The Father Becomes God
by Sterling

Chapter 1: John the Christ

I was born John Smith, just an ordinary boy from an ordinarily family in New Jersey, living with my mother, father, and one older brother. Yeah, I knew the world was in crisis with no new babies being born, but that's the way it had been since before I could remember. And it didn't affect us really. Everyone went about their daily lives. There were no bombs falling, we had plenty to eat, and the weather was fine.

Then I got my girlfriend Amy pregnant, and that changed everything. I was the only male on earth who could make anybody pregnant. Within a few years I was ensconced in my complex above Boulder, Colorado, the most important man in the world. I ejaculated my semen into hot vaginas, but it was pulled out again by a vibrating dildo with suction known as a "whirrer". My wriggling sperm in their millions were put in test tubes with thousands upon thousands of donor eggs, and I was the daddy of every new baby born on earth.

But there still weren't enough to keep the population from plummeting. What gradually became clear was that the number of children I could father wasn't limited by the number of sperm I could produce but by something intangible. It must have been partly psychological, because it turned out that indulging my every sexual fantasy and whim was the key to increased reproduction. First I recruited the corps of 'nymphs', the most beautiful women in the world -- also the sexiest, the most compliant and eager to please. But then my tastes broadened to include young teen girls, and my sperm fathered more babies with greater efficiency. But then I found I craved even younger girls, ones with no hint of sexual maturity. It was hard to accept that aspect of myself, but sexy little Annie and Sue helped me. Semen I spurted out while lusting after a tender young girl was the very best at making more little boys and girls.

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Interlude

What little Caroline felt as she stood was the warm hand rising, fingers fiddling with her privates, and then the most amazing surge of warmth and pleasure. It built strongly and within seconds flooded her in a wave of ecstasy as the man's kind face smiled at her. She felt dizzy but he held her up. On the way down she felt herself sitting on a pole, and seconds later felt the pole slide inside, filling her hugely, urgently, oozing the pleasure up into her body. Through her orgasmic fog she saw him in front of her, concentrating, and felt his hands on her hips, lifting her up and down on the pole. She felt the pole get even harder, felt it swell, heard the man gasp and then saw him relax. The man kissed her lips several times, and then he lifted her off and she found her pussy suddenly empty again.

From my point of view, the little angel with her curly blond hair walked around the corner and stopped six feet away and looked at me skeptically.

"Are you really God?" she said.

She wasn't one of the terribly shy ones! I smiled and motioned her closer. As the 5-year-old stood and I knelt in front of her, our heads were at the same height, now just a few inches apart.

"I'm not really sure," I said. "Sometimes I think so." I rested my right hand on her left knee, then slowly slid it up under the loose white silk dress which was the only garment she wore. "Keep looking at me," I said gently. I had arranged a device that through bone conduction allowed my middle finger to serve as a vibrator, one designed specially with the sexual response of little girls in mind. As I spread her lips with index and ring fingers, I instantly found her small clit.

The warm good feeling made her eyes lose focus. "Keep looking at me," I said, and soaked in the girl's surprise and delight at the unfamiliar pleasure building between her legs. And I feasted my soul on her wide-eyed innocence as she felt her first orgasm. Her feminine tissues primed for the event, I sat the girl down onto my prick, expertly lining her up and then sliding her down onto me. She had received pleasure from me, and now those very same parts would give pleasure back. Most of my girls get a look of lewd surprise the first time their feminine parts are filled by a real cock. The sight of a tiny eager virgin excites me no end, and I lifted her up and down, impaling her on me over and over with strong, urgent force. However willing she was, I had still conquered her and within seconds I reaped my reward. I shoved her down all the way, thrusting my cock as far up and in as it would go, and I spurted semen into her tender virgin pussy.

When the full ejaculation had been transferred into her body, I kissed her passionately, my cock slowly softening.

"So, now do you think I'm God, Caroline?"

She nodded solemnly, eyes wide with wonder.

Pulling the sweet sperm receptacle off me, I motioned to my aide who was waiting at a respectful distance, a topless 12-year-old in a miniskirt who glided over with a whirrer and gently extracted my semen from the pussy of the young virgin as I watched.

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"John the Christ." Whoa. I don't think I'll ever get used to that. But it wasn't a big surprise, really. As soon as the fertility crisis hit, church attendance soared. There was a profound absence to explain -- the absence of new little babies growing in women's tummies. But then I came along, and there was a presence. When one man can do something vital that no one else can, people are going to hang on his every word, his every sign, looking for hidden messages. It was easy for the religiously inclined to see my potency as a miracle. I said I was just an ordinary guy with some kind of special biochemistry. They said I just didn't realize my divine nature yet.

What unusual message did this man send out to the world? What new, uplifting message? Give me your daughters, because I want to luxuriate in their bodies in a sexual way. I want to lick the tender private parts of just about every little lassie on the planet, and invade her vagina with my penis as soon as she's big enough to accommodate it.

That didn't seem particularly uplifting, and it ran headlong into a societal hysteria about child abuse that had been building for years. It's not like it had ever been popular or truly accepted, but the hatred of any hint of pedophilia had really gotten very intense. It had taken considerable soul-searching for me to accept that side of myself, and it took the rest of the world longer.

Naturally, one common reaction to my pedophilia was to conclude I was not God but the Devil, offering humanity its continued existence in return for the moral depravity of degrading little girls and destroying their virtue. John the Antichrist.

But unlike countless earlier gods who had required young virgins for sacrifice, I didn't kill them. I actually treated them with kindness and they mostly had good memories of their time with the great, mysterious John Smith.

The most natural resolution was that while man-girl sex was still a bad idea, God-girl sex was OK. His ways are mysterious.

My staff kept track of everything in the press about me, and there was a lot to keep track of. Thousands of would-be prophets spoke of what I and my unique gift meant to the world. Many gathered dozens of followers, and a few gathered hundreds.

Our strategy was to ignore them all. But then one day a video went viral showing a crying little girl being held down while her mother smiled beatifically. Although the act itself was shielded from view, it was apparent that the mother did something very painful to the girl between her legs, for the girl screeched in anguish. That made my blood boil the first time I saw it, and I felt no better as the video went on to show the girl calming down and eventually smiling as she accepted the sacrifice she had made for her salvation.

