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1984, Camp Lehigh,
Marshall, atop his massive raft with Marty at his side, arrived at the military camp on the invitation of President Rogers. It was Steven's last term, soon coming to an end, and a successor was already chosen. Some old guy named Ronald Reagan.
"Go take a little stroll, Marty. Don't make them shit their pants... yet." Marshall got off his raft and was greeted by a tall woman with long blonde hair made into a bun, in military fatigues. She looked young, probably twenty or above. "Well, goddamn. They rolled out the red carpet and stapled a pretty girl to it. They really know me."
"I'm a soldier, Sir. My face has nothing to do with it."
"And she's an annoying spitfire. FUCKING PERFECT!" Marshall grumbled and walked. "Ain't no harm in accepting compliments, girl. What's your name?"
"I'm a test pilot for the special branch, recruit Carol Susan Jane Danvers, sir. This way, the President is waiting for you at the containment facility."
Marshall shrugged and watched her ass as she led him. There wasn't a lot to watch, honestly. She was a slender woman. Though he knew she had a great shape under that uniform. It was her stuck-up attitude that was cockblocking.
I don't think I got any smoking-hot blonde back in Dinosia. Marilyn's fake.
With that in mind, Marshall eventually decided to seek out a hot, blonde bombshell.
"In there, Sir."
Marshall walked through the door she opened for him. She didn't follow him inside, probably below her pay grade. As he entered, he found Rogers, Peggy, Howard, and Kennedy gathered around an operating table.
A humanoid figure was lying on the table, hands and feet shackled. It was green with a wrinkly face. A face only a mother could love.
"First Man."
"Sir!"
Marshall walked past them to the side of the table. "Who's this green ballsack?"
"We were hoping you'd tell us," President Rogers said. "It's an alien we recently caught. He was trying to impersonate my Chief of Staff by using a shapeshifting ability. I was lucky enough to subdue him."
Marshall hummed, licked his pinky finger, and probed it into the green alien's ear. Instantly, he got a reaction as the alien scrunched up. "Fuckers acting unconscious."
"..."
"I mean no harm!" The green alien yelped, opening his eyes.
"See," Marshall exclaimed, wiping his pinky on Howard's suit. "I think I know his species. Skull?"
"Skrull," the green alien said. "I belong to the species called the Skrulls. We seek refuge on this planet."
"By infiltrating my office?" Rogers asked.
"I only wanted to know what you were planning. You humans are more tolerant than most other species I have seen. I was hoping for you to include aliens in your Mutant Normalization Act."
Marshall frowned. "What the fuck is that? They ain't normal? Have you seen Raven? She's fine as fuck."
"Ah, it's an act that will guarantee equal rights to all mutants in America, Sir," Rogers explained. "I'll face backlash for it, but I will get it passed before I leave the office."
Marshall shrugged, uncaring about politics. He eyed the alien again. "Can you turn into anything?"
"We… can."
"Then turn into a hot blonde bombshell with a big ass and rack."
"..."
All looked at the alien. Everyone but Marshall somewhat pitied the alien.
"Why?" the alien asked.
"Hold up! Yeah, why exactly? No way I can plow you. Ugh, shit! My brain's already imagining it. Goddamn you, you nasty space femboy. Wait, you ain't feminine… Fuck!" Marshall, annoyed, looked away and walked. "I'm gonna go find something to drink."
"It's in my office! Top shelf," Howard shouted. "My son might be there. Say hello to him."
Marshall waved and walked out of the room. He found the tall, slender blonde with a bitchy proud face. "You know Howard's office?"
"I do, Sir."
"Let's go."
Marshall once again followed her tight ass through a few corridors and guarded doors. Soon enough, she opened the door for him, and he walked inside.
"Come on in, I'm gonna have a drink," he offered and looked around the room. Sure enough, there was a nice, clean bottle on a shelf. He grabbed it, removed the cap, and drank it neat. It was whiskey. He used his powers to chill the entire bottle. "Good shit!"
