Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies. 

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

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DESIRES

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With shaky, blood stained fingers I keyed in the codes to the secret room. The reinforced door slid open with a familiar click and whir. “Art.” I called, stumbling down the steps and into the hideout/workshop/base, bleeding on his pristine tiled floors as I did. 

“Jesus!” He rushed, slinging my arm over his shoulder to support and lead me to an unused workstation which I guess we were improvising into a bed. “I saw a video feed, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“Art. I’ll need a new costume. I need you to install certain weapons and gadgets into this one.” I said, earning me an incredulous look from the man. Here I was, battered, bleeding and bruised and yet I was talking to him about a new uniform.

He held me by the shoulders, his eyes on mine. “Kid, you need immediate medical attention.” He said. “We need to get you to Cecil, he has the resources to patch you up.”

“No.”

“No? Mark, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have very severe burns and injuries and to top it off you’re bleeding out.” Actually, much of the blood on me was of the invaders.

“I don’t trust them, Art. But my dad trusts you, you’re his one true friend. I trust you too and right now I need your help.” There was some truth in that. I couldn’t trust Cecil with anything that had to do with my blood or DNA. Yes, maybe my paranoia was unfounded since they could retrieve Viltrumite DNA from Omni-man himself if they wanted it. 

But something tells me that I, the hybrid of Human and Viltrumite, my DNA had certain value to them that Omni-man's didn’t.

Or maybe I was just grossly overestimating my value, and thought myself worth more than I truly was. 

Like some special snowflake. 

Shut up brain. 

I looked back at the man and I knew the question left unasked, it clung to his face like skin. Omni man is safe, just give me a hand here. I conveyed with my eyes. 

“What do you need?”

“A really strong blade, disinfectants and a bottle of morphine…or Ambien.” He stared at me funny when I told him of the morphine. Heck, with the amount of pain I was in I could do some lines if he had any white, but that’s a line I’d do well to not cross. 

You don’t just ask a man for some coke you uncultured swine.

He searched and rummaged around the workshop and brought me what I requested, except the disinfectants were bottles of vodka and there were no sleeping pills.

“We’ll have to make do with these.”

“Lemme get a sip of--”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Fuck. Fine. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

Most of the suit had melted and was burned into my flesh, so I’d have to extract it and allow my body the chance to properly repair the damage done to me without the foreign object in my flesh to inhibit the process.

Art left me for a minute and returned with a scissor, this one had glowing neon edges. My suit could resist certain firearm rounds and even blades, the thing was built to be ultra durable, no normal scissor is going to be able to cut through it.

He cut vertically along the middle, peeling it away from my upper body when he’d fully cut through its length. Now came the hard part, the man didn’t have the strength to damage my flesh even with his special tools, we tried.

I took the reinforced blade, sat upright and went to work. I pressed its edge into my flesh so hard the blade bent and developed fissures along its bulk and yet it didn’t even leave a scratch on my skin. This was going to be much harder than I assumed. Very much so.

I received another blade, washed it with the vodka and stared at the still healing, raw wounds on my body. I had an idea, but it was going to be a very painful one. Taking a long deep breath, I steadily aimed for one just above my wrist and sank the blade with as much strength as I could into the raw flesh. Blood rushed out the wound and poured down my arm, the cut was itchy in feel and iron like in scent. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Art yelled, trying and failing to pull my hand holding the blade away so he could stem the bleeding. 

“Pour the vodka on it.” I said, calmly. I knew the amount of damage I was giving myself, but I trusted my healing factor. I knew it allowed me the chance to do this without the proper fear of death. After all, compared to my earlier state, this was but a scratch. 

Shakily, reluctantly acquiescing to my demands, he poured the cold, evaporating fluid against the injury.

My toes curled in pain, cold sweat trailed down my forehead, neck and back, my eyes watered and a wicked scream threatened to rip past my throat and gritted teeth. I took another deep breath, the pain became even fresher, turning from agony to a drawn out hellish torture.

Reaffirming my grip on the twisting metal, I made sure the blade was straight and steady, and dragged its half embedded razor edge along the flesh of my arm as though I were the terminator trying to show my metallic skeleton to the world. 

“Fuck me.” the blade snapped, pieces of it inside the very cut it made. The thought that I was making a bad situation worse did cross my mind and to top it off as soon as I made the cut, my body was back to healing it, there’d be no way for me to be fast enough to make another deep cut and at the same time reach in to retrieve the foreign objects. 

Actually, with a better, more durable blade, maybe I could.

Thank God I didn’t have to, my body just needed the incision, it handled the rest. Raw tissue pushed against tissue to expel particulates and fragments of burnt fabric and metal from within before realigning and finally reknitting under new barely scarred skin. It was an eerily captivating sight you  couldn’t turn away from. Running my fingers over the now smooth skin nearly made me doubt that I’d just given myself a very gruesome cut a moment ago. 

I turned to the other occupant of the workshop and who looked to be one breath away from vomiting, picked a bottle from the bunch and downed half of its entire content in one go.

“Could you play some music, we’re going to be here a while.” I asked, already feeling much better. Taking the blade in my right hand and bringing my left hand up. I’d have to perform the same removal procedure, except this time the blade’s entry point was going to be on my bicep.

“Listen Art about the suit, I’ve got a mental list of things to add and others to improve. You might want to write them down.”

This time, with the intention of doing anything to get away from watching me mutilate myself. The man actually did get a notebook. “Shoot.” He said. Or maybe it was my honest input after what I put the suit through that had him eager to improve on his design with whatever I had to give. A desire to learn and improve; that’s how he’s managed to stay on top of his game. That’s why Omni-man regards him as the very best in his field. 

“Let’s talk—ugh” I dug the blade into the almost closed wound on my bicep, my arm went numb and unresponsive as I began slicing down through muscle fiber and tissue, I was already covered in blood, so being soaked in more of the iron scented fluid didn’t matter. “—weapons.”

*.*.*.* 

“Thanks, Art.” I waved, walking out his store with a bag containing my prize in hand. The man waved back, shaking his head helplessly as he did. 

“Come back anytime.” He said, closing the store’s back exit as he retreated inside.

I whistled walking to the parking lot to board the waiting coal black escalade—Cecil’s transport. I could fly to the Pentagon but a man must know when to enjoy the luxuries of life. 

I leaned comfortably in the seat, reached for the compartment just beneath the seat and pushed it open. Instead of weapons or gadgets, what I found was a cold button of Champaign and some cups. I noticed the compartment in the other car I’d ridden in with new mom. I was curious but couldn’t satisfy it then with the emotional bomb that was Rachel at my side. 

I popped the thing open and poured myself a sparkling glass of sweet grape wine. Talking of things to satisfy, I had a fire in my loins that refused to be put out. It felt like I was soaked in flammable testosterone and the thing wasn’t going to burn out any moment soon.

Without the thought of surviving long enough to recover from life threatening injuries to occupy my mind, I was left to face my thirst head on and I have never faced anything this ravenous since taking five Viagra tablets at 16—that one had me nursing an erection for close to  week, only to end up in the ER to get myself drained. 

I sipped on the wine and tried distracting myself with other things, but my thoughts led me down to one destination—sex. Sex. Sex. 

Did my survival ignite a primal need to procreate beyond any other? 

Yes, yes it did. 

Being a super teen going through puberty isn’t all fun is it?

Shut up brain. I had an idea to stave the beast off, temporarily at least.

The Emperor guide my fingers.

‘Send me nudes.’ I wrote on the messenger and mass sent it to my contacts of women—which weren’t many. Something I’d have to correct if I hoped to live a psychologically sound life.

—Bzzt! Bzzt!

Mark: Send me nudes.

Angel: Facetime me ;p

Mark: Maybe Later.

Angel: I’ll be waiting.

That sounded promising, shame I couldn’t facetime right now. She’d probably do something extreme and then instead of staving the beast, it’d unleash it. 

—Bzzt! Bzzt!

Mark: Send me nudes.

Amber: Fuck you.

Mark: Not yet.

Amber: I didn’t mean it like that.

Mark: Come tell me how you meant it. Wear something sexy too.

Amber: I hate you.

I hate you too. but I couldn’t deny her looks. Judge me as much as you want, we all know why we put it in crazy. 

Is it bad that I want to hate fuck her till her back gives out? 

Jesus, brain cool it. 

—Bzzt! Bzzt!

Mark: Send me nudes.

Busty milf: Sure baby.

Busty milf: Img30023.jpg Img30024.jpg Img30025.jpg

Busty milf: Enjoy xoxo.

We got a win. I clicked it open and “Haram” I muttered unconsciously, emperor forgive my sins. “Such fucking haram.” Her body was the Disney mom ideal. All the right curves in the right places and then thickened with bread. The top of her face was cropped off leaving the lower half with her tongue out and with what looked like a strand of saliva extending from the pink, wet tip, her lips were pulled back into a provocative smile. She had an arm over her massive bust, placed there just to cover her nipples even as it looked like her arm was digging into the flesh of her smooth breast.

I could remember her scent, her taste, the softness of her skin, her impossible warmth and her vice grip. 

Why did I even think that asking for nudes was going to be a solution? 

I took a deep breath and held it in. Hoping for the act to calm me. It didn’t, the fire spread from my loins and rose to my brain. I had to absolutely destroy that kitty if I wanted peace of mind. 

Mark: I enjoyed them. I want more. Are you free? 

Busty milf: For you I am. 

Mark: Can you get us a place for some days?

Busty milf: Days? You’re not trying to kill me are you. ☺

Mark: Nah. Just the cat between your legs.

Busty milf: Mhmm I’d love that. You wanna fuck mommy till she can’t walk anymore don’t you?

Right, she was a dirty talker wasn’t she.

Mark: Hit me up with an address when you get us a room and I’ll show you just what I’m going to do.

Busty milf: I will baby. I can’t wait for you to mess up my pussy! XOXOXO

Busty milf: Img30026.jpg

Damn.

Damn indeed, brain, damn indeed. She was dripping so much I thought my phone was going to get wet just from opening the photo. 

I closed my eyes and forced myself to meditate with heavy metal blaring from my phone’s speakers, all to distract me either with peace or fury. 

The one that managed to accomplish it was the driver who told me “Sir, we’ve arrived.” As the car came to a stop at our destination. 

I needed to see new mom, and then the semi-conscious Omni-man. The thought was enough to cool the flames burning within, for now at least. 

*>*>*>*>*>

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I have to know if you all enjoyed the story thus far to be sure if I should continue it or put it on hold for now. Some seem to think that I write and then stop updating some stories for the hell of it. I don’t. These things take focus and time, if it didn’t, it wouldn’t have as much quality as it does. Sometimes you flow and things come easily, and sometimes you gotta row the boat to get things moving.

But please, know that I really do have the intent of completing my ongoing stories and I can’t be more grateful to my readers, supporters and patrons—you citizens of Raination. You make this possible and you make it worth it. We’ve come a long way, you helped me in more ways than I can count and to repay a fraction of that I hope my works have given you much entertainment, made you cry, laugh, sad, mad, happy, angry and horny. Heh.  

I just had to let y’all know that I love and cherish you (no homo). So stay safe, ever dangerous, t’was I your emperor, and favorite author, Rain.

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