"AHHHHHH!"
Mark's roar echoed across the sky, a defiant battle cry against the crushing force pressing down on his body. He ascended inch by inch, his muscles screaming in protest, his face contorted in raw exertion. His normal outfit was nowhere to be seen—replaced by a luminous emerald energy construct that formed a sleek supersuit around him. But this was no ordinary suit. This was a test. A trial of endurance, willpower, and sheer unrelenting force.
The weight was incomprehensible. If Mark had to guess, it felt like an entire mountain range had been compacted onto his body, pressing down, restricting every movement, threatening to drag him back to the ground. His teeth clenched, veins bulging from his neck as he forced his body to keep moving, even as every fiber of his being screamed for relief.
Above him, William floated effortlessly, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His green aura shimmered in the air, his presence exuding an overwhelming sense of dominance. He watched in silence, eyes sharp, scrutinizing every twitch of Mark's movement. He could see the improvement. The young Viltrumite was adapting, slowly but surely, fighting against limitations that would have shattered lesser warriors.
But adaptation wasn't enough. Not yet.
William raised his hand, his ring flashing with a pulse of emerald light. Instantly, the construct suit doubled in weight.
"RAHHHHHH!"
Mark howled as the added mass slammed down on him like a celestial hammer, crushing his ascent and forcing him to struggle just to stay aloft. His body trembled, his arms quaking under the unbearable strain. His aura flared, flickering violently as his Viltrumite biology fought against the impossible. Spittle flew from his lips as his breath came out in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his brow like a torrential downpour.
William's eyes narrowed slightly. Good. Let him feel the abyss. Let him claw his way out of it.
Floating down a few feet, William spoke, his voice calm but laced with an undeniable edge. "You're slowing down, Mark."
Mark barely managed to lift his head, his vision swimming. "Screw… you…" he spat through gritted teeth, every word a battle against his own exhaustion.
William smirked. "That's the spirit. But you're not getting off that easy."
Another flash. Another surge of willpower.
The suit compressed again. The weight multiplied.
Mark's eyes widened in panic as he felt the pressure intensify beyond what he thought possible. His ascent stopped entirely, his entire being locked in a struggle just to keep from plummeting. His arms felt like lead. His legs were ready to give out. His heart pounded like a war drum, his breaths shallow, frantic.
Then, the inevitable happened.
With a violent gasp, his strength gave out. His flight failed. And just like that, Mark plummeted.
He didn't even have the energy to slow his descent. The wind howled in his ears as he dropped like a meteor, his vision blurring from the sheer force of acceleration. The ground rushed up to meet him, a cruel reminder of his failure.
But before impact, a blur of movement.
A hand caught his wrist.
Mark's body jerked to a sudden halt, the momentum threatening to rip his arm from its socket. His breath hitched as he dangled in the air, his entire body trembling with exhaustion. Slowly, he craned his head upward, his vision still swimming.
William held him effortlessly, one hand gripping his wrist, his expression impassive. "That's enough for today," he said, his voice carrying no mockery, no disappointment, just a simple statement of fact.
Mark could barely process the words. His body felt like it had been crushed under an entire planet. His thoughts were sluggish, his eyelids impossibly heavy. He wanted to respond, to fire back some cocky remark, but the world was already slipping away from him.
Darkness overtook him.
By the time Mark's consciousness flickered back, he was no longer in the sky.
He was in his room. The soft bedding beneath him was a stark contrast to the ruthless torment he had endured mere moments ago. His muscles still ached, but the pain was dull now, a distant echo rather than an immediate agony. His body was already healing, his Viltrumite physiology working overtime to repair the damage.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Across the room, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, William stood in silence, watching. His golden and red aura had dimmed, but the sheer presence he exuded was still overwhelming.
"You're awake," William noted, his voice neutral.
Mark exhaled heavily, his body still too weak to sit up. "Barely," he muttered. His throat was dry, his limbs like dead weight. "That… sucked."
William smirked. "That was the point."
Mark groaned, shutting his eyes for a moment. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Insane?" William mused, tilting his head. "No. I'm preparing you. This universe isn't going to pull its punches. Your father won't pull his punches. The Viltrumite Empire sure as hell won't." He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his gaze intense. "And neither will I."
Mark swallowed thickly. He already knew that. He had felt it firsthand. Every day of training had been a brutal reminder that the only thing that mattered in a real battle was strength. Strength to endure. Strength to adapt. Strength to overcome.
But still…
"Why push me so hard?" Mark asked, his voice quieter now, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him again.
William was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.
"Because you're worth the effort."
Mark blinked.
William sighed, glancing toward the window, where the night sky stretched endlessly. "You have potential, Mark. More than you realize. More than even your father ever did. But power alone isn't enough. If you want to survive what's coming, you need to become something more." He turned back, his gaze sharp. "You need to transcend what a Viltrumite is supposed to be."
Mark held his stare for a moment before letting out a breathless chuckle. "No pressure, huh?"
William smirked. "None at all."
Mark shook his head slightly, his exhaustion taking over again. His body felt impossibly heavy, his eyes drifting shut. He didn't fight it. He let the fatigue win.
