Storiesonline.net ------- Buying Wholesale by Thinking Horndog Copyright© 2007 by Thinking Horndog ------- Description: An experimental large-scale pickup of colonists is mounted in an effort to boost the numbers of those escaping the Swarm. Codes: MF mF ScFi cons slave het exhib oral anal BBW ------- ------- Warnings and disclaimers: This is adult entertainment! Be warned! If you're not into graphic depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you! If you're too young to be legally reading this, move along! This is a work of fiction. It is not intended to reflect any particular person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form solely in the writer's imagination. You get the idea. ------- Chapter 1 Things had changed, but people on Earth needed the familiar, so even while some institutions crumbled and fell away, others remained to give people something to cling to. The Clark County Fair has been going on every July for the past hundred and fifty years, and it was going on today, nearly two and a half years after the announcement that aliens were coming to destroy the world. There were a lot of people on Earth who weren't going to be able to do much about it -- and EVERYBODY needed a little time away from the harsh realities of the situation. The 4-H club kids were there with their animals and plants for the livestock show and the various other competitions, the handicrafters and the cooks and the farmers were all there looking for prizes or markets for their various wares in the exposition barns and -- perhaps most important -- the carnival midway was in full swing with its rides and shills and 'games of chance' and other entertainments. The throngs were everywhere from the riding rings to the restrooms -- where at least one odd phenomenon was going on: Apparently, the end porta-potty was ALWAYS occupied, and people came out regularly -- but no one in line ever saw anyone go in... The changes were there for all to see, but they were becoming the norm, allowing people to ignore them, usually -- and in some cases, they were just extensions of phenomena that had been in place for some time... Something about the fair had always led women to make questionable fashion choices -- whether it was the heat or just a certain feeling of freedom wasn't certain, but there it was -- and this year, pressures generated by the urgent need to be desirable to a selectee for the Confederacy's Defense Forces on a moment's notice had driven just about everyone to serious extremes. Standards that two years before would have been considered 'decent' were by the wayside; teenage girls, in particular, wore almost nothing. Somewhere, somehow, a consensus had formed in the fashion world that going bottomless was unsanitary -- and that was the only limit; the uniform of the day for teenage girls was a bikini bottom or micro-mini skirt (usually a jean skirt) and flip-flops, and an over-the shoulder handbag that tended to be heavy, but contained whatever the wearer figured she just HAD to have to survive if she wandered into a pickup... Even THAT 'standard' was breached, here and there, by girls who wanted to be cutting-edge; that minority ditched the panty or the skirt (if there was a skirt, it was likely that there was no panty beneath -- that was the compromise of the pseudo-brave) and wandered the midway and the paths in nothing but flip-flops and a purse -- and perhaps some body paint, something that was enjoying ROARING sales... Older women tended to go with the minimum that presented them well -- or what they thought did, anyway. Some could -- and did -- compete on an even footing with their younger counterparts -- and a fair number who really shouldn't have tried duplicated the effort... Did it lead to some kind of licentious bedlam? No. When one or two or five women do something like this, it's an irresistible lure; when a couple of thousand do, it is sensory overload. Things had been drifting in this direction for two years -- plenty of time for everyone to get over the whole thing. Oh, it was nice -- a veritable wonderland of exposed flesh -- but it wasn't abnormal in any way any more, so everyone tended to ignore it -- even the males ignored it while enjoying it. It wasn't a 'look, but don't touch, ' situation, either; that wall had come down, too. No still meant no -- and if anything, penalties for crossing the line to rape were more viciously enforced. But the universal availability of nanobot birth control and cures for most sexually-transmitted diseases, coupled with a need to become sexually sophisticated that extended down to the age of fourteen brought the availability of sex to the average guy up to a level where it had probably never been before. Male sexual advertising was the newest fad; the codpiece was back in style, among other things. But a CAP card with a score above six point five on it made you a preferred mate no matter WHAT you looked like; guys who had never been able to compete before suddenly found themselves very much in demand... Women were getting used to having casual samplings made of their various charms; a pat on the ass or a squeeze of a breast in the workplace that would have gotten a guy fired just a couple of years before for sexual harassment was now confirmation to a woman that, yes, she WAS desirable; instead of freaking out, the majority now treated casual touching by a male as a compliment. Of course, there were women out there that didn't want it -- and you could pick them out of a crowd pretty easily by the way they dressed. With the vast majority headed the other direction, they pretty much got their wish... When the ability to have sex in public becomes a survival trait, it's going to happen. The planning committee for this year's fair actually set aside areas where they hoped to keep it contained -- but just like indecent exposure, prohibitions against 'public displays of affection' were by the wayside. Couples were fucking on the Ferris wheel -- regularly. In fact, the carnival had gone to some expense to redesign the seats with padding and altered restraints so that couples could enjoy sexual activity on the ride in safety and comfort -- and the modifications had paid for themselves handsomely after VERY little advertisement. The freedom to bring one of their most powerful weapons to bear in public gave women certain advantages, too. Boyfriend says no to buying the big teddy bear? No problem -- after you've knelt up right there on the midway and fished his cock out of his pants and sucked on it a bit, looking up at him with big, soulful eyes, his resolve will no doubt crack... So what if you get looks from old grandmas who grew up in the Stone Age when you had to cover up everything from head to foot -- it's good advertising. If boyfriend turns out to be not sufficiently malleable, somebody who IS will probably drift over to watch enviously... The tools and thought process had been around forever, but free play had been clamped down on pretty hard for quite a while; now it was 'weapons free' for sexual wiles... Looks counted for a lot, as usual -- but it had been pounded into the collective consciousness that looks were NOT a selection criterion for the CDF and that if you managed to make the trip, your looks could be altered radically. For those who couldn't really afford to expose themselves too radically, T-shirts with 'I'm performance-oriented!' prominently displayed were all the rage... 'So what if Sugar Daddy is sixty? If he doesn't have a heart attack before he's picked up, he'll be twenty-five and hunky... ' 'Yeah, Edna weighs two-seventy-five and has tits that hang like gunnysacks to her waist -- but she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch and fucks like a carnival ride! I'll shrink her and her jugs down to something more pleasant to look at when the time comes -- in the meantime, I'm being well taken care of... ' More and more of this type of thought process was appearing... and it was a good thing for those involved, in most cases. Moving a whole company of Marines into the area was a bear, more or less; Marines had a standard augmentation package that made them two meters tall, for one thing -- which was ESPECIALLY prominent in females. Hot looking babes that stood six feet seven just weren't normal. But even infusing guys that height into the population wasn't going to work perfectly... ------- "Hey, Buddy!" Lance Corporal Eduardo Colon gazed down in surprise at the pint of peanuts tugging on his arm. "Yeah?" "Come here a minute, willya?" The girl started dragging him off to an area between two booths. Ed thought about resisting, but it would make a scene... Looking around, he noticed a heavier, Hispanic-looking girl following them. Glancing at his watch, he noted that he had twenty minutes to get into position, anyway... Once between the booths, the girl stopped tugging and stood there, fists on hips, her stare underlined by the fine pair of conical titties standing out from her chest. "Okay, so what's going on?" Ed glanced around -- nobody but the other girl seemed to be following the conversation. "Excuse me?" "Look, Dude, any monkey can tell you're a Marine -- you stand out like a sore thumb!" the girl announced. "Something is up -- wanna tell me about it?" 'Shit!' "I don't know what you're talking about," Ed bluffed. "Yeah, right! Even if you weren't fourteen feet tall, the way you walk watching everything at once would give you away!" the girl insisted. "Quit jerking me around and maybe I can help!" "Yeah? Like how?" Ed demanded. "Protective coloration," the girl replied, eyeing him narrowly. "Camouflage, I think it's called. You need someone else with you so you don't scream what you are just by being here..." "The female is correct," sounded in his ear. "Perhaps you can enlist her aid without exposing anything." "I'm on vacation," Ed grunted. "Liar!" The girl stomped a flip-flop shod foot, throwing up a puff of dust. Behind Ed, the other girl muttered, "Maybe we shouldn't..." "Quiet, Mindy -- I know what I'm doing." The girl's eyes hadn't left his. "If you want, I can go out there and start yelling 'Marine!' and pointing and see what happens..." Ed could kill her where she stood -- and he MIGHT get the other one before SHE could move, too -- but it wasn't even CLOSE to the mission parameters. "You'd just make things a lot harder on a whole bunch of people," he replied reasonably. "I figured. Are you gonna get some people here, then?" "How old are you, Honey?" "Old enough." The eyes never left his. "The highest probability assessment of her motivations indicates that she will assist you if you provide her with access to the extraction," the AI intoned. "No shit," Ed muttered under his breath. "All right, Honey -- suppose you prove that." The girl dug in her purse -- a big shoulder bag, the wide strap of which crossed from her left shoulder between her pert breasts to her right hip. "Here," she muttered, producing a CAP card. Somehow, the six point one on it wasn't surprising at all. The age was, though -- the tiny thing was fifteen! "What about her?" Ed asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the other girl. "Fish it out, Mindy." The heavy girl circled around front and handed him her card, gazing at him solemnly. That SHE was fifteen wasn't that much of a surprise, although she was carrying a good bit of baby fat and her legs still had that undefined, childlike look. That the other girl was running things was also not surprising; Mindy had a three point seven -- and a LOT of sheep in her. The other girl was obviously the sheepdog... "Okay, I guess I can deal with you directly, and not your momma," Ed grunted. "Is she here?" The girl shrugged. "Somewhere. Let's not get into that. You were going to tell me what's going on." She was staring him down again... "Maybe I was trying to decide whether to stun you and leave you here!" Ed retorted. The girl's age finally showed as her nerve began to crack. "Come on!" she cajoled. "Am I that bad?" "Well, no..." Ed shook his head. She was a kid -- except behind those eyes. Fucking her would make him feel like a child-molester. "But you're not my type." "What about her?" the girl's eyes flicked to her girlfriend. "Show him how good you give head, Mindy." The chunky girl glanced at her, glanced at him, glanced back at her, and moved to kneel before Ed. "That isn't necessary," Ed got out before something stupid happened. "I don't have time for it." "What DO you have time for?" the girl asked, back in the saddle. "Not much." Ed sighed. "Okay, yes, we're doing a pickup here -- a BIG one. You really don't need my help, if you want to go..." "You need ours, though," the girl replied. "I'm just the first person to see what's going on -- there will be a bunch more before you get where you're going," she cocked her head, "which is?" "I'm heading for the horse show ring," Ed supplied. "It might not be a prime location for you." He eyed her. "You might want to go to the amphitheater." The girl cocked her head. "What if I stay with you?" "You'll probably be all right," Ed admitted. "Good." The girl nodded and fished two rubber bands from her purse, making a pair of dog-ear pony-tails in her hair in short order. "Carry me -- let me ride on your hip. Mindy, you stick with us. Hold his hand, if you can." Ed blinked. "And this helps -- how?" The girl grimaced. "I look even younger than I am, right? Well, you're Daddy, now... Your height won't be so obvious with me hanging off you -- and Mindy will help..." "The female's grasp of the situation is admirable," the AI intoned. "Okay." Ed held out an arm and the girl jumped up to settle with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. She wasn't heavy. Turning to her girlfriend, she directed, "Mindy, take, uh..." she glanced at Ed. "Ed." "Take Ed's hand and pretend he's your step-dad. It's a step up for you, anyway..." Ed didn't get into that; Mindy thudded up, her walk still childish, and grabbed Ed's right hand, and they moved back out into traffic. "What's YOUR name?" he asked his burden. "Lisa," came the reply. "How