In the old days, the police would have made short work of the mother, but things were different in the modern world. They were turning a blind eye to John Smith fondling and diddling young girls, and this act was being done in my name. So all eyes turned to Boulder. Would I condemn it, would I remain silent, or would I praise it? Some of my staff recommended remaining silent, but when I found out that the sect was planning this treatment for all of the young daughters of their adherents, I came out strongly and forcefully. Not in my name! I said in a live broadcast where my emotion was plain. This must cease! And it did, quite quickly. Then the authorities set about sentencing the mothers to long prison terms, but that didn't seem right either. Why should the girls suffer a second time as their misguided but well-meaning mothers were ripped from their lives? So after a little behind-the-scenes intervention, they were given suspended sentences.

But something had changed. I had gotten involved. Now every group wanted and expected my opinion on what they were doing -- some suggested similarly outrageous abuse of young girls unless I told them it was not my will.

We did our best, muddling along and expressing our opinion that no girl should be caused to suffer in my name.

And then came the Daughters of John the Christ, or DJC, with tens of thousands of followers across America, with more joining every day and chapters springing up in Europe. Its charismatic leader was Sister Amelia. She was in fact my biological daughter -- but so was everyone close to her age. She had been a nymph. She was hot, I recalled, but they were all hot. Her sexuality was intense -- that I remembered. Was she a little strange? I could sometimes remember things that way, but mostly I decided that was revising history to fit what had happened later. She had left after a year bearing her own baby, conceived the normal way. Yes, God's holy dick had pumped her innards countless times, splatting her full of holy seed to be harvested for donor eggs. And once, at the end, the seed had taken in the girl herself.

Then a tragedy had struck. Her little boy had contracted a virulent cancer when he was three, and was dead before his fourth birthday. That brought out her messianic tendencies and led her to found the DJC.

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Interlude

My cock was soft, resting and recharging. But I lay in the midst of a dozen small girls who crawled over me, laughing and giggling. Every inch of them was mine.

I buried my head in the hair of one and sniffed, then nibbled her ear and licked her cheek. She turned to initiate a kiss with me, this affectionate girl with the perfect face and smile.

My hand slid up under a shirt and fondled a soft chest with its tiny nipple as my other felt her backbone through her dress.

I held a small hand in mine, admiring it from every angle before sucking deeply on each finger, one after the other. The hand's owner had a delightful laugh.

A girl crawled over my lap from left to right, wearing nothing but panties. With my right arm wrapped under her stomach, I held her in place, while I slid my left hand down the back of her panties, feeling the smooth butt cheeks, but zooming to where they met, passing over her anus and landing on the labial folds beyond. I patted them. So smooth... The alluring parts within could wait for another day, or at least another hour or two.

A few feet beyond the edge of my girl pile was a wooden floor. Three completely naked 9-year-olds put on a ballet show for me -- they were really quite good. When they were done, I called them over. One by one, I thoroughly licked their labia, leaving them glistening with saliva.

There weren't enough girls, I reflected as I surveyed the wriggling pile of sweet femininity. I as one man had the company of all the girls I could possibly want. But the world with its teeming billions needed many millions of girls each year. From that perspective there were still too few. I was begetting millions a year, but not enough millions.

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I watched the video my staff had prepared.

It included a lengthy speech from Sister Amelia. There she was, as beautiful as ever, with the fire in her eyes that is one hallmark of any charismatic leader. She made the usual reference to the fertility crisis as being a religious sign. The fact that the power of reproduction rested with a single man meant he must be the second coming of Christ. While it was true that the circumstances didn't match what earlier Christians had prophesied, humans were fallible and they had simply been mistaken. The indisputable reality of my uniqueness needed to trump previous ideas put forth by well-meaning but limited Christian theologians.

She referred to her personal knowledge of me, attributing to me a divine generosity and wisdom, an aura that all could sense.

She included that famous quote from the King James bible:

"And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."

Before my arrival on the scene, few people believed that Jesus's touch involved fondling children's private parts up under whatever clothing they might be wearing, but the DJCers felt the passage was ambiguous, and at the least prefigured the methods of the next incarnation of Christ.

They spun the hidden meaning as His disciples being squeamish about the reincarnated Jesus fondling their little girl parts, and He would assure them it was OK. They interpreted "come unto me" to refer to achieving orgasm. They felt "he shall not enter therein" referred to Jesus's penis entering the bodies of the young girls. They felt this reading was supported by the use of the masculine pronoun where it was clear that only females were to be the recipients of his intimate attentions. "Receiving the kingdom of God" referred to allowing a stiff and entirely real penis to penetrate into the tender secret parts of a girl, followed by delivery of that most precious fluid on earth, my uniquely potent sperm.

This interpretation had consequences. Not too surprisingly, the faith exhorted parents to prepare their young girls to receive my holy penis. While the previous group had seen fit to accomplish this with pain, Sister Amelia had thankfully taken a different tack. She had declared that I was entirely kind and good and would never want others to suffer for me.

The church had come up with a painless way to stretch a little girl's vagina. Although the details weren't included in her speech, my staff had learned that they had developed a cream containing growth hormones, estrogen, and tissue relaxants. First a dollop was squeezed into the girl's tiny hole. After a week of tiny douches and reapplications it made the vagina big enough to take a tiny balloon -- about the size of a little finger. When the balloon was slathered with cream and inflated to a gentle pressure, the cream worked its magic and the tender pussy got bigger and bigger. The little one's hymen stretched with the other tissues and then just peeled away. The world had long since been able to make dildos that matched my penis exactly; different nymphs had made estimates based on how different sizes of dildo felt inside, and the estimates quickly converged. When a young girl could take a John the Christ dildo snugly, she was ready.

I got quite the hard-on reading that, and stopped to relieve myself in the alluring confines of a nymph's pussy.