As he slipped back into unconsciousness, he heard William's voice one last time, low, but resolute.
"Rest while you can, Mark. Tomorrow, we go even harder."
And then, darkness took him once more.
As William carried the now unconscious Mark to his home, his naturally worried mother was shocked to see his state, but after she tucked him in, he explained what exactly was going on, and she nodded in reluctant understanding.
"You know I never did thank you for saving me at the bar, not to mention you taking the time to train my son!" Debbie said as she attempted to stealthily approach William on the couch.
William was thinking of ways to improve Mark's training when he felt soft hands on his thigh, and he looked over to see a blushing Debbie. "Mrs. Grayson?" William said as his blood began pumping faster in response to her touch.
Her eyes snapped to William's, and she angrily said, "Call me Debbie!" as she looked at him with a mixture of slight anger and slight apprehension, her hand touched something large and hard, and she looked down to see William's mighty oak growing past his thigh.
Debbie's eyes flashed with lust when she saw this, and slowly she began removing William's pants, and just as the pants went past his knee, something long and hard smacked her in the face.
"Oh, wow!" She said as her cheek somewhat swelled, but after rubbing it for a second, she refocused on the long and hard object before her with reverence and began to move closer, and soon her head was bobbing up and down, and the sound of gagging could be heard in the room.
At some point, William grunted and released a spray of liquid into Debbie's mouth, causing her pink lips to drip before she gulped it down.
As the sound of gagging faded away, Debbie slowly lifted her head, her eyes locked onto William's, a mixture of satisfaction and surprise reflected in them. William's chest was heaving, his breathing ragged, as he gazed back at her, his expression a blend of astonishment and pleasure.
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the old house. Debbie's face was flushed, her cheek still slightly swollen from the initial impact, but a smile played on her lips as she began to speak.
"Wow, I...I didn't expect that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as she gently wiped the remaining liquid from her lips with the back of her hand.
William's eyes never left hers, his face still etched with a mix of shock and arousal. "I...I'm sorry, Debbie," he stuttered, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I didn't mean to..."
Debbie's smile grew, and she reached out to gently place a finger on William's lips, silencing him. "Don't apologize, William," she said, her voice taking on a soothing quality. "I wanted that. I've wanted that for a while now."
As she spoke, Debbie's hand began to stroke William's thigh, her touch sending shivers down his spine. William's eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a soft sigh, his body still reeling from the intense sensation.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, the tension between them palpable. Debbie's hand continued to caress William's skin, her touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.
In the midst of this charged atmosphere, Mark stirred in his bed, a soft groan escaping his lips. Debbie's head snapped towards the sound, a flash of concern crossing her face. She quickly rose from the couch, her movements fluid and silent, and made her way to Mark's bedside.
As she checked on her son, William took the opportunity to compose himself, his breathing slowing as he struggled to process the unexpected turn of events. His eyes never left Debbie, his gaze drawn to her like a magnet.
The sound of Mark's gentle snores filled the room, and Debbie returned to the couch, her eyes locking onto William's once more. The air was thick with unspoken words, the silence between them heavy with anticipation.
Without a word, Debbie reached out and took William's hand, her touch sending sparks through his body. She pulled him towards her, her lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
"We're not done yet, William," she whispered, her breath hot against his skin. "Not by a long shot."
As Debbie's whisper sent shivers down William's spine, she stood up, her hand still clasped around his, and began to lead him towards her bedroom. The room was dimly lit, and the only sound was the soft creaking of the old house and the gentle hum of the air conditioning.
Without a word, Debbie pulled William into the bedroom, the door creaking softly as it swung shut behind them. The room was a sanctuary, filled with the scent of perfume and the soft glow of candles. Debbie's bed, a massive four-poster, dominated the room, its sheets a tangled mess of white and cream.
Debbie pulled William towards the bed, her eyes locked onto his, a fierce hunger burning within them. As they reached the bed, she turned to him, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss. William's hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as their tongues danced together.
The kiss deepened, their bodies pressing together as they stumbled backwards onto the bed. The sheets enveloped them, a soft cloud of fabric that seemed to swallow them whole. Debbie's hands were everywhere, her fingers tracing the lines of William's body, her touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.
As they broke apart for air, Debbie's eyes flashed with a mischievous glint. She reached out, her hand wrapping around William's cock, her fingers stroking him with a gentle touch. William's eyes closed, his head falling back as he let out a soft sigh.
The hours that followed were a blur of light and rough sex, their bodies entwined as they explored every inch of each other. Debbie was a force of nature, her passion and hunger driving them both to heights of ecstasy they had never known before. William was lost in the storm, his body responding to her touch with a ferocity that left him breathless.
As the night wore on, their movements slowed, their bodies exhausted but still craving more. Debbie's eyes locked onto William's, a soft smile playing on her lips. She reached out, her hand wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into her.
With a final, gentle thrust, William came, his cum spilling out inside Debbie. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she felt the warmth spread through her. As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, Debbie's eyes slowly opened, a soft smile playing on her lips.