many women do YOU have, Ed?" "Quiet." Shifting to sub-vocalization, Ed muttered, "Tell Sarge -- he's probably gonna..." "Sergeant Holden and your squad mates have been advised. The Sergeant commends you on your intelligent handling of the situation. You still have sixteen minutes to assume your station." Ed grinned. Sarge had probably said something on the order of, "Congrats! You didn't TOTALLY stick your dick in it..." "Ed, slow down! You're marching!" Lisa hissed. "Look at the stands and stuff, okay? Jeezus! Don't drag Mindy's arm off!" "The female is again correct," the AI advised. "You have more than adequate time and need to appear casual." Ed slowed down, rolling his eyes, turning his attention to a booth where prizes were to be won by throwing darts. The AI murmured, "The darts have been rendered unbalanced, of course." "Of course," Ed whispered back. "You didn't answer me," Lisa said as they turned toward a booth where people were trying to throw rings over the necks of bottles. "How many women do you have?" "Too many," Ed grunted. "Besides, you're not my type -- I don't do little girls..." Ed was down to two from four, in reality; two of them had been manipulative little vixens, too vicious to leave with each other, let alone his other pair. They'd needed a firm hand -- and Ed wasn't the type to want to totally rule a woman. At the end of a chain of transactions, he managed to hand them off to a squad-mate -- and not get anything in return worth keeping. The squad mate had managed to keep one, but the other one persisted in various stupidities until she managed to run into something that didn't operate the way she thought it should -- something lethal... The other pair -- Lulu and Tina -- weren't much more independent than Mindy; Ed worried that they would forget to breathe if he was out of sight for very long... Lisa took his chin and turned his head until he locked eyes with her. "If you took me, I'd want you to have me sized up to at LEAST five foot nine, with thirty-eight or forty inch hips and a nice, plush ass -- and have my pussy sized up if it needs it so it fits you perfectly." Her eyes bored into his. "I'm NOBODY's little girl..." Suddenly, she was infinitely desirable. "I'll think about it," Ed choked out and turned his head away. Warm breath moved in his ear while she murmured, "So, you CAN have another... What about two? When Mindy loses her baby fat, she just gonna be fat, you know -- unless somebody helps her..." "If I took you on, I'd have to put you in charge of my other two," Ed muttered, amazed at how he'd let the situation slip. "If you did," she whispered back, "you'd never want for anything..." Ed found himself getting hard. "How do you do that?" "What?" Lisa backed off so he could look at her. "Set me off!" Ed replied. "I'm serious about the little girl thing. You shouldn't be able to..." "Ed, Honey, trust me -- I'm NOT a little girl! I'm just stuck with the body of one! It's pretty frustrating, believe me!" "Okay, okay..." Ed let go of Mindy to rub Lisa's back. "Little Napoleon..." "I'm not THAT pushy, am I?" her eyes held his, but they were concerned. "Well..." Ed thought about it. "It's more that you seem to have such a handle on what's going on. I wouldn't say you're pushy so much as a leader." "Oh." Lisa glanced back over his shoulder. "Mindy..." She turned her attention back to Ed. "Better give her your hand..." Ed dropped his hand to his side and the other girl took it; gazing at Lisa, he just shook his head -- and she knew what he was implying. "Some people..." she husked, laying her head on his shoulder. "Yeah." Some people needed to be led -- and many of them ended up following the wolves, not the sheepdogs... A thought occurred to him. "Sex?" Lisa got it. "A little. Not much -- being little can be a blessing if you don't want to spend your whole life on your back. I give pretty good head -- but lots of times, they opt for Mindy." Her tone darkened. "Poor Mindy -- she knows too much, probably; her daddy likes her ass..." Ed grimaced. "To beat it?" he asked, hoping he'd been too dirty- minded. "No." Lisa gazed back over his shoulder at her girlfriend. "Well, maybe that, too." "Nasty." "She's a little... broken..." Lisa's gaze, troubled, still rested on her friend who plodded along on Ed's right, her hand trustingly placed in his. 'Broken probably describes it, ' Ed thought. He'd read that, in many cases, a child preyed upon in that manner would do whatever the predator wanted -- any place, any time... "How long?" he asked. "Years," Lisa replied. "She didn't tell me -- she doesn't really understand that it's wrong. But I don't go to her house any more. I think he's moved on to her little sister, mostly." Ed shook his head. It was fucking disgusting -- but it happened. There were laws designed to keep it from happening, but they had to get caught... Ed really didn't have a beef against incest -- he'd seen times where it was a good thing -- but this was predation, plain and simple. This didn't bear any resemblance to his cousin Nona, who'd crawled into her father's bed every night for a week before breaking down his resistance to popping her cherry. That was just as illegal, but wasn't immoral -- well, by Ed's lights, anyway. Shit, he hadn't lasted ten minutes with Nona; she'd crawled into his bunk, put his hand on her bare tit and reached for his cock... No, Uncle Jack wasn't a criminal. There was a big difference between a girl hunting it from a loved one and a guy who abuses little kids -- even if the law didn't seem to think so... "What are you thinking about?" Lisa asked. "Nothing..." Knowing he couldn't get away with that, he added, "Pretty sorry..." "Yeah." They broke free of the midway and walked across the relatively open ground to the riding ring. Equestrian events were up right now; barrel races and more rodeo-oriented events would be later and motorcycle events and the tractor-pull that night -- or that had been the original plan, at least... Ed's partner on this end, CPL Mike Evans, was leaning on the fence next to the grandstand. "What's all this?" Mike asked. "My disguise," Ed replied. "Nice." Mike turned toward the ring, where a young female rider in traditional garb -- helmet, jacket, blouse, jodhpurs, and knee-high boots -- was putting her horse through its paces, "I think this is the only place on the fairgrounds where the girls are wearing anything -- and here I stand... Where did you collect them?" "They collected me," Ed replied. Mike eyed the girls. "Are they your new s--, uh, concubines?" Ed opened his mouth, but Lisa got there first. "We're working on it. Do you know of any reason why we shouldn't be?" Mike looked amused. "I had Ed pegged for a grave-robber, not a cradle-robber..." "We're legal -- you can bet he checked..." Lisa assured him. "You gonna put her down?" Mike asked. "Not until he has to," Lisa announced. "Hey, Ed, do you talk any more?" Mike cackled. Lisa shut up, glaring. Ed eyed Mike. "On occasion. If she wants to talk and I don't feel like arguing..." That got him a bus on the cheek. Mike grunted. "You could share -- I need a disguise, too." Ed flicked a glance at Mindy. "Pick her up, then..." "Asshole!" Mike shot back, grinning. "Mindy," Lisa said, leaning over behind Ed's back. "Mike is Ed's friend -- and he's also one of them... Go stand with him and pretend he's your step-dad." "Okay." Mindy switched sides, sliding between Mike and Ed, matching Mike's stance leaning on the fence rail as best she could. Ed took a moment to look the heavier girl over -- she just didn't look... mature... The chunky body sported a couple of splayed titties that would probably fit in small paper cups capped by pretty good sized areolas and eraser-sized nipples. Right now, they stuck out fairly straight, but they were going to sag... As Ed watched, Mike put his hand on her ass; Mindy, blank-faced, lifted her skirt to allow him to contact her bare ass -- no panties there... Mike jerked his hand away. "I thought I was gonna be your dad?" "She comes from a close-knit family," Ed muttered. Mindy just looked at him blankly, then shifted her gaze to Lisa, who told her, "Different rules, Min. Just snuggle up and let him lead, okay?" Mindy eyed Mike questioningly while setting her blocky hip against his thigh. Mike gingerly put his hand on her waist, and Mindy put hers over his. "What's up?" Mike subvocalized on the squad's local channel. "The worst thing you can think of," Ed replied, just as quietly. "She's been molested -- regularly -- and doesn't know any better." "Shit." Mike squeezed Mindy to him. She gazed up at him, still poker-faced, but seemed satisfied and shifted her attention to events in the ring. "So where is everyone?" Ed asked. "Sarge and Lewis are on the other side of the stands," Mike muttered, "Langston and Hughes got caught up in something and haven't arrived. Matthews and Edwards are right over there..." "And Mixon and Hunter?" Ed asked. "Behind the stands." "How long?" "Seven minutes," Mike and the AI said in unison. Ed wondered why he'd even asked -- he knew the answer. Nerves, apparently. Lisa pressed her breasts against his side. "So how big is this?" "Big," he whispered. "The whole fair." "Wow!" She said nothing else, just snuggled in close. Mindy eyed them, her face vaguely jealous, and started trying to shift Mike's hand over her belly. Mike let it ride until she lifted the waistband of her skirt, then told her, "You don't have to do that." Mindy didn't say anything -- just looked mildly unhappy. The AI waited a few seconds, then announced to both males, "There is considerable distress in Mindy. Prime computation is that she believes that you are denying her affection." Mike frowned. "She seems fine." "Her heartbeat and several other metabolic markers are elevated," the AI argued. "Research indicates that children exposed to the type of abuse she has seen do not display their emotions. They internalize their conflicts and pain -- this is according to your species' psychological data." Lisa, sensing a change in Ed, raised her head. "What's wrong?" "Mindy may be... unhappy." Lisa snapped her head around. "Oh, Lord... Min! Outsider rules!" Mindy stopped wrestling with Mike's hand immediately, gazing up at him in a clear effort to gauge his level of concern. Mike smiled encouragement and she settled back against him, but seemed unwilling to allow him to move his hand to more neutral territory and watched Lisa from the corner of her eye. Her expressions were subtle, but Ed was already learning to read her; she was sulking. "It isn't over, is it?" he subvocalized. "Yours is the high-probability assessment," the AI agreed. "Stubborn and jealous appear to be the terms for her current state." "Recommendations?" "Allow her to continue." "I'll end up with my hand in her twat!" Mike hissed. "You cannot reach it. She will be satisfied when you have reached the limit of what you can do," the AI replied. The two soldiers shared a glance. "Fine," Mike grunted, and relaxed his hand, stopping his attempted withdrawal. Mindy waited a moment, then gently started rubbing his hand to cover an attempt to move it further. Mike allowed this, and Mindy relaxed visibly while slowly working his hand under the skirt's waistband. "I can't believe I'm doing this," Mike subvocalized. "It'll be all right," Ed replied. "Four minutes. I'm watching things," he added, well aware that Mike was distracted. Two minutes later, she had all she could get. Mike had a palm over her soft, round belly, and a couple of fingers touching the narrow vertical strip of her pubes that she left when she shaved her mons for Daddy. She looked up at the big guy sidelong, and, confident that he knew where he was and what he was doing, settled down happily. "Girl needs a lot of help," Mike muttered. "Yeah," Ed agreed. ------- Chapter 2 Elsewhere, teams moved into various positions. The plan was to herd everybody to a couple of locations and process them as quickly as possible, transporting 'family' groups as soon as they were created. As a result, the fairground perimeter was covered; there were three drones overhead to allow for subdividing things as necessary to maintain control. Captain McPherson, commander of Bravo Company, Second Battalion, Seventh Marine Brigade, made his way with his XO to the control booth from which the fair's loudspeaker system was controlled. Despite planning, CPT McPherson was certain that this was going to be a total disaster -- but he'd gotten greedy and volunteered, so Bravo Company was stuck with the mission -- and in ninety seconds, planning and execution were going to diverge... "Ninety seconds, people. Start digging out those armbands." Since they couldn't wear uniforms, and they had masses of people to interact with, it had been decided that armbands with the Confederacy Marine sigil and the individual's rank on them would act to identify them to 'civilians'. Undoubtedly, it would also make them targets... Troops all over the perimeter dug in pockets and purses and recovered the armbands, awaiting the fifteen- second mark to put them on. In the meantime, CPT McPherson, 1LT Briggs, and 1SG Watkins took over the booth... "Pardon me," CPT McPherson told a startled fair official, "I have a few announcements to make if you don't mind..." The official, a florid individual about sixty years old, started to huff -- but 1SG Watkins cut him off. "That means get up, in case you didn't realize it. The Captain likes to handle things gently. I'm more direct, though -- you've got until I get to you to get out of that chair..." "Now see here!" the man blustered. LT Briggs had the other booth occupant trapped in a corner; when the official looked in his direction for assistance, it became clear that it wasn't forthcoming. "You can't..." Watkins had him by the shirt collar by then. "Guess again, Bub. We're trying to be polite, here, but this is a Marine operation..." "Marines?" The man went white. "Here? There will be chaos!" "We're hoping that won't be the case," McPherson said mildly. "Your assistance would be greatly appreciated." "Yes, yes, of course..." The