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Interlude

I couldn't avoid a twinge of guilt at the decadence of the situation I had contrived. My left middle finger was stuck deep up the cunt of a 6-year-old, where it vibrated away as the girl moaned and shuddered. My right middle finger was pressed firmly against the clit of an 8-year-old who was yelping and gasping with orgasm. My nose was pressed against a 2-year-old's small mound while my tongue licked inside her labial folds. Squashed beneath me was a 5-year-old whose gentle fingers had just guided my bulging cock tip to her pussy. I plunged within. Within seconds my orgasm began, and I spewed my seed into her tender young pussy.

Girls. I needed to make more girls. I thought that fusing with the private and intimate parts of four at once might goad my innards to better prepare my sperm. It in fact turned out that the teeming goo inside the girl I was momentarily crushing would penetrate hundreds more eggs in the test tubes than if ejaculated in a less decadent configuration. Every little bit helps.

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I watched the training tape provided by the SJC. Sister Amelia sat on the floor in a circle with a dozen young girls.

"Let me tell you about how babies were made in the days before John the Christ. Daddies stuck their penises into the vaginas of women." She demonstrated by shoving her right index finger into a tunnel she had fashioned with her left. SJC girls were aware of the basic facts of life from a very young age. "They spurted out a little sperm, which combined with an egg way up inside their mothers to form a baby. The baby had a mommy and a daddy, and was made up of both of them -- a mixture.

"Then the great trial came upon us. Men could no longer do their part. Their sperm always failed to join with the egg, so there were no new babies. Yes, for twelve long years humanity was punished. We all had that time to think about what we might done wrong to invoke God's displeasure. For it was His displeasure, and it was very great indeed. For while God had promised after the Flood that he would never again smite humanity for our sins, he hadn't promised not to chastise us in other ways. In preventing the conception of new babies, he didn't hurt one single person -- but He threatened our continued existence just as surely.

"And then, in His wisdom, He sent us John the Christ. His sperm can fertilize eggs so there can be more babies. You are all His children -- He gave the sperm that fathered you, and you all look partly like him. But you are His children in spirit as well.

"Now, while boys and men have penises and testicles, things that stick out, we girls and women have a hole, our vagina. It is tucked up safely between our legs, out of the way. It's hidden behind little flaps. John treasures and adores vaginas. Every one of you has one of them, and none of the boys or men do -- they have penises and testicles which are all barren, sterile.

"Your vagina is a hole in your flesh, but there is also a God-shaped hole in your spirit. For the lucky few who are called, John the Christ will fill you with his penis and you will be His and blessed forever. But God only comes to those who are ready. This is partly spiritual, and comes as we pray and lead good lives.

"But it also is partly about our bodies. It is a mystery why John the Christ wants to deliver his holy seed into little girls instead of grown women; not many men cared for girls in that way before the Trial. Some think it reminds Him of the children He is trying to create. Women's bodies can receive his penis easily and naturally, while girls' bodies need to be specially prepared. Your mommies are going to start stretching your vaginas, little by little, so it doesn't hurt. When that's done, you will be ready to receive him if you are called. Few are called to receive his penis literally, but we are all ready."

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Interlude

I was in residence at my complex near Copenhagen, receiving visitors from all over northern Europe. It was certainly more efficient to move me and my precious testicles than to ship thousands of women and girls to America. Initially I had just stayed in Boulder, and mostly I still did. But now and then I liked a change of scenery.

She was a blond 8-year-old. Stitched near the collar of her dress was her name, "Hilde." She was very cute, like most of my girls, and she looked down shyly. "Thy will be done," she said softly with a charming accent, glancing up briefly with adoration.

"Sure, honey," I said. She had come around the corner into one of my many receiving rooms. I sat on the padded floor, naked. She was the first one after my break, so my penis was initially soft, but as I gazed at the little dear it pulsed to life.

I kissed the top of her head, her ears, and her cheek before moving to her lips. She kissed me back eagerly. Meanwhile my hands roamed over her back and front before I slid my right hand between her knees as she stood before me. I slowly moved it up between her legs, enjoying the smooth feel of her soft skin. As my hand rose higher, it met the spot where her legs joined. She was wearing special panties, with nothing but thin tissue paper in the crotch. I tore it with my finger, and she swallowed and looked down. Just before the meeting she had been prepared with a delicate topical application of hormones. Her pussy was hot, all her sexual tissues enlarged and engorged. She was lubricated. Gently spreading her labia with index and ring fingers, I moved in with my middle to her moist crack. I turned on my middle finger vibrator by touching a switch at the base of the finger with my thumb.

"Look at me, Hilde," I whispered, and she looked up just as the vibrating digit found her clit. Her eyes grew wide, and I feasted on their wonder as it shifted into lusty pleasure. Within seconds I felt her breath catch and her eyes glaze over as an orgasm began to seize her. "Mmmm, Hilde," I murmured, shifting my vibrating finger down a little and plunging it into her quivering depths.

I know how to hold back just a little with the vibrating finger so a girl's orgasm doesn't quite crest until I penetrate her with my cock, which I find very satisfying -- seeing a girl's total satisfaction and release as I puncture her. I quickly laid her trembling body back on the padded floor, spread her legs and mounted her, tearing more of the tissue paper at her panty crotch as I zoomed in. I know the angles on little girls exactly, and plunged my cock straight up to the hilt inside little Hilde, who twitched and sighed as God's penis penetrated her and transformed her itchy orgasmic pleasure into true release. I pistoned in and out wildly, and in just ten seconds my cock began twitching and delivering sperm as I bathed in ecstasy. I feasted my eyes on the adoring and sexually satisfied young virgin as I pulsed my sperm within.

When I was spent, I pulled out and kissed her once more. "Oh, mein lieber Gott," she murmured.

As I crawled away, one of my girl helpers moved in smoothly to whirr the contents of her little vagina. They would keep careful track of just how many embryos resulted from what I deposited inside young Hilde. It was typically hundreds or thousands. Each of those babies would have in a sense three mothers: the one who nurtured her for nine months of a pregnancy and gave birth, the egg donor, and also the little girl who had inspired my semen to do its job. The three provided environment, genetics -- and soul, if you believed the SJC.

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The DJC had been sending me video privately for some time, though as always my staff kept from my eyes the vast majority of the flood of material headed my way. For this presentation, they had selected the best of what the DJC had sent and arranged it.

