Damage Control (2)

Ch 4 - Damage Control (2)

08:30 Thursday

"So, what was that about?" Claire questioned curiously.

Camryn and Lara had just left, back to their post.

They didn’t join us for breakfast, and were a little shaky from cumming their brains out, but I'd already asked my sister not to notice anything sexual about their visit, or hear what I talked to them about in my room.

That seemed to work like a charm, but didn't sate her curiosity, of course.

"They're just friends.” I said, a smirk slightly tugging at my lips, but I suppressed it. “Might be dropping by sometimes."

"Hmm." My sister didn't seem entirely convinced, but apparently decided to let it go. Our relationship wasn't as completely wrecked as I feared it would be after last night.

She was more submissive, certainly. Horny as all hell, eyeing me up like a piece of meat as soon as we were alone. And she was happier. Practically glowing. But she was still Claire.

I was thankful for that.

My theory was that the suggestions I made simply added to the existing personality - it didn't overwrite anything, unless I worded it in a way that would conflict with an existing character trait. And that’s where the real trouble came up, where resistance became a factor.

Lara had accepted most of my instructions more readily, because some part of her was already attracted to me, or at least very open to being attracted to me. Camryn, on the other hand, had taken more work to break down because he didn’t have a desire to get cucked even if my very presence was making him aroused, flooding him with implanted notions of compliance, respect and loyalty.

My sister had come to me on her own, influenced more by her persistent and overwhelming arousal than any initial suggestions - so she hadn’t struggled at all to accept anything related to that, leaving her personality relatively unchanged. Or so I reasoned.

It was all theoretical at this point, but I hoped, since ingesting my ejaculate seemed to produce by far the strongest connection, that it would cement the changes I'd tried to make in their minds. It certainly felt that way, but the odd sense of their minds that I got through the connections wasn’t entirely clear.

The upcoming, and final, surveillance team was two dudes - nothing interesting, but they still had to be brought into the fold. I was planning to save some of my cum for when they arrived.

Same procedure as for Lara and Camryn, just more focused on loyalty and protection before I invited them up for a drink.

Had to hope that my suggestions to Agent Lloyd and Agent Porter would hold up until this evening. Jean Grey was perhaps the greater concern. She’d given me a number at the hospital, her personal one that shouldn’t be monitored, but I had to reckon with the possibility that it still was.

She’d yet to respond to my text, asking if she wanted to give me a call to discuss our upcoming date. But that was perhaps for the best. I hadn’t had time to work out a script of suggestions that would sound innocuous enough, if it didn’t work over the phone.

I needed some slight, subtle nudges. Just to ensure she stayed in the same helpful frame of mind.

If my theory was correct, and I was growing ever more confident in my new intellectual capacity, then a fully accepted suggestion could perhaps hold indefinitely even without the stronger connection produced by my semen. Small changes. Simply because it didn't strongly go against their core principles.

Had Jean completely accepted the suggestion to help me out, keep me out of trouble?

Hard to say. I was still so inexperienced.

There was a lot I wasn't sure of. I also wasn't sure exactly what agents Lloyd and Porter had picked up from listening in to me and Claire. While the suggestions could be directed, it was obvious that if they weren't, deliberately, anyone listening in could pick them up.

Listening in to the whole spectrum of frequencies my voice produced? Maybe. That'd be the most logical, scientific explanation. Some combination of frequencies that caused the reaction. The connection strengthened by touch, eye contact, cum.

But again, I had no real evidence that was how it worked. From what I’d read, powers sometimes worked in unexpected ways.

At some point, I would have to actually get in a lab and figure these things out. But on my terms, if I could help it, not as a lab rat or a prisoner.

***

12:00 Thursday

The day passed relatively without incident. Jean had finally responded to my text, and found the time to give me a call. Hopefully, the verbal-only reinforcement I’d slipped into the call had been innocuous enough. It was hard to tell if it even worked, but she’d agreed readily to everything I said.

If it had, and her personal cell was being monitored, it might even put a few more agents off their guard.

But I was nervous enough that I’d packed a bug out bag, and formed a loose plan to flee south across the border into Mexico. If I had to. Not ideal. I didn’t kid myself to think they couldn’t monitor or follow me there, too.

But Mexico was a bit of a mess after the Justice League and local capes failed to keep Behemoth from wrecking most of Mexico City. Protectorate hadn’t even gotten involved. A source of tension between the independent League and the officially sanctioned US capes, according to news reports at least.

There were still plenty of refugees clamoring to get across the border into the states, their government in disarray, some parts of the country essentially ruled by petty warlords - almost always capes themselves.

A lot of damage and casualties before they had managed to drive the Endbringer off, back underground. All that chaos would make it easier to hide. I needed to take out some cash, but not enough to set off any alarms on its own.

