MrPlotThickens
patreon
Marvel: Upgrading Death 7 - Mandatory Japan Trip, Trail of Cream-pies & George Is Here
🕑 Added 2025-07-03 16:52:24 +0000 UTCBoom!
"Fucking Wakandans!" Marshall roared and zoomed out of his cave, still butt-naked as he flew. "So what if my big titty goth witch took teeny tiny little Vibranium? You fuckers got a mountain, besides it's all mine anyway!"
Wooosh!
He emerged from the cave, flying midair. One glance and he noticed some strangely futuristic aircraft in the sky. They weren't high tech and looked more like crude suits of armor, large, each maneuvered by multiple people. The Wakandans were surely advanced, but they weren't yet at the peak of their game.
Still, they had developed energy weapons and used those to bombard the mountain.
"Fuckers! Take this!"
Marshall erupted in flames abruptly, his entire body glowing red, cosmic flames crackling around him. Then, he flew fast and body slammed each one of the flying aircraft.
BOOM!
The Wakandans' flying machines were blown to pieces, their occupants dead. But Marshall didn't stop there, he noticed the fuckers had also brought a ground army in a much larger ship. They had landed outside at the base of his mountain.
"Who is your goddamn Black Panther?" Marshall roared and made a superhero landing on the ground. "I saved your fucking ancestor, that Mosi, from the Celestials' fart, and this is what I get?"
"WRAAA!"
By then, Marty also came out roaring from the cave, on his head were Hela and Selene.
“See? Marty’s mad. You smashed his masterpiece—stupid move.” Marshall raged. “You owe Marty a hundred kilos of Vibranium. And me? Hand over all your tech, or I’m off to Wakanda to torch the whole damn place.”
"ATTACK!"
"FOR WAKANDA!"
Marshall just stayed standing in one place, not even bothering to act. He was shocked by their madness and dumbassness. He was pretty famous already, and Wakandans most certainly knew about him. Why the heck were they being so dumb?
"Hmm… Alright, I'll roast you all." Marshall lazily kicked the dirt once. Fire erupted from his foot and widened towards the incoming army of a thousand or so spear-wielding Wakandans. The cosmic flames turned the dirt into glass in its flow, and eventually covered the entire Wakandan army.
Wooosh!
The Wakandans barely got the chance to scream. They just died, melted into a puddle of flesh and bones.
"You are no god!"
Marshall snorted and spat on the ground. "Finally, here comes the Black Panther. Come here, let me declaw your whiny ass. Then, I'll drag you to Wakanda and rub your face across its streets. Let your folks remember what happens when you fuck with the First Man."
The Black Panther, unknown what number he was, jumped towards Marshall furiously, roaring about how Marshall was in the wrong for sending Selene to steal from his people. All those words fell on deaf ears, however.
Marshall didn't give a damn about any of that. In his eyes, everything that Earth had belonged to him. It was a simple fact to him. Every piece of land, every single natural resource, every piece of diamond, every ounce of gold, and Vibranium, they all were his by the simple status of being the First Man. Being the first human to walk the entire world, the first one to lay claim before these fuckers were even a speck of a thought to their ancestors.
Bam!
Marshall grabbed the Black Panther as the man lunged at him. He caught him by the neck and just choked him there. No amount of Vibranium in that suit could help when Marshall possessed Odin's raw strength.
Marshall then summoned his usual flying raft. "Marty, Hela, stay here and keep the cave covered. Selene, get on the damn raft. Take me to Wakanda. Been a while since I ended a civilization. The world's starting to forget about me. About time they’re reminded."
Keeping the pitiful Black Panther in a chokehold, Marshall manhandled the man and flew away with no care. The Black Panther tried to writhe and kick, but nothing helped.
"You know." he talked with the Black Panther, although it was one-sided. "You didn't have to do all that. I didn't even remember that you guys existed. But when you poke a viper's nest, you better be prepared to get bitten. And boy, you sure did poke a pretty nasty viper, not the one ones in my pants, ah I'm still naked, fuck."
By then, it was anything but a guarantee that the Black Panther was not going to make it.
####
BOOM!
"RUN!"
"ESCAPE!"
"SAVE ME!"
It was chaos in Wakanda. Fire fell from the sky. Entire buildings were uprooted and thrown away like toys. Bridges were torn down. The lakes were dried up. The mining mountain's entrance was scorched and shut. No amount of Vibranium hurt the mad god they had invited.
