Pizza

Glymann & Co turn out to be rapid workers - at least under your new ****'s direction. After you send over some blueprints and estate maps, it only takes a few days before several trucks arrive at your mansion and begin installing your safeguard measures. Surface-to-air missiles, anti-tank bunkers, coastal batteries, CIWS and AWAC anti-missile systems, and anti-personnel cannons make up the bulk of your defences, all masterfully hidden from the prying eyes of everyone from satellites to cars. The installation process naturally takes some time - for example, installing missile launchers underground requires additional construction of ducts for the exhaust jets. Of course, you take no chances with leaks, your slaves using some laced tea to hypnotise the Glymann & Co workers into forgetting what they have done the moment they leave work.

A couple of weeks after your encounter with Mrs Platte, you enjoy watching the weapons be installed by the workers who are now little more than mindless drones, until they go home at least. Despite the relatively small scale of this operation, you see your grand plans for the world reflected clearly in them: men happily and efficiently performing every manual, menial task required for the world to operate, whilst the beautiful ladies of the world take pleasure in serving you. Thinking of this, you lovingly run your fingers through Amy's long red hair as she hungrily sucks your cock, running your hand down to cup the soft cheek of the very first of this new generation.

Looking up at you curiously, your **** lets your shaft go with a loud pop. "{if Futa==true}Mistress{else}Master{endif}? Is everything okay?"

"Of course, my love. Better than okay, in fact. We are at last on our way to making the world a better place."

Amy smiles, and peppers your glans with kisses, before licking the length of your shaft. "Shall I ask Esmée to make your lunch?"

You think for a moment, absent-mindedly inserting your cock back into her mouth, which she gratefully sucks on. "No. Let's do something different to celebrate. I haven't had a takeaway pizza in ages."

You have Emma meet the delivery driver at the gates to the grounds, and escort her to the mansion itself, where you are waiting. When the driver steps out of the branded van, you are glad to see that your offer of a considerable tip for a cute driver has had its desired effect. She's a petite Japanese girl, around your age, with a cute face and black hair hanging in a ponytail from under her cap. She's clearly slim and fit, though you are somewhat disappointed by her almost-flat chest and behind.

"Hi, {if Futa==true}miss{else}sir{endif}," giggles the girl, shyly holding her hands behind her back. Her voice is high-pitched and girlish as her eyes take in every aspect of your sculpted body. "I... I have a delivery for eight pizzas and two garlic baguettes?"{if@ Images!=false}

{endif}

"Sure," you smile easily. "Would you mind bringing them inside? Emma will help."

"O-of course not, {if Futa==true}miss{else}sir{endif}," nods the driver, breathing heavily as she hurries around the back to get your food.

You have exactly the lunch you'd envisioned. Asami - the pizza girl - doesn't even notice that the ladies of the house are all wearing bikinis as they tuck into the pizza. She's too busy curled up on the sofa next to you, clinging to your side with amour writ across her face{if Futa==true}, her breath hot on your barely-covered nipple{endif}. She's so fucking cute with that cap and T-shirt, you think to yourself. Inevitably, as her little frustrated whimpers of restraint grow louder, one of her hands begins to drift towards your crotch.

"Take your shirt off," you murmur to her.

"Only if you do exactly what I say." Her voice is suddenly cold, almost robotic (though still soft and high-pitched), and you double-take in shock.

"What - what are you talking about?" you ask, confused.

Asami stands. "I have laced the pizza with a unique delayed-action nerve agent that even you and your harem cannot survive, {if Futa==true}Mikaela Abbott, formerly {endif}Michael Abbott, despite your enhanced physiology. I have also hired a mercenary to kill your family in twenty-four hours - Taylor and Charlotte Abbott - unless I give the correct countercommand."

"What?!" you shout, leaping to your feet. Emma and Amy move to apprehend the pizza girl, Black Swan and the Contortionist ready to leap to your defence, but you raise a hand to stop them.