Sadly, he simply couldn't get drunk. He just liked the taste as it made him nostalgic.
Lazily, he walked over to Howard's table and sat down on it. He looked towards Carol, who stood like a soldier in front of him; the closed door was behind her. He offered the bottle to her with a gesture, and she shook her head.
"So spill it, what the hell is your pompous, stuck-up ass doing here?"
Carol frowned. "I joined the Air Force, First Man. But I was offered a position here as a test pilot for secret projects."
Marshall nodded, taking more sips from the bottle. "Dating a guy here? Bet Rogers gets your tits twisted. Handsome, President, super soldier."
"..."
"I…" Carol's fists clenched, "I am not interested in men or women. I just—"
"Holy balls! You're telling me no one's ever rammed you balls-deep, raw, straight to brain-melting? You're robbing yourself blind! Fucking is the ultimate prize of the universe. Even aliens enjoy it."
"..."
Carol finally exploded, but not in anger. Her jaw fell, shocked by the audacity. But then she remembered this was the god of humanity, millions of years old, and hence had no filters on the tongue.
"It's a waste of time." She declared. "I'd rather spend time in the flight sim."
Marshall laughed. "Hah! Waste of time? How the hell do you know candy's any good if you ain't shoved it in your face yet?"
"I've seen this movie before. Exaggerated moans, dramatic finish, the whole play. Apparently, most women just fake it to keep the guy from sulking. I'll pass. I don't do charity work in bed."
"Really? Then watch this. My recent session with Raven," Marshall said, and showed his memories directly into her mind. Since it was from his view, it showed Raven crying, moaning, going crazy, and loving every second of it. The way she slobbered on his cock, the way she rode him while screaming declarations of love.
"..."
There was a long moment of silence. But then Carol's defiance returned.
"Hmph. Well, look at that. One whole point for you. I mean, you're the god, so forgive me for expecting literally anything higher than the bare minimum."
Marshall laughed again. "Contradiction dripping from those pouty lips? Face it, you're a cherry-popped-in-fantasy-only virgin who's spent her whole life yapping garbage and screaming at the sky every time life gave you a paper cut. You're fucking terrified, admit it. Scared you'll slam down on dick and go 'holy fuck this rules.' Boom. There goes your whole 'men are irrelevant' manifesto in a mushroom cloud."
"Fuck you!" Carol growled, "You don't know me."
"I know a virgin liar when I see one," Marshall called her out. "Screaming fuck at me doesn't rewrite biology. Deep down, you already know you're gonna slam that greedy pussy onto a willing dick and get hooked like a junkie. Own that. I'm not the morality police."
"No. I don't need that. I've got my emotions under control. That's exactly how I got here. No one handed me anything, and I never begged for a handout. I earned everything I have. End of discussion."
"Still a weepy, whining, never-been-laid virgin little bitch."
"You!" Carol fumed. "Fine! Why don't you do it then, First Man?"
"Huh? You want my holy rod in you?"
"Why? Scared?" But it was Carol who gulped, unknowingly licking her drying lips. "I'm not into men. Or women. Or anyone, period. But it's no big deal, okay? It'll hurt for like two seconds, and then it's over. I couldn't care less. And if my first time happens to be with an actual god, I'm not exactly going to cry about it."
Creak!
Marshall suddenly got up from the table, walked over towards Carol, a few inches shorter than he was. From up close, she did have a pretty face. He kept walking until Carol's back was flat against the closed door.
"You asked for it. On your knees, girl."
"Huh? I don't do that—"
"Then forget about it."
"You! Fine," Carol growled and fell to her knees. She knew what to do and removed his belt and strange lower clothing. She was firm on proving to him that she didn't feel anything those mindless women did. That she was different.
"No need." Marshall declared, drank the entire bottle, and threw it aside to shatter on the floor. Then he simply made his lower clothes vanish entirely, his fat cock already halfway up growing. Veiny, meaty, purple, and threatening. "Slide it in. Let me help."
"What? I can do i—Mmmmmm!"
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