Claire was still sore from our first time together in the middle of the night, but had kissed me hungrily as we were getting ready, and insisted on giving me a blowjob before we left to collect her things. I wasn’t exactly going to disagree.

Even that had her cumming her brains out, just like yesterday, in part because she got so worked up playing with herself, and in part as a reaction to swallowing my cum.

I pulled out of her mouth after the second stream to send the majority of my load into a tupperware container I had lying around, much to my sister’s confusion. But - feeling slightly guilty for some reason - I asked her to forget about it, and I placed it in the fridge for later.

I was cumming a lot now, a frankly ridiculous amount, ten times or more than I did before the accident.

The asshole ex, Brad, was thankfully absent when we arrived at their apartment and started packing up her stuff. Almost no furniture was hers, thank god, and Claire didn't mind leaving it.

He showed up towards the end and quickly worked his way up towards a shouting match, but me stepping between them and telling him to fuck off, and leave my sister alone, had him running away with his tail between his legs.

He was still locked in his room when we left.

Claire was expected at work for a shift around lunch, so I saw her off with a make out session in the hallway after we brought her stuff in.

It might've involved some heavy petting. She left with a wide smile on her face.

That left me a little more than 2 hours until the shift changed, so I decided to deal with some neighbors. I knew at least a few who were the stereotypical nosy housewives and busybodies, and I didn't really want to get caught by getting a noise complaints about the sex.

I'd very much accepted that my life was going to involve a lot of sex from now on, and much less worrying about ethics and morality. That streamlined flow of information in my brain saw only opportunities, possibilities - it cared very little for ethics.

I'd discovered... A bit of a cruel streak, certainly, with Camryn and Lara. That guy hadn't done a single thing to me, other than be a government stooge, but I'd had no compunctions about enjoying his suffering.

I could've made him love his new situation from beginning to end. I could have jerked off before they arrived, and just had both of them take a shot of cum. But I didn't do either.

Something to think about, but I wasn't going to agonize over it.

In the moment, I'd been high on power, and now I was safely ensconced in the calming analytical blanket over my mind.

I didn't know all of my neighbors, but I knocked on every door, and made sure I got to know at least the basics of everyone who answered.

Not all of them were home around lunch on a Thursday, obviously. But I caught the retirees, those with odd work schedules, some who'd dropped by home to have lunch, and a couple of people on “stay-cation”.

I jotted down notes on the people I'd met, and those I knew I'd missed methodically. It became a fairly streamlined process.

It was already easy for a normal person to introduce themselves as a neighbor and reach out their hand, getting an almost automatic handshake in return. With my voice, it became practically guaranteed, and within seconds of an opened door I'd have a strong connection.

As strong as I could get without time investment or feeding them my cum. Time together in proximity, especially in an enclosed space, seemed to strengthen the connection further, too. I would hazard a guess that it was something related to smell, since an enclosed space seemed to be a factor.

I did have one interesting encounter. Samantha Mitchell wasn't someone I'd been more than passingly familiar with before this, but she was an absolute bitch. A divorcee who'd made out well enough in her divorce that she apparently didn't have to work.

She was very attractive for a woman in her mid-forties, made more so by a significant boob job that must've cost a fortune, and lip fillers on top. A deft hand with her make-up, and finely manicured nails, wearing tight-fitting clothes that showed off her figure.

But she had a sneer that seemed almost permanently plastered on her face. I'd guess her looks pulled people in enough in her youth that she never felt the need to develop a decent personality - she was just caustic.

And very upset about me "fucking some god damned whore in the middle of the night, interrupting her sleep". A couple of others had mentioned hearing something during my rounds, but none had been this abrasive.

She'd refused my handshake of course, and began spouting venom before I could get a word in edgewise.

"Miss Mitchell, you're going to invite me inside."

"I - what?" She looked momentarily stunned out of her tirade, but didn't quite seem to accept it with just eye-contact.

"I'm sure you have some idea about how I can make this up to you, if I want you not to make a noise complaint," I added, carefully keeping the suggestion aligned with her interests, "So invite me inside, and we can talk about it."

"Ugh, fine, come in." She spat, conceding the point.

I allowed myself a brief smile as I closed the door behind me, and laid my hand against her neck. "Look in my eyes and be quiet." She stiffened at the touch, but I boxed her in against the wall before she could pull away.

"W-why?" Even as she questioned it, Samantha did as she was told. Blonde, blue-eyed, pretty. I could think of uses for her, certainly. Just needed an attitude adjustment.

"You're already getting wet, aren't you?" I let my fingers circle around her throat, not **** her, but demonstrating her vulnerability. Her breath caught in her throat.

