Chapter 11

Orlando certainly knew how to suck my dick, which made me wonder how he knew that, but I didn’t ultimately care. I enjoyed his oral skills for sure and also liked watching him take a strap-on dildo from Emma Watson right up his arse. It was even more entertaining when I made her grow a cock temporarily herself and bugger him with that instead. Orlando completely yielded to the pleasure of being sodomized by Emma that way, just as he did when I entered his bum from behind myself. He was busy taking Emma’s rump good and hard while I butt-fucked him, and yes, his tush was very tight indeed.

“That’s one hell of a train, you know,” I heard Gabriel speak up.

“Ah, so Michael hasn’t dismissed you, even as much as he likes to micro-manage this Rapture and diplomacy stuff these days,” I needled the archangel.

“Well, I am now the head of his angelic host, so I do have an important role, and he has returned to Heaven to resume his seat on the throne. He’s King now. He can’t be everywhere, and well, Earth has lost what little charm it still held for him these days. It’s a much sleazier place by far. Any thoughts on the halo business?” Gabriel inquired, trying not to notice just how sexy the ladies were while they all got fucked so hard.

“Well, it’s actually helpful to me and others. For you, it’s a recruitment tool, I think, a bonus for those who want to go to Heaven to help motivate them to convert to Michaelism. To be clear, conversion to Michaelism means a guaranteed Rapture as well as a halo, am I right?” I asked the archangel while I came at last inside Orlando’s fine English ass and he spilled within Emma’s lovely tush.

“That would be ... correct. I have here, incidentally, a list of intended prophets for Michaelism, so if you’d kindly leave them be for long enough for us to convert and recruit them, that would help as well. Face it, you want these people off Earth as much as Michael does. The more of them leave and the sooner they do, the easier your takeover will go, I gather. Plus, you oddly do seem to care about the fate of Earth’s more innocent and vulnerable creatures, the animals, and the planet’s ecosystem. Michael doesn’t personally give two shits about that kind of thing, to be frank, nor do I. Heaven is our world and it will soon be home to our share of human souls as well. Earth will be in their rearview mirror,” Gabriel admitted rather candidly to me.

“Yes, Earth is much more my domain and responsibility these days. You’re perfectly welcome to abandon it to me. I’m happy to take it off your hands. If I might suggest something, though. You’ll perhaps want to consider creating a personalized Heaven at some point. Tulsi, for instance, is gonna miss her surfing on the waves, as will others. Uniformity in Heaven only made sense when the alternative was a Hell filled with fire, sulfur, and other torments. Compared to that, sure, anything was preferable. Nowadays, you’re gonna have to step up your game. Just sayin’. Especially if you want to lure souls in from Limbo,” I advised Gabriel, who nodded thoughtfully.

“You have a point there and I will raise it with Michael. See, isn’t this much better? Heaven and Hell, co-operating, working together for our mutual benefit? It’s a shame that those two blockheads, Jehovah and Satan, couldn’t have a meeting of the minds like this. Sadly, their egos got in the way and led to unnecessary conflict. Maybe it’s because we’re all angels now, not a quarrelsome, hotheaded deity and his jealous former favorite. By the way, I’m liking marriage so far. Anne Boleyn’s pretty good in the sack. I don’t know why Henry tired of her, to be honest. Though she can be feisty at times,” Gabriel grinned.

“I imagine that she’s especially happy not to be roasting alive anymore. Something about flames licking your flesh tends to make one desperate to stop the agony at any price. Trust me, I’ve seen how people in Hell handled the constant torment. They couldn’t think about anything for very long but the sheer, excruciating pain of being repeatedly burned and having other awful things done to them. Things too horrid to mention. No amount of compensation exists good enough for most of them. A handful of them had it coming, though. McVeigh, for instance. Bin Laden, to name another. Epstein is a third such case. Tell me, is Epstein why the Clintons didn’t make the Rapture cut?” I inquired, being truly curious, even as I mounted Phoebe Cates at last.