Black Panther was dead, splattered on the paved floor in the middle of the Wakandan capital. His head was split open with all the mess painting the tiles.
The Wakandan royal palace was left in ruins. Their entire city was decimated, worse than an earthquake. In a single hour, their beautiful city was turned into a mess no different from other African villages around their hidden home.
"I'm taking all this."
Marshall emptied their libraries as well. He wanted to give that knowledge to his people of Dinosia. No, he didn't want to give them the tech. But rather the knowledge, the science, the mathematics, and physics. What would they make out of it? Marshall was interested to see that.
"Also, I'm taking a thousand kilograms of Vibranium now. Be thankful I'm not taking the entire damn mountain," he said with a shrug like he was grabbing snacks. "Let’s go, Selene—These fuckers aren’t worth the spit it takes to talk. Give it a decade, they'll be flexing over dirt again."
Selene used to think she was pretty powerful before. No more; she just nodded her head mindlessly and jumped onto that primitive raft.
Behind them was Wakanda, left in ruins.
####
Somewhere in Africa,
"Alright, Marty, count to five and then roar. We'll start running." Marshall ordered and stood at the starting line. Right beside him were five different Cheetahs. "You better not cheat, my cheetah friends… Haha, get it? Cheetah, cheater… alright, I'll shut up."
The year was 1560 CE. The world had changed. Humans had learned to sail the seas and explore the world. The Americas had been found. The native Americans were being wiped out by smallpox.
Marshall had ordered Dinosia to close its borders and become a secluded economy. Kill all invaders and explorers who reach them. And just develop themselves on their own. Keep innovating. And they were to only open borders when they were sure that their military might would stand above all.
It was a game on Marshall's part. He wanted to see how powerful Dinosians would become when they had nothing to measure themselves against.
Though Marshall was busy having fun in the part of the world still barely touched—Africa. He'd helped Mansa Musa back in the day, but then the man grew too big and started fucking around with nearby kingdoms. In the end, Marshall simply confiscated all the gold once Mansa died and hoarded that gold in Dinosia.
By now, he reckoned Dinosia was the richest nation in the entire world’s history, and likely its future for thousands of years to come. The wealth in the underground vaults of Dinosia could run the world for eternity. Gold, diamonds, ancient fossils, rare earth, Vibranium, and even some magical artifacts, Marshall tossed in there.
And the best part was that Dinosians didn't depend on it. They were intelligent people and created their own internal economy, welfare system, and currency bills with Marshall's face on one side and Marty's roaring face on the other side. They were called Dollars, as it rhymed well with the name of the country, and also, Marshall was too lazy to think of another name.
"WRAAAA"!
Woosh!
As Marty roared, Marshall started running fast. Right beside him, the cheetahs followed and tried to pass him.
"Ahaha! Try harder, kids!" Marshall taunted the poor cheetahs. They were really trying their best, but Marshall was simply not human.
Meanwhile, where Marty stood, a neat picnic cloth was laid on the dirt. Hela and Selene sat on it, sipping freshly made juice and eating some sandwiches. The women were so used to Marshall's madness now that they just accepted it and enjoyed it as their entertainment.
"So… How far will he go?" Selene asked.
"Nobody knows." Hela rolled her eyes dismissively. "Last time he tried to race a shooting star. He ended up obliterating a mountain by crashing into it. The faster you forget that common sense is missing in him, the easier it is for your mind, Selene."
Selene awkwardly scratched her head. Being taught by the Goddess of Death was interesting, but also nerve-wracking.
####
London, England.
"Your Majesty, your ripe age is passing. For the sake of your lin—"
"Silence!" snapped Elizabeth I, the Queen of the budding British Empire, although it wasn't called an empire yet. "There is only one man I seek. If you haven't been able to find him, resign!"
"B-But… He's a god, Your Majesty. Where can we find him?"
The Queen eyed the man with mockery. "Oh, so now you call him a god? Careful, they might term you a heretic for this."
"But he is a god, isn't he, Your Majesty?"
"And that's why I seek him. If I am to ruin this body and go through the pain of bearing children, I'd rather they be a god's children. Go, send whoever you must to explore the world. Find him for me."
