Chapter 132

0231 hours, local time
Saturday, 26 July, 2014
The Mackey Residence,
Beckley, WV

I finally learned what Uncle Lucas’s surname was, and thus that of his family, just seconds after he announced that henceforth he would adopt the surname of Cooke. Apparently, before it was “Cook,” which seemed fitting enough, but in emulation of the Prophet, meaning me, he added an “e” to the spelling. So, yes, now he was Lucas James Cooke. Uncas was now Uncas Chingachgook Cooke, Natty was now Natty Bumppo Cooke, named Hawkeye from the James Fenimore Cooper Deerslayer novels, such as The Last of the Mohicans.

Either way, we all spent the night in each other’s amorous embrace as well as in much conversation about the past, present, and future. We discussed politics, religion, history, sexuality, psychology, sociology, and even biology, among other things. We contemplated how West Virginia would re-emerge from the ashes of the old civilization, as the population eventually returned from its current nadir.

We also snacked, drank, smoked, and showered. Most of all, though, yes, we fucked, kissed, fondled, and caressed each other. I made a point of showering with every woman and girl fourteen years old and up, after which I rimmed each of them for several minutes. Then I fucked each of them in the ass. My own wives were included in these activities, of course.

I tapped a different guy on the shoulder as soon as I finished buggering each lady’s bum, indicating that he should claim my sloppy seconds or buttered bun or whatever. I made a point of never picking the husbands, but setting them up with different women or girls than their wives. Everyone really seemed to enjoy that game as well as the others that occurred to me.

I made everyone draw names from a hat, and whichever name they drew, regardless of sex or gender, was required to service them sexually for exactly an hour, whatever they asked. I took particular delight when a schoolteacher was claimed by a scrawny fourteen year old lad and had to let him spank and sodomize her. How she felt about him, though probably influenced by Schumacher Syndrome, was obvious when she offered to marry him immediately.

“Okay, but he must also marry your daughters. Agreed? You four must regularly share a bed, of course, and this takes effect tonight. He’s the new head of your household and family, ma’am. You will let him impregnate all three of you once you each give birth to my own spawn.

“Naturally, you must all proudly walk with him, holding hands with him in the hallway, and you must all sit with him at lunch. When in class, he must obey all teachers, including you, but out of class, he can take any sexual liberties with each of you as he sees fit. If he wants to cum all over your skin after class, you are to welcome that, though Schumacher Syndrome will ensure that, anyway.

“Also, the girls, despite being older, must call him Daddy’ and respect his authority as their stepfather as well as husband. You must call him ‘Daddy’ as well. He gets to spank each of you if he wishes it. You can’t be exclusive, of course, but know your role and stay in it. Encourage your friends to sleep over and share him and each other, and that includes your teacher friends,” I instructed them in my capacity as the Prophet, feeling bolder now.

Everyone really enjoyed the various sex games that I urged on them, at least from what I saw. Then again, with Schumacher Syndrome, why wouldn’t they? This included “Truth or Dare,” which resulted in Vera confessing just how much she was in love with me. Ditto Taissa, of course. They then both dared me to agree to retire near enough to Beckley that they could see me regularly when my work was done.

“Fair enough. Truth or Dare, Hannah?” I now asked Hannah for my part.

“Dare,” Hannah beamed, looking like an angel.

“I dare you to refuse to wear anything but a hand bra ever again. Well, and shoes, of course. I want you to be constantly naked except for your vintage hand bras, and they can’t be your own hands. Someone else’s hands must always be provided instead. If you have no hands available, the nipples must be exposed,” I challenged Hannah while plowing her pussy from behind, straight from Athenais.

“Done! Hold me to it, folks! No more clothes for me, ever again. Just hand bras! Truth or Dare?” Hannah turned on me, per my revised rules of the game.

“Dare!” I grinned.

“I dare you to deflower every girl and boy in town as soon as they turn fourteen. Like minutes after midnight and everything. Breed every girl, too. I don’t like virginity. It’s wasteful of sexual potential. That is the glory of Schumacher Syndrome. It brings out everyone’s inner slut. It doesn’t waste sexual opportunities,” Hannah suggested.