"D-don't be silly, I -"

"You want me to fuck you. You want it so badly." I chuckled, enjoying the rapid flushing of her face. She was braless, and her nipples were already poking through her top. "You're going to need to earn it. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you? So I'll stuff your needy cunt full of cock."

"N-no, I - I wouldn't..." Ms Mitchell whined, weakly, trembling.

"Oh, you will. You're going to be so obedient. You're going to suck my cock whenever I tell you to." I could see the moment her resistance started crumbling, and it was delicious. "Aren't you?"

"Nnnngh..." She couldn’t get out a word of protest, couldn’t deny it.

"You'll do it, because you're hoping I'll fuck you afterwards. You'll beg for it, like a needy little slut, won't you?" She nodded minutely, flushing as she looked away in shame. "Look back into my eyes, slut. Good. You're going to beg for my cock, but only when I come to you. You won't seek me out. Only I decide when you get fucked, and when you suck my cock. Agreed?"

"Yeeessss..." She was breathing so heavily now, and her arousal hung in the air around us, growing heavier by the moment.

"Mom...?"

Oh. That was careless of me. But we hadn't been loud enough, after her initial tirade, for someone a couple of rooms away to hear us.

"Who is that?" I asked quietly. "Is there anyone else in the apartment?"

"M-my daughter, Teresa. S-she's nineteen. And no, no one else."

I released Ms Mitchell's throat and took a step back moments before I could tell her daughter was about to round the corner, forcing my posture to relax.

"So you'll forgive me for the noise last night, Ms Mitchell? I am terribly sorry, we'll make sure to keep it down in the future." I said, picking up our fictional discussion.

Samantha still looked flustered, but was bright enough to play along.

"O-of course, that's... That's quite alright. I just get... Very frustrated when my sleep is interrupted, you understand. I apologize for being so… Harsh earlier." She responded, managing a passing approximation of civil conversation. Impressive.

I turned to her approaching daughter, giving my best charming smile.

She was a brunette, slim and elegant, beautiful like her mother but with the advantage of youth and the disadvantage of no significant curves.

"Hi there. You must be Teresa. I'm Jack Anderson from upstairs," I said, holding out my hand for a shake. She looked between her mother and me somewhat suspiciously, but did accept, giving me a shake.

"Yes, that's me. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Apologies to you as well, if we woke you up last night."

Her eyes widened almost comically, blushing a little.

Ah, interesting. She coughed as if to cover her reaction, stammering.

"O-oh, that's um, that's okay. N-no biggie." After a pause she added. "Barely noticed it."

Just on context clues and body language, I was willing to bet she'd not only noticed it, but masturbated to it.

"Still, I apologize. But I hope you won't mind if it happens again?" I still held her hand, and her gaze. Felt confident enough to push a little. "I wouldn't want to leave a girl unsatisfied, you understand."

Teresa flushed more deeply, biting her lip, and her mother squirmed beside us.

"N-no, of course, that's - that's perfectly alright... I wouldn't mind..." While that was true, she was definitely imagining something else entirely.

Still, while the elder Ms Mitchell had been an absolute bitch, I thought I'd had enough of screwing up relationship dynamics for today.

"That's great," I met her mother's eyes briefly, before looking back at her. "Thank you both for being so understanding about it. Don't hesitate to drop by my apartment if you need anything, Teresa."

Her blush was reaching critical levels. "I- um, I'll bear that in mind. Thank you."

"No, thank you. But if you don't mind, I had something else to discuss with your mother, privately. You won't mind, will you?"

"N-no. That's fine."

"Great." I finally released her hand. "See you later."

With a blushing goodbye, Teresa beat a hasty retreat, further into the apartment.

Ms Mitchell barely waited for her to be out of earshot before pleading.

"Can I suck your cock, Jack? I - I need to make it up to you, please."

I stepped up to her again, slowly, holding her gaze and watching her breath catch in her throat. When I palmed one of her big fake breasts, she almost collapsed to her knees then and there, releasing a low and needy moan.

"You realize that I'm probably going to fuck your daughter, right Samantha?"

She nodded slightly, blushing, pushing her breast into my hand as I kept playing with her. "Th-that's fine. She's a big girl. B-but please fuck me too."

I leaned in to kiss her neck, and she shivered in pleasure, mewling in my ear. A very successful attitude adjustment, if I might say so.

I checked the time on the wall. I still had thirty minutes.

"Oh, I will. I'll fuck you whenever I feel like it. Now be a good little bimbo slut and suck my cock."

She nodded, embarrassed but eager, sinking to her knees and pawing at my belt. "You're going to call me Daddy when we're alone."

"Yes, Daddy." She breathed, biting her lip as she got her hand around my cock, and pulled it free. I could barely decide if that was more funny or hot. "You're so fucking big."