And just like that, without even knowing, Marshall kicked-started the age of the British Empire’s exploration. He didn't know that Elizabeth sent people to find him in the land that would be called America. In Marshall's defense, he'd only seen Elizabeth when she was young. He and Marty were flying above England when Marty had to take a dump, so he landed in a random spot.
That spot just happened to be where young Elizabeth was playing. And since then, the girl had been obsessed with the blonde-haired, weirdly dressed god. And it wasn't hard for her to find out more details about him.
Marshall, the First Man, was a name mentioned plenty of times in every religious text across the world, no matter which religion it was. In some, he was named an angel, in some, he was named an oracle, in some, he was named the father above all, and in others, he was named the birther of humanity. Heck, even Marty was often named as First Man's steed.
So, Elizabeth I began her quest to find the First Man and get him to breed with her and make her bloodline more legendary than what she believed she already was.
Sadly, she had no clue that Marshall's little tadpoles were useless to her human body. Nor was he interested in her. What the royals of Elizabeth's court and era considered beautiful was ugly to Marshall.
####
1636, Edo, Japan.
Slosh! Slosh! Slosh!
"Holy shit!" Marshall moaned like a man balls deep between two, soft, plump, voluptuous breasts, and that was exactly where he was. "Fuck—Should've done this before, Selene… Instead of making one of them do it."
"Heh—" Selene chuckled sultrily, her two decades-long attempts at seducing Marshall had finally come to fruition. She was trying to use it to free herself of that invisible, psychological shackle.
She was never asked by Marshall to stay behind. She was never chained. She was never ordered. Yet, she willingly chose to just stick around. She felt lust for this man, longing, and submission to him. She felt ashamed, her proud self feeling all those things. But they were undeniable.
So, she hoped to conquer her subconscious submissive mind by fucking Marshall's brains out. Sadly, even though Marshall was one horny bastard, she'd never been able to get him to her bed. Marshall rather chose to bed Ajak or Thena.
Finally, as the other two were too far away, she found her chance.
The tatami creaked beneath his weight. His samurai-style garb lay in a crumpled mess nearby. Selene straddled his thighs, her black kimono pushed off her shoulders, showing skin like pale moonlight. Her heavy tits swayed, squeezed tight together, wrapped lovingly around the thick trunk of his cock. She gave him a tit-job so slow, so snug, it bordered on torture.
“Do you like it?” she cooed, rocking her bosom in smooth strokes. Her tits flattened and shifted with every glide, surrounding him like hot, decadent clouds. “How about this?”
Marshall let out a strangled noise. Somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “Goddamn… you feel like… Fuck! Like warm cookie batter… like sex with… gravity.”
Selene smirked. She adjusted her angle slightly, pressing tighter. His cock pulsed between her soft slopes, slathered in spit and sweat. Precum leaked like syrup, slathering her cleavage, turning her pale skin glossy and sticky.
“Mm… getting leaky already?” she whispered, eyes glinting with hunger. “You like my big bosom, don’t you?”
"Dammit—Big titty goth witch is an understatement… holy shit…!" Marshall felt his toes curl in that heavenly sensation. “Shit… shit, like… creamy apple pie, Selene—I swear...”
She leaned forward, letting his flushed tip peek out from the top of her humid valley. And then, her tongue was on him.
She licked his cockhead with a teasing flick, then again, slower, more deliberate. Her pouty, black painted lips kissed the tip, her tongue swirling in lazy circles, once, twice. Then, dipping, just barely, into the sensitive slit.
He had no clue what magic she used, but her mouth was practically unwinding his iron-hard cock. A stubborn screw being turned.
Marshall’s whole body jolted. “GghHHnnnnn—fuck… Selene…”
She moaned onto him like a sinner in prayer, lips now parting wider to kiss the top of his cock properly, lapping at it between thrusts of her breasts. His iron-hard shaft was soaked now. Her tits were glossy, glistening, fucked full of his scent and taste. And she wanted more.
Marshall’s fists clenched into the tatami mat. His thighs twitched.
And then he broke.
“Gaaackhh…” With a long growl that came from somewhere bottomless, his hips jerked up and spilled a thick, boiling load into her mouth.
Selene opened wide and swallowed him down, not even flinching at the volume. His batter filled her mouth, hot and viscous, and she gulped it down with a loud, deliberate swallow that echoed in his ears.
Gulk, Gulk, Gulk.