official started dealing with the changed circumstances. "If I could see some identification?" Watkins was ready to frog-march him out of there, but McPherson merely handed the man his ID. "Certainly, Captain," The man muttered. "Do you wish to use the intercom, or would you prefer to speak through me?" "We're properly prepped." McPherson eyed his watch, "AND behind schedule. ALL HANDS, EXECUTE! EXECUTE! EXECUTE!" he passed on the company's internal net. The AIs triggered the drones... ... and from inside the fairground, the view of the surroundings shifted to shades of grey... ------- Before the reaction got too far advanced, McPherson got on the PA system, "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please! You are about to participate in a historic experiment -- in an effort to speed things, we plan to attempt to fill a transport today from this site! Please remain calm and cooperate with my troops -- they can be identified by their armbands. We have a lot of work to do and can't really put up with anything serious in the way of a disturbance, so I'm asking you now to follow our instructions and try not to start any trouble -- and I think you'll be pleased with the results!" He shut off the mike and turned to Lt Briggs. "XO?" "I make it seven hundred thirteen and a hundred forty nine, Sir," Briggs replied, studying his sensor relay. McPherson keyed the mike. "According to our data, there are seven hundred thirteen male and a hundred forty nine female volunteers here with us on site -- if you would make yourselves known to the nearest Marine, we'll see to it that you're not molested in any way while we conduct the next phase of things. People, I know that many of you are in family groups -- while you may wish to take your spouse with you, you are under NO OBLIGATION to do so -- but if you already have a group of dependents sorted out, we'll be happy to honor it." He took a breath. "As for everyone else -- if your last name begins with A through H, please report to the amphitheater. If your last name begins with I through Q, please report to the sales barn. All others, please report to the ring where the riding events are held. Thank you in advance for your cooperation." He shut off the mike. "And so it begins..." The official scurried up. "I took notes -- if you would like, I can repeat the instructions at intervals..." "Very well," McPherson nodded. Turning to 1SG Watkins, he said, "Top, please mind the store here -- we may need to change things on the fly. You can pass further instructions to this gentleman..." "Aye, Sir!" Watkins gave the official the fisheye, but made no move. "Let's go, XO," McPherson muttered, and led Briggs out. ------- Transporters appeared at the designated sites as the Captain made his pitch over the PA, placed there by Marines waiting for the signal. Immediately, teams lugging equipment stepped through the portal and began setting up. "Wow!" Lisa exclaimed, "What are they doing?" "We can't go through the usual rigamarole," Ed told her, "so we're going to try something different. You'll see." He put her on her feet. "I need my hands now." "Do I stay with you?" Lisa asked. "That's up to you, Honey. You do what you think is best," Ed advised. "What if I want to?" Lisa asked, her eyes serious. "Then, yeah, I'll take you," Ed gusted. Turning to Mindy, he added, "Both of you." Mindy looked mildly confused until Lisa crooked a finger, then she glanced up at Mike and backed away. Mike just nodded; he wasn't sure he wanted the responsibility she entailed -- besides, he HAD his quota... "Stay out of my way, but within reach," Ed instructed. "If things drop in the pot, I might need to move fast -- and I'll want you right behind me!" "Yes, sir!" Lisa nodded, all business. "Don't call me 'Sir' -- I work for a living!" Ed snapped. Lisa looked confused, but Mike rescued her. "Officers are 'Sir' -- we're not officers." "Oh..." "Don't worry, you'll catch on." Mike swept his gaze across the ring -- "Don't bug us now -- we need to work..." ------- Peter Wilson stood in the dusty parking lot, staring at the wall of energy that robbed the color from the fairgrounds before him. It was ironic; ever since he'd hit six point six on his annual CAP retest (these took less than fifteen minutes, as a rule, given the stored base data on the individual involved -- and they gave some people hope, so they were allowed once every twelve months when everyone who was going to test in an area had done so) he and his wife Beth had been virtually inseparable -- to the point that she had quit her job, and they ran all of their errands together. Now, they happened upon an unexpected but absolutely perfect situation -- but they were on the outside of the barrier! "No fair?" Little Paulette, who was riding his left hip, asked. "Yeah," Peter grunted. "No fair." He turned sadly away from the fairgrounds and began trudging back toward his car, thinking glumly, 'No fair at all... '. "Excuse me -- Mr. Wilson? Mr. Peter Wilson?" Peter looked up; a tall, muscular guy in a brush cut stood beside him. "Yes?" "May I speak with you -- in private?" "My wife can hear anything you have to say..." Peter blustered. "Please, Sir -- it's best if we spoke privately for just the moment -- then by all means..." The man waved him away. Peter put Paulette down and turned to Beth. "I'll be right back." Then he trudged off to where the irritating fellow was standing. "May I see your CAP card, sir?" the guy asked. "Why?" Peter wanted to know. "Surely you're aware of what's going on..." the guy said, eyeing him, his head cocked. "Painfully!" Peter rasped. "And I'm ALSO painfully aware that I'm on the wrong side of the barrier!" Everybody knew that if you were on the outside, you STAYED on the outside... "Yes, Sir -- but that's not an ordinary pickup -- and the ordinary rules don't apply," the guy retorted with just a touch of impatience. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying that you don't have to STAY on this side of the barrier..." The guy pulled out HIS ID -- and it was clearly that of a Marine! Peter's hand flashed to his back pocket. "Really?" "I was stationed out here to pick up stragglers," the Marine told him while observing his card. "Come with me and I'll open it up." "What about my family?" Peter asked. "You can take your wife, your children -- either or both -- or none," the Marine replied. "That's why I asked you to step away -- to avoid any embarrassment, if..." "I want my family," Peter asserted. "ALL of it." "Fine," the Marine replied. "I hope your, uh, spouse, realizes that she's about to be demoted. There is no such thing in the Confederacy. She'll be a concubine -- one of two, in your case." "Yes, well," Peter muttered, "We'll deal with it." "Very good. Please collect them and follow me." Somewhat dazed, Peter returned to his family and returned little Paulette to his hip. "Come along, everyone." "Where are we going, Daddy?" Paulette asked. "To the fair, Sweetie. To the fair." Taking Beth's hand, he led her off to their new life. ------- "Here I am!" SSG French glanced up as a handsome blond boy entered his presence waving a CAP card, with six giggling girls of varying descriptions in tow. 'Oh, an easy one!' was his first thought -- but his data link said otherwise. There were several CAP cards in range -- and none of them sported an eight point five, or even a six... "Let me see that," he told the boy, taking the card. Verifying it took but a moment; SSG French took another few seconds to do a scan of the boy before snapping the card in half. "Counterfeit. Now, sir, if I might see your real card? I believe it is in your wallet..." Turning his head while the boy fished in his wallet, SSG French called, "Corporal Potter!" A statuesque redhead fully six and a half feet tall came quickly forward. She was wearing the uniform of the day -- that is to say, not much -- a miniskirt and her armband -- and the boy ogled her high, proud breasts. "This one is a counterfeiter," SSG French announced. "Do the honors, won't you?" "Yes, Sergeant." She dug under her jean skirt, which flipped up neatly to display a holster around her thigh with several pen-shaped devices hanging from it. Retrieving one, she turned to the boy. "Look this way, please..." The boy looked in the direction she was pointing and she pressed the object against his shoulder. There was a snick and a hiss. "Ow!" The boy jumped and glared at CPL Potter angrily. "What was that?" SSG French eyed the boy. "Do you have any idea what the penalty for falsifying a CAP card is?" he asked, glancing at the boy's CAP card, "Mr. Duane Ellis?" "No." The boy shrugged indifferently. Jail time, maybe, he figured. 'Pop will fix it... ' 'Pop' was T. Beckwith Ellis, and he was a Big Man Around Town; Duane had been in trouble before, and Pop had always managed to paper it over... "Counterfeiting a CAP card always seems to travel in company with other offenses," SSG French mused aloud. "I figure I'm looking at six counts of fraud..." he continued, eyeing the girls. Dee Dee Whitaker frowned. "What's going on? Why did you break Duane's card?" Marissa Skomp tossed her blonde ponytail angrily. "We've been had, Dee Dee! Duane lied to us!" "What?" Dee Dee turned to glare at Duane. The other four girls started murmuring among themselves. CPL Potter nodded. "Duane lied to you, girls. His CAP score is two point four. How many of you gave him your virginity, thinking he was an eight plus?" Five of six girls raised embarrassed hands -- the exception being Marissa. "I was right," SSG French nodded. "Six cases of fraud, five cases of theft of virginity through misrepresentation... That's a big black mark for your headstone, Son." "What do you mean?" Duane asked. CPL Potter glared at him. "The penalty for using a counterfeit CAP card for any purpose is death by lethal injection!" Duane blanched. "You mean... ?" "The poison is a paralytic agent," CPL Potter spat. "You probably can't move now; in fifteen minutes, you'll stop breathing." "What about a trial?" Duane gasped. "No need -- we have six witnesses," SSG French replied. "The law has been on the books for months. You were guilty before the girls fingered you for taking their cherries under false pretenses." Duane lost his balance and toppled forward onto his face, then gave vent to a muffled shriek. "OW!" CPL Potter spurned him with a foot, turning him over onto his back. "As you can see, girls, he can still feel pain. The law allows you to take your vengeance upon him for what he's done to you; you can do as you like with him for what little time he has left. He'll feel it all -- he's going to die of suffocation." Dee Dee grimaced. "Come on, Marissa -- I can't do anything to him while he's like that, no matter WHAT he did..." SSG French shrugged. "Whatever. We'll be posting a sign, so the paramedics don't try to revive him. You should all head for the collection areas to try to get a REAL sponsor..." "Thank you, sir!" Dee Dee replied. The other four were already wandering off. "Come on, Marissa -- we have to get to the ring!" "One second," Marissa replied. "You may be civilized, but I'm not..." Deliberately, she stepped up close to Duane and jumped -- landing on his left arm with both feet. It took three tries, but there was a sickening snap... "That's for my ass, asshole!" she hissed, and walked around to his other side while Duane tried to bawl and beg for mercy. The right forearm snapped on the second try. "And that's for Dee-Dee..." Gathering herself she leaped onto his chest... CPL Potter, smiling grimly, looked on; she'd been a victim in her time... ------- The Wilsons followed Private Witherspoon -- the Marine -- about a quarter of the way around the fairgrounds before he stopped and started speaking quietly -- to nothing, apparently. But suddenly a section of the field sank back behind the rest of the wall, opening what looked like some kind of passage. "Follow things around to the left," the PVT told Peter. "Someone will take charge of you inside and direct you to the collection point. Good luck!" "Thank you!" Peter put out his hand and Witherspoon smiled and shook it, then waved them forward. Peter led his family inside into an area between two field walls, one of which ended shortly, leaving them standing at the edge of an area in relative chaos. They were inside! A Marine -- identifiable by an armband with stripes on it -- came forward. "Mr. Wilson?" "Yes." The Marine glanced over his family and consulted his datapad. "We need to hook you up with one other concubine, then I'm going to direct you to a transport zone. How involved do you think collecting another concubine is going to be? Do I need to hold your family here while you go to one of the collection areas?" "Peter," Beth erupted suddenly. "What about Meredith and the boys?" Meredith Bascomb was Beth's divorced sister, who had two little boys... "Are they here?" Peter asked. "We were going to meet at the handicrafts exposition," Beth replied, fishing out her cell phone. "That's not going to work in here," the Marine told her, "We're cut off from the network. If this was a small pickup, I might be authorized to open up the frequency, but under these circumstances..." he shrugged. "My other concubine is here, but we haven't managed to find one another," Peter related. The Marine nodded. "What's her name?" "Meredith Bascomb." "Let me see what I can do." ------- Meredith was milling about with the boys at the side of the open amphitheater the fair used for musical shows, having followed instructions when the announcement came to gather in groups by last name. The alternatives had seemed to be stupid, especially after a couple of people started freaking out and running around yelling -- and ended up on the ground, unconscious. A Marine had drawn some kind of weapon and shot three of them in rapid succession -- and the explanation that they were merely unconscious didn't really allay the fears of the witnesses, but it certainly damped down any active demonstrations of foolishness. From where she stood, Meredith could see some techs working on a device at the back of the stage; while she watched, it came on. A woman was directed to stand in a particular spot on the stage and her image -- in three dimensions, several times her size -- appeared in the air of the stage. Without her moving an inch, the device displayed the woman from every angle -- even straight up from below her feet -- while the number three point four and a tally of sub-scores with certain ones highlighted and short explanatory notations appeared in the air beside the primary image. Everything was sized to be easily readable, even from off-side. The techs tuned the image projection locations to be almost directly over the front row of bench seats. One of the techs said something to the woman, who spread her stance about ten inches; in a moment, the visual swept over her again, this time catching a view of her labia from below and between her feet. Noting the result, the woman first snapped her legs together, then visibly thought about it and assumed an even wider stance -- which got a laugh and some encouragement from the techs. Meredith had come out in a short skirt and body paint to cover her breasts somewhat -- no panties -- divorced women with two kids couldn't afford modesty. She stood there wondering if there would be a way to wipe off the paint before she went on display. On the stage, the woman grinned widely while she actually squatted -- the resulting image drew whoops and catcalls from all over the audience area, which was slowly filling with what had to be selectees... Then came the REAL shock! The local PA opened up with, "Quiet everybody -- we're about to get started, but first, is Meredith Bascomb present? Wave an arm, Honey!" Meredith blinked and looked around, wondering why she was being singled out, then tentatively raised her hand. "Please report to the Marine down front -- he'll take you to your sponsor," the guy on the PA told her. 