"Hi, John," said a lovely 10-year-old as she stood facing the camera, wearing a plain white dress. "I'm ready for you any time," she said brightly, lifting her dress to give me a glimpse of her pussy down below.

A 7-year-old sat on her bed wearing a white nightgown, knees together but facing the camera, head bowed and hands clasped in prayer. "Dear John the Christ, who art in Boulder, hallowed be Thy name. I be but a small child, but if Thou should find me worthy, my little cunny belongs to Thee," she said, spreading her legs wide and lifting the nightgown to show her little organ. The camera caught her reverent but slightly naughty smile as it zoomed in. Her vagina was open, just a little, and I could plainly see it was wet. As the camera zoomed in, it squeezed shut and reopened three times.

There had for some time been life-sized anatomically correct dolls of me. The next clip started with a close-up of a hairless pussy slowly and sensuously descending onto my alter ego arrayed on its back. It found the doll's mouth, then beginning a rhythmic motion, pressing the delicate girl lips against 'my' mouth, rubbing them up over its nose and burying the nose into the pussy hole, while moans and gasps filled the sound track. The camera panned out to reveal a 10-year-old blond, her waist-length hair loose and flowing in all directions, partly revealing and partly obscuring the beginnings of breasts. She held herself up on her hands, one palm down on each side of the doll's head, as she pleasured herself. Her face was slack with building ecstasy, but she then focused on the camera with a solemn face and said, "Dear Christ, Sister Amelia has said she thinks it not against Your will to feel pleasure if our minds are firmly fixed on You, but we should try not to climax, reserving that for your presence. But it happened for me once, when I didn't know what a climax was and it took me by surprise. Can you forgive me, o Christ?"

I was panting with excitement, and paused the video long enough to stagger to the other room and lunge into a resident 6-year-old nymph from the rear and twitch her pussy full of cum.

A girl who looked to be about 8 was completely naked, squatting over the John Smith doll, holding its penis right at her cunny opening, moving the tip in and out just a fraction of an inch so it dilated her tender tissues. "Sister says it's natural I want to press down to take your thingie deep inside, but I shouldn't. She says it would be better if I waited for you to do that. Will you? Please? But -- oh, no, it's only Your will that matters -- I'm sorry." Her gorgeous girl face was stricken with contrition.

Four little girls ranging in age from 6 down to 2 pranced around in a circle, following each other. Each had on a dress of a different pastel color.

"Hail John, hail John, hail John," they chanted in ragged chorus.

"See my tushie!" chortled the big girl, hitching up her dress and mooning the camera. The others giggled.

"Mine too," said the next oldest. She smiled at the camera, then turned away and did a forward roll, shy girl parts showing briefly as she tumbled.

The third oldest got real close to the camera. "You can see my tushie and cunny and everything if you let me come see you, but not now!"

"That's not very reverent," came the voice of the big girl, off camera.

"It's OK," said the voice of the adult woman holding the camera.

The modest girl said, "But you wanna see my chest?" and she backed off enough to pull her dress out from her body so when she leaned forward I could see right down the front to her little nipples as she bent forward, smiling shyly.

"Watch this!" said the oldest girl. She stood on one foot, sideways to the camera, and then lifted the near leg up to the side sort of like a dog at a fire hydrant, holding her knee, until the whole space under the dress was on display, the leg she stood on, the upraised thigh, and between them her cunny lips that opened just a little.

"I love you, John!" said the second oldest, hitching up her dress and plopping back onto the carpet. She used her fingers to spread her young pussy lips out to the side to show her darker inner tissues, showing she was ready for my cock. The camera zoomed in to show her open cunny in detail.

"Yeah, I love you, John!" said the oldest, similarly plopping down. As the camera zoomed in, another girl's little fingers appeared and started sliding into the slick and willing tunnel before the cunny's owner's hand grabbed them and pushed them aside. "It's just for John!" scolded the big girl, as the camera revealed the shy girl sitting to her side, smiling impishly.

"You too, Vicky!" said the big girl, walking on her knees over to the youngest. "Show John your pussy cunt, Vicky." She raised the little girl's dress and spread her young thighs.

"Say hi to John," said the voice behind the camera. "Face me and say 'Hi, John'!" it came again.

"Hi, Don!" said the little one in her precious little voice, trusting face smiling at the camera.

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"I want them," I said to Annie, my young wife and closest confidant. "But am I thinking clearly about this?"

"Hmmm," she said with a thoughtful smile. "We know you should go for what you desire. Are you going to endorse the religion too?" she asked. "Come out as God?"

"I don't know, but I want them."

"Everybody's going to want to know whether you're really Jesus Christ the Second."

I thought a moment. "Why don't we just say that I don't yet know my true nature, but sexual congress with the girls of the DJC is the path forward for me in self-discovery."

Annie sat in thought.

I added, "I have a hunch this will be very good for embryo counts, too -- very, very good."

"Well," she sighed. "I guess we can't argue with that. But I bet the religion will grow like wildfire if you do that," she said. "It's close to an endorsement."

"That's not so bad, is it?" I said. "They have a progressive, tolerant message."

"True."

"And if they stray, I could have a revelation and nudge them in the right direction."

"OK, let's do it," she said, rising, though she paused and looked at me with partly feigned dismay. "What a pervert," she said gently.

I stuck my tongue out at her and said, "I remember a little 6-year-old who loved getting all sexy with a man," referring to our earliest days together.

She stuck her tongue out at me and we both grinned.

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Her name was Beth, she was 7 years old, and I'll never forget her. She was the first girl who spread her legs for me believing without question that she was getting fucked by God himself. And -- her mind unsullied by thousands of years of hang-ups about sex --she saw nothing at all strange about whispering, "Please, God, fuck me and come in my pussy!"

I felt a trace of guilt because I have my doubts about actually being God -- big doubts. But I am on a mission to save humanity from extinction, I am absolutely irreplaceable, and my effectiveness demonstrably depends on fulfilling my sexual whims. If I let girls believe I'm God as they open their little pussies for me, it's a sin of omission, right? Or at worst a white lie?

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Chapter 2. The Poetry Recital

For a surprise, the DJC organized a poetry recital for me.

