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  • Writer's pictureHenry Cavanaugh

Marvel: Cap's Portrait

This story is a collaboration with my friend Writer Of Stuff and you can find his side of the story over on his blog here!

Steve had heard of a crime boss starting to rise to power in the city and he knew that it was on him to make sure things didn’t go too far. He hoped that it wouldn’t resort to violence - there were better ways with which to resolve these things but history had proven that most criminal bosses were unwilling to go down without a fight. Something to do with their egos, Steve presumed. Even the threat of getting their ass kicked by Captain America wasn’t enough to get them to see through their own bravado and accept that maybe a fight wasn’t in their best interests. Still, he was at least considerate to warn them what they were getting themselves into before they made the mistake of rushing him.

While this new villain hadn’t yet done anything too devastating in the grand scheme of things, he seemed to be amassing a good number of followers and that could only mean that there was trouble ahead. The only reason somebody needed so many henchmen was if they had serious plans - maybe a takeover or some sort of raid. Steve was going to put a stop to it before things could get too far out of hand. He didn’t know quite what web this new crime boss had spun but he was going to be the one to hack it down and make sure nothing could regrow in its place.

Making his way through the office building that this ‘Marco’ had made his base of operations, Steve easily took care of a number of henchman on his way to what his scouting had identified as the boss’ lair. Each guy that Steve took down seemed to be bigger and stronger than the last, many of them with dumb expressions on their faces and tribal tattoos all over them. Seems like Marco has a type, Steve jested to himself as he moved down the final corridor and found the office unguarded. That immediately put him on edge given how much security there had been throughout the rest of the buildings. There was no way that the villain could have left himself unguarded, was there? That seemed reckless beyond the point of stupidity.

“Well isn’t this a lovely surprise? Welcome to my office, Captain America.” There was something about the other man’s smile that unsettled Steve but he didn’t let it show in his face - he’d gotten pretty good at hiding his fear over the years. Still, the other’s tone didn’t exactly sound surprised to find the super soldier waltzing into his office and that meant that Steve needed to be on top alert in case the other had laid a trap for him. It didn’t seem so at first glance but these villains always seemed to have tricks up their sleeves and he had learned that the hard way before.

Marco himself was tall and well-built, muscular enough to rival even Steve, although he wouldn’t have the super-soldier strength that made Captain America such a formidable opponent. His positioning behind an easel was unexpected enough to make Steve quirk an eyebrow. “Getting a little artwork done?” he asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. So the crime boss was an artist - it was a refreshing take at least. “I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt your little creativity session. You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Marco couldn’t possibly think that his recruitment of a small army would go entirely unnoticed by the many heroes throughout New York City, could he?

“You have me at a disadvantage it would seem, Captain America, for I have no idea why you would be here.” The other man’s voice was silky smooth but that didn’t make Steve trust him anymore. He wasn’t the first untrustworthy soul who’d tried to play the innocent game with him and Steve was way past that level of naivety.

“You can drop the facade,” he ordered in a stern voice, square jaw jutting out in a clear display of irritation. “I know you’re a crime boss, and with all the guys I took out on my way up here I knew you’re up to something.” With that Steve stepped further into the man’s office, scanning the room for traps and only finding paintings lining the walls. Each one was exquisite and masterfully made, the likes of which might be better placed hanging in an art gallery. Had Marco been responsible for painting them? His position at the easel certainly suggested as such.

“Admiring my works, Captain?” There was a smug tone in the other’s voice and to his smile which raised the hairs on the back of the super soldier’s neck.

“They’re good,” Steve confessed, although he surprised himself in the process. A faint flush of pink rushed through his cheeks before he reminded himself where he was and who he was talking to. “Makes me curious though why a guy with such talents would waste it by being a criminal.” Clearly Marco could have made an honest living if he’d just wanted to. Instead he’d turned to crime and soon he’d be learning why that was a bad idea by spending some time in lock-up with the rest of New York’s most troubled souls.

