Chapter 78

Oh, God, I thought, as I took on one after another of my ladies, including Melissa’s nun friends who were among my wives nowadays (in case you wondered, yes, I had freed them, hence why I had to cut the night short). I also plowed each of my male lovers, Topping and bottoming with all of them in due course. There was an exception for my vampire daughter, Sarai, at least until she arose of her own volition and faced the Sun.

She burned to a crisp before my eyes, truly causing me anguish ... until she arose as a ghost or spirit to my shock and I touched her, too. She instantly became one of the Undead ... my kind of Undead, not the Nosferatu kind that she was before. That was definitely a miracle of sorts, wasn’t it, but why?

“Because I’m more aware of all of my powers, and being God, I tweaked things to give her the impulse to end herself so that I could bring back her soul ... and you could touch it ... and revive her body ... A better body than the vampire kind. I was tired of the poor thing missing out on daytime fun, weren’t you? Amazing what new secret powers that you didn’t think existed that you find out after being God for a little while. Remember, I’ve only been the sole King of Heaven since after the Fireballs struck, have only been God in any sense of the word since the beginning of 2013, but I’m discovering all kinds of splendid options and abilities ... skills, if you will,” God announced himself as he joined me in plowing my snake-Goddess wife, Angitia, and our daughters.

“She’s going to be fourteen years old in her body, forever, I gather, no matter how much wisdom and knowledge she acquires,” I mused as I kissed Sarai on the mouth.

“Yes, but Naomi is now pregnant with another girl, you know. And that one you still need to name Sharon. You promised her that, didn’t you? You forgot that in the whole business of her birth, death, and vampire resurrection, but now you have a chance to make it right. I know you enough to know that you hate to break your word and always try to honor it.

“One of many good reasons why I am glad that I kept you on as the Lawgiver and one of my Prophets. That, and well, your angelic blood would make you dangerous if you didn’t serve me in some capacity. Look at Satan. I’m just glad that he’s preoccupied these days, cleaning up parts of Georgia and all that jazz,” God chuckled with his usual Irish dry wit as we switched to sharing Sarai.

My snake-ladies kept licking each other ... and all of us, even as I pounded Sarai’s lovely ass and God took her pussy from below. She felt amazingly tight back there, of course, and I had trouble focusing on anything but her wonderful bottom, yet I soon noticed that a lot more people were present ... many of whom I sensed were tied to my lovers, but not to me. I had a sneaking suspicion that God was here at least partly to tie up several loose-ends.

“That’s a large part of it, yes. And why not? You’ve been in power for over a year now, this is about two years after you claimed your gorgeous Assyrian lionesses and several of the others, and well, it’s time to close the circle. It’s time to bring the whole tribe together, once and for all. It’s a major part of building your dominion upon the Earth, of reclaiming it from the Dark Ages presently swallowing much of it in blood, death, and tears. Satan wasn’t wrong. You are the Messiah, Mark. Time to man up, laddie,” God declared, even as we both came inside Sarai.

At that point, a vial of olive oil mysteriously appeared, seemingly ex nihilo (but hey, this was God we dealt with here), and emptied itself out over my head. Olive oil went through my hair, my beard, onto my skin, covering my naked body in it. I got it now, of course. I communed with God by sharing my daughter’s body with him ... and sharing the snake-Goddesses, of course. Now he caused olive oil to pour over my head, anointing me. I was the Anointed One. The Messiah.

“Yes, Mark ... THE Messiah. The Big Kahuna. Moshiach in ancient Hebrew. That’s you. You have been consecrated to me and you are my Hand on this Earth, my voice, my emissary, the chief of my Prophets. Don’t ever forget that. You’re the son of an archangel, the Archangel Gabriel, after all. You are the Lawgiver. You are the delivering hand of the King of Heaven, of the Lord of Hosts. Yes, yes, I took on a lot of Jehovah’s titles, and the man was rather fond of them. As for me, well, I’m not usually a fan of such things, but they tend to impress mere mortals, not to mention angels, so there we are,” God laughed with his usual, melodic Irish brogue, which reminded me of his origins as the great actor Richard Harris.