There was an intimate but strongly lit stage with a gleaming hardwood floor, and five rows of theater seats ten seats across -- though they were all empty except for three big girls who were there as my assistants. In front of the seats was a leather-upholstered couch, and between that and the hardwood stage were a couple mattresses. I was seated in the middle of the couch.

A girl shyly came out from stage right, looking back through the door at whatever big girl was stage-managing before walking to the center of the stage. She looked to be about 4 years old, wearing a yellow T-shirt and pink skirt. She spoke in a lovely soft voice:

I made my pussy deep and wide So John the Christ could poke inside

We all clapped, and I motioned her to me.

"Very good, sweetie! Have a seat right here on my lap."

She sat on my left thigh, legs extended out straight over my right. "Are you going to stick it in me?" she asked with bright eyes. "The hole's right down here," she said, pointing to the front of her skirt.

"Not quite yet, honey," I said, "but I'll go exploring up there if you don't mind. Do you mind?"

"No," she said with a big smile.

My right hand slid up between her knees, and she spread her legs just enough so I could explore the satiny skin between her thighs. I stopped when I felt the soft flesh where they joined, and rested the backs of my knuckles against her vulva. I was having a little joint pain in my right middle finger, and my doctor said I needed to lay off the vibrator for a while.

"Ready for the next poem?" asked Francoise, the 13-year-old who was managing the event. I nodded.

Out came a girl I figured to be about 7, dressed in a diaphanous white dress that reached to mid-thigh.

"Are you really Him?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, honey, it's me. Relax. What's your poem?"

She cleared her throat.

I am nothing but my hole, John can fill it with his pole, I hope I make him long and firm, So he can fill my cunt with sperm.

I clapped politely. "How wonderful! But you should know that no matter what else, you are a complete person and not just your 'hole'." Sometimes these DJC people went a bit far. But then maybe it was her idea. "Can you come over here to see me, please?"

She came to stand in front of me.

"You want to show me this hole and demonstrate with your finger how it works?"

"OK," she said. She hitched up the dress and reached under to give me a glimpse of her lovely vulva, but the dress kept falling down.

"Hold the hem in your teeth," I said, and she caught on and smiled. Widening her stance to give herself room, she held her lips apart with her left fingers before plunging in with three fingers of her right. Yeah, my cock would fit in there nicely.

By now it was very hard. "Excuse me," I said to the little tike on my lap, and shifted her so she straddled my left knee, and reached down to toss aside the towel I had across my lap. Both girls saw my organ.

"That's it!" said the little one. "I see the holy cock!"

"You want to touch it?"

She nodded.

"Just hold it gently, OK?"

"OK," she whispered, and reached down with her right hand to caress it.

I reached up under her yellow T-shirt with my left hand to caress her smooth chest, running my index finger around her tiny right nipple.

"Can you come stand on the front of the sofa," I said to Miss Diaphanous White.

"Like this?" she said, finding spots to place her feet between me and the little one. She lost her balance and put her hand on my head to steady herself.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!" she said.

"What, because you touched God's head?" I said with a smile.

"Can you forgive me?" she whispered.

"That's just fine," I said, gently rubbing her tummy through the dress. "Use my shoulders. First put the hem back in your mouth."

"Oh, OK," she said, and there she was, this lovely girl, standing right in front of me, private parts offered reverently for my review, holding my shoulders gently.

I reached my head forward and sniffed her young labia before licking the crack, working my tongue in between and finding her little clit.

"Oh, John the Christ -- oops, I mean John -- that feels nice!" I'd told the SJC people repeatedly that I just wanted to be addressed as 'John', dispensing with any religious honorifics, but the girls forgot sometimes.

I could have nuzzled her with my face and licked her femininity for a long time, but there were other poems to hear, other poetesses to relate to. After half a minute, I motioned her to sit beside me on my right. She leaned against me without being asked.

I nodded at Francoise, and she motioned to someone behind the door.

An angel of about 8 came out, a girl with a full head of long brown hair, combed down to cover her front, reaching to the middle of her thigh. The hair sort of covered her chest on top. All she wore was dark red panties. In a strong clear voice, she said:

My body isn't big enough, To grow a babe from spermy stuff. But if they suck it out again, Mix it up with eggs -- well, then, Lots of women get their druthers; I did my part to make them mothers!

"Oh, my!" I said. "Did you make that up yourself?"

She nodded proudly.

"All yourself?"

She nodded again. I glanced at Francoise, who nodded as well.

"That's fantastic! Come here!"

As she stood in front of me, I parted her hair to look at the red panties. They had a big slit right over her junior snatch.

"Can you hold that open for me?" I asked. "I mean, if you don't mind?"

She smiled and nodded. I plunged in with the middle finger of my right hand, poking in over and over, feeling her slick wetness.

"That's just wonderful," I said. "Very sexy and pure." But I realized the girl I really wanted was the one to my right. I turned to her.

"Honey, come sit in my lap -- but if you don't mind, I'm going to glide my cock into your lovely pussy when you sit, OK?"

"OK!" she said.

I reluctantly withdrew my left hand from the inside of Miss Yellow T-shirt's T-shirt and nudged her out to my left.

The girl whose pussy I wanted got up to sit on my lap facing me, held her silky dress out of the way, and descended slowly. I guided her hips with one hand and my cock with the other, and I felt the delicious wet heat of her girlish tunnel slowly closing around me.

"Oh, my God!" she said under her breath. "He's really doing it to me!"

I chuckled. "Now up and down slowly," I said.

"Like this?" she said with a big smile, and she lifted herself up and set herself down again.

"Perfect," I said.

She smiled and repeated the motion, over and over. I nudged her head to one side so I could see straight ahead, and then enjoyed the excited little whispers she made so close to my ear.

I addressed the girl with the long brown hair and red panties. "Why don't you give me a foot massage?"

"OK," she said, and lay on the mattress on her front right at my feet. She took my right foot and began massaging the toes.

I nodded to Francoise.

Out came a girl of about 10, with light blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in jean shorts and a purple halter top.

I think it's destined not to be, That John will want to fondle me. But if by chance I find I'm wrong, And he will shaft me with his prong, With ease my supple cunt will stretch, And every little sperm I'll catch.

