UnHolyPimpHand
Not LitShark
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2010
- Posts
- 539
Kano was no stranger to cutting deals—hell, sometimes it was the only way to stay alive… or free—both things that Kano was well keen on keeping himself. But there, standing over the bloody, mangled corpse of Kronika, Kano cut himself the sweetest deal of all time. In exchange for sparing her life, she bestowed upon him the power over the Hourglass of Time.
Mortality, no longer a concern. Fights, no one could even land a blow unless Kano wished it. And money—oh how the money poured in. No longer bound by the conventional restraints of time or space, Kano rewrote history to his own liking. He had been both Jesus and Caesar—Rockefeller and Malcom X—Hitler and Roosevelt—rewriting history with the unabashed hubris that only a god can muster.
Perhaps, by now, Kano was even greater than a god. He was using the god of thunder Raiden as a personal power supply, running the tremendous output of the electrical consumption of the city-state of Las Kano—the new capital of the world and his seat of power.
Back when the mob was still running Las Vegas, Kano single handedly bankrupt every casino on the strip, using his knowledge of the future and immense personal wealth to win billions from sports betting. It was almost too easy.
When the mob couldn’t pay, Kano went around beating seven shades of shit out of the heads of the seven families, consolidating the mafia and Las Vegas under his personal control. When those profits started stacking up, he bought the banks and with that money he bought the government.
Gone were the days of bribing beat cops to look the other way on his petty larcenies—Kano now bought the people who made the laws and they made the laws that Kano wanted made.
Some things were fated, like the union of his most hated rivals Sonya Blade and Johnny Cage—or maybe it was just that he never wanted to interfere in those matters. A worthy rival is far more valuable than a groveling supplicant to a god. Moreover, it made his daily victories over the Cage family all the more satisfying that they hated him so and had vague recollections from the original timeline.
Their daughter, Cassie seemed to have no recollection whatsoever of the prior timeline—she only knew of a world ruled by Kano and was much more willing than her parents to willingly submit, which she did, early and often.
So it was on this particular morning, as Kano awoke to the sunrise, framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Cassie was asleep on her dog bed at the foot of his massive four-post bed. She was wearing her trademarked light blue sports bra, yoga pants and the golden collar that Kano gave her on the day he dubbed himself her new daddy.
“’Oy slut,” Kano called out to Cassie, still worn out from her hard usage the night before, “get your round ass ove’ here and deal with me morning wood.”
Kano still bore his heavy Australian accent—a continent renamed Kanoland in this timeline. He was Prime Minister there.
As Cassie responded to his command, Kano lazily slapped the intercom button, paging one of his assistants.
“Send the cuck-boy in, now.”
*-*-*
Sonya, the more defiant of the two blonde slaves, woke up in a more compromised position—still laying in a wide pool of mostly dried semen. Pit Boss Goro had use of her and was in the mood to relieve his own case of morning wood.
“Wake up, slut,” Goro’s deep voice resonated as he picked her up by her hips with the lower two of his four arms, “time to take your cock injection.”
The towering monster taunted her before slamming the full length of his horrifyingly massive cock inside of her. If that didn’t wake her up she was probably dead. Goro started slamming her pussy with no regard whatsoever for her health or safety—she was a defender of Earthrealm, she could take it. His upper arms grabbed her shoulder and long, blonde braid that hung low on her back, slamming her guts with his superhuman strength.
Mortality, no longer a concern. Fights, no one could even land a blow unless Kano wished it. And money—oh how the money poured in. No longer bound by the conventional restraints of time or space, Kano rewrote history to his own liking. He had been both Jesus and Caesar—Rockefeller and Malcom X—Hitler and Roosevelt—rewriting history with the unabashed hubris that only a god can muster.
Perhaps, by now, Kano was even greater than a god. He was using the god of thunder Raiden as a personal power supply, running the tremendous output of the electrical consumption of the city-state of Las Kano—the new capital of the world and his seat of power.
Back when the mob was still running Las Vegas, Kano single handedly bankrupt every casino on the strip, using his knowledge of the future and immense personal wealth to win billions from sports betting. It was almost too easy.
When the mob couldn’t pay, Kano went around beating seven shades of shit out of the heads of the seven families, consolidating the mafia and Las Vegas under his personal control. When those profits started stacking up, he bought the banks and with that money he bought the government.
Gone were the days of bribing beat cops to look the other way on his petty larcenies—Kano now bought the people who made the laws and they made the laws that Kano wanted made.
Some things were fated, like the union of his most hated rivals Sonya Blade and Johnny Cage—or maybe it was just that he never wanted to interfere in those matters. A worthy rival is far more valuable than a groveling supplicant to a god. Moreover, it made his daily victories over the Cage family all the more satisfying that they hated him so and had vague recollections from the original timeline.
Their daughter, Cassie seemed to have no recollection whatsoever of the prior timeline—she only knew of a world ruled by Kano and was much more willing than her parents to willingly submit, which she did, early and often.
So it was on this particular morning, as Kano awoke to the sunrise, framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Cassie was asleep on her dog bed at the foot of his massive four-post bed. She was wearing her trademarked light blue sports bra, yoga pants and the golden collar that Kano gave her on the day he dubbed himself her new daddy.
“’Oy slut,” Kano called out to Cassie, still worn out from her hard usage the night before, “get your round ass ove’ here and deal with me morning wood.”
Kano still bore his heavy Australian accent—a continent renamed Kanoland in this timeline. He was Prime Minister there.
As Cassie responded to his command, Kano lazily slapped the intercom button, paging one of his assistants.
“Send the cuck-boy in, now.”
*-*-*
Sonya, the more defiant of the two blonde slaves, woke up in a more compromised position—still laying in a wide pool of mostly dried semen. Pit Boss Goro had use of her and was in the mood to relieve his own case of morning wood.
“Wake up, slut,” Goro’s deep voice resonated as he picked her up by her hips with the lower two of his four arms, “time to take your cock injection.”
The towering monster taunted her before slamming the full length of his horrifyingly massive cock inside of her. If that didn’t wake her up she was probably dead. Goro started slamming her pussy with no regard whatsoever for her health or safety—she was a defender of Earthrealm, she could take it. His upper arms grabbed her shoulder and long, blonde braid that hung low on her back, slamming her guts with his superhuman strength.