Evil Genius: Becoming the Apex Supervillain

by Logan Jacobs

  “He doesn’t fuck with you, you won’t fuck with him,” Jonah repeated. “Got it.”

  “And if you just go invisible without getting that message across to him,” I said, “then, you’re going to have to start your family over from scratch. I don’t care if you move across the country. I don’t care if you buy new identities. In fact, if you’re trying to get away from The Chief, and he’s the particularly vengeful type, then I highly recommend it. But just know that Aileen here and I will be able to find you, regardless. In two minutes flat. Without leaving the comfort of our chairs.”

  “I’ll get him the message,” Jonah said. “I swear.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Just one more thing before I let you out of here. Norma?”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “These claws,” I said as I gestured at them. “Not the kind of accessory a reformed supervillain really needs to be running around with anymore. How are your surgical skills?”

  “You don’t need to remove my claws,” he croaked. “I promise that I’ll--”

  “Well, I’d say my surgery skills are pretty avera--” Norma interrupted him.

  “Great, that’ll do it,” I said.

  “No!” Jonah hissed. “Please, They have been a--”

  “That’s about enough of that,” Norma said as she injected him with another round of horse tranquilizer. Then she looked at me and shrugged her shoulders “I was getting tired of hearing him whine.”

  “Fair enough,” I said with a shrug.

  “Aren’t you worried he’s going to give away this?” Norma asked as she gestured to The Cellar.

  “What?” I laughed. “That the richest entrepreneur and inventor in the city has a basement filled with all of his tech? I’m sure everyone already guessed that, and if they don’t, they are too dumb to do anything about it.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Norma sighed.

  “If you’ll pardon me,” I began as I stood from my chair and took a last sip of my whiskey. “I have some testing to go do now on a retired spacesuit, but I’ll update you both once there’s progress to report. You can just escort our guest off the premises and dump him on the side of the road by a freeway on ramp. Like normal trash, I’m sure someone will come along to collect him.”

  “Yes, Miles,” Norma and Aileen replied as they both bowed their heads to me.

  “Good girls,” I chuckled, and then I walked toward the back part of The Cellar to uncover an old experiment that I now had a new use for.

  Miles Chapter Three

  A day and a half later I woke up groggily on Sunday morning to a seductive voice purring, “Good morning, handsome.”

  I looked around in confusion. Both of the gorgeous naked women currently occupying my bed were still clearly very much asleep. Was one of them a sleep-talker?

  “This is your scheduled reminder that the mayoral gala celebrating the upcoming launch of the C.D.S. is tonight in eight hours, at the Aberdeen Club,” the voice continued. Ah. It was Aileen. I really wasn’t sure whether my current urgent erection derived from the awe-inspiring visuals of Veronica and Emma… or was it Georgia and Emma? I remembered vaguely that one of the trio had an early morning photoshoot in some third world country, so she had left to catch a flight after I had given her a creampie as a reward for being one of my dates.

  “Right,” I groaned as my memories faded into the background mist. “Er, can you ask Norma to blend me a protein smoothie and an egg white omelet with oatmeal for breakfast? And, also, authorize her to go get her hair, makeup, and nails done and purchase a dress and get it tailored for tonight, on the company card.”

  “… You would like me to invite Norma to the gala as your date?” Aileen asked.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I know I should’ve given her more notice, it just… slipped my mind last night. Probably because I was fucking these other three models.”

  “I’m notifying her now through her cellphone,” Aileen said. “Anything else I can do for you this morning?”

  I glanced at the sleeping supermodels again. “Yeah, can you call a limo? Actually… schedule it for one hour from now.”

  “Done,” Aileen confirmed. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.” And the speaker went silent.

  I snuggled up to the brunette one with her back to me. I then recalled that this one’s name was Emma, and her tanned, toned curves had made her an internationally famous bikini model. I slid my hand between her lean thighs and gently stroked her clit until she moaned and gradually came awake. Once she was sopping wet, I inserted my cock and fucked her from the spooning position. When I reached around to massage one of her generous breasts, which in spite of what the tabloids speculated about the matter turned out to be all natural, and twisted her nipple, she yelped and climaxed.

  By that time her blonde friend had been woken up by the sounds we were making and by the bed shaking beneath her.

  “My turn,” she said with an Australian accent. Ahh, that was Georgia then.

  After I slid my wet cock from the brunette’s pussy, Georgia rolled me over onto my back, eagerly straddled me, and pushed my erection all the way inside of her. The blonde was slick and more than ready from watching me fuck Emma, so her tight tunnel had no problem taking my length and girth. Then she rode me aggressively, and I marveled at where she got the energy this early in the morning. Finally, she brought herself to a shuddering climax that seemed to last half a minute. Once she stopped spasming, she slid off me, leaned over, and sucked on my shaft while I made out with Emma. The double stimulation was wonderful, and I soon exploded into Georgia’s mouth. I didn’t think I’d have much left sperm in me after cuming in each of the three women multiple times last night, but the beautiful model was able to coax a nice healthy spray out of me, and she guzzled my seed with a pleased moan. Once the blonde supermodel sucked the last of my cum from my tip, she cleaned my balls and shaft with her tongue before snuggling up next to me and Emma again.