I clapped enthusiastically, my hands behind the back of the girl who was rhythmically impaling herself on me.

The legs on the newest girl were pretty skinny, as were her arms. Her face had an almost mystical glow. Seeing me surrounded by three girls and with my cock fucked up inside one of them, her face fell and she started to walk back towards the stage wing.

"Hold it, hold it!" I said, and she stopped. "Did you really mean that? Are you hoping to catch sperm with your cunt?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm willing, but you're busy."

"Come over here!" I said, and she did, bewildered. I kissed Miss Diaphanous White on the nose before lifting her off of me, and extricated my toes from Miss Red Panties and got off the couch.

I undid the button on the new girl's jean shorts, pulled the zipper down, and roughly and quickly pulled down the shorts and the white cotton panties within.

"Up on the sofa... On your knees, facing the back... Bend over." I fondled the luscious girly lips and spread them. "Can you say that poem once more?" I asked.

"Um, I think it's destined not to be, That John will want to fondle me. But if by chance I find I'm wrong, And he will shaft me with his prong,"

I surged my prong up inside the girl's cunt.

"Ooooo!" she said, then continued, "With ease my supple cunt will stretch, And every little sperm I'll catch."

Her cunt was indeed supple, as well as hot and wet, and I pounded away. Her pussy called for a sperm injection, and it was rapidly rising.

"Ready for the sperm?"

"Uhh, yeah!" she said.

"One... Two... Three," I said, pounding deep, bumping her inmost vaginal pocket with each thrust, "CATCH!" I said, spewing my precious fluid all over her upper cunt.

As she looked back over her shoulder, I reflected that there's nothing quite like a gorgeous girl who adores me without question.

"Ahhh," I said as I pulled out.

An attendant came over. "Hold still," she said softly to the sperm catcher as she inserted a whirrer into her pussy slot. The other girls looked on with interest. I motioned Miss Jean Shorts away, and as she left we exchanged smiles.

I seated us in a new configuration. Diaphanous White sat on my left, leaning against my shoulder, while Red Panties sat to my right. I took some of her brown hair and used it as a covering for my softening penis.

I looked at Francoise expectantly, and the next poetess emerged from the wings.

She looked to be barely 3 years old. She wore a short pastel blue dress and thick socks that reached just above her knees with bands of different shades of pink.

She was terribly cute, having the most adorable face with short brown hair and brown eyes. She also looked really nervous, looking back through the door a couple times before walking forward towards me.

"Hello," I said, trying to put her at ease. After several seconds of silence, I said, "Did you have a poem for me?"

Looking pale, the girl opened her mouth but nothing came out up there. Instead, a flood of pee flowed down the inside of her right thigh, instantly soaking her sock and making a growing puddle on the floor.

The girls with me started giggling. Tiny Miss Blue Dress looked mortified and burst into tears, turning and running back towards the door. But she slipped and sprawled face down, bawling.

Francoise approached from one side, and another big girl from behind the door, but I also leapt up and waved them back. I motioned for the girl from the stage door to toss me the towel she was carrying.

"Oh, honey!" I said, plopping myself down on the floor. "Are you OK?"

She just cried.

I picked her up under the armpits and seated her sideways on my lap as I sat cross-legged.

She looked at me with fear.

"It's really just fine, honey. You were very brave to agree to read your poem to such a very important man. I can see why you'd be so nervous." After looking at her carefully, I said, "You know, I think you're the most beautiful little girl I've seen!" I proceeded to dive in with my mouth and kiss her all over her head and hair. She stopped crying and looked at me with curiosity.

The pee from her leg and saturated sock soaked my own naked legs and genitals. "I kind of like girl pee, you know? Everyone pees, even beautiful girls. But I bet it's kind of yucky now, right? Let's get you dried off."

She just looked at me, studying my face, as I peeled off the saturated pink sock, then the other more-or-less dry one and tossed them aside. I hitched the blue dress up and found she wasn't wearing panties. With the towel I proceeded to dry off each leg, proceeding from foot to calf to thigh, then lifted her up to dry her bottom and vulva, also drying myself in the process. There was a little pee on the bottom end of her dress, so I lifted that off her too. Underneath she was wearing a silky little white undershirt trimmed with lace, and that was dry.

"Come back to the sofa with me," I said, lifting her once again under the armpits before cradling one arm under her bottom and holding her back with my other. As I sat on the sofa between the other girls I invited her to snuggle against me, which she did tentatively. "You're a wonderful little girl, and I'm delighted you came to see me. OK?" She just looked at me, and I repeated, "OK?"

Then she gave the hint of a smile and nodded.

Miss Red Panties leaned gently against me from the right while Miss Yellow T-shirt did so from the left, while the no-longer-virginal Miss Diaphanous White sat close by on her other side.

I motioned to Francoise.

A lively 6-year-old wearing nothing but a knee-length pleated Scottish plaid skirt came out grinning.

Although I write this silly rhyme, I'm really pining for the time, When John will call me in to him, And fuck his cock into my quim. I'll try to squeeze him hot and firm, Until he drowns my cunt with sperm.

I clapped and motioned her to come stand to the side, but little Miss Accident on my lap was still on my mind.

"Hi, honey," I said to her again softly. "What's your name?"

"Jessica," she said softly.

"Are you feeling better?"

She gave a trusting smile and nuzzled her head against me.

"You can go back behind the stage any time you want," I said. "Do you want to go now, or stay a little longer?"

"Stay," she said.

"Do you remember your rhyme now? It's OK if you don't, I'm just curious."

She smiled and said quietly,

John the Christ has come to earth, so women can again give birth.

"Very nice!" I said. "And you made that up yourself?"

She smiled proudly.

As I spoke to her my cock had risen to full hardness. "Would you like me to play with your pussy parts? That would be fun for me."

The girls all knew that was part of the deal of coming here. "OK," she said, but I could tell she wasn't enthusiastic.

"Listen, why don't you sit with this big girl," and I motioned to White Diaphanous, who took her from me and snuggled her down into her lap. I was glad to see that she was happy to make the little one feel welcome.

I turned to Miss Scottish Skirt. "Would you really like that? What your poem was about? Getting your quim fucked?"