“You flatter me, Captain, but I gotta say the real masterpiece here is you.” Great, now he’s flirting with me. Steve really had no issues with other men hitting on him, it was flattering, but he could do without villains trying to charm his pants off. Didn’t they know they had less chance with him simply because of their status as a criminal?

Straightening his stance, Steve began to approach the other man with clear purpose. He was done playing games with the other. “Let’s just get this over with. My sources tell me you’ve been rising pretty quickly up the ranks. I know enough to know that nobody in your field does that unless they’ve got something up their sleeve. Not to mention all the goons you have through the building. So tell me, what is it you’re up to?” His expression was serious as he tightened his grip on his shield, unwilling to waste any more time with the wily crime boss. The fact the other had only continued to paint while he was being questioned only served to irritate Steve further.

“Stop, don’t move another inch.” Much to Steve’s surprise he found himself stopping completely still as instructed, even though he felt no inclination to follow the other man’s instruction. “That position is perfect, the way the lighting is bathing across your angelic face.” Steve’s attempt to fire back a comment of his own was shut down as his lips refused to move and his jaw remained locked in place. He was completely frozen, just as Marco had requested he be!

He’s an inhuman, Steve realized with dismay, all too aware that he had little defenses against the enhanced abilities of the other. He’d never encountered one capable of literally stopping him in his tracks and it made the super-soldier nervous, feeling totally vulnerable for the first time in a long time. The other didn’t make any moves towards him though, he only continued to paint, totally absorbed by his canvas, and Steve could do nothing but remain in the perfect pose. It was clear that he was the subject of the other’s art but what exactly did that mean? Was this just some extended torture session or was there something more - something sinister - to Marco’s art that he hadn’t yet discovered?

As the villain continued to paint, Steve found himself at war with his own thoughts as his mind was invaded with a flood of thoughts and desires he knew weren’t his own. Big flexing muscles and thick hard cocks painted delightful images in his mind and he could distinctly remember worshiping other men. That couldn’t be right though. He was supposed to be straight! He loved women, for crying out loud, and their petite bodies and soft lips. What the hell am I thinking? Women are only good for a quick fuck. The suddenness of the thought caught Steve off guard and he was appalled at himself for the crude thought. That wasn’t what he thought at all!

“I gotta say Steve, you are my best work yet. I’m not even finished with the picture and you’re already looking so perfect.” The remark sent a chill down Steve’s spine at the same time as a strange pride flood through him. Why did he give a damn what his painting looked like? He needed to get out of there and make sure that the Avengers knew that Marco could pose an even bigger threat than he had anticipated. With no way of moving and no plan though, the hero found himself uncharacteristically anxious about his fate.

After a great struggle, Steve finally managed to force words out of his mouth: “W-what are you doing to me?” His voice was raspy and his Brooklyn accent seemed far heavier than it should have been but the very act of forcing out the words had exhausted him. He wasn’t sure he’d be capable of doing it again.

“Isn’t it obvious, Steve?” The glint in Marco’s eye wasn’t lost on Steve. “I was like you - before you became such an inspiring role model superhero. I was scrawny and weak, overlooked by almost everyone. Then-- then I was given a gift. My gift allowed me to change people into becoming what I paint of them.” Steve knew he should have been irritated at the villain’s monologue explaining his actions but instead he found himself fascinated by the other’s words and enamoured with his silky smooth voice as he continued. “At first I used my gift to try and be a hero like you and the other Avengers: stopping criminals, making them into good people and so on. Only I grew bored of that routine and ended up using my gift to make good men go bad and well, let’s say that’s where this whole crime boss thing started from.”

The puzzle pieces finally started to fall into place for Steve. “So… the people I fought…” he gasped out, remembering their heavily-tattooed thick-muscled bodies. All pieces of his artwork, Steve realized, a twisting sensation in his gut as he understood the inevitable: And I’m next. Even more terrifying - the notion didn’t seem to scare him as much as it actually excited him!