'My sponsor?' Dazed, she shuffled forward, towing Tony by one hand and carrying Paul on her hip. She got no explanations when she got to the Marine; looking somewhat harried, he told her, "Follow me. Try to keep up -- we don't have much time." Then he took off -- fast! "Sir! Sir!" Meredith yelled, "I can't keep up with that towing a four year old!" The Marine stopped dead and looked disgusted. "Yeah. Right you are..." He grimaced. "I'll carry him, then." He scooped Tony up and took off again. This time, Meredith could keep up, but she was out of breath when they stopped. The Marine pointed. "This person has offered to sponsor you as his concubine. You can accept, or you can return to the amphitheater and try your luck there -- understand?" "Y--yes..." Meredith glanced over at where the Marine was pointing -- and sighed in relief. It was Peter, her sister's husband! "I accept!" "Join him, then," the Marine said shortly. "I have other things to worry about..." He put Tony down and was gone, just like that. Meredith took control of a bewildered Tony and led him to where Peter was waiting -- apparently as impatiently as the Marine. "Hello, Peter." "Hi. Look, this is a bit of a rush job. Beth asked, so I'm offering, but..." "No, no, that's fine..." Peter had always been a bit standoffish, but while Beth didn't seem to have him under her thumb -- the poor dear was SUCH a romantic! -- he'd never impressed Meredith as being uncontrollable. This would work... "Good. We can go out with the first wave, but we need to go over there for some kind of briefing..." Peter, distracted, led them off; Meredith made shift to follow. LT McCandless, the First Platoon Leader, had the job of in-briefing the 'prepacks' -- the short term for sponsors who had already collected their concubines on arrival. When Peter and his group arrived, joining a couple of late teen groups and one older fellow with a small harem, and several other small family groups, he kicked off his briefing. "Okay. We haven't really checked to make sure everything you're doing is legal, so PVT Russell, here, will be checking everyone's cards to see where we stand as I talk. This is the 'facts of life' briefing; we've discovered in the past that most prepack groups have one or more members who don't realize that their situation has just changed. It's better to sort things out here on the ground -- they get messy, later." "Much of this," the LT continued, "should not be new -- but sometimes hearing it from the outside and experiencing having it actually applied to you are two different things, so I'll be repeating this crap anyway. When you step into the matter stream and arrive on the transport ship, your situation changes forever -- and for some of you, it involves the removal of a favored status. How many of you are married?" Several women raised their hands -- including Beth. "Officially, any advantage that your marital status has afforded you in the past is terminated," the LT told them. "Officially, you are now one of the herd of two, four, six, eight, or however many women that your husband is assuming responsibility for. He may choose to continue to hold you in some special regard -- and he may not -- and it is HIS decision, not yours! Technically, you're divorced -- and you get no alimony and no child support, so you'd better plan on making your OWNER happy! Do you understand?" Numbly, Beth nodded with the other affected women. "Good. Trust me, remembering what I just told you will save both you and your sponsor trouble later. Anybody want to leave?" the LT asked, looking around, apparently hopefully. "Okay. How many of you OTHER women are here because your sponsor is friend or relative or co-worker or some such that got you a free ride as a favor to somebody?" Several women raised their hands, including a thoughtful Meredith. "Okay. Whatever you think he owes you, wash it RIGHT OUT OF YOUR HEAD! He owes you NOTHING -- and YOU owe HIM your LIFE! You need to kick off your new life by treating him as if he'd just picked you up over there at the meat market -- in fact, it might be smart if you did what you would be doing if he'd gotten you over there -- listen to the rest of this briefing from your knees with his dick in your mouth!" There was a collective gasp, and the LT grinned nastily. "Sponsors, I've done all I can on the other end -- now it's YOUR turn! Many of you are no doubt married to one of the women with you. It's a solemn responsibility that no doubt you entered into soberly and with all good intentions. But that marriage is dissolved -- without a lot of legal crap or alimony or waiting periods or lawyers -- it's just DONE! If you've discovered that the girl you married is a worthless lazy bitch, point her out and PVT Russell, here, will herd her sorry ass off! You can keep the kids and go find them a newer model step-mom with the proper attitude! Any takers?" There was one. "Robert!" a hefty, angry-looking woman blustered, "You can't do this! Wait until I tell my father!" The LT grinned from ear to ear. "Daddy won't help you, Lady -- he can't! I'm sure you made the right decision, sir! Anyone else?" PVT Russell entered the crowd to chivvy the woman out of it and she resisted. There was a zap, a short screech, and the woman was on the ground. The LT took control again, saying, "Don't worry, she's just unconscious. She'll have plenty of time to mend her ways and chase down a new sponsor -- or, she can be some dickhead's lunch, if that's her preference." Eyeing the man involved, he added, "You may want to re-think your other commitments, now..." The woman on the man's left got an EXTREMELY fearful look on her face and quickly knelt before him and started wrestling with his zipper -- the opening of which was the loudest sound in close proximity for the next few seconds. When she had a mouthful and the fellow hadn't made any visible sign of relegating her to the out box, the LT continued, "Sponsors, what you're entering into is NOT marriage! It's more and it's less -- basically, it is chattel ownership! You are TOTALLY responsible for anything any of your little clan does, and those responsibilities include LIFE AND DEATH! So if you have a slip with you who is too dumb to live, save yourself the trouble now, on the front end!" He glanced around again, but nobody moved -- except the woman pulling her throat onto her new owner's cock, obviously pushing herself to take in as much of his length as possible by pressing him into her throat with her hands on his ass. Against the background of the woman's gurgling, the LT asked the man, "Who IS that?" The man shrugged. "Her sister." "You should have married HER, it looks like to me." "Well, things are different now, I guess," the man said. "Keep gagging, Slut -- knowing your sister, I'm going to want a LOT of mileage out of YOU!" "I'd drop her like a hot rock and go get two new ones," the LT told him. "Nah," the man replied. "I think with the bad influence gone, she'll work out." The LT shrugged. "You might as well go over there and let her finish, then go chase down a replacement for her stupid sister..." Looking at everyone else, he reiterated, "Again, sponsors, it's a new day with new responsibilities -- your old commitments are washed away! Re-evaluate as necessary! Concubines! It would be wise if you acted as though your man just picked you up out of a line-up! Planning to capitalize on the past is a recipe for failure! If you USED to rule the roost, I'm here to tell you that THAT is over! It just isn't institutionally supported -- you'll get nowhere and he'll get nothing but embarrassment until everything is visibly under control! Take a minute to get organized, and we'll start shipping you out..." Meredith swallowed and eyed Peter. "If you want, I'll..." Beth piped up, "You don't have to..." "Beth!" Surprisingly, both of them said it in unison. Peter looked disappointed in her. "In case you haven't been listening, Sweetheart, the job description includes sex with me -- carrying my children, in fact. Are you sure you understand what's going on, here? We've discussed it a number of times..." "I--..." Beth shut up. A number of things were coming home to roost; a number of realizations were penetrating. Meredith was her sister! Wasn't this incest? Meanwhile, Meredith went to her knees in the fairground mulch and started opening Peter's zipper. Peter looked thoughtful and said to Beth, "Maybe you should get down there and show her how I like it?" Beth did as she was told as far as kneeling up, but pressed Peter with, "Perhaps this was a mistake. Meredith is my sister -- that's incest!" The LT appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Not really," he opined. "She's no more related to your sponsor than you are. Besides, the woman apparently has children by another man, which sweetens the pot, genetically. We're fine with it." He eyed Peter, "Trouble?" "I'll handle it," Peter said confidently. The LT nodded -- but he didn't go far. "Beth, Sweetheart, shut up and suck." Beth opened her mouth again -- and it was Meredith who pushed her from behind onto Peter's cock. "And I bet you thought I'D be the stupid one!" she told Peter, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'd hoped she had a better understanding," Peter sighed. "We DID discuss this..." "It's a shock," Meredith replied. "Suck, Sis. Give your man pleasure. Show me what he likes." Beth stopped fighting and started sucking, watching her sister through eyes dark with betrayal. Meredith sighed and turned to Peter, "I didn't think you liked me. You were always... standoffish." Peter grimaced. "It wasn't my job to get cozy with you. It wasn't fair to Beth. I find you attractive, but she was my wife; flirting with you would be a betrayal. So I stayed away..." Of the pair, Meredith was the hot one -- but Beth was the woman Peter had forged a relationship with in college and married... "How sweet!" Meredith sputtered. "I feel so much better!" "I own't!" Beth got out around Peter's cock. "It'll be all right." Meredith rubbed her sister's back, watching her efforts. "She's not very good, is she?" she asked Peter, eyeing the performance critically. "Hey!" Beth gurgled. Peter pursed his lips. "Well, she's a better fuck." "Not better than me," Meredith purred. "Mr. Wilson! Head 'em up and move 'em out!" LT McCandless yelled. Peter nodded and pulled his former wife off his cock, zipping up his pants. "Let's get out of here -- we'll sort this out upstairs." He started chivvying the kids toward the transporter. The sisters stood to follow, collecting the littlest ones. "You're acting like some hussy!" Beth hissed. "Straighten up and fly right," Meredith retorted, "or I'll be the Number One hussy!" The light on the transport terminus turned green and PVT Russell waved her into the beam. When she'd disappeared, he offered the opinion, "If I was you, I'd shuck out of that sundress and remind your old man who he fell in love with -- and NOT by talking to him about it!" Beth bit her lip, unbuttoned the dress, and left it on the ground as she transported out. ------- Chapter 3 Things were getting organized in the show ring. Marines were checking CAP cards and putting sponsors in the stands while another group was setting up the same holographic projectors that Meredith had seen in use at the amphitheater. SGT Holden had detailed Ed and Mike and six other soldiers to guard the stock pens -- one of which was where the more or less excess male population was being gathered. There was a second pen where people of both sexes who had no apparent interest in the proceedings were being gathered -- but that pen was bleeding out periodically... "Cindy, if you go over there and put yourself on display and don't get taken, don't come back!" Jack Tillotson erupted. "Don't you care about the boys?" Cindy, a dishwater blonde woman in her early thirties retorted. "Would you rather they were eaten by those things?" "It'll be all right -- I'll protect you!" Jack swore. "Yeah, sure..." Cindy shook her head. "Cindy, please! I'm begging you!" If she went up there, even if she came back down he would be mortified. He loved her; it would be difficult, but he couldn't wear that kind of horns... Maybe