Chapter 92

“The real man wants two different things: danger and play. Therefore he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

1735 hours, local time
Thursday, 27 November, 2014 (Thanksgiving Day)
The Chancellery Complex
The City of Haven, The Province of Oregon
The Commonwealth of Haven

“Ah, Thanksgiving Dinner! Turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, or dressing, whichever you call it, buttered Hawaiian rolls, green bean casserole, homestyle macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie with whipped cream, yep ... the best!” I chuckled just before praying to the real God, Richard Harris, of course.

Cherry laughed as she served me yet again ... a new family tradition it seemed, not that I objected at all. My wonderful first wife met me with less than a friendly attitude, more than a year and a half ago, but we clearly bonded by now. She still looked at me with complete adoration, though admittedly part of that was that she was one of my undead companions.

Nydia and Shelby both gave me the same look while sitting next to me, even as Ninve and Sandra winked at me and Josie blew me a kiss from across the table. Rachel and Katrina laughed and made out before blowing me kisses, too, followed by Ana and Teresa, Lucy, Ashley, Heather, Erica, Jannat, Marcy, Stephanie, Anne, Sahar, Saorise, Manon, and several others. Samara Weaving made a point of sitting on my lap this time and whispering to me how much she wanted me to cum all over her turkey as a “special gravy.” That was wild even by my standards, but I certainly didn’t object to granting her wish.

“Oooh, steamy! I bloody well love that! Do that for me, too, please!” Naomi Watts suggested, even as Kate Winslet took Samara’s place on my lap, wings and all.

The fact that Kate Beckinsale knelt beneath her fellow Briton and began licking both of our genitals while Ms. Winslet and I fed each other was another real head trip. A lot of these women had drastically changed due to resurrection as either angels or my undead playthings or whatever one wished to call them. Was it Nietzsche who called woman “the most dangerous plaything”? Yes, I was pretty sure that it was. He had a point. Sure, they were people, but they were also objects, just as men were to them. The complaints about objectification were frankly hypocritical and stupid, to put it mildly. In any case, their personalities had been upgraded along with their bodies, even if the latter required less change.

“Face it, my dear, I was right to seduce you, even against HR guidelines or whatever, even as your boss. To be frank, I never really thought of myself as your superior, but you probably realized that by now. I doubt that Ana or Teresa did, either. What about you, Tamara?” Ninve observed as she leaned over the table and her tits were accidentally smothered in some cranberry sauce (or was that even an accident at all).

“Never, not once. If I came across as bitchy or unapproachable, it was partly because of a mix of attraction, admiration for a guy who clearly deserved a higher rank at the company than he had, was rather overqualified, to put mildly after so many years with said firm, definitely by the time that I came along ... yeah, it was probably a bit of intimidation, which I dared not reveal. It was also somewhat because I am Serbian, as you know. It’s a bit cultural to an extent.

“And I can be a bit bitchy at times, much as I regret that. Or at least I could. My personality has mellowed a bit since then, I should think. Yes, I felt a bit ... conspicuous as someone who might have stolen your promotion. It was pretty obvious ... and I could sense some resentment on your part, which didn’t help. Of course, there was also the whole drama and Anton, Kyra, Jonah, and Shalman, lest we forget. That was then. Now, well, you’re literally a god to me, so there’s that,” Tamara confessed as she licked cranberry sauce off Ninve’s tits with Sandra’s help.

“Yes, we all thought that you were amazing ... and couldn’t believe that you weren’t our boss, to be perfectly candid, right, Teresa?” Ana added.

“Indeed. That is very true. I practically worshiped you already. Given the chance to be intimate with you, Ninve, Ana, and I cooked up that scheme for the late Halloween party on that Friday night. So, yeah, we seized it with both hands,” Teresa concurred.

“Yeah, we really wanted you ... all three of us ... and now, of course, it makes perfect sense. You’re the Lawgiver. You’re the Messiah. You’re a Prophet. You’re a demigod. You’re the Chancellor. You’re one of the Nephilim. You are the greatest man alive ... or undead, in this case!” Ninve fully supported her collaborators in the Halloween party seduction plot.

“I remember you in that dress of yours, dressed as, who was it again ... Snooki? Some reality television star, I believe. I never did watch that show. What was it called again?” I teased Ninve with a wink, even as each lady took turns riding my cock ... and feeding me their food while stealing some of mine.

“Yeah, Snooki from the Jersey Shore. I wish that we could meet her in person,” Ninve told me as she took her next turn atop my lap ... and my prick.

Somehow, who would have guessed it, a full-on foodfight morphed into a full-scale clusterfuck of an orgy, with various foods smeared all over everyone and eaten off each other’s skin. Nobody, and no part of any body, seemed to be exempt from this delectable development, of course. The table was the site of several “bent over the table” sex acts, including sodomy, breeding, fellatio, cunnilingus, and most delicious act of all ... analingus. My initial favorite action was fucking Ninve from behind under the table while I rimmed Sandra, Ninve in turn rimmed Naomi Watts, and Natalie Portman in turn rimmed Ninve.