  “Damn, I love my life,” I muttered.

  “We love you too, Miles,” Emma purred into my ear.

  “Yes, we do. So much.” Georgia nuzzled my neck.

  “Of course you do,” I said, and then I kissed each of them on the forehead.

  We laid together for another few minutes, but then I got bored and decided to start my day. I got up to shower and directed the girls to other showers so that I could be alone with my thoughts. Then I let them know they were welcome to take anything from the kitchen they wanted and politely informed them about the scheduled car that would drop them back off at their hotel. They asked if they could spend more time with me, but I just kissed each of them and told them to call me the next time they were back in town. They both did seem a bit miffed at the dismissal, but then they promised to call me the second that they got back home from their photoshoot, and they reassured me that Veronica, or another one of their beautiful friends, would join us next time.

  When I found my way down to the kitchen after my shower, the models were gone, but Norma was sitting at the table sipping on a latte and scrolling through her tablet.

  “Good morning,” I said with a giant yawn.

  “Afternoon, really,” she corrected me without looking up.

  “Shouldn’t you be shopping right now?” I asked her.

  “I am,” she replied as she kept scrolling through the tablet. She held up the screen for me to see. It was full of rows of images of evening gowns. She pointed at two of them. “The Alexander McQueen or the Vera Wang?”

  “Hmm, on you, that green one with the asymmetrical cut,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll go pick it up and get it hemmed,” she said. She checked her watch. “And then I’ll have another five or so hours to get my hair and makeup done… hmm… this is very last minute, you know.”

  “I can always call one of the models back,” I said with a casual shrug.

  “No, no, no,” Norma whined as she waved her hands. “I really want to go. I’m not complainin
g.”

  “I’m fucking with you,” I snorted. “Of course I want you to go. Yesterday I was busy updating home security measures after that break-in--”

  “It was more of a let-in than a break-in,” Norma pointed out.

  “Ha, true,” I said. “But yeah. And then last night, well, you know.”

  “Yup, they popped in for coffee while you were upstairs,” Norma said. “I always thought there was a lot of Photoshop involved, but… they look just like they do in the pictures.”

  “Mmm, even better,” I agreed.

  “Sooooo, uhhhh, how come you didn’t just ask one of them to go the Gala with you?” Norma asked as she averted her eyes. “Or both, if that’s more your style? I’m sure they already have wardrobes full of designer evening gowns, and staff on hand to take care of their hair and nails and makeup.”

  “The Gala’s not for another seven hours and it’ll probably last for at least three hours,” I answered. “The are nice to look at, and are amazing fucks, but you can actually help me scope out the superhero attendees and see if there’s any merit to what the rabbit was saying last night about the rampant systemic corruption.”

  “Hmm, okay.” Norma looked a little more pleased. She finished her latte and stood up. “Well, I have a head-to-toe makeover to get started on now. I’ll meet you back here at 7:00.”

  “Have fun with that,” I said. “Just one more thing before you go. When you have downtime in the chair, getting your nails painted or whatever, can you do some quick research on some of the higher-profile guests, compose a few fact sheets for me that I can review on the ride over?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Norma agreed. “Hey, I heard that Pinnacle City’s heavy-hitting, All-American, crime-fighting superstar is going to be there.”

  “Ugh, Optimo,” I groaned. “I heard that he’s an arrogant douchebag in real life.”

  Norma smirked at me. “Some people have said the same thing about you.”

  “Exactly. The gala will only be big enough for one of us.” I winked at her. “Hey. Remind me to bring up The Chief in conversation. See who winces, you know?”

  “Got it,” Norma said. “Hey, this will be my first high society event, you know.”

  “Well, it won’t be your last,” I replied.

  My mousy, average-looking, yet inexplicably appealing assistant smiled radiantly, gave me a little wave, and walked out of the room. I actually found myself watching her little ass shake when she walked, and I was briefly curious as to what she would look like once her makeover was done.

  But then the thought passed, and I decided to go down into The Cellar and continue my work on my latest weapon.

  I had the feeling I was going to need it very soon.

  Norma Chapter Four

  Rationally, I understood perfectly well that Miles was only inviting me to the Gala in a platonic capacity. Not even platonic, more like professional. Perhaps even less than professional, and more like the ambivalent mood a scientist would have when watching a rat navigate a maze for the tenth time.

  I always felt like I was just his little side experiment.

  Even though I wanted to mean so much more to him.

  I couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope, though. He wasn’t actually choosing to date me over dating Georgia Summers or Emma Kingston. That would be absurd. No man in his right mind would ever do that.

  And, it wasn’t like he’d planned out asking me in advance, or agonized over it. It had occurred to him last minute this morning as he lounged around in bed with a couple of naked supermodels that I’d be the most convenient option.