if he did some serious begging... "I love you! Please!" Cindy eyed her husband sadly. "If you loved me, you'd peddle your ass over there and elbow a couple of those hunks aside and get a woman's attention! They're much more likely to take us both!" "What have I got that is gonna make that work?" Jack asked. "Sell her the truth! You want to get your wife and kids out of here!" Cindy retorted. "Make it sad and romantic!" "There have to be others..." "Not if you get there first!" "All right!" Jack headed for the gate. Cindy watched him go, sadly. With him it was all about his fragile ego. He would try -- and probably fuck it up -- but to be fair, she would give him a while to make it happen before she went over and committed the act that would end their relationship... ------- Lisa gazed up at the stands; Ed told her that there were probably two hundred fifty guys up there now. The implication was that she might want to take her chances in the ring -- something that was NOT gonna happen! Ed had already proven to be the guy she wanted -- and he understood about Mindy, which made things even better. No, she would stay right here... A lot more Marines had surfaced, herding people here and there as gently as they could; some got stupid, and the stupid got zaps from the little guns the Marines carried and ended up out cold on the ground. Like a lot of herds, that kind of object lesson was plenty for the average member, and people were cooperating, generally. Behind her, there were two pens -- one for guys who wanted to get seen by female sponsors, and one for people who weren't interested in going -- but Lisa was watching the ring... A Marine stood there with a microphone as a somewhat chubby bleached blonde girl stepped over to the circle in the dirt that someone had drawn to indicate the holographic projector's focal point. "All right, guys, this is -- what's your name, Honey? Chelsea. As you can see, she's built for lugging kids. CAP score is three point seven -- looks like she's a little weak on sex drive, but will make a good mother. Got any kids, Honey?" Chelsea shook her head no. "Hold still -- we're gonna show off your good points!" Chelsea wasn't the first girl displayed; already, they'd gotten the hang of spreading their stance so as to display their pussies. Chelsea locked her knees and lifted her chest to make her best impression and the projector displayed the three hundred sixty degree view. "All right!" the Marine bellowed. "Any takers?" And that's where the trouble manifested itself again. A dozen hands went up and there was no viable method of sorting out who wanted Chelsea the most. "This isn't working," Ed observed. "Yeah. No money," Lisa agreed. That was the problem -- or, at least, one way of looking at it. There was no way to separate the mildly interested from the very interested. At an auction, you give up something -- money -- to pay for the stock you buy; here, nobody had any money, so everyone was on an equal footing. Nobody had a budget; nobody had anything to lose. The only differentiator was the fact that some guys needed six women and some only needed two -- and that just wasn't enough. Gunny Phelps -- Ed's platoon sergeant -- called his colleague in the sales barn, "We got trouble down here -- everybody wants everybody." "Same here. Every chick we put up starts an hour-long argument," Gunny Sinclair agreed. "We need something that'll make them think..." Ed was watching the mess unfold. "There has got to be something..." Mindy popped up with, "Momma always tells me, 'If you take this, you can't have that... ' or 'If you do this now, you can't do that later... ' I dunno..." It was the most Mindy had said at one burst since Ed had known her; he wanted to take it seriously, but couldn't see how it helped... "Thanks, but I don't see what we're gonna tell them they can't have..." "Other girls?" Lisa blurted. "Huh?" "If you get this one, you can't bid on the next one..." Lisa was still working on it. "Someone would have to keep track," Ed mused. "AIs can do that," Mike grunted. "Agreed," the AI interjected. Ed shifted to comm. "Sarge, we've got an idea." He explained quickly. "Might work -- or at least narrow things," SGT Holden agreed. "Good work, Colon -- I'll bump it up the chain." He called Gunny Phelps. Phelps passed the idea to Sinclair, who said, "Hang on -- we've got an expert here." Turning to the auctioneer, he laid out the idea. "Yeah, that ought to fly -- gives them something to think about, anyway," the man agreed. "Then when you get it down to two or three you can make 'em pay for the rights to get up close and personal with the girl -- which ought to sort things out..." Two minutes later, Gunny Phelps was briefing CPL Smith, the impromptu auctioneer at the show ring. Smitty put the plan on the PA, "Okay, this isn't working, so we're gonna try something new. You're gonna bid -- and you're gonna pay with the right to bid on the next girl -- or the next five, or whatever. Then it comes down to the question whether you want this chick bad enough to pass up being able to bid on the next fifteen -- any one of which could be better -- get it? If we come down to a pissing contest, then we'll take it over there and whoever is left pays -- oh, I dunno -- twenty-five options to feel her up and argue with the other guys who are interested. Worst case, we go by how many slots you have to fill versus how many you have total. Got all that? Okay, who wants Chelsea here bad enough to pass on the next two?" Everybody froze, then a half-dozen hands went up, some very tentative. "I've got two, how about five?" Everybody stopped again to think, and the group narrowed to three. "I've got five, who'll give me ten?" Somebody yelled out, "Can I see the video again?" Smitty waved at PFC Compton, who cycled the holographic projector to again display Chelsea's charms at several times life-size. "Yeah, I'll go ten," the man confirmed. "Anybody else?" Smitty asked. "Going once, going twice, sold to -- hold up your CAP card to be scanned, Sir! -- sold to Mr. Frederickson for ten! Next!" "Shit! It's working!" Ed grunted. The next woman went for ten, and the third for fifteen -- and in the process Mr. Frederickson got reminded that he couldn't bid for another eight rounds, which helped the whole thing sink in for others. About that time, the auctioneer took over at the sales barn. "Works like gangbusters!" Gunny Sinclair told Gunny Phelps. "Great idea!" Things were finally rolling... Things weren't smooth, by any means; in a bunch of cases, three or more sponsors were willing to go to ridiculous lengths for a particular hottie, so the side area where sponsors paid fifty options (they settled on fifty to discourage bidders) to go to do road tests and conduct a second round of bidding. A couple of times, Gunny Phelps had to wade in and adjudicate, usually based upon how many slots a sponsor had versus how many he had to fill; a guy with one slot available out of two was going to win such arguments, since the one girl was going to be a lot more important to him than to a guy who was going to have four and has two openings left. Then there was the other end -- total embarrassment for a woman who could not collect ANY bids... "C'mon, guys! You've GOT to ship with SOMETHING, and you can always modify her to taste!" Smitty cajoled the first time it happened while one particular heavy, saggy-breasted thirty-something fake blonde (the pubes gave her away) sniffled in shame and humiliation. "The scores say she's a good fuck... Are you performance-oriented, Honey?" The crying woman nodded. "Okay, anyone want to test-drive?" It was decided that women who could collect no bids on the first pass would be allowed to volunteer to demonstrate their skills for the remaining audience (if there was one) and things moved forward. As time went on, turndowns happened regularly, which more or less guaranteed a second round for some of the women, at least. When you factored in all of the variables -- reductions in the numbers for the fact that while the overall population might be even OVER fifty percent female, ten percent of them were children and five percent (present at the fairgrounds) were over child-bearing age. Even a married sponsor with a minimum CAP needed one additional concubine (which took two out of circulation). Requirements for four or six -- or the very occasional eight -- women virtually ensured that the vast majority of the available female population of the fair was going to find themselves a concubine to SOMEBODY, especially when you figured in abstentions. Shipping wasn't the usual ninety second exercise, either. Sponsors filtered to the transfer point basically one at a time as their orders were filled. The platoon sergeants tended to monitor the transport terminuses -- and they gave the advice, "Why don't you test drive that before you are stuck with it?" on a regular basis. The fair had provided a couple of nice tents with cubicles and mattresses in them for assignations, but that led to a tendency to relax and hold the cubicle after sex, so the Marines moved the mattresses outside to locations adjacent to the transport terminuses. It was a lot more public, but they were there for testing, not romance -- and it worked, from several perspectives -- not least being some embarrassing returns to the available pool for a few women... Nowhere was better than this venue to make it obvious that CAP testing was heavily weighted in favor of traits exhibited most often by males; the ratio was 80/20 or so. But the flip side was the quantity of females being shipped as concubines, which more than made up the numbers. The situation allowed the female sponsors to conduct more normal meat-market operations in the male holding pens, rather than the auctions going on for females... Locally, Ed figured he had two hundred fifty or so males vying for the attention of thirty-eight women -- which was a LOT better odds than a standard pickup! Women tended to pop over directly into the sevens, too, which TECHNICALLY meant four slots -- but usually ended up as less... Hilda Billings wasn't exactly huge -- more the tiny wren type -- but she had a lot of drive and a LOT of intelligence! Today was her day, and she was seizing it like a pit bull! "How many of you assholes are married?" she demanded. A shitload of hands went up. "How many of your wives are over there on the auction block?" That got similar numbers -- which made it a poor selection criterion. "How many of them aren't here at all?" That got a smattering -- maybe twenty. "Walk away, boys," she told them. "How many of you REALLY want your old lady with you if you can swing it?" Maybe sixty percent of the previous pool raised their hands. "How many don't?" The forty percent answered. "You that don't can hit the bricks, too -- no loyalty," Hilda declared. That left maybe forty. "All right! You're my pool! I've got four slots, but two men are more than enough! I'll make time for pregnancy, but I won't have time for motherhood -- if your old lady is a piss- poor mom, don't even bother... Line up here and sell me!" Jack Tillotson took a swing -- and missed. "My wife is a good mom -- we've got two boys..." Hilda's eyes narrowed. "Boys are a lot of trouble, aren't they?" "Well, some, but..." Jack backpedaled. "They're more likely to..." "Succeed?" Hilda filled in for him, glaring. "You're right, of course -- but I don't have to like it. Where is she?" "Over there," Jack replied, pointing to the other pen. "Why there? Why isn't she out trying to get her kids a ride?" Hilda demanded. "I wouldn't let her..." "You wouldn't let her." Hilda's expression said it all. "Next!" Cindy could tell that Jack had blown it from a hundred feet. Sighing, she decided she would let him bounce off one more woman before she headed for the gate. After that, the stubborn bastard would just have to take his lumps... Jack, having subsided visibly, muttered, "Actually, I begged her to wait and see what I could do..." Hilda stopped talking to the next guy. "What was that?" "I... begged her to wait. If I screw up, she'll go -- and I can't stand the idea," Jack related miserably. Hilda eyed him. "Don't go anywhere -- we're not done yet." The next ten minutes were godawful. Jack watched, sweating, while Hilda went through her other applicants -- positively settling on one guy. In the meantime, two other women examined him -- and passed. But Hilda came back... She glared up at him, hands on her hips. "You're an idiot," she announced, "but it might be fun to house train you. Question is, how smart is your wife? She married you, which isn't a good sign, but..." Se eyed him for a moment. "Does she like girls?" "Sorry?" Jack was afraid he understood her. "Does she lick pussy? Has she ever slept with a woman?" Jack turned dead white. He opened his mouth to provide the obvious answer -- that one that would salvage his pride -- but he knew better. Finally, he managed a toneless, "I don't know." Hilda actually smiled. "That's the first intelligent thing you've said all day. Go ask her -- and bring me her answer." Cindy was halfway to the holding area for volunteers, having finally given up when she watched what appeared to be Jack's third strike. "Jack, I'm sorry, but I can't stay here and watch aliens kill the boys to salve your pride," she told him, assuming that he was trying to cut her off. "I-- There's a woman..." Jack stammered. "What?" "I might have gotten someone. Maybe." "Jack, I was watching, you know..." "Then you saw her come back, right?" "Who?" "The little one." Jack pointed. Hilda was obviously observing them, hands on hips. Cindy blinked. "Okay. What does she want?" Jack took a breath. "She wants to know if... you've slept with girls." Cindy looked at Hilda and looked back at Jack. "What did you tell her?" "I said I didn't know." Cindy looked Hilda's way again. "What else did she say?" "It was pretty embarrassing..." Jack related -- word for word, after some prompting -- everything that had passed between himself and the small woman. Cindy spent a lot of that time with her eyes fixed on the small