
Silver T-shirt tore down the middle like wet tissue. Shorts split at the seams. Flip-flops flew somewhere behind the couch. Naked again. Gloriously, shamelessly naked.
Clothes felt wrong now—constricting, pointless. Shame had evaporated somewhere between the meteorite and the first man he’d crushed like a roach. Nudism wasn’t a choice; it was simply the natural state of a god.
He dragged the buckets to the couch, opened his laptop, connected it to the plasma screen on the wall. The contract PDF filled the display—sixty-three pages of legalese bullshit.
Danny sat, thighs spreading wide, one bucket wedged between them so the heat rose against his heavy balls. He tore into a drumstick with his teeth while golden eyes scanned the document at inhuman speed.
Loopholes everywhere. Hidden escalators. Termination clauses that favored her. Non-compete language that could choke him later. He’d lied about having a lawyer—why bother when his doubled IQ could shred law like wet paper?
He opened a dozen tabs: state statutes, modeling-agency case law, forum threads from bitter ex-clients. Fingers flew across keys; chicken grease smeared the trackpad. Every few bites another drumstick vanished.
Cum began dripping—fat, slow silver drops plopping into the bucket between his legs. He didn’t stop it. Let it season the chicken.
He rewrote. Ruthlessly.
Royalty percentages flipped in his favor. Termination at his sole discretion. Morality clauses removed. A personal-services addendum that effectively made Crystal his indentured servant under the guise of “exclusive representation.” She’d be showered with money—obscene amounts—but every dollar would chain her tighter. Influence, not wealth, was the leash.
By page fifty-seven he was picturing her on her knees in his living room, collared, collating sponsorship offers while he fucked her from behind. A perfect tool. Loyal. Dangerous when aimed correctly.
He finished the redraft in forty minutes. The document was now a bear trap disguised as a golden ticket.
Problem: getting her to sign.
Danny smiled—slow, wicked. He knew exactly how.
He grabbed his phone. Dialed.
Crystal answered on the first ring. Breathless. “Danny?”
“Evening, pet.” His voice dropped to velvet sin. “I’ve had some… thoughts about our arrangement. Why don’t you come over? I’d like to discuss them. Personally.”
Silence. Then a shaky, “I can be there in twenty.”
“Make it fifteen. And wear something easy to tear.”
She arrived in fourteen minutes—tight red dress, heels, hair wild. The second the door opened her eyes dropped to his naked body—bronze paint gone, milky skin gleaming, cock already half-hard against his thigh.
“You… weren’t kidding about the nudism thing.”
Danny stepped aside. “I never kid about perfection. Clothes are for cattle. The only reason i wear clothes outside is because of the stupid human law! Get used to it if you want to represent a god.”
She swallowed. Her nipples were already stabbing through the dress; he could smell her arousal from six feet away.
He led her to the couch, sat, spread his legs. “Sit.”
She obeyed—perched on the edge like a bird ready to flee.
Danny pulled her into his lap in one smooth motion. Dress rode up instantly. He kissed her—deep, wet, claiming. Tongue invaded; she moaned into his mouth, grinding against him without thinking.
Foreplay was short. He ripped the dress off her shoulders—fabric screaming—exposed large breasts, hard nipples, belly-button piercing glinting. He sucked one nipple hard while fingers found her soaked panties, pushed them aside, plunged two inside. She bucked, gasping.
“Fuck—Danny—”
“Quiet.” He lifted her, positioned her above his cock, and sank her down in one brutal stroke. She screamed—pleasure and shock. He thrust up hard, controlling every movement, bringing her to orgasm twice in minutes. Her cum slicked his shaft, dripping down his balls.
When she was trembling, incoherent, he pulled out, flipped her onto her back on the couch, and stroked himself above her.
“Splurge—Spluurge—Spluuurge—!!”
Silver ropes lashed across her breasts, stomach, face—thick, hot, sticking instantly. She shuddered through another climax just from being marked.
He collapsed beside her, pulled her on top of him so she lay draped across his chest—her smaller frame dwarfed by his. Sweat—his thick, rubbery kind—coated both of them. She traced a long finger through a glossy streak on his pec, fascinated.
“It’s… like liquid latex. So sticky. How…?”
Danny smirked. “Divine physiology, darling. You’ll get used to bathing in it.”
He started masturbating again—casual, unhurried—right beneath her. She watched, wide-eyed.
“Again?” she whispered.
“My sex drive doesn’t come with an off switch. Neither should yours if you want to keep up.”
Another orgasm—more silver splattered across both their torsos. She shivered at the heat.
While she was still dazed, fucked stupid, Danny reached for the laptop on the coffee table. The revised contract glowed on screen.
“Let’s talk terms,” he said softly, stroking her hair like a pet. “I’m offering you obscene wealth. Private jets. Penthouse. More money than your entire client list combined. In return? Absolute loyalty. You work only for me. You breathe only for me. You sign this—and you become part of something bigger than you can imagine.”
She blinked slowly, post-orgasm haze making her pliable. “Bigger… how?”
He kissed her temple. “Trust me. Sign. And I’ll show you pleasures—and power—no other man could dream of giving.”
Her hand shook as she took the stylus. She signed.
Danny smiled—slow, victorious, utterly merciless.
What now?
1. After she recovers, Crystal demands to change the contract.
2. A week passes and Danny becomes famous.
On the way home he stopped at a greasy chicken joint called Wing Kingdom. The place smelled of hot oil and desperation. Behind the counter stood two teenage girls in tight polos—one blonde, one brunette—giggling the second they saw him. Two scrawny boys worked the fryers, eyes down.
Danny leaned on the counter, silver shorts riding high, gold T-shirt stretched to translucency across his pecs. “Three family buckets. Extra crispy. And make it quick—I don’t wait for mortals.”
The blonde blushed crimson. “Y-yes sir.”
He let his gaze drop to her chest, then lower. “You’re cute when you stammer, sweetheart. Bet those little hands are good at handling big orders.” He reached across, gave her ass a firm, possessive squeeze through her khakis. She squeaked but didn’t pull away. The brunette bit her lip so hard it turned white.
One of the boys cleared his throat. “Uh… that’ll be forty-seven ninety-five.”
Danny didn’t even glance at him. “Run along, twig. The grown-ups are talking.” He slid a hundred across the counter without looking. “Keep the change. Buy yourself a personality.”
The boy flushed red and scurried to bag the food. Danny turned back to the girls, voice dropping. “Next time I come in, wear something shorter. I like easy access.” Another squeeze—this time the brunette. Both giggled helplessly. He walked out with three steaming buckets, their eyes glued to his ass the whole way.
Back in the apartment he kicked the door shut, set the buckets on the coffee table, and flexed.
Silver T-shirt tore down the middle like wet tissue. Shorts split at the seams. Flip-flops flew somewhere behind the couch. Naked again. Gloriously, shamelessly naked.
Clothes felt wrong now—constricting, pointless. Shame had evaporated somewhere between the meteorite and the first man he’d crushed like a roach. Nudism wasn’t a choice; it was simply the natural state of a god.
He dragged the buckets to the couch, opened his laptop, connected it to the plasma screen on the wall. The contract PDF filled the display—sixty-three pages of legalese bullshit.
Danny sat, thighs spreading wide, one bucket wedged between them so the heat rose against his heavy balls. He tore into a drumstick with his teeth while golden eyes scanned the document at inhuman speed.
Loopholes everywhere. Hidden escalators. Termination clauses that favored her. Non-compete language that could choke him later. He’d lied about having a lawyer—why bother when his doubled IQ could shred law like wet paper?
He opened a dozen tabs: state statutes, modeling-agency case law, forum threads from bitter ex-clients. Fingers flew across keys; chicken grease smeared the trackpad. Every few bites another drumstick vanished.
Cum began dripping—fat, slow silver drops plopping into the bucket between his legs. He didn’t stop it. Let it season the chicken.
He rewrote. Ruthlessly.
Royalty percentages flipped in his favor. Termination at his sole discretion. Morality clauses removed. A personal-services addendum that effectively made Crystal his indentured servant under the guise of “exclusive representation.” She’d be showered with money—obscene amounts—but every dollar would chain her tighter. Influence, not wealth, was the leash.
By page fifty-seven he was picturing her on her knees in his living room, collared, collating sponsorship offers while he fucked her from behind. A perfect tool. Loyal. Dangerous when aimed correctly.
He finished the redraft in forty minutes. The document was now a bear trap disguised as a golden ticket.
Problem: getting her to sign.
Danny smiled—slow, wicked. He knew exactly how.
He grabbed his phone. Dialed.
Crystal answered on the first ring. Breathless. “Danny?”
“Evening, pet.” His voice dropped to velvet sin. “I’ve had some… thoughts about our arrangement. Why don’t you come over? I’d like to discuss them. Personally.”
Silence. Then a shaky, “I can be there in twenty.”
“Make it fifteen. And wear something easy to tear.”
She arrived in fourteen minutes—tight red dress, heels, hair wild. The second the door opened her eyes dropped to his naked body—bronze paint gone, milky skin gleaming, cock already half-hard against his thigh.
“You… weren’t kidding about the nudism thing.”
Danny stepped aside. “I never kid about perfection. Clothes are for cattle. The only reason i wear clothes outside is because of the stupid human law! Get used to it if you want to represent a god.”
She swallowed. Her nipples were already stabbing through the dress; he could smell her arousal from six feet away.
He led her to the couch, sat, spread his legs. “Sit.”
She obeyed—perched on the edge like a bird ready to flee.
Danny pulled her into his lap in one smooth motion. Dress rode up instantly. He kissed her—deep, wet, claiming. Tongue invaded; she moaned into his mouth, grinding against him without thinking.
Foreplay was short. He ripped the dress off her shoulders—fabric screaming—exposed large breasts, hard nipples, belly-button piercing glinting. He sucked one nipple hard while fingers found her soaked panties, pushed them aside, plunged two inside. She bucked, gasping.
“Fuck—Danny—”
“Quiet.” He lifted her, positioned her above his cock, and sank her down in one brutal stroke. She screamed—pleasure and shock. He thrust up hard, controlling every movement, bringing her to orgasm twice in minutes. Her cum slicked his shaft, dripping down his balls.
When she was trembling, incoherent, he pulled out, flipped her onto her back on the couch, and stroked himself above her.
“Splurge—Spluurge—Spluuurge—!!”
Silver ropes lashed across her breasts, stomach, face—thick, hot, sticking instantly. She shuddered through another climax just from being marked.
He collapsed beside her, pulled her on top of him so she lay draped across his chest—her smaller frame dwarfed by his. Sweat—his thick, rubbery kind—coated both of them. She traced a long finger through a glossy streak on his pec, fascinated.
“It’s… like liquid latex. So sticky. How…?”
Danny smirked. “Divine physiology, darling. You’ll get used to bathing in it.”
He started masturbating again—casual, unhurried—right beneath her. She watched, wide-eyed.
“Again?” she whispered.
“My sex drive doesn’t come with an off switch. Neither should yours if you want to keep up.”
Another orgasm—more silver splattered across both their torsos. She shivered at the heat.
While she was still dazed, fucked stupid, Danny reached for the laptop on the coffee table. The revised contract glowed on screen.
“Let’s talk terms,” he said softly, stroking her hair like a pet. “I’m offering you obscene wealth. Private jets. Penthouse. More money than your entire client list combined. In return? Absolute loyalty. You work only for me. You breathe only for me. You sign this—and you become part of something bigger than you can imagine.”
She blinked slowly, post-orgasm haze making her pliable. “Bigger… how?”
He kissed her temple. “Trust me. Sign. And I’ll show you pleasures—and power—no other man could dream of giving.”
Her hand shook as she took the stylus. She signed.
Danny smiled—slow, victorious, utterly merciless.
What now?
1. After she recovers, Crystal demands to change the contract.
2. A week passes and Danny becomes famous.
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·
June 13
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