"I will provide you with the antidote, and call off the mercenary, but only if you meet my demands."

You consider for a second. It doesn't take long for you to realise that if you just reprogram this girl, she should nullify her own threat. On the other hand, she doesn't seem to be affected by your pheromones, which might throw a spanner in the works. For now, you sip some water, curious how she knows so much about you, and why she's doing this. "I'm listening."

"I want to join your harem." {if@ Futa==false}You almost **** on your water. {endif}Seeing your befuddled expression, Asami lowers her eyes sadly. "I know I'm not as physically well-endowed as the girls you normally choose, but you can fix that, correct?"

"Ummm, yes, but... how-why?" you ask, still utterly confused by the pizza girl.

"I shall start with the how," Asami continues coolly. "You may have heard of the digital identity 'IQ'."

"It's a massive hacking collective, {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}," Emma informs you.

"Incorrect," says Asami instantly. "It is my digital alias. I am a superpowered mutant, just like you. My enhancement is that I have a greatly elevated intelligence - an IQ of approximately 350, hence my alias 'IQ'."

"So that's how -"

"I know everything about you, correct," the Japanese girl finishes Rachel's sentence. "It was trivial to intercept your outgoing calls and insert myself into a role as a delivery driver. As for why I have completed these actions: I do not wish any harm upon you, your slaves or your family, Alpha. My threats are merely to ensure you do not reject my proposition."

"But why do you want -"

"To join your harem?" You scowl at her interruption, then remember she's just fed you all a nerve agent, and let her continue. "I am asexual," says Asami simply. "And I have severely reduced emotional capacity. Whilst my intelligence enables me to acquire any asset I could want, alone, I cannot obtain what I truly desire: romantic attraction. Sexual attraction. Happiness, lust, love." So she was purely acting earlier. "And I do not believe any normal human, including myself is capable of giving me sexual pleasure, from my experiments."

To your surprise, Lauren speaks up. "But... haven't you ever, uh -"

"No, I have never had intercourse, nor any form of sexual penetration. But I have carefully probed my erogenous regions, and failed to elicit any reaction. Further experimentation is unnecessary."

Lauren stares at the petite Japanese girl in confusion. "But..."

"Believe, me, bimbo, I am correct," says Asami firmly. "I understand sex better than you ever could, even if I cannot enjoy it. That, however, is why I have come to you, {if Futa==true}Mikaela{else}Michael{endif} Abbott." She steps closer to you, looking up at your face, her eyes wide. "You are the only way I can possibly feel pleasure, satisfaction, true happiness, or any other emotion I desire. I believe your mutation may enable you to elicit an erotic response from me, and even hypnotically cure my asexuality and emotional disability. Do so, and I will be an invaluable addition to your **** harem, and you and your loved ones will not be harmed."

"So." You walk around her slowly. She watches you steadily the entire time, like an owl. "Let me get this straight. You want to voluntarily become my sex ****, despite having total understanding of what that means."

"Because I completely understand what it means," the Japanese girl corrects you. "It will fulfil every wish I have. All I can feel currently is sadness at my inability to find satisfaction - but I know you can provide it."

You look to your slaves for their opinions.

"She would certainly be a great asset, {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}," hums Rachel.

"And I can't wait to see you make her yours," groans Sara, squeezing her own breasts as she eyes the petite girl.

Lauren pouts. "But... she hasn't even had sex! I don't trust her."

Emma seems to agree, bizarrely. "If she truly has 350 IQ, she can likely think many steps ahead of you and I, {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}. We cannot be sure she has another motive, and is actually manipulating us to perfection."

You look at Asami. Her large, dark eyes meet yours. "I don't think so. Besides, if she does, we can simply reprogram it out of her. And at the end of the day, we need that antidote."

"Excellent." To your surprise, the Japanese girl pulls off her branded shirt and cap, to stand topless in front of you. "Shall we begin?"