She kept her eyes locked on his as she drank him in. Her lips suckled his twitching tip, her throat flexing around every drop. She wanted him to see it. Hear it. Know exactly what she was doing to him.
When she was sure he was finished, she released him with a wet pop, thick saliva still connecting her lips to his crown. Her tits glistened with spit and pre-cum, still pressed together, but she didn’t keep up the erotic massage. Instead, she wrapped one hand around his cock, slick with her own mess, and started stroking him slowly, keeping him greedy, pulsing, and ready.
"The real feast is still left, First Man," Selene mumbled with reverence.
Marshall’s cock quickly came back to life in her palms. It stood proud, dripping, twitching. Still wet from her spit and his own need. He was a weapon, and she wanted to be the one to wield it. Ride it and conquer it.
Selene straddled him in a smooth, sensual crouch, heels planted beside his waist, squeezable thighs spread wide in that poised squatting stance. Her dark kimono peeled from her body with a bit of magic, discarded completely, revealing the full curve of her hips, the proud swell of her breasts, and soft, pale thighs. The inky waves of black hair cascading down her back.
“Hehe…” she giggled, a dark glint in her eyes. “Ready, First Man?”
She didn’t sit. She squatted lower, showing him everything with her knees spread wide apart. Her twitching folds, the sheen of her arousal, all on display as if a masterpiece of sin. Her ass hovered high above him, never resting. She aimed his cock with two fingers, lined him up, and then slowly, she sank down.
“Been centuries since my last cock… Mmm… fill me good, First M—aaaaan!”
Her pussy parted with wet resistance, tight, hot, and soaked, swallowing the thick crown of his cock like she was birthing an egg.
It felt magical. It had to be magic. Every inch that disappeared into her sent sparks through her nerves. Her breath shallow, her spine arched. Her hands braced against his abs, claws digging into him as she started to ride. Not slowly, not gracefully, but with force.
Selene dropped herself onto his cock with full control, slamming down ruthlessly and yanking back up with animalistic rhythm.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Her bouncing ass cheeks slapped against each other with every downward thrust, those lewd squelches echoing across the quiet tatami room. Her breasts jolted with every bounce, swaying and shaking between her arms. Her face twisted in raw, ragged bliss. He was doing nothing, it was just her, brutally fucking herself on his godly cock.
Marshall just watched. He didn’t thrust. Didn’t move. Just lay there, gazing up at her with a look of awe mixed with amusement.
She was fucking herself with such intensity, such madness, like she was anxious to chase that euphoric high. Like she was trying to ruin herself on his cock. However, her control started to slip.
“Mmmm! Yes, yes~!” she moaned, half-crazed. Her thighs quivered, her voice cracked. She had set out to fuck him like a queen. But instead, he was fucking her like a god. And her body loved every nasty bit of it.
She could feel his cock throbbing inside her like an unyielding, rabid beast. He brushed her cervix with every drop of her ass. Her walls clung to him like wet clay. Her head lolled back. Her hair stuck to her slick neck. Her breath came out as pitiful little whines between curses. Each time she slammed down, she felt her pride crack. She was breaking.
She was the Black Priestess, feared for millennia. But now? Just a dripping, moaning cocksleeve. Bouncing herself stupid on a cock that didn’t even move.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Then it hit.
Her body stiffened, every muscle locking as her climax overtook her. Her legs buckled. Her pussy throbbed and clamped down violently around his shaft. Her eyes rolled back as a scream tore from her lungs. “Aahhhh!”
Her climax struck harder than a meteor, and she came so hard it felt like her soul left her body. Juice gushed down her thighs, hot and thick, soaking Marshall’s waist and the tatami beneath them.
"Aaaargh… Fuck, I can't take this anymore! Enough of this…!" Marshall groaned as he felt her pussy scorchingly throb around his cock. "My turn!"
He moved.
Before Selene could blink, she was thrown onto her back. Her legs were still around his waist from that squatting fuck, and Marshall used that to his advantage. He sat up, grabbed her thighs, pushed them up, and folded her, while he squatted now instead.
He folded her hard for that incoming pile-driver, her knees pressed to her chest. Her ass raised high. Her creamy pink pussy exposed, fully blooming, glistening and twitching. Her tits spread wider across her chest like melted butter, bouncing with every breath. Her face was flushed, and her black lipstick smeared, eyes glazed, and strands of hair stuck to her cheeks.
