Chapter 145

1315 hours, local time
Thursday, 31 July, 2014
Marshall University Campus,
Huntington, WV

Steve opted to be called “Stevie,” after Stevie Nicks, instead of Stephanie, to avoid any confusion between her and Stephanie Lennart-Clarke. She still had some adjustments to make to life as a futa, but she seemed to take it well enough. Wendy, Mary, and she would have to adapt to life on the road and without the three surviving offspring, but at least they were reunited with Elise and Stacey. Hiram, Lacey, and Mimi would also have to adapt to life as not only adults, but clergy and community leaders. They would handle it well enough in time, especially with the perks and benefits of the work.

I made sure to breed all of these new wives, including Stacey, Elise, Petra, and Elaine, but I also let the futa wives breed the women ... Ryan, Till, Yitzhak, and Barry each got a romp with the futanari as well, to be fair to them. Granted, they had plenty of chances to procreate of late, more than in the past, but I still wanted to give them improved odds of passing on their genes. There would be no shortage of genetic variety in my tribe, a truly optimal arrangement.

When we entered Huntington, it really was a ghost town, nothing functional that was necessary to keep things together ... except for the campus. Wary college students, all of them female, held a relatively small arsenal and trained them on us, just to be safe. This was understandable, but I had to wonder ... where were the guys? I had been warned about this, but it was truly eerie to see the utter dearth of males of any kind.

“Put down your guns, clubs, pepper spray, knives, baseball bats, and mace, okay? I’ve come to collect you. I was told that there would be girls, but no boys, and my source absolutely told the truth, but holy smokes! What are your names, anyway? My name is Adam Clarke and I am a Prophet. I was sent here by Almighty God. This is my tribe, my harem, my family, which you shall join now, as you acquire Schumacher Syndrome and convert to Havenism,” I introduced myself to them, even as they realized that I could have hurt them, but didn’t.

“So, this is the great Prophet that the crazies in Covington have denounced as false, but which the demons fear as they do no other men that we’ve seen. The demons killed off all of the guys, who sacrificed themselves nobly for us. This was perhaps unwise, the way that they did it, but at least they fought back. We’ve been hiding ourselves ever since, both while the demons were here, and afterward, in case they returned. I’m Janice Sheldrake, by the way,” a tall, elegant girl with a posh English accent informed me.

“And you ladies are?” I wondered openly.

“Quinoa Jones. Yes, that’s my actual name. I’m a bonafide Motown girl. That ginger, she’s Lynne Campbell. This is Fatima Shahid. She’s a med student, originally from Egypt by way of Germany. Long story there. This is Percy Alton. Yes, a woman named Percy. She’s from Maine. Kennebunkport, the old Bush family hideout. This is Candice ‘Apple’ Macintosh. Yes, that nickname is a dig at her surname. This is Marina Fishman, born and bred in Brooklyn.

“This is Bobbie Estrada, a Tejana geek from San Antonio. I’m not kidding about the geekdom, either. This Annie Thiele, a Midwest farmer’s daughter in every sense from Nebraska. This is our resident Southern belle and debutante, Ivy Brandon. This is our townie, Edda Salerno. Dean’s daughter, a true legacy student indeed! We’re the survivors. The other girls didn’t hide as well as they should, perhaps. They’ve since been digested by demons, I suppose,” a cutie with a classic mocha complexion introduced the rest of the party.

“I’m Hannah Clarke,” Hannah told her, “one of the Prophet’s first three wives.”

“Autumn Clarke, ditto what Hannah said,” Autumn announced herself, adding, “this is my mother..., and sister-wife, Bonnie Clarke. This is my stepfather and another of my husbands ... and hers, of course, Ryan Clarke.”

“Xia Delan Clarke, since we’re being so formal. I was Adam’s college roommate at WVU in Morgantown when we started our journey on Fireball Day itself. I was a Chinese exchange student from Shanghai. Except that Shanghai doesn’t exist anymore, of course,” Xia Delan told them with an understandable trace of sorrow in her voice.