Apocalypse Blues - Cover

Apocalypse Blues

Copyright© 2017 by Mark Gander

Chapter 112

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 112 - Adam Clarke is just a regular Navy veteran going to West Virginia University on the GI Bill, right? Think again, as he discovers, after Doomsday, with the help of a growing harem, a radical classmate, and her lesbian lover, his history professor.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Mult   Consensual   Gay   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Celebrity   Futanari   Military   School   War   Science Fiction   Post Apocalypse   Paranormal   Demons   Sharing   Slut Wife   Incest   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Harem   Orgy   Polygamy/Polyamory   Swinging   Interracial   Anal Sex   Analingus   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   First   Oral Sex   Pregnancy   Squirting   Voyeurism   Clergy   Public Sex   Teacher/Student   Nudism   Politics   Revenge   Violence  

0845 hours, local time,
Sunday, 20 July, 2014
The Church of the New Covenant
Hinton, West Virginia

The special church breakfast that followed was at most PG or PG-13, as opposed to the very much NC-17 or Mature/Adult rated events right before that. Of course, by now, the guests had given and been given a rather warm and heartfelt farewell as they went back home to their sacred duties of governing and defending their communities. This was especially true of those directly on the front lines of the war against Forrest Turner Eckart, the so-called “Fuhrer” or President of the wannabe Fourth Reich in Richmond. His Aryan Southland Front held out rather stubbornly so far in Richmond against the coalition forces, but they were absolutely on the ropes. National Socialism would soon be a distant, if painful memory for the entire human race.

The ladies made sure to nurse their babies, of course, and I made a point of tucking each infant under the chin, tickling them, burping them, etc. When I wasn’t eating, kissing my wives and lovers, chatting with my friends, etc. I was fussing over my little ones, who absolutely ate it up. I was a very proud papa to my brood so far, no doubt about that. I was a real patriarch in the best sense of the word, though siring so many made me feel like one of other kind of patriarch, that from the Old Testament. I already had more sons than Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob combined.

“They’re already capturing several blocks in the industrial district of Richmond, but the ASF is making them pay for each house, street, and block dearly. The fierce resistance of the Nazis reminds one of the Battle of Berlin, of course, when the original goosesteppers held on doggedly to every last brick of the capital. Make no mistake, this is a very savage battle. Many more will perish by the end. The Nazis are fighting like the cornered beasts that they are, being terrified of any possible alternatives. Not much will be left of Richmond by the end of the war, I fear. It will be nothing but rubble.

“In fact, there is a proposal among the various leaders of the coalition to rebuild in a drastically different style. The new city will not be named Richmond, but Clarkesville, in your honor, son. Yes, that’s my boy. You have made me extremely proud to be your father. I am very glad that I picked your mother and lay with her. It will be even nicer to see you raise your sister and daughter, who will also be sisters, as they will both have the same mother. I have faith in you as a better father than me, the kind of father that I could be if I wasn’t an Archangel of Heaven,” Dad, aka the Archangel Raphael, informed me now.

“A city named after me?” I reacted with astonishment as I heard that news.

“Actually, Clarksburg, West Virginia, your hometown, has voted to add an ‘e’ before the ‘s’ in that city’s name. That would make it ‘Clarkesburg’ instead. That’s the benefit of a name so similar to that of your hometown, I guess. But yes, your name is being remembered and preserved in history. You’re a historical figure, like it or not. You’ve made history. There will be statues, paintings, pictures, books written about you. The places where you stayed will be historical sites. People will look at their genealogies in hopes of finding evidence of descent from you.

“As Ron Burgundy says, ‘you’re kind of a big deal.’ You’ll be at least as famous as Sam Houston, Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson, Dwight Moody, Charles Taze Russell, or Joseph Smith. You will be spoken of the same way as Henry Clay, William Henry Harrison, or Daniel Webster, that kind of thing. Billy Sunday or Joseph Rutherford, Hugh Hefner, Arthur Godfrey, Aleister Crowley, etc. You get the picture, right?” Dad explained to me.

“Woah, that is serious business!” Autumn declared as she kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Indeed!” Hannah added.

“Very much so! I am very proud of Adam. He’s our man. He is our husband. He took us in when we had no one else. He’s the Prophet. He’s a son of an Archangel. He’s a resurrected, celestial being himself now. Not an angel, sure, but still ... superhuman, right? Wow! Our babies will have his celestial blood,” Xia Delan exclaimed with pride at being one of my wives.

“My sentiments exactly!” Hannah shouted.

“Very much so!” Autumn yelled, even as they kissed me.

“Be assured of this. The prophetic date will be met, one way or the other. The ASF will be destroyed and the last forces will be defeated by the Eleventh of August. That is the predicted date for the downfall of the Nazis. The timetable will be kept. Their fates are sealed. They are doomed, which is obviously a good thing,” God promised me again.

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