"I know, baby. Less talking, more sucking."

"Yes, Daddy." The caustic bimbo milf wrapped those thick lips around me and swallowed half my shaft in one go. I grunted in approval, letting her work my cock at her own pace.

There was something to be said for experience. She might have been a bitch, but she was a bad bitch. Ms Mitchell could suck a cock better than any of my exes, or my recent conquests.

My sister was hotter though. There was a connection between us that far outweighed just good technique.

The bimbo had her eyes closed as she moaned around my length, which was a bit of a faux pas. "Look me in the eye while you service me, fucktoy."

She shuddered in an unmistakable orgasm, muffled by my cock, but her baby blue eyes did eventually blink open to stare up at me with **** need.

"You are going to practice deepthroating every day until you can take my whole cock, slut."

There was definite agreement in the way she choked and gagged on my length. My orgasm was building quickly.

Within a few minutes I was grunting as I unloaded in the bitch's mouth, "That's it. Swallow daddy's load you fucking bimbo."

She tried, desperately. Gulping as quickly as she could, even as her body convulsed in a series of orgasms that left a huge wet spot at the juncture between her thighs, soaking through her jeans.

I pulled out of her mouth and stroked myself, unleashing the final two volleys of cum to plaster her face and drip into her cleavage, leaving the bitch coated in my cum, panting as she sank down on her plush ass.

“- nnnngh - f-fuuuck -”

"We're not going to have any problems from now on, are we Sammy?"

"N-no, D-daddy," Ms Mitchell moaned hoarsely, "I'll be a good fucktoy. P-please fuck me soon."

I chuckled as I tucked my cock away, then paused to snap a picture of her with my phone. She looked even hotter covered in my cum, squirming uncomfortably, but not looking away from the camera lens.

"Make sure you remember the lessons I taught you today, hmm? Really let everything I said soak into your brain. And if your cunt isn't already shaven, it should be."

"Yes, Daddy."

God, life was good.

***

14:20 Thursday

By the time I was back in my apartment and setting up for the next surveillance shift, I'd covered 13 of the 48 units in my building. Not all residents of those units, to be fair, but it was a good start.

I once more sat down by my computer, and started the little script I'd worked out, at a normal conversational tone.

"Listen to my voice. It's important that you listen to my voice. It's important that both of you are listening to my voice. You can feel at ease, listening to my voice. There’s nothing wrong with that."

I waited a while, and repeated this. Then a third time, just in case. After that, I went into trust building, repeating that a few times. Onwards. Respecting me and my authority. Obeying me. Protecting me. Keeping me out of trouble with SHIELD. Always being honest with me.

And wanting to please me. It was a good catch-all thing, even for these gents. Pleasing someone was a broad concept.

I did another round, just in case, from the top.

After the second round, and a suggestion to come up and introduce themselves, it took less than five minutes before there was a knock on the door. Could've been Teresa of course, but no.

"Mr Anderson, Sir. Agents Chaney and Trevino. Mind if we come in?"

The fellows introduced themselves as Agents Samson Chaney and Spencer Trevino. Chaney was Caucasian, strongly built, 35 and single. Dude definitely liked to lift weights, and it showed.

Trevino was slimmer, more in line with what I'd seen from the other monitoring agents. Athletic, but not very. Half-Latino, 28, and engaged to some no doubt lucky lady.

I didn't dig too deeply, just put out two cups that each contained a water-solution of the cum I'd stashed away in the fridge earlier in the day. "Drink up, Agents."

They didn't even question it, just slammed them back and twitched in pleasure as they orgasmed several times in rapid succession, staining their trousers.

The connection felt slightly weaker than fresh and undiluted, but the difference was minor enough that I might've been imagining it - would need more data points.

Like with Lara and Cammie, and Ms Mitchell more recently, I asked them to ingrain what I'd told them earlier into their minds. And just in case, I gave them a brief recap.

Redundancies upon redundancies. That's how you run a tight ship, when zero mistakes is more important than pure efficiency.

I asked some questions about their work and personal lives, just to judge how well the suggestions had taken, and found nothing to worry about.

Trevino's wife-to-be was pretty hot, he showed me a couple of pictures on his phone, but she wasn’t someone I felt I needed to chase after. Still, I planted the seed in both of their minds that any woman of theirs belonged more to me than to them, and that they'd have no problem with that.

It wasn't something they would ever bring up, or that would lessen their relationships in any way, just a basis to build on later.

Just our little secret, for if I ever met their significant others and wanted to sample the goods.

***

A/N: Feedback appreciated.
I keep finding at least one thing I don't like how it turned out whenever I go to post one of these, and re-writing it last minute, so if you notice any inconsistencies especially, please let me know.