  But none of that could stop my heart from beating so fast at the idea of attending a red carpet event on my boss’ arm. I was afraid Aileen would pick up on it with some kind of sensor and, worst of all, possibly alert Miles under the misapprehension that I was having some kind of medical issue.

  It took all my self-restraint and average acting abilities to pretend to be nonchalant and just keep calmly sipping my latte until I could make my escape from his presence. I didn’t think he picked up on my nervousness, but then again, he almost never seemed to notice me. Perhaps I was thankful for that, too. As much as I wanted him, this ad hoc date tonight was giving me a bit of a nervous breakdown, and I didn’t know if my heart could handle him actually returning even a fraction of the affection I gave him.

  Then after I was out of Miles’ sight, well not out of sight of the omnipresent surveillance cams in his house but there was no reason for him to go back and check the video of me walking out of the kitchen, I broke into a huge grin and jumped up and down a tiny bit. Silently.

  The first stop of what was going to be a pretty rushed makeover process was picking up the dress. It would have cost more than a year’s salary at my old retail job and was the most beautiful garment I’d ever owned. I didn’t know that silk could be so silky, so smooth, and so sexy. My only fear was that the dress was in fact too beautiful and would make my plainness even more obvious by comparison. I wasn’t particularly hideous, I was just… never the girl in a group who got noticed. There was always someone prettier, livelier, funnier, more talented.

  Always.

  That made it even more of a miracle that Miles Nelson, who could afford any kind of assistant he wanted, had chosen someone like me. I knew it was because of my super power; my lame ass super power, which kind of made sense and convinced me that maybe it wasn’t all just a humiliating prank set up where I’d find out that my reaction was actually being filmed on live television and be obligated to crawl into a hole for the rest of my life.

  But I did kind of worry that he would be disappointed after sending all those extravagant presents, and a private jet for fuck’s sake, when he actually met little old me in person. I worried that he would be expecting someone who looked like the Killer Kitten, just because I was technically a super. Supers weren’t actually much better-looking than the general population, on average, although to be fair they did tend to be more physically fit since it was so common to have abilities that enhanced their athleticism. But the non-super-power-having public tended to assume that every single superhero was drop dead gorgeous because The Wardens mostly only recruited heroes who had big-screen worthy looks.

  If Miles had been disappointed, he didn’t act it. He was just as warm and welcoming in person as he had been over the phone and in our online conversations prior to my move to Pinnacle City. In fact, the thing that surprised me the most about my first impression of him was how down to earth and… normal he seemed. Besides of course the fact that he was one of the richest men in the world and, as it turned out, even more gorgeous in person than in all the magazine spreads.

  That had just been my first impression, though. My second impression was that he had been faking all of that to make me feel more at ease. Over my first few weeks on the job as he started to let his guard down, I realized that Miles Nelson was actually kind of… a generally well-meaning sociopath, if that was a thing. He talked a lot about wanting to improve lives and stuff with his inventions like it was a worthwhile goal, yet he seemed kind of indifferent to human suffering when he actually witnessed or read about it. Also, I quickly realized that a lot of his inventions gave the users the capacity to inflict tremendous damage on other humans, which he seemed totally fine with. And he didn’t have much sympathy at all for human weakness or stupidity, which made me try that much harder to do better than my best that I actually ended up making more dumb mistakes than usual. Also, sometimes his sense of humor made me kind of nervous that he might secretly be a serial killer just like I’d assumed at first when I received that uber creepy gift basket of all purple items perfectly tailored to my lifestyle, preferences, and body measurements.

  But even if he had turned out to be a serial killer, I didn’t know if I could have left the job.

  If I was honest with myself, even if Miles was a serial killer, I probably still would have stayed to be his assistant and even helped him carry out his horrible crimes. B
ecause by the time I figured out what kind of person Miles Nelson really was, well maybe not figured that out because he was too complicated for someone as average as me to fully understand, but at least after I peeled back a few of the more socially acceptable top layers I was already in love with him.

  Crazy, stupid, moronically in love with him.

  I knew it was pathetic and I knew I didn’t stand a chance next to all the supermodels that constantly surrounded him, but I couldn’t help it. And at least if I was his personal assistant, even if he never looked at me that way, then I’d get to spend almost every day with him, and he’d come to rely on me in a way that he didn’t rely on the kind of women he took out on dates. And maybe, just maybe, when he realized how helpful I could be… how hard I worked… how loyal I was… well, I don’t know, maybe someday he could learn to look past my mousy exterior and feel something more than just professional appreciation for me and my efforts.

  I usually tried to repress delusional hopes like that, but today was special. Today I was attending the Gala as his date, so I thought it was fair to let myself fantasize a little, just for once.

  Even if I realized that the Cinderella-fantasy would end as soon as the Gala was over.

  My next stop on my makeover tour deflated my ego a bit, though.

  I went to a seamstress who, when she heard how much I was willing to pay, had agreed to put off all her other projects and dedicate her entire team to frantically tailoring my gown the whole day so that it would be ready in time for that same evening.