“OOOOH! Yes, yes… Take me… oh, take me, First Man… I’m yours! I offer myself to your blessing… your service… take me!”
Marshall snarled. “The fuck are you rambling -- ?”
Then he plunged into her.
Plap!
His cock crashed in with punishing force, sending shockwaves through her supple body. His hips snapped forward. His balls slapped against her ass with every thrust. Her back arched painfully under his force, tits bouncing wildly, but Selene took it.
Marshall held her down by the pushed-up thighs, pinning her like a pile-driver. The angle was brutal, obscene. Her hips couldn’t escape. Her body had no choice but to bounce with every thrust, absorbing every devastating slam.
“Ahhh! Ahh...First Man—!” Selene screamed, louder than before. Her tongue lolled out. Her eyes fluttered. She was gone. “Mmmh… Deeeeperrrrr…~”
Her mind splintered with every plunge. Her thoughts blurred into white-hot need. She couldn’t fight it anymore. Her body loved it. Her soul loved it. Her genes screamed for this man. Each thrust punched the air out of her lungs. Her back flattened against the mat, then bounced back for more. Again, and again, and again.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Harder. Deeper. Filthier.
Marshall fucked her like he owned her. He didn’t know what came over him.
He had started slow, playful, and amused. Letting her ride him while she pretended to stay in control. But now, now he was on top of her, drilling her twitching, messy cunt into the tatami like he was trying to rearrange her womb.
And he couldn’t stop.
Something in her face, something wild, something unguarded, unlocked him. The sight of her mascara running, her eyes glazed, her lips open in a helpless “O,” was like gasoline poured straight into his instincts.
Her pussy clung to him, like silk soaked in sweat and surrender. Tight as a virgin. Skilled as a whore. He knew she was neither. She wasn’t innocent, and she wasn’t owned by anyone.
Except now? Now she was his.
His big-titty goth witch. His black priestess. His fuck-sleeve. He slammed in again, gritting his teeth as her slick pussy milked every inch of him.
“Hah… fuck…” He snarled, sweat flying from his hairline. “Lemme… bend you… harder… then!”
“OOOOH! GOD! FIRST… M-MAAANN!” Selene’s scream shot through the room like lightning.
But he didn’t stop.
Marshall’s hands slid up from the backs of her thighs. He grabbed her ankles instead, planning something more brutal, a different version of that fantastic, hot pile-driver.
He folded her further, literally this time. Shoved her ankles down and pinned them right beside her head, almost pressing her knees and toes into the tatami. Her ass raised higher. Her pussy stretched and puffy, drilled to no end. Her back bent, locked into the deepest angle possible.
Then he fucked her like she was nothing but a hole, a folded lawn chair. A man in total, brutal control. And she loved every fucking plunge of it.
Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!
His cock hit that same spot again and again, jabbing it like he was pushing a button to her floodgates. And that button? It worked.
Selene came. Her body arched. Her pussy clamped. Her voice shattered. Her hips bucked, but she couldn’t move. She came like a broken fucking faucet.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!”
Juice gushed around his cock. Her thighs shook violently. Her moans came out in gasps, hiccups, and sobs. And then—again. Another thrust. Another flood.
“Marshall—Marshall—I c-can’t—I’m—I’m—AAAHH!”
She kept cumming. Over and over. Her pussy wouldn’t stop. She was leaking all over him, soaking the mat, her cunt splashing back creamy filth every time he bottomed out inside her. Each orgasm just invited another.
“That’s it! That’s it!” Marshall groaned, literally doing a push-up on her with his hands firmly holding her ankles beside her head. It was so obscene, so unholy, that a common man would scream demons or a witch at sight. She was so flexible that it was outrageous.
He hammered her, brutal, deep, merciless strokes. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and roared. “I’m gonna—FUCKING FILL YOU UP!”
His cock pulsed, and thick molten batter exploded deep inside her womb. Hot and heavy, it poured out wave after wave. So much that it overflowed immediately, spurting back around his shaft and dripping down across her sloping belly.
Her creamy pussy twitched with every shot. Her body limp, legs still pinned beside her face, her face flushed and soaked in sweat.
But Marshall wasn’t finished. He pulled out his cock and gripped his slick shaft. He aimed with the precision of an artist painting on canvas.
Splurt-Splurt!
White ropes of sticky cum landed across Selene’s magnificent bosom, across her collarbones, across her fucking face. Her lips. Her cheeks. One thick glob painted her chin. Another caught her black lashes. She was drenched.