woman fifty feet away -- who was looking back just as fixedly. At the end of it, Cindy pursed her lips and told Jack, "I'm going to give you two answers to take back. You can try the first one -- but I'm betting it won't work." "Okay..." Jack eyed his wife in some trepidation. "Tell her I can if that's what she wants." "Okay..." It wasn't terribly palatable, but Cindy was certainly being clear about what lengths she would go to for the lives of the four of them. He turned away. "Jack." He stopped, without looking back. "Yes?" "If that doesn't work, the short answer is yes -- I did a couple of overnight rug-munching parties with sorority sisters in college before I met you. I know my way around..." "You never told me," Jack mumbled, his voice colorless. "It didn't seem politic," Cindy replied gently. "Besides, once we were going together, it wasn't anything I needed to continue." "Okay." There really wasn't any other answer. Head down, Jack trudged off. Hilda was waiting, visibly impatient. "Well?" "She says she can if that's what you want," Jack muttered. "That wasn't what I asked, Smart Guy. I asked if she was experienced. That's a one word answer," Hilda turned the screws. Pride was going to get him killed -- AND Cindy, AND the boys! Calm settled over him. "Yes." "Took you long enough. Between us, we'll make a man of you yet! Go get her," Hilda directed. "I've got to go collect the other knot head." ------- And so the day wore on. H Hour had been at ten-thirty local, and it had taken a good hour to get things organized, during which time the outside world became aware of the situation at the fairground. By noon, there were news crews from five networks camped in the parking lot, talking a lot about things they knew nothing about -- but they weren't the only ones, by any means! The police already detailed for traffic control on the approach roads had to be reinforced and reinforced again as people surged to the fairgrounds to see if they had any possible shot at getting in on the bonanza. Common sense said that nobody had a shot -- and common sense was DEAD WRONG! CPT McPherson was committed to filling a thousand pod transport -- and he was short about a hundred thirty-five sponsors. That being the case, there were games being played by the small detachment outside the fence. Okay, so maybe they were cherry picking -- what's your point? ------- Charlotte McIntyre didn't collect a lot of serious male attention. Oh, she got attention, all right, but it was seldom long-term. She was a big girl -- almost six feet, and husky -- and when she pulled her hair back in a bun and put on her Smokey Bear hat and Deputy Sheriff's uniform like she was today, she could look pretty striking -- and pretty forbidding, despite the fact that she was pretty easygoing. Right now, she was patrolling the edge of the parking lot -- not to keep people from going up to the interdiction field, that was a lost cause -- but to keep more idiots from trying to drive cars through it. Certainly, she sympathized with those desperate souls; she was cursing the luck that had her off-shift from another detail when this circus started. If she HAD been on the detail... She sighed -- there was no help for it; she was going to watch another extraction from outside... "Corporal McIntyre! Good to see you!" A tall individual carrying a PDA or something wandered up, smiling. Charlotte frowned. "I don't know you -- and I'm not a Corporal." She eyed him suspiciously. What was he, some kind of TV producer? Some other flavor of perp who thought she could get him behind that wall? Shit, if she could do that... "Funny, that's not what this says," the guy said, holding out the PDA. Charlotte glanced around suspiciously and took it from him, handling it as if it were a bomb. Nothing happened, so she took a look at the screen, which said: McIntyre, Charlotte R. E. Rank: Corporal Unit: B Co., 2/7 Confederacy Space Marines Status:? "I'm going to mark you as present for duty, if that's all right with you..." the Marine smiled. Blood rushed everywhere in Charlotte, leaving some areas pink and others white. Her eyes teared as a wash of emotion overcame her. 'I'm gonna hunt dickheads! OMIGAWD!' "Now? Here?" "Now. Here." Charlotte got a grip on herself, took a step back, and snapped a parade-ground salute. "Reporting for duty, SIR!" The Marine grinned. "Relax, Corporal -- shit, you outrank me!" He took the pad from her hand and clicked the screen with a stylus, then selected 'Present for Duty' from the list. "The duty assignment is provisional, until you get back from training, but we DO have a hole in Third Platoon..." He stepped in close, "Do you have anything in the way of a personal entourage that you need to chase down to ship out with you? We don't generally give out chances like this, but..." "No." Most of the guys she met on duty were getting tickets -- or cuffs. If she just HAD to ride the pony, there was a select group of colleagues -- two, in fact -- that she might undo her bun for... "You're gonna have to fix that, then," the Marine told her. "We'll transport you inside and you can choose your four strap-hangers. Want some advice? Get at least one woman -- you won't have time for motherhood. Guys, well... you won't have to go far." "Chase dick on your own time, McIntyre!" SGT Jensen DEFINITELY wasn't on Charlotte's short list. He was an egotistical smartass -- and he had the smell of crooked cop about him. Charlotte hadn't caught him yet, but she suspected that he was the reason that pot never seemed to last until trial in the evidence locker... "You're one short, I'm afraid, Sergeant," the Marine muttered. "Corporal McIntyre just put on a different uniform." "So the rumor mill was right, then?" Jensen smiled nastily. "The Marines have come for our little Carlotta? Whose bed are you gonna feather there, Carlotta? Carlotta the harlot..." "That would seem to be enough..." The Marine tossed the PDA into the air and managed to hit SGT Jensen about three times before it came back within reach. Jensen went backwards over a car hood. This drew the expected response from local law enforcement -- about a dozen guns came out. "STOP!" Charlotte yelled. LT Bartholomew came over at the run, gun still drawn. "What the Hell is this?" "It's called assault on Confederacy personnel in the performance of their duty," the Marine said icily. "Permit me to introduce myself; I'm PFC Wittenauer, Confederacy Space Marines!" "I don't see you as being the subject of an assault," Bartholomew said carefully. The charge was the most regularly invoked of a series of eight "crash landings," offenses that Confederacy Marines had immediate and complete jurisdiction over -- and the penalty... "I wasn't," PFC Wittenauer replied. "Corporal McIntyre, here, was. SGT Jensen seems to think that being female is an actionable offense. Since the assault was only verbal, I figure he's been adequately punished," he continued, eyeing Jensen as he appeared slowly over the hood of the car he'd vaulted, "Unless he wishes to appeal..." "McIntyre is a Deputy Sheriff," Bartholomew rejoined. "Not since about three minutes ago," Wittenauer replied. "You've got a hole in your TO & E, Lieutenant -- sorry." "Stand down, people!" Bartholomew barked. "I don't have to like this..." "No, you don't," Wittenauer agreed. "Corporal?" He turned away. "Fuck THIS!" Jensen growled. Reaching for his sidearm, he yelled, "Halt! You're under arrr--!!" ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! Wittenauer somehow converted a quarter-second delay into a fast-draw contest -- and shot not only Jensen, but two others who were raising their guns! Suddenly, there were six more Marines present, too -- all of them armed. The sergeant in charge eyed Bartholomew, "I thought we were here to help each other..." Turning to Wittenauer, he asked, "Kill anybody?" "Not if they're healthy, Sarge," Wittenauer replied. "You've got a discipline problem," the Sergeant told Bartholomew. "Make sure that comes out at the disciplinary hearing when you bust your sergeant back to whatever is at your bottom end -- and I recommend that you not detail him to cover pickups -- might be unhealthy for him." Turning to McIntyre, he added, "I hope you're more stealthy around alien dickheads than the local ones, McIntyre. Let's go..." He led the others off toward a spot nearby where someone had set up a transport terminus. Bartholomew watched them leave, taking one of his own who he had already marked for promotion with them. "Call for the paramedics -- and for more backup!" he barked. SGT McPherson waited until they were inside the interdiction field before ripping a wide strip of PFC Wittenauer's hide from his ass; it wouldn't be good relations to let the local yokels see such things... Five minutes later, Charlotte was standing outside the men's gathering pen at the side of the amphitheater, wondering, 'What should I be looking for in a man, for Christ's sake... ' Actually, the first pick turned out to be not so hard; while she stood there at the edge of the display area, a slight, balding fellow in eyeglasses wormed his way to the edge of the group and gazed up at her in honest wonder, "Wow!" Charlotte eyed him warily. "Wow?" "Wow." The guy nodded. He didn't seem capable of following the exclamation up; he was still just... gazing... "What's wow?" Charlotte frowned. "You! You're... Wow!" The guy couldn't seem to be any clearer about it. But there was open admiration in his face... Charlotte glanced around. Most of the other males in the vicinity were eyeing her warily, as if they worried that she was trouble on the hoof -- a not-unusual reaction. Guys tended to be threatened and repelled by her size -- and her profession didn't help at all... Finally, the guy asked her, "What are you doing inside here? Aren't all of the cops outside?" Charlotte blinked -- he hadn't put two and two together, apparently -- and neither, from the looks of things, had several others present! "I was already inside..." she lied. "Why aren't you... ?" He waved at the amphitheater stage, where women were still being auctioned off. Charlotte turned to look; she'd taken the whole thing in, peripherally, but it didn't apply to her. Besides, it would have been a waste of time, undoubtedly... That was the tack to take here, she decided. "I'd just embarrass myself -- no one would bid on me." "You don't know that!" he exploded. "I would!" "I can't imagine why," she retorted, now thoroughly engaged. "Does insanity run in your family or something? What on Earth are you seeing, anyway?" "I can't explain it," he replied seriously, "You're just so... robust..." He glanced around. "I'm wasting my time here, too, but I figured it was worth a shot. When they drop the barrier, maybe we could -- I dunno -- go out to eat or something? Or are you working?" Charlotte stood there in slack-jawed shock! The guy just asked her out on a date! He really wasn't hard to look at; obviously, he wasn't the gymnasium type, but... "Uh, sorry," he backpedaled, "I didn't mean to be pushy..." "No, it's fine -- I don't get many offers," Charlotte tried to get her legs under her. "What do you do for a living?" "I'm in the analysis department at," he named a local stock trading firm. "I do options analysis for the brokers." "You're not a broker?" Why didn't he claim to be one? How would she know the difference? He shook his head. "Too much excitement and stress. I like to look at things at one remove, not sit sucking Maalox and worrying about whether I guessed right," he explained. "Can I see your CAP card?" she asked. "Sure." He glanced around; there were about six women patrolling the perimeter, wandering in to ask questions of the other guys in the group. Maybe if he got seen showing his card one of them would wonder why -- not that they had anything going for them other than the fact that they were leaving... Deputy McIntyre, here, was probably a better choice -- too bad... Well, she was still talking to him -- maybe he could still wangle a date, after all. Charlotte eyed the card. David Findlay, five point seven, despite some pretty low scores for competitiveness and ambition. High responsibility index... Very supportive. Sexual scores were promising, but they were all unrealized potential, severely limited by shyness and self-doubt... "Well, David -- you don't mind if I call you David, do you? These scores are pretty impressive. I'm surprised that you're not over there at the auction!" David grimaced. "I'm afraid I'd be useless in actual combat, although I might be okay at doing engagement analysis." It didn't appear that having Deputy McIntyre handle his CAP card was having the half-hoped-for result -- but then, he'd have lost the opportunity to continue enjoying her company -- and for nothing, no doubt; chances were that whoever looked would move on and the whole thing would have turned out to be an unwelcome termination of a pleasant conversation. "Well, we can't all throw spears," Charlotte retorted. "Look, I don't want to ruin your chances, but..." David snorted. "I have none. One second." He circled around to the opening in the rail of the collection area and came out. "I wonder if any of the food vendors are open?" Charlotte realized that she'd gone 'way too far. "David, I haven't been totally honest with you," she confessed. "You made assumptions that I never bothered to correct." She fished out her CAP card and handed it to him. His eyebrows went up. "Why?" "Why what? Why did I lie to you?" "No, why did you bother with me?" "You took me so by surprise," she confessed. "I just couldn't put an end to it." "But you have now..." David visibly deflated. "I hope not," Charlotte replied. "I just thought we should move forward more honestly." She turned to him, "I have three more slots to fill, but I think we should look at a couple, don't you?" David's eyed blurred. "Yes," he croaked, "that might be a good idea..." "Most of the couples are split and working independently," Charlotte observed, taking his hand. "Perhaps we should look at the women and backtrack on their husbands?" She led him off toward