Chapter 173

0945 hours, local time
Wednesday, 10 September, 2014
Towne East Square
Wichita, KS

It being my last morning in Wichita, we went out to the Towne East Square shopping center after breakfast, taking most of my ladies and gents in tow. I made sure to browse in a variety of shops, but one pattern that I noticed was that I tended to get pulled aside by customers and staff alike. So did my tribe, minus those with nursery duty, as at least one objective was to screw as many locals as possible. The pulling aside was precisely with that purpose in mind, naturally. Everything from pretzel stands to lingerie stores, I found myself mating with the people there.

I also noticed how quickly public etiquette and taste when it came to attire changed by now. Girls, guys, and growing numbers of futanari alike, they wore as little clothing as they felt necessary. Many of them just wore body paint and shoes, while others modeled evening wear like pros. Many of them had fresh ink that they proudly displayed for me, clearly hoping to impress me and mine. My husbands and futa wives each took their turns after mine ... front and back.

As for my wives, they weren’t lazy, either. They not only participated eagerly with me and my new partners, but also kept their boyfriends, my husbands, and my futa wives engaged, of course. As always, the local men ... and now the local futanari, were as active in this whole business as reasonably expected. They also got plenty of sloppy seconds with the local women and the local futanari, as well as some frequent gay sex with each other.

Many ladies and futanari bent over in miniskirts and microskirts, exposing their orifices for my free and easy use. Several of them cast their bras and panties at me while soliciting not only my cock and tongue (and those of my husbands and futa wives), but my fashion advice. Not caring about fashion, brands, labels, designers, and haute couture at all, I urged them to go as scantily clad as they could manage to do. Even some guys played the sissy role in their outfits, which I didn’t mind at all, sometimes buggering them when it suited me.

More than a few were content to give each other and my ladies hand bras, going topless and opting to wear only lacy panties, silk or satin thongs, or even bikini bottoms that were as thin and narrow as dental floss. Others stuck to Daisy Dukes, short skirts, or short sundresses and not an article of underwear in sight. Some recent converts from Mormonism wore only their temple undergarments, which they tore off in broad daylight at the first sight of me.

“I bet that you’re in Heaven, what with the new hand bras and lots of lovers!” I teased Hannah as I slid inside her for a hot minute.

“Naturally, but nothing pleases me more than you inside me, honey! I’m their lover for the moment, but I’m your wife forever. When I die, I just want you to resurrect me and keep me for eternity!” Hannah urged me as I humped her and other wives of mine for a short interlude.

Then I returned to my new partners to breed them. This continued for roughly another hour or so, my cock sliding eagerly in and out of matrons, maidens, and tarts alike. I even humped several more nuns and changed a few dozen priests into futanari, boning them hard from behind. Each girl, guy, and futa also pounded others in the crowd as my tribe and me at my behest, of course. My favorite moment was when one lady pulled down another’s panties with her teeth, chewed on them for half an hour before passing them down to others.

There were also gangs of girls who walked around naked from the waist down and put their hands enthusiastically on each other’s buttocks or even cracks, fondling each other in the open while egging my tribe and me to fuck them into next week. Everyone was either topless, bottomless, or nude, but nobody was more partially clothed. It was clear that they had embraced my vision in droves and I had succeeded in my admonitions even more than I had realized. The speed of the spread of the message stunned even me.

As I came together with a number of mother-daughter and sisterly pairs, I looked at the time and realized that it was almost time to go. My husbands, wives, and futa wives would have to hurry as we needed to have lunch soon and then depart for Boulder, Colorado. They would have to make do with quickies, but at least we could experience more of this soon, and so could the ladies.

We waved at everyone as we left a trail of discarded clothes everywhere on the floor. We got kisses, winks, cat calls, and wolf whistles in response. Unlike the stupid, entitled women who used to bitch and moan about such things, we took it in the good nature and pleasurable spirit in which it was intended. As we left, we saw in our rear view the sight of a bunch of girls, guys, and futanari pulling trains as certain people of all sexes crawled underneath them to lick their once private parts. We also saw people playing with, chewing, sniffing, and swapping panties.

All in all, it was a delightful scene.

1645 hours, local time Wednesday, 10 September, 2014 Burlington, CO

After traveling rather slowly from Wichita to the Colorado state line, we hustled a bit more than before and settled in Burlington for the night. Well, it was late in the afternoon, but it would be evening soon enough. The locals seemed to instantly recognize us as the Clarke tribe, of course, leading to several of the local bigwigs surrounding our caravan with the aid of the police or constabulary or whatever.

They must have been considerably worried about what to expect, but when the cops tried to arrest me and mine for “indecency” or whatever, I smote most of them dead with my staff. I didn’t want to risk anyone else in this case at all. I didn’t want to waste any time or other resources. I looked sternly at the city fathers about this matter and cut them off before they could excuse their assault upon me and mine. It was utterly inexcusable, as I only intended to pass through, minding my own business. Things had changed now, though.

“You attacked me and mine when we did you no harm, only intending to pass through your town. So be it. I now sentence you all to die. Jeanette, slay them all. Looks like regime change is in order, anyway,” I commanded, causing my angel-cousin-wife-enforcer to slaughter every last local bigwig until two of the knelt and began pleading for the lives of their wives and families.

“Spare these two. They were already doomed and knew it, but chose to humble themselves to protect their loved ones. You two, select eight others and form a new local government. Then we will decide your future, but bear in mind that while I have instructions for you, it will be your job to implement them. I won’t be staying past tomorrow at noon. That doesn’t give you a lot of time to learn from us, so play close attention. What’s your name?” I asked the elder surviving town official.

“Charlie Gordon. No relation to Chinese Gordon, of course. That I know of, anyway. I was named after him, though. This is my wife, Susan. I was just a member of the local council. This is Ewan Bunch, the town’s treasurer. We are what’s left of municipal government here, at least until we select others. Wow, you really are a prophet, aren’t you? It’s just shocking to contemplate. Most prophets are false. I should know. I used to follow one,” the man replied.