April 23, 2011
Location: Metropolis
The glow of my computer screen illuminated the final stages of a multi-corporate takeover that had consumed the past two months. Fourteen companies had come under my control, a feat that, unlike its seamless depiction on television, had submerged me in an ocean of work. The effortless transfer of power so often portrayed on TV was a far cry from the relentless demands I'd faced.
Of the acquired entities, I only kept eight. The mismanagement of the other six was so profound that it was baffling how they were still around. Divesting my majority shares in those six was an easy decision. I sold my majority shares to the other stockholders since nowadays, nearly all multimillion-dollar to billion-dollar investments are rarely owned by one person. I was one of the very few outliers who solely owned their company. This was made possible by S.E.B.A.S., my advanced AI assistant. He expertly handled the routine tasks, kept operations running smoothly, and, most importantly, offered a level of trustworthy support I couldn't find elsewhere due to the lack of human greed.
Yet, even with S.E.B.A.S.'s invaluable aid, the sheer volume of work had sidelined my personal projects—a situation that was about to change. The restructuring was complete, and the multiple press tours addressing job security concerns were done. My acquisition was very polarizing to the public. While some saw it as me trying to get a monopoly in energy, and thousands of people were afraid of losing their jobs. The other half saw it as me trying to bring the world into a new future due to my past humanitarian contributions. It was very easy to see people as numbers when you're just in constant business meetings and seeing spreadsheets.
That is where Mercy came in. She kept me grounded and human and convinced me to do the press tours in the first place to ease public sentiment and try to find ways for people to keep their jobs. With the help of Mercy, we were able to convince the public that they were not going to be jobless at the end of the acquisition, but some might have to be transferred to other departments instead to boost productivity. Though not everyone bought into it, I still kept public opinion on my side. As Agent K stated, "A person is smart; people are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals."
A sigh of relief escaped me as I leaned back in my leather chair. "Done," I exclaimed. I was finally done with all this work! I looked at my watch and it read that it was barely one o'clock in the afternoon. For the first time in weeks, my time was my own again. I got up and stretched my body, making cracking noises in the process.
"Finally done, huh?" Mercy said. She insisted that she needed to stay by my side in case anything were to happen. Since then, I have also bought her a desk, computer, and rolling chair so she can work beside me in my office.
"Yes, and now I am going to the lab to start working on my projects!" I said excitedly.
Mercy giggled at my excitement and said, "It's funny how one of the richest men in the world looks like a kid sometimes. Also, why do you insist on giving your projects weird names like 'Astartes' or 'Life Cradle'?"
"Laugh all you want, but those projects will make us millions, and naming them makes them special!" I defended myself.
"Lex... you're already a multi-billionaire. I think you are okay when it comes to finances. What's not okay is you skipping training this morning."
"It's not like I stopped completely. I still train, just not as often as you. You know how busy I was. I just finished everything right now."
"Lex, you are making excuses. I would win with how we are right now if we sparred against one another."
I grimaced. She had a point, but I was eager to finalize the acquisition and refocus on my projects. It wasn't as if I'd abandoned training entirely; I'd simply adjusted my schedule to three days a week, with martial arts in the mornings and weightlifting/cardio in the evenings. The results were undeniable – a complete physical transformation that could pass for an amateur bodybuilder's physique. My combat skills had also sharpened to the point where I estimated I could hold my own against Batman in a fair, gadget-free fight for at least three to five minutes.
Mercy, however, was the embodiment of unwavering dedication, never missing a single training session. She attended every martial arts lesson and consistently pushed herself through her workouts. Already fit, she had sculpted her physique into what today's generation might admiringly call a "muscle mommy." Yet, this newfound muscularity didn't diminish her feminine charm; instead, it seemed to enhance it. She maintained a lean silhouette, now more defined, with the subtle lines of her abs becoming visible in workout clothes that accentuated her sexy curves. Her commitment extended beyond the physical as well. She matched my efforts, if not surpassed them, in the demanding work of acquiring over fourteen companies. I often found myself wondering if she ever allowed herself to sleep.
