Master Lawrence Is Back

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!”

Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, never understood the need for a lawyer more than moments ago when Mathew Murdock stepped into his life.

That night Peter Parker left an undeniable mark on the man without fear for some odd old reason, and his senses went haywire.

Matthew Murdoch found life and himself lost to the world when Peter met him, and he could relate like two fates intertwine.

He has flipped from one rooftop to the other till he hit Queens, New York, and Matt can hear the sound of the swings in the air jumping from one hand to the other.

Peter's spider senses go off upon landing on a nearby roof; he could feel someone obvious to anyone else is watching him movement precisely.

“Woah! Why are my senses going haywire?” He stutters, standing up on a weak leg.

“Daredevil! Oh my god!" Peter freaks out in excitement as he backs up.

“We need to speak, Peter; I can’t believe I am doing this.” Matt replied.

“Do I know you or something?” Peter Parker slowly ponders.

“There is something about you; I can tell you are special.” The man replies.

“Woah!” Peter freaks out at Matt’s reflexes using his billy club, weapon of choice, to cut down a nearby bullet.

Daredevil did not respond; a grimacing facial expression overtook him, and he leaps up.

He backflips over Spider-Man, grabbing him by his waist, and he runs off the building.

He falls miles down from the roof, unleashing his grapple to wrap over the building's statue.

The two swing off into a nearby apartment, breaking through the glass.

The glass crashes down as he lands in the room, and he curls Peter up in his arms, and he swiftly wipes the shards of glass off from his body.

“Peter, Peter, can you hear me?” Matt cries out loud.

“Oh God! I have a headache. What the hell happened here?” Peter questions.

“We need to go, Peter; he has us trapped, and we have to escape.” Daredevil yells.

“Who has us trapped?” Peter continues to push them into the corridor.

“I said let’s go.” Daredevil growls. His voice is bellowing everything.

“Yes, sir!" Peter is up in a matter of minutes because he is so turned on.

Secretly, both men felt a deep tingle; their senses were going overboard. They exit the apartment through the private stairwell at high speed.

Peter launches his webs on both sides with a smile at Daredevil. The Man Without Fear grows a small smirk as he tucks himself safely into his arms.

Peter giggles, letting go of the webbing that is sent out like a slingshot. A single arm shoots out a web, and they are off to the races.

“Aren’t I a bit heavy for you?” Matt suggests in shock.

“Do you know how much weight a spider can carry?" Peter lets the question roll out.

“Ok, ok! Fair enough, point taken." He lets it go completely the silence is deafening.

“So… It’s been more than enough time for me and you.” Peter’s nerves overcome him.

“Why did I search out for you?” Matt points out.

“Let me be honest, there is something about you; I feel deeply connected to you.” Matt can’t believe he says that.

“I know you; I mean, we met before.” Peter blurts out.

“I had a dream last night.” Matt says after a small silence.

“That I represented you in some high-profile case.” He adds.

“Your name is…is…"…" Matthew Murdoch starts when two bullets came at the two of them.

“My spider senses are going crazy.” Peter wails, holding his head.

“It’s coming from there. " He points.

“Frank Castle, is that you?” He asks. “Oh, good God!”

"Daredevil, and who is that?” Frank spits.

“Spider-Man?” Franks sighs.

“Yeah! So what, skull brain? Peter quips.

“What did you say?” Frank Howls.

“You heard me, dumbbell." Peter chides.

“Definitely agree with me." Matt jokes.

“Watch it, red." Frank grimaces.

“Can we cut the bullshit now?”Jessica says she is crushing a can.

“Jessica Jones” Matt outlines.

“Yes, Sherlock, what do you want?” She sags, throwing it on the ground.

“Are you two together?” She says cooly.

“It’s none of your business." Peter says quickly.

“Zip it, Frank; it’s a thing. Ok?” Matt suggests.

Everything would be gone in an instant as all four bodies dematerialize into thin air and find themselves in the entrance to Dr. Strange's Sanctum Sanctorum.

Materializing in a magical puff of smoke, they are in the Sanctum Sanctorum without any rhyme or reason.

"Dr. Strange’s house, he most summoned us," Luke adds.

“Dr. Who?” Frank is lost.

“Dr. Strange's skull head” Peter quips.

“Nice one!" Jessica jokes.

“You have taste, kid." Jessica adds

“Keep it up, smart mouth." Frank lifts his gun.

“Or what? You will pass me and make a dent in the floor." Peter pushes him.

“That’s it, kid." Frank had enough.

“Calm down, Frank, geez; save all of the aggression for later.”

Matt fakes a gagging motion with his finger at Peter.

“Peter is in awe at the sheer comedic timing of The Man Without Fear, and in that mask and suit he is a fearsome foe for sure. However, maybe he can be something else I get out of it.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, boy wonder. "Jessica says.