“Were once nobodies like me,” Marco confirmed with a smug smile. “I improved them, made them better and gave them a purpose.” In a way he really is a hero, Steve mused before coming to his senses. Could he even trust his own thoughts anymore? He’d never expected Marco’s power to have such a grasp over him. An ache shot through his head and he let out a groan as a shimmering sensation overtakes his body for a moment. The distinct mix of blue, red and white of his costume fades away entirely, replaced with a plain white tank top and blue jean that highlighted his thick thighs and the round globes of his ass.

A tickling soon began to spread down Steve’s square jawline as light stubble began to push forth from his skin. Ever since being forced through a second puberty of sorts following the operation that made him from scrawny Brooklyn kid into Captain America he had always been quick to reach for the razor whenever his facial hair grew in but it suddenly felt strangely right to let it grow out instead. If Marco preferred him to rock a bit of stubble then Steve was more than happy to forego shaving for a bit! The sides of his head tickled for a moment as his blond hair began to adopt a more fashionable fade style, the sides shaved short while the top was spiked up with an overly generous coating of hair gel.

Not long later a familiar tingle began to trace down Steve’s muscular arms and across the top of his meaty chest as a tribal tattoo began to form from wrist to wrist, more befitting of a rough-and-tumble crook than a superhero with a spotless record such as himself. Faint memories of the needle humming against his skin made their presence known in Steve’s mind as he began to remember session after session of getting his ink done. It made him look like a total badass and he knew it too which was why he liked to wear tank tops so often to properly show off both his guns and his sick body art. He always got so many compliments on it, mostly from horny women who thought they stood a chance and desperate twinks who recognized an alpha when he was in their presence.

“Don’t worry Cap, we’re in the endgame now. Soon my work of art will be finished - as will you.” It should have been a threat but Steve was already too far gone. Forced to stare at Marco due to his frozen state, the super-soldier couldn’t help but admire the other’s own strong muscles and handsome visage. He was a real beauty of a man - it was no wonder so many people willingly flocked to him! He had a certain charm about him too, one that was easy to fall in love with. Steve didn’t even mind being forced to remain so still when he had such gorgeous scenery to admire. Marco was so focused on his work, like a god crafting a new creation, and it was clear that he was passionate about it. Steve felt honored to think that he could be a muse for the other man and was anxious to see what his boss had created from his image. He had no doubt in his mind that it would be another masterpiece!

“And don’t worry about your friends, I believe there needs to be a balance between the good and the bad so as long as they don’t come to me like you did they will be left alone,” Marco assured him but Steve no longer cared. Memories of arguing about movies with Tony or working out with Thor and Clint vanished into nothingness as his new identity took over. He was a rough and tumble bruiser with a history of getting in trouble and even spending time behind bars, not some do-gooder all dressed up in red, white and blue! Fuck, he hated those heroes who thought they were better than everyone else. He couldn’t wait to help his boss take over the city and if any of those heroes got in the way then Steve would be more than happy to beat them to a pulp and drag them to the boss’ feet where he could fix them.

After all, that’s what Marco had done to him - he was fixed now and he couldn’t be happier for it. The fact that the boss even trusted him enough to make him his right hand man was a real ego boost for Steve too. He got off on ordering others around and was always happy to assert his dominance and show off his superior strength. Nobody dared challenge him and truly there was no match other than the boss, who Steve would gladly kneel down for. After all, who was he but a lowly grunt when compared to an artiste with the talent of the gods like Marco? He’d be nobody without him, he was sure of that.

Now if only he could find a way to lure some more of those pesky Avengers into the boss’ lair. His boss might have believed in a balance between good and evil but Steve had no such vision - all that mattered to him was brute physical power. The sooner he got around to breaking a hero with his bare hands, the better!

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