“Gaaaaaah… man… never thought… I’d find someone… better than fucking Ajak…” He was panting, body tight, veins bulging from his arms. But his cock? Still hard. Still twitching. Still hungry.
“Ffff-fuck… Take it!” He rammed his cock back inside her without a pause, hands once again pushing her legs beside her face. She must have felt an ache from that much bending, but she never complained.
Her body flinched, mouth gaping. “Ngahhh—! Oooooh… Fuck!”
More sloshing. More plapping. Her cunt was a fuck-puddle now, but still took him perfectly. It wrapped around him like it belonged to him. He kept thrusting, harder and harder.
The room smelled of sex, of sweat, of raw fucking. The air was heavy with it.
Marshall watched her face. Her eyes were going heavy. Her mouth hung open. Her breathing was ragged, uneven, desperate. She was turning to mush. And he still wasn’t done.
Not after the first orgasm. Not after the second. Not even after the third time he spilled himself deep into her twitching cunt. Marshall kept going, fucking her more than a relentless machine, like a tireless beast driven by nothing but lust and greed.
Selene? She lost count after her tenth orgasm.
She’d squirted, screamed, twitched, and trembled, even slurred her words. By the end, she was nothing but a gasping, slick mess, folded under him, used, coated. Her pale, ash-white skin now contrasted sharply with the flush of her ruined face and the angry red of her swollen, puffed-up pussy. She looked like a painting, a desecrated temple, beautiful in its ruin.
“Ummmmmmmh…!” Selene whimpered one last time, legs twitching, back arching, before her body seized up.
A final, wet squirt sprayed across her own belly, followed by a long, shuddering breath. Her eyes rolled back. Her limbs went slack. She was completely and utterly… gone.
Not dead. Just fucked unconscious, collapsed into delirium. She loved every second of it, even in her last waking moment, she was smiling lewdly. Drunk on cock. Blissed beyond thought. She just accepted it.
Marshall was still creaming inside her when he realized. He groaned, annoyed, and slowly pulled out.
Her legs flopped open limply. The second he left her body, a flood of hot, white cum gushed from her gaping hole, pooling under her ass in a thick, sinful puddle that soaked the tatami in seconds.
He stared at her passed-out, twitching form, cock still half-hard, still dripping.
"Already done? Damn… I guess Ajak is still the best." Marshall sighed and complained, not realizing that Ajak was a literal alien machine he could breed forever, while Selene was just a lovely, soft body of human flesh. His beautiful goth.
Still, he let out a satisfied breath and stepped away from the sleeping beauty. His cock slowly relaxing, he went to the window and sat down there, looking outside into the Edo's street like a Geisha just done with her customer.
Man, I could use a smoke and feel like them whores after sex. Maybe I should get Marty to buy me some.
With that intent, butt naked, he walked out of that room. But just as he slid the door open, he chuckled as a usual sight awaited him there on the floor.
“Seriously, Hela?” Marshall said, eyeing the seven foot goddess of Death sitting on the floor by the wall, knees wide, her magical pants gone, her fingers dipping in that lovely tight slit. “I told you, if seeing me fuck ladies gets you going, you can just walk in and have a front row seat.”
“Silence!” Hela roared in rage and fumbled to get up to her feet. “I have no such filthy ambitions! Pathetic leech!”
She escaped, her clothes covering her lower body again.
Marshall just chuckled and went to find Marty.
#####
Edo Japan of 1636 was a nation of isolationism. Chinese and Dutch traders were limited to just Nagasaki. Christianity was suppressed. Society was made rigid with a social hierarchy, Samurai being the highest, then farmers, artisans, and merchants.
However, Marshall was welcomed with open arms. For good reasons, as he wasn't seen as a religion, but rather as a god. That meant he was turned into just another deity in Shintoism. Only, he was living and walking amongst them. Heck, the largest shrine in Japan was in First Man's honor, and it was built five hundred years ago in Kyoto, massive, almost as large as the Imperial Palace. There were countless others as well.
Well, it was understandable. Marshall almost flattened the Emperor's castle to the ground when the guy claimed he was a god and demanded Marshall surrender and bow. In the end, the fool ended up sliding like a worm in front of Marshall instead.