She smiled eagerly.

"Let's do this properly," I said, rising. "You lie here." I pointed to the mattress, and she arrayed herself on her back. I moved to mount her in the standard old missionary position, spreading her legs and lifting her skirt at the last second. I held her little lips open with one hand and aimed my cock with the other. Her opening looked so small, but as I pressed it stretched to accommodate my intrusion, hot and wet. And it felt fantastic. I pumped into her deeper and deeper, and in under a minute my prong had filled her entire cunt to the hilt.

Through it all she lay watching me, smiling and giggling by turns. My lust was kindled, but my attention wandered from the lovely girl I was mating with. I was aware of the others. Looking at Yellow T-shirt and Red Panties, I told them, "Come over here and get the same way she is -- if you don't mind."

Both girls quickly complied with excited smiles. It was tempting to shoot my load into Scottish Skirt, but I wanted the others too. Pulling out of her, I slid over quickly to Red Panties and surged my divine sperm injector into her. She was tight and hot and looked at me intently. After I was seated firmly in her, and fucking away with firm, fast strokes, she whispered, "Feels nice!"

"Down in your cunny hole?"

"Yeah, just outside there."

"That's great," I said. "So you have a little idea why I like doing this so much?"

"A little," she said.

But Yellow T-shirt grabbed my interest, lying there patiently ready to receive my cock. Still fucking away in the one cunt, aware of the little bits of pleasure I was giving her, I spoke to Yellow T-shirt. "Can you say your poem again for me?"

"I made my pussy deep and wide so John the Christ could poke inside"

"Oh shit, girl, let me have at you!" That wasn't so much in character for God, but I was half wild with lust.

Pulling unceremoniously out of Red Panties, I mounted the littler one and shoved in urgently.

She repeated gently without prompting:

"I made my pussy deep and wide so John the Christ could poke inside"

"I'll say you did, honey!" She was hot and wet, and while her tight grip didn't seem deep and wide, it surely was compared to how she would normally be at that age. "Would you like to get my sperm?"

"Yes!" she said instantly. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"I want to give it to you."

"Goody!"

"It's gonna make a mess up inside your cute little body!"

"I really want it!"

Oh, what a perfect thing, so beautiful and so eager, her pussy silky and hot.

I pumped harder, my ecstasy building.

The girl looked at me urgently, then lifted her feet to rest them on the small of my back.

There aren't enough girls like this, I thought. The world needs more of them! And I was in heaven as my body convulsed, surging blobs of cum deep into the little girl's tight cunt.

"Oh, oh, oh!" I murmured and lay down partly on the girl, still gliding my softening organ in and out. But I could sense the big girl with the whirrer waiting, and after covering the young thing's face with kisses, I slid off to the side.

I flopped onto my back, and was aware of the delicious femininity around me. "Hey, can you put your pussy on my face?" I asked Red Panties (who no longer wore panties).

She instantly did as I asked, and I inhaled her sweet fragrance as I took to licking her. I licked my tongue over her inner lips and clit in a slow, luxurious motion, then repeated it -- over and over.

"Oh, wow!" she said, discovering that those good feelings she had from my cock pounding in and out of her pussy were just the beginning; they were much more intense when I attended directly to her pleasure. "Oh, wow, mmmm, ahhhh," she said, over and over. "Oh, sorry!" she said after a rather loud moan.

I freed my mouth long enough to say, "You should make all the noise you want. The way you could make me happiest is to feel just as good as you can, OK?"

She nodded urgently and looked relieved as my tongue once again made love to her tender tissues.

I had a lot of experience with little girl bodies. Some responded with strong sexual pleasure, and I knew how to satisfy them. Following her rhythm and signs, relishing her loud sighs, I licked away. Three minutes later she gave a muffled scream as some extra wetness from her pussy dripped onto my chin. The girl collapsed onto me, crushing my head, and with a smile I maneuvered out from under her.

Stroking the post-orgasmic girl's hair as I left, I resumed my position on the couch. As I went, I saw Scottish Skirt looking at my cock, licking her lips.

"That would be nice, honey," I said. "You want to come lick me?"

The girl nodded and soon stationed herself between my legs.

I looked at Francoise, and another girl came out.

She was 11 or so and totally naked, showing a trace of hips, a little downy fuzz on her mound, and nipples and breasts that had just begun their awakening towards womanhood.

The words that used to cause affront, Like snatch and pussy, quim and cunt, He likes to hear them from our lips, When into us his cock he slips. He fucks us hard for all he's worth, To make more babies for the earth!

The effect of the gentle lips on my cock, the allure of the new girl's body and her sexy words made my arousal soar.

"Oh, sh -- dear, honey, can I fuck you?" I asked urgently.

"Yes!" she said at once, looking around for my cue as to where I wanted the act to take place.

My urge was primal and uncivilized, and I strode over to her, grasped her behind her head and under her buttocks and lowered her quickly to the hard wood floor.

"Say those kind of words again!" I urged as I mounted her and nudged my cock tip against her fuzz.

"Umm, fuck my snatch? Ram into my pussy?"

"Yeah, that's it!"

"Shaft your rod up my quim. Take me. Bury your pole in my cunt and fuck me full of the stuff!"

With no padding to cushion her rear end and let it give way under the assault of my thrusts, we jammed together hard. I held back on the force of my fucking stabs so as not to bruise her, but still felt totally connected to her.

"Oh, it feels so good!" she said with passion. "Spasm that ball juice up into my girlcunt!"

And with that last little racy twist of encouragement, I did, spewing sperm up into the girl, right under the bright lights with the other girls all watching. When I was done, I rolled onto my back, holding her ass tight against me as I rolled. "Keep fucking me if you feel like it at all," I said.

She did, with enthusiasm, little breastlets jiggling, as my cock gradually softened. When it finally flopped out, the whirrer had to suction the stuff off of me as well as out of her.

I crawled onto the mattress, and after a few brief instructions spooned against Yellow T-shirt's back while Pubic Fuzz snuggled against me from behind, gently thrusting her pubic mound against my butt. I was tired, and felt myself drifting off. I probably only slept a few minutes before slowly regaining luxurious consciousness.