Knowing I would not win this argument since she was in the right, I told her, "You're right, Mercy, I'll make sure to go to the training sessions, especially now that I have more free time."
As we entered the lab, a thrill of anticipation coursed through me. I was finally about to dive into the Life Cradle, a project that had long occupied my thoughts. This endeavor had been brewing since the completion of the Arc Reactor, running parallel to the development of Project: Iron. My aim was a comprehensive upgrade, enhancing both my armor and my own capabilities.
The data gleaned from the intense confrontation with Bane proved invaluable. I channeled that information into refining my armor. Its current iteration now boasts a helmet and a suite of enhanced functionalities. This new helmet allowed me to make calls, interface with S.E.B.A.S. and the internet, utilize an advanced auto-aim system, deploy multiple weapon systems simultaneously, and access a sophisticated holographic display.
The Life Cradle, however, held the potential for far greater impact, promising a revolution in the medical field. Its core function was to harness the regenerative power of stem cells to repair damaged organs, replace necrotic tissue, and even possibly create new organs. This process was further supported by a continuous supply of red blood cells and plasma, nourishing the newly generated tissue. Imagine the possibilities: healing for burn victims, restoration for those with failing organs like heart attack survivors, and recovery for individuals who have suffered strokes. Yet, the Life Cradle was merely a significant milestone on the path to my ultimate ambition: Project: Astartes.
When I first contemplated achieving superhuman status, Steve Rogers naturally came to mind, representing the pinnacle within the Marvel world. Yet, I quickly realized the limitations of this perspective, as my past life offered a far broader and more diverse range of super-soldier archetypes. The Astartes from Warhammer 40k, specifically the Primaris, presented themselves as the most achievable yet remarkably powerful option, existing entirely outside the Marvel framework. While the Custodes were more outstanding, the specifics of their creation were very vague. The Astartes, though? Their entire biology was practically laid out online in my past life. I even remember finding these highly detailed diagrams of all their extra organs and where they were. Also, the power difference? Forget about it! A regular Astartes could stomp Captain America and Black Panther, too.
However, the Life Cradle was a crucial prerequisite; it would be essential for creating and integrating the necessary new organs and helping stabilize the body during the metamorphosis. That's why it took priority. A quick change of clothes followed: state-of-the-art goggles that hinted at layers of functionality beyond simple eye protection, gloves that felt reassuringly resistant to cuts and impacts, practical overalls, and a comfortable white tank top. With S.E.B.A.S. as my digital partner, I dove into the intricate work of bringing the machine to life, bending over components and schematics. Mercy observed our progress for a while, her gaze lingering before she quietly departed, respecting the intense concentration that had enveloped me and my project.
"I'm going to see what else needs to be done, Lex, before I go workout," she said as she gave a quick peck on my cheek, trying not to distract me from my work.
"Okay, babe, have fun!" I said not breaking my concentration.
"Babe, huh, didn't know I got upgraded to girlfriend," Mercy teased.
I stopped what I was doing, lifted my goggles off my eyes, looked Mercy directly in the eye, and with complete seriousness declared, "Mercy, you're already mine and nothing's going to change that. Sorry, but I'm selfish and I'm never letting you go."
She cupped my cheek and looked at me with tender eyes. After a few seconds, she patted it and said, "That's cute, Lex, but I didn't mean to interrupt your work. I'll call you when it's time for dinner."
With that, she left, and I continued working on the Life Cradle. Time passed without me even realizing it, and soon S.E.B.A.S announced, "Sir, Ms.Graves is on the line for you."
"Put her through."
"Lex," Mercy said gently, "it's past seven-thirty. Let's have some food; you need to take a break. You've been pushing yourself for two months straight. How about dinner, and then we can finally watch that new movie you were looking forward to in the living room?"
Wow, six hours already, I mused. Okay, maybe a break was actually a good idea for once, especially since things were moving along nicely. I figured another month and the Life Cradle would be ready for animal testing, which was pretty damn fast. For the human stage, I already had someone in mind.
Arriving at the table, I found Mercy already there, her athletic wear – a ruby-red top and matching spandex shorts – showcasing her fantastic physique. Her light brown hair was in a ponytail, and a delicate glimmer of sweat still graced her forehead, a sign of her dedication. Yet, despite the evidence of her workout, there was a surprisingly captivating scent about her – a natural, almost grounding aroma that felt uniquely appealing, a subtle intrigue that drew me in.
"I hope you don't mind, I was going to shower once we were done eating." Mercy stated
"I don't mind at all, I actually like your scent if we are to be honest."
"It's cause youre a deviant, Lex," Mercy stated, chuckling.
"I like the term adventurous instead," I stated as I took a seat at the head of the table.
The aroma of the Italian dishes, crafted by my dedicated 24-hour in-house chef, filled the air as we sat down. We savored the meal, accompanied by a modest pour of wine, our conversation light and easy. The focus was primarily on Mercy's workout that day and the exciting possibility of new personal bests. Once we had finished eating, the comfortable silence didn't last long as we continued to talk, the conversation flowing naturally between us.
"So Lex, how are things progressing with the Life Cradle?" Mercy asked
"Pretty good if I say so myself. If my calculations are correct, it should be ready for animal testing in about a month!"
"That's great, Babe!" she teased, emphasizing the word babe.
"You really going to tease me for giving you a pet name? Did you not like it?" I questioned
"Oh, I like it, Lex, you just never seemed to be the type to give out pet names."
"Well, are you my pet, Mercy?" I teased, placing my chin on top of my hands.
Seeing my playful teasing, a spark ignited in Mercy's eyes. She rose with a deliberate grace, her gaze never leaving mine as she walked towards me. The closer she came, the more the air crackled with anticipation. Then, lowering herself onto all fours, she began a slow, deliberate crawl. Each inch forward was a sensual promise, her body undulating with a languid grace that drew my gaze to the subtle sway of her hips and the smooth line of her back. The anticipation built with every tantalizing shift of her weight, a silent invitation that sent a jolt of desire through me. I could feel my cock throbbing, hardening with each deliberate movement, the sensory overload almost intoxicating. Soon, she had crawled between my legs, the soft brush of her body against my inner thighs sending a shiver down my spine. And then, resting her head on my thigh, she looked up at me through hooded eyes and purred a soft, playful "meow," the sound vibrating through my very core.
If she wanted to play like that, two could play that game, and I was going to wreck her.
"Mercy suck my cock" I demanded as I stood up and took off my overalls.
With a playful glint in her eyes, Mercy reached out and gently tugged down my boxer briefs. My cock sprang free, jutting out, and I saw a flicker of surprise, then desire, in her widening gaze. Her touch was soft yet firm as she closed her hand around me, beginning a slow, deliberate stroke that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. Then, continuing the playful charade from before, she began to lap at the head of my cock with delicate, kitten-like strokes. She then began to slowly trail that pretty pink tongue of hers down my shaft and proceded to suck my balls as I felt my shaft on her face. The visual comparison of my cock compared to her face excited me some more and a deeper, more urgent need pulsed within me. I wanted her to take me fully, completely, into the warmth of her beautiful mouth.
I bent over and grabbed her ponytail and wrapped my fingers around her neck. She looked at me with her beautiful, earthy brown eyes, and I could see the lust behind them. I applied pressure slowly around her neck, and her eyes rolled up as her breath quickened.
"Your just not my pet, your my bitch arent you Mercy."
"I'm whatever you tell me to be, Lex, just give it to me hard," Mercy said, pleading.
Guiding her face closer, she met my gaze with an understanding that sent a fresh wave of heat through me. Her lips parted, and with a soft sigh, she took the full length of my cock into her mouth. I slowly pushed deeper, relishing the feel of her warm, moist grip until I felt the satisfying nudge as my tip pressed past her uvula. The months of gentle and rough training had clearly paid off, as there was no hint of a gag reflex, only a smooth, eager acceptance. Standing back up straight, I kept my eyes locked on hers, my hands still gently pulling on her ponytail, maintaining our intimate connection.
I began to rock my hips slowly, each thrust deliberate, gradually increasing the pace. Soon, I was pounding into her mouth, our eyes locked in an intense gaze. The wet, guttural sounds of "gwock, gwock, gwock" filled the air as I relentlessly fucked her throat. It was a shocking sight, a stark contrast to the icy demeanor that many men both feared and lusted after in Mercy. Here she was, the formidable woman on her knees, completely submissive as she deepthroated me.
"Fuck, I'm about to come!" I growled, my voice thick with impending release. I framed Mercy's face with both hands, my thumbs pressing gently against her temples as I drove into her mouth with a renewed ferocity. Her eyes fluttered, then rolled back, losing focus as I unleashed a torrent of hot, thick cum deep down her throat. The sensations were overwhelming, each pulse sending shudders through my body. The moment stretched, a raw, primal connection hanging in the air between us. Finally, with a ragged exhale, I pulled free, the aftermath leaving me weak and trembling as I fell back onto my ass. Mercy, utterly spent, collapsed onto her side, her lips glistening with my seed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The silence that followed was thick with the weight of our shared intensity.
"Thank...for the...dessert," Mercy gasped out between ragged breaths, a faint smile playing on her lips, her chest still heaving from the intensity of what had just transpired.
I caught my breath and stood up. The orgasm was intense, but I was far from done. My cock regained its vigor as I saw the sight of Mercy pathetically laying there which stirred soemthing inside of me.
"Lex?" Mercy asked, confused, as I slowly walked over to her. Then she saw my cock and weakly tried to get up.
Before she could fully recover, I moved with swift possessiveness, scooping her up and throwing her over my shoulder. A surprised little squeal escaped her lips, a sound that only fueled my desire. I carried her effortlessly to the dining table, laying her down with a soft thud. She lay there silently, her eyes locked on mine, her lower lip caught between her teeth in a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Spreading her legs apart, I revealed the extent of her arousal – she was slick and glistening, a testament to our earlier encounter. The air around us was thick with her scent, a heady combination of the lingering musk from her workout and the intoxicating aroma of her burgeoning desire. It was a primal invitation, and I couldn't wait to finally devour her.
My tongue traced a slow, deliberate path up her slick entrance to her hard clit. A low hum vibrated from her as I lapped her core with increasing fervor, savoring her taste. I then focused on her nub, gently sucking and teasing it with my tongue. An ecstatic moan escaped her, urging me on. Minutes stretched into an eternity of focused pleasure, the tension building until her legs clamped around my head, a guttural shriek tearing from her throat. Her hot juices pulsed onto my face, a fragrant testament to her release. She lay there on the table with an arm over her face, huffing as if she had just run a marathon.
Before her breath evened, I gripped her legs, lifting them high and parting them wide, the sight of her slick heat an immediate trigger. I plunged my cock deep inside her in one forceful thrust. Her eyes flashed with surprise, then glazed over with pure sensation. A primal cry tore from her throat as her hips arched violently off the table, bucking against me. "I'm cumming! Oh god, I'm fucking cummingggg!"
The intensity of her orgasm threatened to dislodge me, but I held her tight, my hands gripping her hips. I pulled her back against me, thrusting deep and hard, relentlessly pounding her cervix as her climax continued to ripple through her body. The raw energy of her pleasure only fueled my own primal need.
For the next thirty minutes, the rhythmic thrusting was a relentless exploration of pleasure and power. Her cries mingled with my grunts, the air thick with the scent of our mingled sweat and arousal. Finally, I emptied myself inside her, deep within her womb. Hot, thick ropes of my seed pulsed into her, claiming her. When I finally withdrew, a viscous stream overflowed, cascading down her thighs. I sank back into a chair, exhausted. Across the table, Mercy lay splayed, utterly ravaged. Her limbs twitched with lingering spasms, and soft, delirious murmurs escaped her swollen lips. The only words I could decipher were a breathy, submissive "daddy" and a whispered plea of "no more," a sound that only amplified the possessive satisfaction that coursed through me.
Once the tremors of my release subsided, I gathered Mercy into my arms, her limp body a comfortable weight against me. I shifted her onto my shoulder, her head lolling against my neck, her breath still shallow. Carrying her like a prized possession, I made my way towards the bedroom. A satisfied smirk played on my lips. Yes, it had indeed been a very good day.