Now, it was all good. The Emperor and Shogun both prayed to Marshall, the First Man, the deity god of strength. Heck, there were shrines for Marty, the deity for good health and a plentiful harvest.
And in fact, Marty was loved by the folks of Edo.
That day too, Marty was outside, walking through the widest street in Edo. Sure, he looked out of place, a massive T-Rex roaming the streets. But nobody tried to run away from him. Heck, the big boy was even given a deep blue haori, a Japanese jacket, large enough for his size, complete with sleeves for his little arms.
With a large jute bag hanging in one claw-hand, he gathered random things from the market while the passersby bowed to him and said their prayers.
For him, everything was free in Edo.
"Ah! Gojira-sama!"
"..."
Marty was confused. He didn't know why they called him Gojira. But ever since Marshall shouted 'Gojira' while pointing at him, the people just accepted that as his name.
He sort of liked living there since the people weren't scared of him.
Woosh!
Just then, he felt something land on his forehead. From the weight, he knew it was Marshall.
"Grrrawl~"
"Hah, they think you're cute, Marty. Not scary at all." Marshall patted his head. "Let's go now. They're pretty chill people, minus the beheading and sudoku, and the possibility of them turning into Asian Nazis and invading neighbors and… damn, where did that come from? I still remember all that? Anyway, let's go to the Shogun, Marty. We're out of wine, and he's got the best stuff."
"Grufff~"
Marty changed direction right away and started walking. As they moved, the street became empty, and all the people just dropped to their knees since the First Man was out.
Such was his life in Japan. And he sure did enjoy the fuck out of it for the next hundred or so years. Shrines, temples, and mountains were named after him.
After them, Marshall also spent a few decades in China, bossing the Qing dynasty around. Since his name was written in the records of pretty much every Emperor since the days of Pre-imperial China, he wasn't a stranger.
He did annoy the Emperors a lot, most of whom were annoying, spoiled brats. But none of them ever lived to get some spanking as they'd just drop dead sick or get assassinated. Funny enough, he did bang a lot of the Emperor's concubines, the hottest ones only, and even the Empress Dowagers at times.
It was great that he didn't have to worry about fathering kids. Infinite creampies was a reality to him.
Just like that, decades passed, and then he found himself traveling through the Middle East and Europe. Banging Queens, Queen Consorts of Sultans, Shahs, and Emirs, Princesses like Anne of Austria. He left a trail of crampies in every kingdom, in every corner of the Holy Roman Empire. The region was so divided that every few miles, he'd end up in a new kingdom or duchy. Princesses, Duchesses, Countesses, Queens, there were so many to choose from, and he did choose plenty.
One more thing that Marshall did was grab any notable intelligent men and women he found and send them to Dinosia to do their inventions there, and also breed.
Though there was one faction that tried to fuck with him.
When he was passing Rome on his Trail of Creampies as he'd dubbed it, he was accused of being a demon by the Church. So, Marshall and Marty went straight to the Pope in the Vatican to clarify that he was the First Man, as written in the books. He felt he didn't deserve to be called a demon for helping Mary and Joseph back then.
Turns out, the Pope was just a part of the faction. Another, larger faction called him an angel. So Marshall did what he knew best. Splattered the Pope, who called him a demon, on the floor, and left, letting them pick a new Pope.
The event was dubbed Divine Wrath by the people.
Then Marshall arrived in Spain, and firsthand saw the purely, vehemently, obsessively inbred Emperor Charles II of the Habsburg monarchy. Man had a chin so big he could fuck a woman with it. Not that he could, as the man was on his deathbed.
However, Marshall did bang his successor to the Habsburg Monarchy later, the twenty-three-year-old Maria Theresa. She was pretty when she was young. But then she became Holy Roman Empress, and he lost all interest after she gained weight.
So, he moved on and explored the cold Scandinavia. He looked out of place there, but they loved him as he did have the typical Viking looks, and he was even dressed like that. Though he'd been dressed like that for a hundred million years.
He didn't complain. Almost every woman there was ready to plop down on his lap, noble or not. Once done there, he crossed the English Channel and arrived at the Land where the sun never sets.
There, a king named George III was busy pumping kids into his new wife, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. Marshall just stormed through the royal palace and lived there like he owned the place.
Plenty of previous monarchs had left behind words on how to deal with the First Man. And every single note ended with 'Let him do whatever the fuck he wants. Do not antagonize him at any cost.'