William's body relaxed, his weight pressing down on Debbie as he caught his breath. After a moment, he slowly pulled out, his cock slipping out of Debbie's pussy with a soft squelch. Debbie's eyes never left his, a soft smile playing on her lips as she felt the cum leaking out from between her legs.
With a gentle touch, William tucked Debbie in, his fingers brushing against her skin as he pulled the sheets up to her neck. As he stood up, his eyes locked onto the sight of Debbie's thighs, her skin glistening with the remnants of their passion. Cum leaked out from between her legs, a slow trickle that seemed to pulse with the beat of her heart.
Debbie's eyes never left William's, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched him take in the sight of her. With a final glance, William turned and walked out of the room, leaving Debbie tucked in, her body still throbbing with the aftermath of their passion. The door creaked shut behind him, leaving Debbie to drift off into a sleep filled with the memories of their night together.
The soft scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the house, rousing Mark from his sleep. He blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window and stretched, feeling the dull ache in his muscles from yesterday's brutal training. As he descended the stairs, the warmth of the kitchen hit him, and a quiet smile tugged at his lips.
He rounded the corner and found his mother, Debbie, humming a light tune as she moved around the kitchen, her movements graceful and carefree as she prepared breakfast. Her hair, slightly tousled, caught the soft morning light, casting a warm glow around her.
"Good morning, Mom!" Mark called out, leaning against the doorframe.
Debbie spun on her heels, an unexpected flourish in her motion that had an almost effortless elegance. She handed him a plate piled high with food, her smile bright enough to chase away the lingering exhaustion from the previous day.
"Good morning, Mark!" she said, her voice cheery as ever, a warmth in her eyes that made her all the more radiant.
Mark couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort from her presence, the easy affection she always offered. For a moment, he simply watched her, trying to make sense of her lightheartedness, her infectious joy. But then, like any son, he shrugged it off. She was happy, and that was all that mattered.
He sat down to eat, savoring each bite, but there was something slightly off in the air—an unspoken tension that he couldn't quite place.
As he finished, he wiped his mouth and glanced up at his mother, who had returned to her humming. She moved around the kitchen with a certain fluidity, almost as though she were dancing, her movements smooth and graceful.
"I'm heading out to train with William," he said, setting the plate aside.
The moment the words left his mouth, Debbie's expression shifted subtly. Her eyes flickered with something unreadable, a quiet flush of warmth blooming in her cheeks. She paused, fingers resting on the counter for a split second longer than necessary, and then, with a forced smile, nodded.
"Of course," she said, her voice just a little too soft, and her hands worked quickly to wipe a nonexistent spot from the counter.
Mark, oblivious to the shift, grabbed his things and flew out the door, unaware of the subtle ripple his words had caused.
Mark landed with a soft thud in the middle of the empty training area, his boots kicking up dust as he surveyed the landscape. He didn't have much time to get his bearings before he spotted William hovering above the ground, arms crossed, a stoic expression on his face.
Beside him were two women, strikingly beautiful, both standing with an air of confidence and readiness. Mark's gaze lingered on them, instinctively feeling the difference in their presence compared to others.
He flew over to them, landing a few paces away. William gave a slight nod in greeting.
"Mark," he began, voice as measured as always. "These are Anissa and Sif."
Anissa, the taller of the two, gave Mark a quick, appraising look, her sharp eyes sizing him up. She cracked her knuckles, the sound like thunder breaking the still air. Mark's throat tightened slightly, but he refused to show any sign of hesitation.
"You'll fight Anissa first," William continued, his tone serious. "Then Sif. And after that, both of them, at the same time. You need to understand something, fighting Viltrumites is one thing. But fighting against those who wield weapons capable of hurting you, despite your Viltrumite physiology, is something else entirely."
At that, Anissa smirked, cracking her knuckles once more. Her eyes locked onto Mark's, full of arrogance and challenge. The tension between them thickened, and Mark felt a knot form in his stomach.
"Get ready, little boy," Anissa teased, her voice low and almost musical in its taunt.
Mark, still feeling the weight of yesterday's training on his body, felt the nerves stir within him. But he wasn't backing down. Not this time.
William gestured to Sif, and the woman nodded, her gaze softening as she studied Mark. "I don't want to kill him," she said, almost as if apologizing.
With a flick of William's wrist, a mace materialized, a massive ball of energy tethered to a chain, capable of devastating force. She gave a small smile, testing the weight of the weapon.
He then turned to Mark.
"Don't worry," William said with a flash of his green ring. "You're going to need this."
Mark winced slightly as the familiar emerald energy wrapped around him, and the suit from yesterday materialized once more, heavier than it had been before. But this time, he felt something different. He had pushed himself harder, and the weight, though still present, seemed more manageable.
"Better," William remarked with a slight nod. "Let's see how long you can keep it up."
Mark squared his shoulders, pushing the feeling of discomfort aside. He wasn't going to back down, not today, not after making such a significant leap.
As the two women prepared to engage him, Mark focused. He felt the weight of the suit, the strain in his muscles, and the swirling uncertainty in the pit of his stomach, but also, something else. A small flicker of resolve. He wasn't just going to survive this. He was going to win.
Anissa's eyes flashed with a cruel glint, and she stepped forward with a sudden, explosive move.