the amphitheater auction. "We should probably concentrate on women with children..." David merely nodded; speech was impossible. He would follow his Amazon wherever she led... ------- Chapter 4 Marissa Skomp and Dee Dee Whitaker were in the holding area for the auction at the ring, but they had held themselves back, watching the way things were going. Both of them had committed to this kind of thing in the past -- but it hadn't gone well. This particular method of selection was pretty anonymous; you didn't get to meet the person who won the bids face to face until after. They saw a number of women get serious surprises when their new sponsor came to claim them -- and more than a couple of rejections. Speaking of rejections... Marissa and Dee Dee had arrived together, but Dee Dee was keeping her distance... "What's up with you?" Marissa asked her long- time girlfriend, hands on hips. "You killed him!" "No, I didn't," Marissa replied reasonably, "THEY killed him, with that needle; I just took advantage of the opportunity to get even -- for all of us!" "It was... sickening..." Dee Dee turned her head away. "It didn't last," Marissa replied. "He hurt me -- he jammed his cock in my ass -- and he enjoyed it. I felt like he needed the payback -- especially since he LIED..." She grimaced and stared at the dirt between her feet. "He was always on me because I wasn't a virgin -- calling me a slut, and treating me like dirt. And the whole time, he was lying to all of us." She looked up at her friend, "Aren't you upset that he lied and cheated and stole your cherry under false pretenses?" Dee Dee sighed. "Well, yeah, but I was there -- I did it. I sold myself." She looked out across the ring. "I don't know if I can do it again." "At least this time you'll get what you paid for," Marissa retorted. "Look at it that way." Dee Dee shrugged. "I picked Duane. I picked wrong, but..." She waved her hand at the ring. "This is all so... haphazard..." "It's an honest game, though," Marissa pointed out, waving at the stands. "They're all real honest-to-God selectees..." "Yeah, but... Old guys?" Dee Dee shivered. "They may look old today, Honey," a woman nearby said, "but in a couple of weeks, they'll LOOK twenty-five! And they'll still BE old, between the ears -- which means they'll be smarter than anything you're probably dating now..." "I just..." Dee Dee shivered again. "remember all of those TV shows where they caught Internet predators? Child molesters..." The woman eyed her. "You're not a child -- or you wouldn't be here. So what if the guy picks you because you're young? Honey, I don't know if you realize it, but the way we have been doing things in this century has been unusual -- for centuries, parents have bartered off their daughters to old, rich guys for a bride price... It wasn't really any less a sale than this is -- and in some places, it STILL HAPPENS!" "Yeah, I guess..." "Why don't you just wait and see what happens? I wish I had what you have to offer..." The woman sighed; she'd been up once, and suffered the embarrassment of having no one bid on her. Martha Sangler was just too big to make the cut on the first pass -- to heavy, too motherly, too dowdy. Even out of her clothing, her body didn't exactly scream 'sex toy!' -- even given her massive breasts. Maybe it was the Caesarian Section scar -- or the way fat lay on her body because of it. She had a number of nice features -- but they weren't packaged very well; putting her auburn hair up in a bun was a mistake, for instance. Marissa was quick to point this out, "Why don't you let down that bun? It makes you look OLD..." "Do you think?" Martha asked. "I can't have it in my way, though, if I'm going to have to, you know, give oral sex..." Marissa looked amused; this lady was planning on giving blowjobs in public -- but couldn't SAY blowjob... "There is still stuff we can do to make you look younger -- I mean, you aren't REALLY fifty, are you?" "Good God, no! I'm thirty-six!" Martha burst out. "Dee Dee, do you have your brush and those combs?" Marissa asked. "Of course..." Dee Dee had naturally curly hair and never went anywhere without the supplies to push it back from her face. "Well?" Marissa stuck her hand out and Dee Dee started digging. "I can't thank you enough!" Martha purred when the girls were done. "That's MUCH better!" They'd turned the bun into a ponytail -- and fluffed it so that its body showed, enhancing Martha's face, at least, quite a bit. "What else should I do?" Marissa looked at Dee Dee, got a nod, and said, "Take off about half of those rings -- they tell people that you think you have fat fingers -- and that you're embarrassed about it." "Oh." Martha blinked. "Good idea." She DID have pudgy fingers -- but it the girls were right, she was pointing them up, not improving things. She started pulling them off. "What on Earth can I do with them?" Actually, her fingers weren't that bad -- Martha's perceptions in this area were flawed... "Pinky ring on the second toe?" Dee Dee suggested. "You're wearing flip-flops..." "Yeah..." She pulled them off and got ready to sit and place them on her feet -- but Marissa stopped her. "You don't want a dusty ass," Marissa pointed out. She took the rings and slid them onto Martha's toes. The fit wasn't perfect, but it wasn't too bad... "What do I do with the rest?" Martha wondered aloud. "I know! Pick one! Each of you!" Marissa and Dee Dee shared a look; what were THEY going to do with the things? -- but they understood that the woman meant well. "What else?" Martha prompted. The pair thought about it, scoping the older woman from head to foot. She had nice ankles... "Ankle bracelet -- definitely!" Dee Dee announced. "Really?" Martha blinked, then sighed. "Where am I going to get one?" Marissa scratched her head. "Run a necklace around it twice?" She started digging in her purse. "I've got an old necklace that Duane gave me..." She made a face. "Actually, it's perfect -- it's got that nasty charm..." The charm was a stylized cock poking a heart -- Duane had made her wear it regularly, so he could poke fun at her over it. Marissa wrapped it around Martha's ankle twice. "Yeah, that'll work. Okay, let's see how THIS goes..." Up in the stands, Jimmy Preston, only recently arrived from outside, was complaining, "Where are all the hot girls?" Jimmy was a seven point seven at sixteen -- somewhat owlish in his eyeglasses. He'd been at the top of his class in high school -- and a year ahead -- but as occurs regularly, his social life had lagged. Jimmy was already pegged for a naval R & D site -- and if he hadn't showed up at the fair, a team would have picked him up soon, anyway -- but it would have been his first pickup of any type, ever... Now, he was sitting in the stands, on the cusp of FINALLY collecting four women who WOULD meet his every need -- and the selection sucked... Gerhardt Martin had a different outlook on things. "Sonny, you still need a mama. Young girls, they are nothing but problems -- and they don't know what they're doing when it come to the sex things, ja? Pick an older, wiser head -- you can always make her younger and prettier -- and she'll be very grateful, not so? An older woman will take care of ALL your needs, not just those of your schwanz..." "Yeah, well, if that's the smart thing, how come nobody's doing it?" Jimmy countered. "Who said everyone is smart?" Gerhardt countered. "Most men think with their schwanz. Pick some young ones -- but pick an older mama for her experience -- if not for you, do it for the young ones..." "If that idea is so smart, why are you looking at young chicks?" Jimmy pressed. "I am older -- I can teach!" Gerhardt retorted, then leaned in to add, "Can YOU teach?" Jimmy grunted, annoyed -- but the old guy was right; you can't teach what you've never experienced -- at least, not where sex is concerned... Smitty, the impromptu auctioneer, glanced over the remains of the pool. Things were getting pretty thin... There were a couple of younger chicks on the sidelines, but they weren't in the pool. He'd talked to Gunny about dragging in some more talent from outside, but that was somewhat dangerous, so they didn't want to get too serious about going outside if they didn't have to... "Okay," he announced, "looks like it's time to look over the performance-oriented crowd..." Pointing, he picked out five of the leftovers. "Go over and stand in the focus over there, the five of you, and we're gonna put your claims to the test..." Turning back to the stands, he announced, "Okay, I need five volunteers to put these women through their paces! You don't have to buy, afterwards -- you're just gonna get a piece and let them prove whether they're really any good or not..." Jimmy squirmed in his seat and Gerhardt chuckled. "Go down and have one of them suck out the excess man-juice," he urged, "Then maybe you will be able to think clearer, ja?" "Yeah, good idea," Jimmy muttered, hopping up. There was no way he was going to pass this up, but the old guy had given him a face-saving reason to go down there. "Which one, though?" Gerhardt surveyed the available talent. "The second from the right," he opined. Jimmy looked the woman over -- not hard, since she was being displayed by the holographic projector at several times life-size. "I dunno. What's up with her stomach?" "She has had babies by C-section -- they cut her open to deliver them," Gerhardt related. "Things didn't heal pretty. But that is easily fixed by the machines in the colony ship..." "Her boobies are just HUGE!!!" "Ja, she's a big mama -- and that's a good thing. If they're too big, you can have them reduced..." Gerhardt reminded him. "She has a pretty face..." "Yeah. Are you going down?" "I'm still an old man," Gerhardt replied. "Today is for young men." Jimmy nodded; he could have used the support, but he understood. He headed on down the bleachers, stepping from empty seat to empty seat; there weren't that many sponsors left in the stands, either... Jimmy had no trouble homing in on his selection; he was the first one to move to volunteer. Others overcame their reluctance only upon seeing him making his way down. Stepping into the marked-off area, he approached the woman, "Hi..." "Hi." The woman was Martha Sangler -- who couldn't decide whether attracting a guy this young was a windfall or a ticket to failure. "Ummm, what would you like?" "I, uuuhhh," Jimmy tripped over his tongue. "Maybe you could, ummm, show me the ropes..." Martha cocked her head. "How close have you been?" "I -- not close. Not at all," Jimmy admitted. Both of them had forgotten that they were on display. "Come here, then. Have you ever touched a woman's breasts? Go ahead, they're sensitive, but they're not easily damaged." She hefted one of hers and when he reached out, she laid it on his palm. Jimmy's eyes widened; it was soft and warm -- and heavy! "Don't you get backaches?" "Regularly," Martha admitted. "That feels good all over, but the nipples are the most sensitive areas..." Jimmy brought up his other hand to tweak her nipple -- and watched it extend itself and her areola crinkle. "Wow!" "It likes you..." The boy was clumsy -- but that paradoxically added to Martha's arousal. He was a virgin, for God's sake! She'd gotten a hold of a virgin! Martha could feel herself lubricating. There was a roar from the stands, where they were getting a free sex show. Many of the sponsors had one or more women already, and most of the males had a head in their lap, working, while they watched this. Three of the other women were already giving head, and one was knelt up and accepting a cock in her ass -- obviously painfully -- but, oddly, most of the attention was focused on Martha and Jimmy -- and the audience could see Martha's outer labia pink up and get puffy and pop open in response to her heightened arousal. Jimmy was all but drooling; Martha encouraged him to continue. "Go ahead, you can suck it. Even chewing on it gently is pleasurable..." She arched her back as Jimmy lifted her breast some and bent to pull in her nipple, then closed in a bit more so she could rub the lump at his crotch. Jimmy moaned around her nipple; just the touch brought him close to cumming. "Don't cum!" Martha enjoined, "I want to taste it. It would be a shame for your cum to be wasted in there... Can I take it out?" Jimmy backed off the nipple to try to get some control. "Uh huh." The fight to retrieve Jimmy's cock through his fly actually served to cool him off somewhat; Martha had to resort to opening his belt and pulling his pants and underwear down. "Oh, my!" she breathed when her prize was actually firmly in her grip. The lanky boy had a sizeable cock -- a porn video spectacular, long enough for her to wrap both of her small hands around the shaft! "I'm close..." Jimmy gritted out, barely in control. Martha's knees kicked up dust clouds as they thudded into the ground; she let go with one hand and wrapped her lips around his glans, tickling the underside with her tongue was she gazed up at him... ... And Jimmy immediately erupted into her hot, wet mouth, "OMIGAAAAWD!" His knees shook and his balls bounced up and down and his cock pulsed and pulsed and pulsed... It was nirvana, and it lasted probably thirty endless seconds... He came to himself to find that he was holding her head in place with both hands -- but she had her eyes closed and was humming, obviously in no distress... Jimmy was right. Cum varied, and Martha had swallowed quite a bit over the years -- some of which she hadn't enjoyed. But this load was wonderful; she could suck it all day -- which was probably a good thing, considering the copious quantities Jimmy delivered. Apparently, he'd never heard of the fact that the average male came about a teaspoonful... "You're still hard," she observed, pulling back off him. "Yeah," Jimmy croaked. He'd cum and cum and cum -- and his pecker was still rock-hard and incredibly sensitive... "Let's do it, then," Martha said, dropping onto her back in the dust. "Don't look at it -- some young girl with a pretty pussy can give you the tour some other time. Just give