“Did you just use a Batman reference on me, Jessica?” Peter is shocked.

“Don’t look so surprised; I was a kid once. " Jessica smiles.

“A nerd? No way." Peter is in awe.

“Peter, no. Make that statement again, and you will be seeing colors.” Jessica throws a fake punch. Peter cracks up laughing as he falls on the floor and shows off his age as a cool wind passes by them.

Doctor Strange appears at the top step of the staircase in full gear.

“Did you summon us? How did he remember me?” Peter is in denial.

“Mr. Parker, the universe is in flux yet again. " Dr. Strange says he is indifferent to the question.

“I did nothing this time, I swear. " Peter states outright.

“I know, I know." Dr. Strange waves it off.

“I am forming a new team." He continues.

“Another Avenger?" Peter is stressed.

“Not quite. I'm calling it "The Defenders." He says it's original.

“Oh brother! How original, and don’t bullshit me." Peter says sarcastically.

“All of you have been stripped of the lives you led before." Dr. Strange says compellingly.

“Each of you has experienced the tragedy to its core." He leads them on.

“I need a team built to fight a threat greater than anything else." He lifts his eyebrows.

“Let me guess, you opened the multiverse again, right?” Peter suggests more than asks.

“No, no, I—I did. " He admits.

“It was necessary, Parker," he finishes.

“Get to the point, magic man." Frank says tapping his toe.

“I need a permanent team to deal with these types of scenarios. "Waving his hand.

“So you pulled us from our lives in various dimensions?” Jessica says, fist formed.

“You got it. "He agrees.

Dr. Strange waves his hand, twisting it in midair; he sends them off to sit down. Jessica grabs a chair, slamming it into the floor as it bends a bit.

She sets it facing her, fully fueled with all the rage in the world. Two bolts of light appear in the shape of the mightiest of men.

“Luke Cage?” He walks a man-power.

“Jessica Jones," he smiles.

“Where are we, babe?” He asks, annoyed.

“Obviously not in New York anymore." She says she's equally pissed off.

“Wizard of Oz reference now?” She winks at him.

"Awesome!" he jumps up.

"Oy, Peter!" Matt shakes his head.

“Who is this kid?” Franks asks

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. " he proudly states.

"Jesus, these names." Jessica pulls out another can.

“What’s next, Ant-Man?" She asks.

"Actually," Peter is about to answer that.

“Dear God! No." She smacks her head in disappointment.

“Yes!” Peter shrugs.

A single portal ripples aside opening in the back corner and he steps out the Iron Fist Aka Danny Rand.

“The Dragon Calls” Danny say exiting the portal his fists flowing aura of golden ember.

Maxwell Lord is everything; he is a boss whom you never want to fuck with, but he hated me from day one. He is a dick benefitting from a father who used to be the head of the company until he passed away last week.

He is ordering me to his top-tier main office, twelve floors over mine, and I enter the space angrily. The door slams behind me in one loud clap as I walk into the room and take slow steps on my way to him.

“You are fired! Get the hell out of here.” He shouts at me, my eyes close, and the rage rises past me. I grin, opening my eyes as they glow red, shooting into his eyes. His mind reshapes him, and it is reshaping into a brand-new persona.

He collapses to the floor in a big pile of flesh, flopping till he goes into a coma-like state and laughs. Nothing matters to me more than getting revenge on that massive amount of his body on the floor.

Leaping up, I rush behind his desk, taking a seat. I tap the space key and type out a perfectly primed letter, hitting go. The entirety of the office hears a ping with a resounding sound shaking everyone, and they all race out and go home.

I may be short of height and small of frame, but I am in absolute control of this situation , I walk to the door and click it shut. Stroll to the window, closing the white blinds; the room dimly descends into darkness, and I overtake him.

“Fired! Hilarious boss!” I say, kneeling down to face him.

“What a waste of mind in this body? I swear I'm feeling him up.

“You could be doing life and work tremendously well," I lean in whispering.

“You will be compelled to obey and love me.” I lift my finger, snapping all of my fingers back into reality.

"Yes, I will obey and compellingly love you.” He says robotically.

“Rise to your feet.” Instructing him lightly.

"Yes, Master Lawrence," he says.

“Obediently restart.” I say a simple snap.

“What the…time is spinning back….ugh.” He faints again.

“You are fired.” He regains his consciousness and sits up.

“Hell no!” I say softly.

"Listen, you little runt….” He blurts out and then stops when he sees me.

“Little runt?” I question him about hitting the command.

“Sorry Master… I apologize.” He says, bouncing upward.

"Kneel, bitch!” I add that he crumbles to his knees.

"Yes, Master Lawrence," he says in this weak tone.

“Will you serve me?” He smiles a big, pleading smile at me, and your hands raise up in praise.

“Sir, yes, sir," he says in that mountain of a suit.