From the days of the Viking invasion to now, every single King and Queen has left behind a warning and advice along the same lines. It was frustrating for George III, especially when his wife became infatuated, and then he caught her riding the First Man with her cunt leaking the godly seeds.
At first, he was enraged. Then, he was excited. He could just claim the child as his and have a demigod child of his own. Heck, he encouraged Charlotte to entertain the guest as much as she could and get creamed.
Sadly, a year later, the First Man left, leaving behind a Queen completely run through. Till that day, the Queen never bore anything.
From then on, George III started showing signs of madness. And that reflected on his policies towards the Thirteen Colonies, which increasingly grew defiant.
####
1775, July, somewhere between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie in the United States that wasn't yet the United States.
Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex…
"FUCKING STOP IT! I know it's you, Mephisto! You red assfaced motherfucker! Hela told me about your bitch ass! Stop that fucking chant! I get enough sex already."
Not a succubus, not a succubus, not a succubus, not a succubus…
"You think I give a shit? Ajak is my succubus! Selene is my succubus! Go away or I'll whoop your ass!" Marshall furiously roared while living inside one of his millions of caves spread across the world. "Chant that shit again, I dare you! I was dreaming of… of fucking goddesses in Asgard… God damn, one of them looked like a green alien. Fuck, she was tight… YOU RUINED IT!"
Green alien sex, green alien sex, green alien sex, green alien sex…
"..."
"Jesus! You fucking lunatic!" Marshall sneered at that chant. "Show me what she looks like first."
"..."
It was Marty who was speechless now, sitting beside his human, drawing him like one of those French girls, sadly still a stick figure. Marty was shocked at how easily Marshall was to sway with the promise of a human pussy.
So, Marty decided to draw Marshall like a man drowning in a pussy. Lots of pink lines, with one single stick figure man in between.
Meanwhile, Marshall was busy negotiating with the demon. The specific breast size of the green alien chick.
Trrrrr-ta-ta-ta-ta~
"Ha?"
Drums echoed. Marshall stopped everything and looked towards the opening of his beautiful cave, decorated with a lot of colorful paintings, and the interior adorned with wooden furniture. Hela and Selene were seated further in the back, playing cards with Ajak and Thena. No, he still couldn't get Ajak and Thena for a threesom… sadly.
"Attention!"
"Make Ready!"
"Take Aim!"
Marshall got annoyed by that military-sounding voice and walked out of the cave, dressed like the barbarian he was. Marty followed right behind him, a straw hat and a paintbrush still on him.
"Woh, we've got the entire circus here!" Marshall grunted and took a look at last. At least a hundred men stood there, looking like an army of sorts. Blue wool coat with buff facings, white breeches, tricorn hat, leather cross-belts, black boots, and brass buttons.
BANG!
But just when Marty appeared, all the muskets fired at the same time towards Marty.
Woosh!
Marshall raised his right hand and froze all those bullets in the air. He glared at them in response, all the buffoonery gone.
"Last time someone tried to hurt Marty, I turned their head into bloody paste. Last time an army tried to fuck with me, I destroyed their precious city." Marshall pointed his finger towards the men and flicked it once.
Bam!
"Aaaargh!"
All the men holding muskets fell on their asses, their muskets splintered in half.
"Now, which one will you be?" Marshall stepped forward.
"Stand back, boys!" A man roared right then, dressed in a blue wool coat with buff facings, gold insignias, white breeches, black boots, tricorn hat, ceremonial sword belt, and silver-buttoned waistcoat. A man of higher rank than the rest. "We didn't mean to shoot. They became spooked by… by him. We… No, I came looking for you, Lord? Sir First Man."
Marshall awkwardly scratched his chin and nodded. That was pretty reasonable. "And who are you?"
"I am George Washington, Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army."
_______________
Coming Up Next: Marty signs the Declaration of Independence. The Great War, and the not-so-Great War is here. Marshall finds a Canadian cat-man. Dinosia is OP!
_______________
A/N: Schedule for the next few chapters.
The next chapter order will be:
GOT: The Northern Tyrant --> Naruto Story Chapter 1 --> HP: Second Chances --> GOT: Rasputin of Westeros Chapter 1 --> GOT: The Northern Tyrant
Comments
Miguel Sanchez
2nd to last paragraph, you mixed up the MC’s name
Werpherin
Ur awsome!!
