Master Lawrence Is Back

I smirk, watching my neighbor in his house as his wife leaves the house with his kids in tow as he sighs and flops onto the couch.

I close my bedroom door, then open the window, slipping on to the window sill and climbing up to the roof top with a buzzing level of excitement.

Tapping my shoes onto the floor panel as it glows brighter than above the roof, the ground below me continues to follow that pattern. 

The lights dance upon the exasperated man as he falls asleep, his floor panel lit under him and glows consuming him.

Alan’s eyes burn bright with a purple hue, zipping out of him as he falls into a deep hypnotic trance and his body automatically sits upward. 

My body slips off the roof, climbing down onto the city ground surrounding me, and I race across the road till I stare through the window.

Rummaging through my pants pocket I find my copy of his keys, placing it in the keyhole.
switching it open and walking 
It's inside to see him lost in a panic. 

I cross the carpet into 
the living room moving closer 
to him then cupping his chin 
and lean in to a kiss I press.
his lips.

I sneak behind him, laying in to his shoulders as I spread down to his chest, rubbing him deep as he cries, and I laugh to kiss him.

I kiss his right and left cheeks, sliding down to his neck as he moans in pleasure at my touch, and he begs for me.

“Ooooohhhhh…aaaahhhhhh…fuck.” I trail down to his cheeks as I kiss him on the lips, his hands land on my waist, and he kisses me back.

"Who are you, my pet? What is your wish?” The words are spilling out of his mouth automatically like a flow of water, and he only desires to be with him.


The next morning I wake up to see Alan waiting for me in a massive souped-up truck, and he has this beautiful masculine grin.

“Wait for me by the door!” His voice is strong.

“He is so fucking hot!” I am passing by.

“Master!” Alan calls as he opens my door.

“Babe!” Alan says with a rose in his mouth.

“I love you, Alan," I reply.

"Absofuckinglutely," he adds.

“We are going to have fun," Alan says.

“About damn time." Alan takes his hands firmly on my waist.

“Get over here!” He continues.

"Love." He lifts me up to his full height and kisses me.

His body is a fortress. I intend to climb to the top of this sexy-ass mountain, and my body gets to work, tightly wound around his hips.

Alan laughs, clearly horny, at my display of power, feeling skin to skin as he walks back till his body hits the couch and we sink in.

Alan stares at me; our eyes meet in deep reflection as we become one, and we fall in love with each other, his life intertwined with mine.

“Mmmm! "Sweetheart," Alan adds in bed.

“I loved the way your smaller frame…" His voice cracks.

“Dominated you?” I ask the ending of his sentence in the form of a question.

“Exactly! "Correct," he whispers in my ears.

“I am so enamored by you." His voice gains some bounce back.

“100 percent, babe," I say, winking at him.

“What about your wife?” I ask Alan.

“Who?” He questions dismissively.

“Your wife and kids.” I say calmly.

“I love you," I say, cupping his chin.

“Don’t tease me!” He warns.

“Who said I am teasing you?” I ask him.

“I am your man then," he adds.

“Oh, babe," he laughs, kissing me.

“Kiss me then." He leans in, kissing me down my cheek.

Movie star Glenn Powell is my roommate for the weekend after he was unfortunately double-booked at a hotel and forced to share the penthouse with me. After I get settled I realize that I left one book outside; it is an all-through intuitive book on my kink, hypnosis, and I find that Glenn is reading it, and he is red with embarrassment.

“You believe in this stuff, really? Honestly?" He jokes with a shrug on his face, shaking his head; he is throwing it across to me, and he thinks for a second, and then he looks at me. I am smirking. I am grabbing my silver spiral pendant from my neck as I shove him back on to the couch, and I hold his forehead, swinging the pocket watch back and forth.

“You want to be a smart ass? I am game. Let’s begin. Follow the watch. That's it, slowly; just relax. Keep that one-pitted and condescending smile.” I say in jest mostly. “You need not worry about a single thing; you can feel your focus pulling back, and you can’t look away as you are locked on the pendant. " I continue to guide him.

“Listen to me, you wannabe mesmerist….” He begins to chastise me for a few seconds, but it comes undone when he finds the trick of the light and he is drawn in. "Gullible," I say as his eyes are rolling back into his eye sockets, and I see my opening, watching his eyes flutter closed and his head drop. My hands quickly shake his arms and legs, dropping them.

“You can hear me clearly now, can you not?” I am indifferent to him.

“Yes…I can hear you," he says, his answer breathy.

“Why are you such a smartass?” The question is about how I can propel myself further.

“I like to stir some shit.” He adds.

“The correct response is you are a brat," I say.

“I am a brat," he repeats.

“You are under my control and influenced by me.” I continue.

“I am under your control and your influence.” He accepts.

“Let’s play a game, shall we? ” I ask, not caring about his opinion or feelings.

“Yes…play a game." He shakes his head.

Standing tall over his slunk-like frame on the couch, I lean down into him as I cup his chin, yank him, and kiss him slowly with all of my heart and soul, like I need him.

Revenge is sweet. I think taking his collar in my hand with all of my strength, he hits his head on my body, and I rub his back as he moans in deep pleasure like never before.

My hands get to work undoing his button-down shirt, and then I spread it across his chest. I take it off of him with the pride of conquest in me, and I kiss his neck as he moans. The tears are erupting with joy.

“I own you; you love to be a good boy; you are my good boi.” I whisper while walking behind him.

"Mmmmmm…yyyyeeessss," Glenn agrees with a sly smile on his face.

"Okay, "Mr. Movie Star," I tease.

“SAY IT!” I command, kissing his lips.

“Fffffuuuucccckkkk!” Is all he can muster.

“I SAID SAY IT." I bend his head over and kiss him again.

“You own me; I love being owned.” He swears.

“What else?” I feel his pulse; a single heartbeat rises.

“Yes! Good boi… love to be," he says, barely able to catch his breath.

My fingers snap as he is awakening back to life; he stares at me with a dopey smile.

He waits for my command; it is a slow and anticipatory moment as he sees me stare at the wine, and he bolts over.

Instinctively he reaches for the tray, placing the liquor and two mini wine glasses on it, and waltzes over and kneels at my feet.

I laugh a gaggling fit as he stares in a daze with a glassy expression and a permanent, starry-eyed smirk.

I lean in for a kiss; he grapples me tight as we make out, his cock hard, and he is so turned on, and the more he pours.

The more he is pouring drinks, the more he starts to get drunk and hops on the table doing a crazy dance.

Part 1

All four of my best pals' dads are all something else, so judgmental of me and truthful. I hate them too, so this is a long time coming. I walk through the aisles of the supermarket at my posh neighborhood, but they are here, sitting in front of Stephen’s car; it is exciting as they see me and call me over.

I see them waving me over to their side as I roll my eyes into my eye socket, wanting to take a hammer to their heads, but I don't, despite the disrespect hurled at me. “What are you doing out here so early?” Stephen asks me with this phony smile and the glare he loves to give me, but I ignore it, feigning an interest and a fake laugh.

“Shopping for food.” I say in an indifferent tone.

“Hilarious!” Ian giggles.

“Do you have an issue?” Steph asks.

“I do have a weird vibe about you," Ian says.

“You are an oddball," they are laughing.

“I am just saying," Steph replies.

“Spit it out, freak," Ian howls.

“Losers!” I yell at them.

I am smirking a bit, playing it on the think and cool as I take a chance apologizing with a hand gesture of heavy faith, a handshake, and wondering if I can pull it off.

Inviting them over to my side of the neighborhood, they walk into my house with a bright smile, and I enter my kitchen, opening the refrigerator and popping the corks.

The moment their lips touch the cap of the bottle after a very deep inhale, letting the liquids drip down his throat, and they can consistently wash over him.

They fall crazy, spiraling out of control, their heads spinning into nothingness as he is falling back onto the wall and the other on the couch, staring mindlessly.

I take heavy steps one at a time, lying on the side of the wall, then I spin to face Ian head-on, and the cacophony of multiple sounds washes upon us both, and I kiss him.

Ian’s eyes glowing brighter in a purple hue as the kiss is planted on him, and all he can see is me. Everything in this world matters to me, and he is consumed into my life and world.

I slip past him to Stephen on the couch, staring mindlessly at me. I lean down, planting a kiss on his lips as he swoons, surrounding me in a web of his own fantasy.

“Will you marry me?” Ian asks me if Stephen is bringing him into the club and swinging me all around the place as if we have been together forever, and I make a plan.

Part 2

Stephen and Ian see the world in a whole new light, completely in one direction. Their focal point on me is absolutely set in tunnel vision. Without my permission or any knowledge, Stephen and Ian plan a bizarre party that will forever be linked with this town and all of this as they’re high on my best revenge ever.

The party is set; it is currently 8 PM at night when the first ring of the doorbell is rung. Hordes of people rush in. The time of appearance of two fathers of my other two friends walking in. Tom and Henry shove their way into the home using their arms like shields to wrangle every person aside and notice me in the kitchen with Stephen and Ian.

“You are my son’s friend, right Lawrence! What are you doing here at such a party? I knew you were strange, a total bad influence on my son, and this is proof.” He says. A finger pointing to me hanging out with my buddies. I look through them, sighing, with a single shake of my head while Tom and Henry are still accusing me, then Ian breaks the ice, offering them cans of the Hypno soda I have on me.

Tom and Henry! I do not care for your repartee! You work for me now. You obey, worship, love, and serve me. Worship the ground I walk on; you are madly in love with me, so filled with desire you become the epitome of possessive and obsessive.

Ben Affleck is outside sorting through his own shit when a car passes by his home and a young man pops out.

“This is private property…” he attempts to say, but the man puts up his palm.

The resistance aimed at him vanished the moment his lips met Ben’s. Ben struggles for a mere few seconds, then has a fit; if it is magic, his eyes become dull.

His face loses its shimmer, his hands fall to the side, and then he begins to sway like a puppet.

A wave of relief takes over his face in a blank expression, and his knees give out, sending him falling into a kneeling position.

“Command prompt complete deletion of Ben and upload file one," I command.

"Yes, uploading file one," a monotone voice repeats.

“Completed! Subject Ben Affleck is a blank slate," it replies.

“Rise to your feet and welcome me into your home," I order.

“As you wish," he replies, “obeying me.

"Yes, Master, please come in," he says sweetly.

I smirk, watching him hold the door for me as if it were all but perfectly normal.

Yet a glint in his eyes says so much more: awareness, love of freedom, and acceptance of my control.He locks the door promptly and looks at me as I command him to strip, and he obeys, first his jacket.

On my instructions he waltzes upstairs, drops his clothes on the floor, and places his pajamas on.

He descends down the stairs on a mission to please me. Swiftly, he leaves the couch and looks at me.

I snap my fingers, watching his gaze melt away till his eyelids shut close, and I glee with excitement.

“Ben, you are a blank slate in progress to become my efficient slave.” My voice says.

“It is your greatest pleasure," I continue.

“Your mantra is to serve, worship, and obey.” His face lights up in joy.

“No freedom, stress, or worry.” I fulfill his need.

“You crave me," my words ease like butter.

“I own you." I let that harshly roll.

The next morning Ben wakes up with a glowing green tint to his eyes, and he has fallen in love with me.

I am asleep as he wakes up in the midst of early morning, the sun shining on him and the birds chirping.

He has the biggest smile on his face radiating wildly as he looks at me and shifts his body out of bed.

The soles of his feet on the cold floor barely register; his only thought is to gather his bathing supplies and shower.

The heat from the bathroom flows through, spreading into the bedroom as the door opens up and he picks out his suit and gets dressed.

He smiles brightly, brushing his teeth, then prompts descending into the kitchen, and he makes me breakfast.

Upon my own awakening, I can smell the instant coffee, eggs, and bacon prepared for my arrival.

He exits the kitchen with a kiss to my lips, grabbing his keys from the downstairs hallway table.

He opens the front door and swings it to the side. The garage door pops up, and he places the cat's keys in the keyhole.

"The cab is at your service.” His voice meekly says.

“Good boi," I say as he gasps in happiness.

“Thank you, sir," he answers.

“Today’s schedule?” I ask.

“Open for you always," a free of burden voice responds.

“It’s a beach day; let’s go.” My voice claims it.

“Beach it is," he swears he says, pulling out.

“Sounds wonderful," he adds.

“Time to use the privilege," he surprisingly adds.

The night dinner concludes in great style as I place his collar around his neck and watch him take a knee.

He crawls between my legs in a display not only of submission but also of thanks for taking the reins.

He leans in to kiss me, forcing our bodies to connect as a commitment confirmation and

I live for every second because we are one.

“We are one," he proclaims a minute later with a rose in his mouth.

Harry Da Souza is listening to intel for Conrad when his headphones start to shake in his ears, and a loud, hazy static sound bursts into his ears.

He tries to mess with his phone signal, but in his app he switches it to multiple channels, but it all fades, and his eyes go black for ten minutes, and he falls into a deep trance.

His mind drops as his eyes are rolling back into his eye, burying into his eye sockets, and his head falls back, laying onto the top of the park seats, and then he sinks.

"Harry…Harry Da Souza," a voice calls out.

“Who…who the hell are you?” He struggles to say barely anything, being unable to speak.

“It’s Conrad, you imbecile. I am using a voice changer.” The voice lies.

“Yeah! "What do you need, boss?” He asks to slug it out on the chair.

“Never mind intel, I have a major assignment for you.” The voice propels.

“Name it, boss," he says, squaring his jaw.

“Go to the old wax factory down the road and meet the crew.” He instructs.

“The old wax factory," Harry hears himself say with suspicion.

“I am on my way.” A sound like a snap erupts and wakes him up.

Harry automatically rises up to full height and walks to the factory on foot; a confidence he never felt prior to this grows within him, and the headphones are continuously producing sound.

The haze burrows into his brain, settling with a hefty fog; his old middle-aged mind fades into a fog, and he attempts to shake his head from losing control, but he only obeys.

He reaches Conrad’s factory acquisition, sliding the doors open; he slips in. The lights are swirling on as factory doors shut closed, and one male shadowy figure walks out.

Harry stops in the center of the room as the young Black male is standing in his face; they look on, analyzing all of each other's moves, and finally Harry stops cold.

The young man smirks as the lights glow even brighter, covering the space in its entirety. Harry covers his face, and his actions fail as he goes blind for a few minutes.

The man walks around, placing a pair of cuffs on his hands as they seal close. The man pushes Harry forward toward the edge of the building and down the staircase.

“Who are you? "Answer me," Harry bellows loudly.

“I make the rules here." The young man states.

“Excuse me! I am Harry Da…” Harry’s voice is clipped as the man gropes his ass.

"Silence," the young man states loudly as he preps something for a second.

“This will hurt for a bit, but you will thank me later.” He whispers to him.

“Wait a minute I—" It's too late; the young man injects a needle.

"Mwahahahahaha," the man laughs so hard.

“I love you," he adds as Harry crumbles his head onto his chin.

“Soon you shall be on my side.” The young man kisses his cheeks.

“You will be my very first asset in my kingdom.” I begin to undress him.

“Look at the chest.” I wink at it.

“Godly body." His hands begin to undo his belt.

“You smell fucking good," he comments.

“You taste good," he inhales and licks his armpit.

“Don’t cry and ruin the moment, tough guy.” He says coldly.

“Let’s get you strapped in." I place a sex machine under him and insert it in his ass.

"Mmmm…uuuuuggghhh…fffuuucckk," Harry manages to utter.

“Good job, baby," he tells him, swatting his ass.

“You feel so hard.” He adds.

“Like a rock," he feels his muscles.

“This body is mine," he laughs.

“You will serve me," he propels him.

“I own you," he attached the next apparatus, placing it in a new def machine pumping his cock.

"Ooooohhhhh." Harry’s head tilts back.

"Fffffuuuucccckkkk." Harry begins to cum.

“You completed the process," he laughs yet again.

Harry loses his bodily fluids as he explodes in cum, shooting it to the factory floor, and his eyes pop open.

“You address me as your one and only Master Lawrence.” I inform him.

"Yes, Master Lawrence." He follows my commands.

“You are my hit man and slave.” I seal my program.

“Thank you for freeing me.” He adds kneeling.

“How may I serve you?” He asks with a bright smile.

“Conrad! I want him and his family; I want them dead.” I smirk.

“Yes, Master." He obeys; his mind races.

“As you will.” He rises and kisses him.

“Good boi! Process this immediately.

“I am your host Alexander Logan Chase.” I say to the camera.

“And this is Paint Wars," I say loudly.

“The show where celebrities go at it," I add.

“On one end, Marvel Cinematic Universe King Chris Evans," I yell like a boxing announcer.

“On the other end, The Running Man, Glen Powell.” I say, "Shout."

“Chris and Glen commence," my voice booms.

“I am all in," Glen pumps up.

“I am about to win this.” Chris says shadow boxing.

“Hedge bets! GO!” My voice launches.

Part 1

The cans are rolling into the room on a trolley. Chris digs into the tin top, yanking it open as the paint fumes rise and the gas seeps in. Instantly Chris inhales deeply as the paint fumes dive into his nostrils; a faint smile emerges on his face, and he cannot stop himself from laughing.

His face is a carefree canvas of utter joy, while his hands are the brushes he literally drops to the side, and I laugh with all my heart amusingly.Chris is high on the fumes when he digs into his shirt, shredding it into pieces; his pants follow, and he has this look.

“How’s my dumb jock?” I let out the question; it even surprises me, well, kind of. I am about to roll it back as the cameras pan in on his face. He shrugs it off, the hat flipping backwards; with this stupefied appearance, he digs his hands into the paint and then rushes to the wall, spreading it all over like his life depends on it.

Strolling over my feet lands at his back. My hand, on autopilot, gives him one huge slap across his backside, and he jumps then giggles.

“What are you, Chris?” I ask him as I feel his ass upward till he moans and then slide my finger up; I watch his hard-on grow.

“I am your giant, massive dumb-dumb." He laughs like child, his pecks bounce up and down as I roam them, tracing the shape.

“Such a pretty ass, Chris.” I add

"Pretty, yeah.” He says, nodding his head.

“Want me to bounce a coin on it?" The question is frivolous, as it does not matter.

“Please do, babe," he says, shaking his ass.

“Someone is horny.” I reply.

“Only for you and this paint.” He jiggles.

"FREEZE," the instructions are ordered coldly.

"Yyyyeeeessss," he says, then stops cold as if he were a statue.

Part 2

Glen is lost in a sea of haze; his eyes glaze over in pure bliss in him. He is obediently staring at me, and he awaits all of my own orders like it was the drink of his choice, so sweet.

His eyes bloom blue when I flip open a few tins of paint and inhale them deeply, and we make out like I have never seen anybody do. Then I shove him to the floor facing me.

He drops his hands, digging them into the paint cups. As the paint droops down, he lifts his hands to his nose and washes the wall with his world entirely.

My eyes followed him to the wall on the opposite side of the room, placing my hand in his pants and playing paddleball with his balls as he burst into laughter.

Groping him right, my palms hit his wife, and then I take a deep breath of skin as I inhale it, and then I kiss his skin using every inch of it with love, my second favorite person in the world.

Climbing up on a ladder, he is left in shambles with my body hard on him, pressing hard over him, and I undo his belt and and his underpants, and I slip my cock into his ass, pounding him relentlessly.

“What are you seeking?” I ask him.

“Only you," he pins, begging for my attention.

“Who do you belong to?” Biting his lips.

"You!" he shouts, horny.

“Please fuck me," he howls.

“I beg you," he pleads.

"Oooohhhhh….fuck," he shouts out loud.

“Daddy…” he actually calls me that. Wow!

“My love! I own you." I kiss his ears, a trail downward his cheeks, and cup his cock and watch him suffer.

“I am your host Alexander Logan Chase.” I say to the camera.

“And this is Paint Wars," I say loudly.

“The show where celebrities go at it," I add.

“On one end, Marvel Cinematic Universe King Chris Evans," I yell like a boxing announcer.

“On the other end, The Running Man, Glen Powell.” I say, "Shout."

“Chris and Glen commence," my voice booms.

“I am all in," Glen pumps up.

“I am about to win this.” Chris says shadow boxing.

“Hedge bets! GO!” My voice launches.

Part 1

The cans are rolling into the room on a trolley. Chris digs into the tin top, yanking it open as the paint fumes rise and the gas seeps in. Instantly Chris inhales deeply as the paint fumes dive into his nostrils; a faint smile emerges on his face, and he cannot stop himself from laughing.

His face is a carefree canvas of utter joy, while his hands are the brushes he literally drops to the side, and I laugh with all my heart amusingly.Chris is high on the fumes when he digs into his shirt, shredding it into pieces; his pants follow, and he has this look.

“How’s my dumb jock?” I let out the question; it even surprises me, well, kind of. I am about to roll it back as the cameras pan in on his face. He shrugs it off, the hat flipping backwards; with this stupefied appearance, he digs his hands into the paint and then rushes to the wall, spreading it all over like his life depends on it.

Strolling over my feet lands at his back. My hand, on autopilot, gives him one huge slap across his backside, and he jumps then giggles.

“What are you, Chris?” I ask him as I feel his ass upward till he moans and then slide my finger up; I watch his hard-on grow.

“I am your giant, massive dumb-dumb." He laughs like child, his pecks bounce up and down as I roam them, tracing the shape.

“Such a pretty ass, Chris.” I add

"Pretty, yeah.” He says, nodding his head.

“Want me to bounce a coin on it?" The question is frivolous, as it does not matter.

“Please do, babe," he says, shaking his ass.

“Someone is horny.” I reply.

“Only for you and this paint.” He jiggles.

"FREEZE," the instructions are ordered coldly.

"Yyyyeeeessss," he says, then stops cold as if he were a statue.

Part 2

Glen is lost in a sea of haze; his eyes glaze over in pure bliss in him. He is obediently staring at me, and he awaits all of my own orders like it was the drink of his choice, so sweet.

His eyes bloom blue when I flip open a few tins of paint and inhale them deeply, and we make out like I have never seen anybody do. Then I shove him to the floor facing me.

He drops his hands, digging them into the paint cups. As the paint droops down, he lifts his hands to his nose and washes the wall with his world entirely.

My eyes followed him to the wall on the opposite side of the room, placing my hand in his pants and playing paddleball with his balls as he burst into laughter.

Groping him right, my palms hit his wife, and then I take a deep breath of skin as I inhale it, and then I kiss his skin using every inch of it with love, my second favorite person in the world.

Climbing up on a ladder, he is left in shambles with my body hard on him, pressing hard over him, and I undo his belt and and his underpants, and I slip my cock into his ass, pounding him relentlessly.

“What are you seeking?” I ask him.

“Only you," he pins, begging for my attention.

“Who do you belong to?” Biting his lips.

"You!" he shouts, horny.

“Please fuck me," he howls.

“I beg you," he pleads.

"Oooohhhhh….fuck," he shouts out loud.

“Daddy…” he actually calls me that. Wow!

“My love! I own you." I kiss his ears, a trail downward his cheeks, and cup his cock and watch him suffer.

Harry Da Souza is listening to intel for Conrad when his headphones start to shake in his ears, and a loud, hazy static sound bursts into his ears.

He tries to mess with his phone signal, but in his app he switches it to multiple channels, but it all fades, and his eyes go black for ten minutes, and he falls into a deep trance.

His mind drops as his eyes are rolling back into his eye, burying into his eye sockets, and his head falls back, laying onto the top of the park seats, and then he sinks.

"Harry…Harry Da Souza," a voice calls out.

“Who…who the hell are you?” He struggles to say barely anything, being unable to speak.

“It’s Conrad, you imbecile. I am using a voice changer.” The voice lies.

“Yeah! "What do you need, boss?” He asks to slug it out on the chair.

“Never mind intel, I have a major assignment for you.” The voice propels.

“Name it, boss," he says, squaring his jaw.

“Go to the old wax factory down the road and meet the crew.” He instructs.

“The old wax factory," Harry hears himself say with suspicion.

“I am on my way.” A sound like a snap erupts and wakes him up.

Harry automatically rises up to full height and walks to the factory on foot; a confidence he never felt prior to this grows within him, and the headphones are continuously producing sound.

The haze burrows into his brain, settling with a hefty fog; his old middle-aged mind fades into a fog, and he attempts to shake his head from losing control, but he only obeys.

He reaches Conrad’s factory acquisition, sliding the doors open; he slips in. The lights are swirling on as factory doors shut closed, and one male shadowy figure walks out.

Harry stops in the center of the room as the young Black male is standing in his face; they look on, analyzing all of each other's moves, and finally Harry stops cold.

The young man smirks as the lights glow even brighter, covering the space in its entirety. Harry covers his face, and his actions fail as he goes blind for a few minutes.

The man walks around, placing a pair of cuffs on his hands as they seal close. The man pushes Harry forward toward the edge of the building and down the staircase.

“Who are you? "Answer me," Harry bellows loudly.

“I make the rules here." The young man states.

“Excuse me! I am Harry Da…” Harry’s voice is clipped as the man gropes his ass.

"Silence," the young man states loudly as he preps something for a second.

“This will hurt for a bit, but you will thank me later.” He whispers to him.

“Wait a minute I—" It's too late; the young man injects a needle.

"Mwahahahahaha," the man laughs so hard.

“I love you," he adds as Harry crumbles his head onto his chin.

“Soon you shall be on my side.” The young man kisses his cheeks.

“You will be my very first asset in my kingdom.” I begin to undress him.

“Look at the chest.” I wink at it.

“Godly body." His hands begin to undo his belt.

“You smell fucking good," he comments.

“You taste good," he inhales and licks his armpit.

“Don’t cry and ruin the moment, tough guy.” He says coldly.

“Let’s get you strapped in." I place a sex machine under him and insert it in his ass.

"Mmmm…uuuuuggghhh…fffuuucckk," Harry manages to utter.

“Good job, baby," he tells him, swatting his ass.

“You feel so hard.” He adds.

“Like a rock," he feels his muscles.

“This body is mine," he laughs.

“You will serve me," he propels him.

“I own you," he attached the next apparatus, placing it in a new def machine pumping his cock.

"Ooooohhhhh." Harry’s head tilts back.

"Fffffuuuucccckkkk." Harry begins to cum.

“You completed the process," he laughs yet again.

Harry loses his bodily fluids as he explodes in cum, shooting it to the factory floor, and his eyes pop open.

“You address me as your one and only Master Lawrence.” I inform him.

"Yes, Master Lawrence." He follows my commands.

“You are my hit man and slave.” I seal my program.

“Thank you for freeing me.” He adds kneeling.

“How may I serve you?” He asks with a bright smile.

“Conrad! I want him and his family; I want them dead.” I smirk.

“Yes, Master." He obeys; his mind races.

“As you will.” He rises and kisses him.

“Good boi! Process this immediately.

Superman floats high above the glass tier of the Metropolis Museum, watching me make a mess and demolishes the glass case before me; nothing could stop me at this point.

I swiftly snatch the diamond into my hand, shattering it into millions of pieces, and the ball of energy swirls through the air, raining down on me as my body consumes it.

Superman spinning down into the glass, creating a cooling effect, is amazing to see me so poised, but I only laughed after I walked over to a particular set of tiles on the floor.

Stomping on all the tiles in the room began glowing with a certain color pattern he had never seen before, calling to him as his eyes caught wind of it.

He could no longer ignore it. The pull was too strong for him to avoid; naturally, he’s levitating down, unaware of the situation, and once he hits the ground at last.

Suddenly, out of the blue, an interruption occurs, covering the room with the same odd pattern; a steel trap and doors drop down, enclosing him in the space, and he is mine.

The great man of steel is about to meet his maker at the sight of my green glow, and when my body is emanating a strong, familiar sense in a harsh feeling, he falters on the room’s floor.

Every step I take towards him, his facial expression only shows pain. The fear in his eyes is very apparent about the reality he’s facing, and all I could do was laugh.

Clark barely manages to pull himself together, struggling to crawl away from me; the more he stumbles, the more I leave my feet and position them so as to kick him. He winces and shows the world for a week what a little pussy he is.

“This would be a lot easier if you gave in.” Teasing him.

“Never…” He complains.

“Silence! “Much more agreeable,” I inform him.

“Get angry.”

“Go in a rage."

“Take no prisoners and become mine upon your victory.”

“Kara! Connor and Mon-El”

“I won’t! I am not hurting my family.” He retorts.

“Excellent! Beat him to a pulp.” Commanding them.

"Kara…nnnoooo," screaming.

“Remember me? Please,” a simple begging fit.

“I love you, cousin.” He says.

Kara laughs psychologically as she lands on the floor, walking closer to him. The ground is trembling beneath gigantic Clark’s body and swiftly lifts him up.

Grabbing his shirt collar, she is lifting him into the air, bending her position into a bow form, and shooting into the air; he is fully in her power, and she spins him throwing him across the room.

Clark lands on the ground of the museum, sliding across the floor till his back hits the wall, and he’s lost at the mere idea of how quickly he grows into deep state.

“Connor! What are you doing?” Clark questions his clone.

“Saving you,” he adds, smacking him hard, hitting him in the gut like no one’s business.

“Wwwhhhhyyyy?” bellowing.

“Oh, shut up!” Connor has heard enough.

“This is of your own making," he chides.

“Who’s the hero now?” He asks him.

“We both are,” Clark aids him.

“I’m the hero, you pussy.” The kid grins.

“You are a useless and powerless bitch.” Connor settles in to the roast.

“Save yourself!” Calling Clark to action as he goes dormant.

“Yes, sir!” He closes his eyes, the endless beta vision killing them both.

Appearing right behind Mon-el, I grapple his neck and point to Clark, who will obediently shoot through his stomach and not stop till he annihilates him.

“You see what you caused, Clark.” Asking him for my hand past his head, and I cup him up, kissing him slowly.

Clark is vibrating on a new frequency, giving in to me, and he kissed me back ultimately waking up.

“It was all a dream, Master?” He looks disappointed.

“Welcome to the new House of El.” I state that I instructed him to join his new team.

“You, Kara, Connor, and Mon-El are my new children of Krypton.”

They are relaxed, with an evil gaggle of laughter emerging.

The Teen Titans have broken into their own separate teams for as long as Dick Grayson hops onto his motorcycle and speeds off into the night.

The shadowy cast of a building is emanating in light with a hot flash of blinding light, and a red tractor beam lifts his bike into the air, drawing him to the rooftop.

Dick’s mind goes blank when his feet hit the ground, the rooftop floor descending into the building, and he awaits Ben Grimm at the door as he walks in.

“Sexy Bike,” Johnny says, one hand on the handle, rolling into the office area and leaving it to the side as he joins Ben, blocking him from escaping if he wakes up.

Applauding with such intensity, vibrating up in a crescendo on the walls as they exit the office space, and as the doors close in on us, the spotlight washes onto him as the lights fade.

“NightWing! May I call you Dick? You bitch? Take a knee, bowing at my feet. ”I love to mock this self-proclaimed sex symbol of a hero because I am his entire world.

A figure like dark green fur hops off of the nearby electrical grid, landing on all four palms with a heavy stare, and he locks on to Nightwing as he roars into action.

Dick went into defensive mode like old Bat Bruce taught him, matching Garfield blow for blow, and I stood by, clapping with a roar of applause aimed at them.

“Poor defenseless babies, Dick was bitten, and Garfield was handed his own ass. This is a sight to behold.” I say continue to disparage them.

In a bit of resistance, Dick finds himself awake, restrained to a table wrapped in immobile steel chains, and that’s when his cock grows hard.

He loses all sense of manners as it throbs harshly against the fabric of his clothes and slips on to his skin. The moment of impact is orgasmic.

His cock lifts upward till it is totally straight, rock hard, and about to cum; the explosion is instant, landing on every layer of skin fully visible for the world to see.

In an instant a mask covers his face; the eyeglasses are clear and become white, and he forces an alternative lifeline of his life, and the next thing, Dick sees himself reflected in the mirror.

He walks up to the mirror as it glows brightly, connecting his eyes to the mirror image like a tractor beam yanking him into the mirror, where he sees the impossible.

Beast Boy is on all fours, hands and feet, as he walks like a dog chasing after Dick and hopping onto him as he begins to hump him crazily like a hyperactive dog pet.

Starfire stood in front of a similar mirror-like slate, calling her to it. He stares at her, picks up a brush, and commences to fiercely brush her hair as he stares lovingly.

Superboy stands on top of a circus circular stand, ripping off his tee shirt and pants, kicking off his shoes, and doing a sexy little dance with his ass as it perks up.

“Welcome to the circus top of Master Lawrence," Connor replies with a smile.

Hawk and Dove are doing high-end aerial moves through the air tag teaming.

A swimming pool in the back can be seen from a jarring distance as the Aqaulad leaps in the air like a whale, and the water splashes as he dives back.

Raven's aura is rising, summoning all types of demonic creatures.

Dick is horrified when Red Hood appears shooting at the range.

Finally, Damian Wayne steps out of the shadow with two swords pressed against Dick's neck.

The Teen Titans have broken into their own separate teams for as long as Dick Grayson hops onto his motorcycle and speeds off into the night.

The shadowy cast of a building is emanating in light with a hot flash of blinding light, and a red tractor beam lifts his bike into the air, drawing him to the rooftop.

Dick’s mind goes blank when his feet hit the ground, the rooftop floor descending into the building, and he awaits Ben Grimm at the door as he walks in.

“Sexy Bike,” Johnny says, one hand on the handle, rolling into the office area and leaving it to the side as he joins Ben, blocking him from escaping if he wakes up.

Applauding with such intensity, vibrating up in a crescendo on the walls as they exit the office space, and as the doors close in on us, the spotlight washes onto him as the lights fade.

“NightWing! May I call you Dick? You bitch? Take a knee, bowing at my feet.” I love to mock this self-proclaimed sex symbol of a hero because I am his entire world.

A figure like dark green fur hops off of the nearby electrical grid, landing on all four palms with a heavy stare, and he locks on to Nightwing as he roars into action.

Dick goes into defensive mode like old Bat Bruce taught him, matching Garfield blow for blow, and I stand by, clapping with a roar of applause aimed at them.

“Poor defenseless babies, Dick got bitten, and Garfield was handed his own ass. This is a sight to behold.” I say continue to disparage them.

In a bit of resistance, Dick finds himself awake, restrained to a table wrapped in immobile steel chains, and that’s when his cock grows hard.

He loses all sense of manners as it throbs harshly against the fabric of his clothes and slips on to his skin The moment of impact is orgasmic.

His cock lifts upward till it is totally straight, rock hard, and about to cum; the explosion is instant, landing on every layer of skin fully visible for the world to see.

In an instant a mask covers his face; the eyeglasses are clear and become white, and he forces fed an alternative lifeline of his life, and the next thing, Dick sees himself reflected in the mirror.

He walks up to the mirror as it glows brightly, connecting his eyes to the mirror image like a tractor beam yanking him into the mirror, where he sees the impossible.

Beast Boy is on all fours, hands and feet, as he walks like a dog chasing after Dick and hopping onto him as he begins to hump him crazily like a hyperactive pet.

Starfire stood in front of a similar mirror-like slate, calling her to it. He stares at her, picks up a brush, and commences to fiercely brush her hair as he stares lovingly.

Superboy stands on top of a circus circular stand, ripping off his tee shirt and pants, kicking off his shoes, and doing a sexy little dance with his ass as it perks up.

“Welcome to the circus top of Master Lawrence," Connor replies with a smile.

Hawk and Dove are doing high-end aerial moves through the air tag teaming.

A swimming pool in the back can be seen from a jarring distance as the Aqaulad leaps in the air like a whale, and the water splashes as he dives back.

Raven's aura is rising, summoning all types of demonic creatures.

Dick is horrified when Red Hood appears shooting at the range.

Finally, Damian Wayne steps out of the shadow with two swords pressed against Dick's neck.

The pleasure is too much as he starts to grow hard, exploding, and comes the last of his free will.

“YES! Let’s go, Titans! Let’s join the other team and meet Master Lawrence. Fuck Batman!”