All the girls looked at me to see what they could do next to please me.

I saw White Diaphanous in whispered conversation with Miss Accident, then saw the latter smile and grin. The big girl lay back on the sofa with legs spread, and the tiny girl lay back between the big girl's legs and spread her own legs wide.

"You're invited," said the big girl, and the little girl's face showed approval.

My cock got hard again at the prospect, and I approached.

"You want me up your little pussy?" I asked gently.

The little one smiled and I mounted.

Young as she was, she was fully stretched and lubricated. I worked my cock in gently and slowly, and she giggled a few times.

"God's poking his peepee up my weewee parts," she said to no one in particular.

I kept my thrusts sweet and gentle, as befitted such a small girl. The pleasure was sweet and heavenly, though not leading towards orgasm.

I nodded to Francoise.

And out stepped a 9-year-old in a short tan silky dress. She hesitated when she saw me fucking away in the little one, and I decided to pull out and give my full attention to the poetry. With shoulder-length light brown hair and baby blue eyes, she was very alluring.

I hope some day I'll get the chance, For John to poke my underpants, His Godly cock is long and wide, To stuff me good and tight inside, I know he'll raise my silky dress, Then puncture me and make his mess.

That image was so arousing that I leapt up and escorted her to the wall at the edge of the stage. Then pressing the eagerly compliant girl up against the wall, I raised her silky dress with one hand and poked my rude, intrusive organ underneath. Where I might have found a bare pussy I poked against underpants, just as I expected. But with one hand I swept them to the side and did just as she asked, puncturing her body with one long thrust. I savored the fuck for its pleasure and for the adoration the girl showed. But standing that way isn't the most stable or restful position. Within a minute my thrusts got faster and deeper, and I even lifted the surprised girl off the floor an inch as in my primal lust I went for every last millimeter of depth.

"Up under my silky dress, Fuck me good and make your mess!"

she improvised passionately as she caressed my head with one hand.

I did, surging large globs of sperm into the girl, making quite the teeming mess up her virgin pussy. When whirred out, those pulses of sperm would start a few thousand babies.

Now truly tired, I trudged over to the mattress and lay down, motioning for all the girls to join me.

"You want to hear my second poem?" asked Red Panties.

"Sure," I said, sleepily.

Although we make our pussies slick, So John can shaft us with his prick, To other boys and men we're chaste, Just John can dump his baby paste.

"Mmmm, that's a nice one. And if I weren't worn out I'd give you a big dose of baby paste."

She giggled.

I lay down and closed my eyes.

"Snuggle in and let me touch you all," I said.

And the smell of little girl was delicious and restful.

"And can a couple of you suck on these with cunts?" I said, indicating my two thumbs.

After a couple giggles, each hand was gently pulled out to the side and promptly enveloped in a hot, wet pussy.

"How about those poems again?

And with a little whispered prompting from Francoise in the background, I heard, each in a different, hauntingly sweet voice:

"I made my pussy deep and wide So John the Christ could poke inside"

"My body isn't big enough, To grow a babe from spermy stuff. But if they suck it out again, Mix it up with eggs -- well, then, Lots of women get their druthers; I did my part to make them mothers!"

"John the Christ has come to earth, So women can again give birth."

"I think it's destined not to be, That John will want to fondle me. But if by chance I find I'm wrong, And he will shaft me with his prong, With ease my supple cunt will stretch, And every little sperm I'll catch."

"I hope some day I'll get the chance, For John to poke my underpants, His Godly cock is long and wide, To stuff me good and tight inside, I know he'll raise my silky dress, Then puncture me and make his mess."

"The words that used to cause affront, Like snatch and pussy, quim and cunt, He likes to hear them from our lips, When into us his cock he slips. He fucks us hard for all he's worth, To make more babies for the earth!"

"Although we make our pussies slick, So John can shaft us with his prick, To other boys and men we're chaste, Just John can dump his baby paste."

"Although I write this silly rhyme, I'm really pining for the time, When John will call me in to him, And fuck his cock into my quim. I'll try to squeeze him hot and firm, Until he drowns my cunt with sperm."

And surrounded by a pile of sighing girl, brimming with vitality, every little cunt fucked at least once, two gripping my thumbs, I drifted off to sleep, poetry fragments weaving through my dreams:

... pussy deep and wide so he could poke inside ... and he will shaft me with his prong, ... with ease my supple cunt will stretch, and every little sperm I'll catch ... fuck his cock into my quim. I'll try to squeeze him hot and firm, until he drowns my cunt with sperm. ... I know he'll raise my silky dress, then puncture me and make his mess.

---------------------------------------------------------

The SJC religion grew. Compassion, love, justice, free speech, respect for all races and cultures, sustainable development with attention to environmental conservation -- those were values I'd been pushing for years. The popularity of the Parable of the Girl Who Wet Her Socks amused me to no end, but I had to admit that it did demonstrate some of my values in action.

I insisted on religious tolerance, even as I was the central figure in SJC. Although it might have been tempting to my megalomaniac side to ask devout SJC women and girls to be true to me alone, I also have compassion for men. I encouraged 'my' women to marry and honor and respect their husbands. I even urged them to keep their husbands sexually satisfied, earning me some support among men for a societal configuration that is dominated by women -- and me, the champion alpha male of all time. I even have compassion for my fellow pedophiles, and encourage girls of a particularly frisky bent to satisfy them if they're so inclined.

Am I really God, or more precisely Christ II? I still don't feel like it. So far I've had a much easier time of it than Christ I. I didn't need to gain attention by making inspiring speeches. The only miracle I perform involves no effort for me other than achieving orgasm. No Romans persecute me, and there has been no direction from God to let anyone crucify me. I just fondle and fuck any awe-struck and devout little girl whenever it strikes my fancy. My sexual appetite seems to grow ever more prodigious the more extravagantly it is satisfied. Yet this is all to the benefit of the species, as embryo counts keep rising.

Maybe all it takes to claim you're the Second Coming is -- balls.


(first posted 3/10/2012)

I'd love to know what you thought of my story... From: If you put in a real email address above I can write you back. I plan to reply to all civil comments. To: Sterling Subject: Comments: