Lu
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 5
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The golden light pulsed like a living heartbeat, warm and insistent, wrapping around them both. Lu felt it first in his chest—a deep, magnetic pull, as though invisible fingers were curling around his ribs and tugging him forward. His nipples ached, stiff and sensitive beneath the open Hawaiian shirt; a slow, heavy heat coiled low in his belly, sexual and undeniable. He swallowed, throat dry.
Charlie felt it too. The same insistent call. Her own nipples pebbled painfully against the thin yellow fabric of her dress; a strange, liquid warmth bloomed between her thighs, making her knees tremble. She opened her mouth to speak—to ask What is that? What’s happening to us?—but only a soft, broken mumble escaped.
Lu took another step. Then another. His flip-flops were left behind on the crater’s edge. Charlie followed without thinking, bare feet sinking into warm, churned earth.
He reached the glowing stone first. It wasn’t rough like normal meteorite; the surface looked almost liquid, molten gold trapped in translucent black. Lu’s palms settled against it—slow, reverent.
The instant skin met stone, the block shattered.
A supernova of golden energy erupted outward.
The blast threw Charlie backward; she landed hard on her ass, skirt riding up, palms scraping gravel. She gasped, eyes wide.
Lu didn’t move.
Golden tendrils wrapped him like loving arms. His head snapped back, mouth falling open in a silent scream that quickly became something else—something raw and ecstatic. His eyes rolled white; tongue lolled past his lips. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as the first wave of pleasure crashed through him.
It wasn’t pain.
It was orgasm—relentless, cosmic, shattering.
His body convulsed. Muscles that had been lean and elegant began to swell.
First the pecs—ballooning outward, rounding into massive, gravity-defying shelves that hid his feet from view when he looked down. The floral shirt ripped down the front with a wet tearing sound; buttons pinged into the darkness like bullets. His abs clenched, then exploded outward—eight perfect, cobblestone bricks carving themselves into existence beneath skin stretched taut and flawless.
Arms thickened. Biceps ballooned larger than his own head had been moments ago, veins thick as garden hoses snaking over the surface. Shoulders widened until he was broader than the car door. Legs lengthened and thickened—quads and hamstrings swelling into pillars that could have supported a building. He grew taller—six feet… six-five… pushing seven in heartbeats.
Clothes disintegrated. Khaki shorts split at the seams; flip-flops were long forgotten. The gold Rolex stretched, then snapped, diamonds scattering like shooting stars of their own.
Every trace of softness vanished. No fat remained. Only razor-sharp definition, skin pale as fresh snow and utterly hairless save for the platinum mane on his head—which was now shimmering molten gold—and the elegant arches of his eyebrows.
He floated.
Three feet off the ground, arms spread, head thrown back, golden light pouring from every pore. Another bone-deep groan rolled out of him—pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. His cock, already half-hard from the initial rush, surged to full, obscene length and girth; thick ropes of pearlescent, custard-thick cum erupted in powerful arcs, splattering the crater rim in heavy, glistening strands.
Charlie stared, mouth hanging open, unable to blink.
The light crested.
Lu’s body locked in a final, shuddering climax—back arched, every muscle carved in perfect relief—then dropped.
He landed with a seismic thud. The ground cracked beneath him; a spiderweb of fissures radiated outward. Dust billowed up around thighs thicker than her waist.
He stayed on one knee for a long moment, chest heaving, golden hair falling in a shimmering curtain around his face.
Then he lifted his head.
Eyes opened—pupils blown wide, irises no longer deep blue but molten starlight, sparkling with impossible colors.
“Charlie…?” The voice was still recognizably his, yet impossibly richer—velvet and honey and distant thunder, angelic in its beauty.
He blinked slowly. Looked down.
Massive pecs rose and fell with each breath. Eight-pack abs flexed involuntarily. Biceps—each bigger than her head—twitched as he raised a hand to stare at it. Long, elegant fingers, nails now grown into perfect golden talons, flexed and unflexed.
“What the fuck,” he breathed.
He stood.
Seven feet of perfected, androgynous godhood. Wider than a doorway. Narrow waist flaring into cobra-like lats. Thighs that could crush steel. Every movement sent rippling waves across skin so flawless it seemed to glow from within. The shredded remnants of the Hawaiian shirt hung in tatters from one shoulder like a mockery of modesty.
He flexed both arms experimentally—biceps peaking into impossible mountains, veins pulsing. A slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face—still boyish, still devastatingly pretty, yet sharpened into something predatory and divine.
He looked at Charlie.
She hadn’t moved. Dress askew, ponytail half-loose, eyes huge and shining with awe and something darker—hunger.
“Kiddo,” he said, voice a low, melodic rumble that vibrated through her bones. “You… you okay?”
She nodded mutely. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
He took one careful step toward her—ground trembling faintly—and offered a hand the size of a dinner plate.
“C’mere, Princess.”
Charlie reached up.
Her small fingers disappeared inside his.
He lifted her effortlessly, setting her on her feet. Even standing, the top of her head barely reached his sternum.
Lu tilted his head, studying his own reflection in her wide, worshipful eyes.
“Well,” he murmured, lips curling into that familiar Cheshire grin—now blindingly beautiful, “this is certainly going to complicate things.”
He laughed—deep, rolling, delighted.
And somewhere far below, in the glittering ruins of Havenridge, the men who had once hunted him would soon learn what it truly meant to chase a god.
Charlie felt it too. The same insistent call. Her own nipples pebbled painfully against the thin yellow fabric of her dress; a strange, liquid warmth bloomed between her thighs, making her knees tremble. She opened her mouth to speak—to ask What is that? What’s happening to us?—but only a soft, broken mumble escaped.
Lu took another step. Then another. His flip-flops were left behind on the crater’s edge. Charlie followed without thinking, bare feet sinking into warm, churned earth.
He reached the glowing stone first. It wasn’t rough like normal meteorite; the surface looked almost liquid, molten gold trapped in translucent black. Lu’s palms settled against it—slow, reverent.
The instant skin met stone, the block shattered.
A supernova of golden energy erupted outward.
The blast threw Charlie backward; she landed hard on her ass, skirt riding up, palms scraping gravel. She gasped, eyes wide.
Lu didn’t move.
Golden tendrils wrapped him like loving arms. His head snapped back, mouth falling open in a silent scream that quickly became something else—something raw and ecstatic. His eyes rolled white; tongue lolled past his lips. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as the first wave of pleasure crashed through him.
It wasn’t pain.
It was orgasm—relentless, cosmic, shattering.
His body convulsed. Muscles that had been lean and elegant began to swell.
First the pecs—ballooning outward, rounding into massive, gravity-defying shelves that hid his feet from view when he looked down. The floral shirt ripped down the front with a wet tearing sound; buttons pinged into the darkness like bullets. His abs clenched, then exploded outward—eight perfect, cobblestone bricks carving themselves into existence beneath skin stretched taut and flawless.
Arms thickened. Biceps ballooned larger than his own head had been moments ago, veins thick as garden hoses snaking over the surface. Shoulders widened until he was broader than the car door. Legs lengthened and thickened—quads and hamstrings swelling into pillars that could have supported a building. He grew taller—six feet… six-five… pushing seven in heartbeats.
Clothes disintegrated. Khaki shorts split at the seams; flip-flops were long forgotten. The gold Rolex stretched, then snapped, diamonds scattering like shooting stars of their own.
Every trace of softness vanished. No fat remained. Only razor-sharp definition, skin pale as fresh snow and utterly hairless save for the platinum mane on his head—which was now shimmering molten gold—and the elegant arches of his eyebrows.
He floated.
Three feet off the ground, arms spread, head thrown back, golden light pouring from every pore. Another bone-deep groan rolled out of him—pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. His cock, already half-hard from the initial rush, surged to full, obscene length and girth; thick ropes of pearlescent, custard-thick cum erupted in powerful arcs, splattering the crater rim in heavy, glistening strands.
Charlie stared, mouth hanging open, unable to blink.
The light crested.
Lu’s body locked in a final, shuddering climax—back arched, every muscle carved in perfect relief—then dropped.
He landed with a seismic thud. The ground cracked beneath him; a spiderweb of fissures radiated outward. Dust billowed up around thighs thicker than her waist.
He stayed on one knee for a long moment, chest heaving, golden hair falling in a shimmering curtain around his face.
Then he lifted his head.
Eyes opened—pupils blown wide, irises no longer deep blue but molten starlight, sparkling with impossible colors.
“Charlie…?” The voice was still recognizably his, yet impossibly richer—velvet and honey and distant thunder, angelic in its beauty.
He blinked slowly. Looked down.
Massive pecs rose and fell with each breath. Eight-pack abs flexed involuntarily. Biceps—each bigger than her head—twitched as he raised a hand to stare at it. Long, elegant fingers, nails now grown into perfect golden talons, flexed and unflexed.
“What the fuck,” he breathed.
He stood.
Seven feet of perfected, androgynous godhood. Wider than a doorway. Narrow waist flaring into cobra-like lats. Thighs that could crush steel. Every movement sent rippling waves across skin so flawless it seemed to glow from within. The shredded remnants of the Hawaiian shirt hung in tatters from one shoulder like a mockery of modesty.
He flexed both arms experimentally—biceps peaking into impossible mountains, veins pulsing. A slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face—still boyish, still devastatingly pretty, yet sharpened into something predatory and divine.
He looked at Charlie.
She hadn’t moved. Dress askew, ponytail half-loose, eyes huge and shining with awe and something darker—hunger.
“Kiddo,” he said, voice a low, melodic rumble that vibrated through her bones. “You… you okay?”
She nodded mutely. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
He took one careful step toward her—ground trembling faintly—and offered a hand the size of a dinner plate.
“C’mere, Princess.”
Charlie reached up.
Her small fingers disappeared inside his.
He lifted her effortlessly, setting her on her feet. Even standing, the top of her head barely reached his sternum.
Lu tilted his head, studying his own reflection in her wide, worshipful eyes.
“Well,” he murmured, lips curling into that familiar Cheshire grin—now blindingly beautiful, “this is certainly going to complicate things.”
He laughed—deep, rolling, delighted.
And somewhere far below, in the glittering ruins of Havenridge, the men who had once hunted him would soon learn what it truly meant to chase a god.
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June 13
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