it to me and I'll put it in and we can both enjoy ourselves..." Jimmy didn't think about it; he didn't think about the audience making catcalls in the background. He just dropped to his knees and let her take his pecker in her hand and rub it between her legs -- and when he was seated in the opening, he plowed forward, going deep... Speech wasn't possible; the feeling was beyond description. But when he opened his eyes and saw the look on the woman's face, he knew that she knew all about it. "Oh, God!" Martha gasped as his hot, hard rod plunged deep into her. The unknown boy's cock was the largest she'd ever tried to accommodate -- and it felt incredible! "Fuck me! Fuck me HARD!!!!" Jimmy was only too happy to oblige! This felt a LOT better than his imagination --or his fist -- had ever produced! Pussy was hot and oily and slick and... just felt incredible! What needed doing was clear -- his body knew, even if his brain didn't know in advance how it was going to be -- his hips snapped, driving him deep in her clasping tunnel and then recovered, only to snap again... He'd never thought of himself as being particularly athletic, but this... this, he could do all day... Martha's huge tits rolled on her chest in opposing circles to the rhythm of Jimmy's thrusts while she rubbed his arms and shoulders. He'd dropped forward onto his hands to power into her and she rocked her pelvis up to meet his thrusts and back down to rub the top of his cock as he withdrew. "God! You're so good!" she moaned. Jimmy didn't know if HE was any good, but SHE sure was! Jeezus! "Is it all... this good?" he puffed. "No," she gasped, "I've had... a LOT worse! I think maybe... this is the... best ever... for me!" Okay, maybe she was jerking his chain, he figured, but she was doing a good job of it! "Can't believe how hot... wet..." he gasped. "You're HUGE! Wonderful!" she gasped back. "Can't be... that big..." "No -- you ARE! Promise! Ask anybody!" Her eyes were huge. She had a real pretty face... so earnest... He lowered his lips toward hers. Seeing his intent, she grabbed his head and completed the job, mashing her lips to his and opening her mouth. Jimmy's experience didn't extend even to this, but he caught on... They dueled tongues until Martha suddenly ripped her lips away to scream, "Oh, GOD! I'm CUUUUMMMMINGGGG!!!!" She went totally nuts under him, and her pussy clutched his cock and it was all too much... "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Jimmy howled, arching himself as he jammed in deep and the tip of his cock seemed to blow off from the force of the cum that flashed out of it. "OMIGAWD!!!" Where all the cum came from after the load he dropped in her mouth, he had no idea, but his pecker pulsed and pulsed and pulsed; eventually, they were dry, but that didn't keep them from feeling incredible. Martha was crying, her whole body wracked with sobs. "What's the matter?" Jimmy asked. "So good..." It had been incredible, but it wouldn't happen again; she was celebrating, but kissing it goodbye. Whatever insanity that had possessed this virgin dynamo to fuck her couldn't be expected to repeat itself... "Yeah, no kidding... Don't cry -- did I hurt you?" "Oh, no! God, no! It was incredible!" Martha asserted, wide-eyed, wiping her eyes and smearing mascara all over the place. Jimmy shook his head. "I don't understand women... Why cry, then?" "I'm happy -- and sad," Martha related. "I'm sure we won't do this again..." "Well, maybe not like this..." Jimmy agreed. The ring was a dust bowl... They became aware of the background noise... "Hey, fifteen for Number Four -- the one the kid did!" someone yelled from the stands. "What a fuck!" "Twenty! I'll go twenty!" came another yell. Jimmy struggled up to a more or less vertical position and looked behind him at the stands, just as somebody yelled, "Thirty! I'll go thirty for Number Four!" "Hey, fuck you!" he yelled, throwing the stands the finger, "I'm keeping her!" He looked toward Smitty. "I'm keeping her!" Smitty laughed. "Gentlemen, he conducted the test and he has first call! Sold to Mr..." "Preston!" Jimmy filled in. "Preston," Smitty finished, "without options!" Martha goggled. "What did you just do?" "I bought you," Jimmy replied, bending over to haul at his jeans, "Let's get you up out of the dirt." "Wait!" Martha stopped him. "You don't want to put your cock back in your pants all gooey like that!" She pulled him forward and gobbled him down, sucking the mess of his semen and her juices that coated his still half-erect cock. Jimmy stood there, leaning on her shoulders while he suffered the agony and the ecstasy of her cleanup job. "That's better," she cooed a few seconds later. "We may have to fuck again..." Jimmy gasped. "You should save it," Martha admonished. "How many other women do you have?" "Well, none," Jimmy admitted. "I need three more." "I can't believe you..." Martha began. "Quiet! Turn around, your back's all dirty!" Jimmy directed. He dusted her off as best he could and led her by the hand back up into the bleachers to a roar of applause and catcalls. Settling back in beside Gerhardt, he muttered, "Thanks." "You are welcome," Gerhardt smiled at him. "You are wise to listen to old men and even wiser to be grateful." Jimmy sat exploring Martha, mauling her heavy breasts. "These things..." Gerhardt laughed. "Believe me, you will never tire of them!" "How many children do you have?" Jimmy asked. "Three," Martha replied. "They're all... over the limit... They were here; I imagine my daughter has an owner now." Jimmy nodded. "Where is your husband?" Martha looked at the seats below her. "I... made mistakes. I couldn't hold him. I thought that once I was married, that was it -- I didn't have to try any more. I was wrong..." She looked up at Jimmy. "I never found anything as good after that -- probably because I had so little to offer. After that..." she pointed to the ring floor, "I'll do anything to keep this. Anything!" Jimmy grinned. "Well, I'm gonna need advice -- I need three more..." ------- Dee Dee had watched this episode from the sidelines, more or less amazed. Duane had taken her from "EEWWWW!" to "OOOOOO!" where sex was concerned, despite the fact that other girls had told her that he wasn't that good. Jimmy Preston -- Hell, she KNEW Jimmy Preston! -- had been just AMAZING! Marissa was in complete agreement. "It's probably time to go in," she announced. "Well, yeah -- but I want Jimmy! I don't want any old guys!" Dee Dee retorted. Marissa just looked at her; she'd known what she was and what she was doing when she'd given herself to Duane -- and Duane had rubbed her nose in it again and again. An old guy was still a guy -- and her ticket out. She knew what she was; quibbling over the price to be paid was just that -- quibbling. If Dee Dee wanted to delude herself that she had options, that was fine -- but Marissa would do what she had to... She rolled her eyes and nodded toward the ring, and Dee Dee followed her toward the sales floor. They waited until another group of old fat women made their play, sucking and fucking in the dirt and trying to capture a bid, however low; three of them made it. The other two headed off to try their luck at the auction barn or the amphitheater. -- there was some cross-flow, now that things had thinned. Then Marissa waved her hand, getting Smitty's attention. "Okay, we're back in the prime zone," Smitty announced happily, taking Marissa's CAP card for display. "This is Marissa; she's young and hot and a four point six... Nice sexual scores, too! Bids open at five..." Jimmy looked up. "I know Marissa," he muttered. "I thought she was already pledged to Duane Ellis..." Gerhardt shrugged. "Things change... Do you think she'll want to put up with an old man?" Jimmy thought about it. "She might. Duane is a total asshole -- but his daddy is rich..." "I see," Gerhardt murmured. "Then you believe that her expectations are... limited?" "Duane treated her like shit -- called her a slut and stuff. He had, like, five other girls with him, but she caught the crap, publicly," Jimmy related. "Rumor had it that she was the only one who didn't give Duane her cherry -- because it was gone already." Gerhardt nodded. "I think I will bid on this one." Raising his hand, he yelled, "Fifteen!" "I have fifteen -- who'll give me twenty?" Smitty called. Actually, the remaining pool didn't support bidding any more -- but everyone was still playing the game. The AI was prepared to grade on a curve to continue things, but it hadn't been necessary... There was a major fight over Marissa, though; numbers got ridiculous and there were still four bidders -- each of whom realized that the sky was the limit, no doubt. The four -- Gerhardt among them -- were called down to the holding area, where things didn't cool until Gunny Phelps intervened. Marissa proved herself too malleable to pass up; she provided demo blowjobs and even a few strokes, doggy-style -- and no one was willing to back off. Gunny Phelps put it to the headcount -- and Gerhardt, at zero for four, was the clear winner. Still Gerhardt -- who had NOT sampled Marissa's charms -- was gallant about it. "I offer the young lady the option," he announced, "She may not wish to tie herself to an old man -- even if that age will soon not show..." Marissa swept her eyes over the other three contestants and said, "No, I'm sure everything will be fine," put her hand in Gerhardt's and let him lead her off... She got a surprise when they arrived at his seat in the stands. "Jimmy!" "Hi, Marissa," Jimmy grinned. "I see you picked Gerhardt -- that was probably smart." Marissa nodded, then Jimmy got a surprise when she turned to his companion, "Hi, Martha." She flicked a glance at Jimmy. "Jimmy looked pretty impressive down there..." "It wasn't just looks!" Martha bubbled. "Aw, c'mon!" Jimmy got bashful. "Hey, unless that thing magnifies stuff unevenly, you're a helluva lot better hung than Duane was!" Marissa insisted. "I -- well... Where IS Duane?" Jimmy tried to change the subject. "Duane's CAP card was a fake," Marissa said flatly. "The Marines caught him when he tried to use it to ship us." Jimmy blinked. "So he's..." "Dead," Marissa supplied flatly. "Where's everyone else?" Jimmy asked. "Split up alphabetically," Marissa replied. "Dee Dee is..." But Dee Dee announced herself. Not putting herself in the ring for sale, she yelled and waved "Jimmy! Jimmy Preston! It's me, Dee Dee! Over here!" Marissa snorted. "You know she's not doing that because she wants to go somewhere else! She was goggle-eyed all the way through your little demonstration with Martha..." "Can she do that?" Jimmy wondered. "I suggest that you do not provide others an opportunity to make that decision for you," Gerhardt recommended. Jimmy hopped up and danced down the bleachers to the Marine guarding the entrance. "Sorry, she's mine," Jimmy told him. "She got lost..." The Marine shrugged and let her pass. When they were a few steps up, she grabbed his hand and stopped him. "It's okay, isn't it?" "Yeah." Jimmy nodded soberly. "I know that you know what this means." "Yes." Dee Dee looked away, embarrassed. Jimmy was right -- this wasn't the first time she'd sold herself; she knew the rules better than most. "Okay, then." Jimmy headed up the steps, waving her to follow. "I wish I'd known..." Dee Dee muttered, following him. Jimmy took the last two steps to his seat and turned. "What? My CAP score?" "No," Dee Dee answered, "that you were capable of... that..." She waved at the general area of the ring floor. "Hi, Martha! Was it as good as it looked?" Jimmy, nonplussed, watched the older woman blush and nod. "Better, maybe." "Wow!" Dee Dee's look was almost worshipful. "When can I try it out?" "Uuhh, later. I might need it for the other two..." Jimmy stammered. "Hi, Marissa," Dee Dee said, subdued. She sat down between Jimmy and Marissa, eyeing Gerhardt suspiciously. "You all know one another, then?" Gerhardt asked. "Yes," Jimmy nodded. Turning to Marissa, Gerhardt told her, "If you would prefer, I will give you to my young friend..." "NO," Marissa replied, "I've made my decision -- and I believe that it is the right one." She flicked a glance at Dee Dee before continuing, "Is there anything I can do for you?" Gerhardt assumed a bittersweet expression. "I would not inflict myself upon you in my current state; later, when I am more pleasant to look upon... Just having you near to me pleases my eyes." "You should please your hands, too," Marissa announced and climbed into his lap, then took his right hand and placed it on her breast. "Oh, yes... Very sweet of you..." Gerhardt murmured, clearly overcome. The look Marissa gave Dee Dee told her EXACTLY what she thought of Dee Dee's fear of dirty old men... The numbers didn't quite work, so at about two forty-five, the interdiction field snapped off -- then snapped back on again, enclosing an additional thirty foot diameter. About a hundred and thirty people -- mostly women -- found themselves on the right side of the barrier. By then, everything had more or less shifted to the auction barn; the Marines in the other two platoons were holding consolidated positions set to repel any last- minute attempts by the abandoned and disenchanted to do something stupid. There were no additional sponsors in the catch, though, and that irritated CPT McPherson... "Dammit, Top, I wanted to fill a thousand pods, not nine hundred ninety nine! See if we've missed something!" he told 1SG Watkins. The query floated down... SGT Holden passed it to Mike and Ed. "The Skipper is pissed; he doesn't want to break the field again, but we're short!" "How many, Sarge?" Ed asked. "One pod -- would you believe it? One fucking pod..." "What's going on?" Lisa asked, watching the two Marines get that look and start talking to the air. "We're not done -- apparently, we still need to fill a pod," Ed told her. "Does that include ours?" Lisa asked. "FUCK!" Ed howled. "Sarge? Uh, look -- I need a pod..." "WHAT?" "You know those two who I took on as camouflage..." "Colon, do you have slots, or is this some kind of gimmick?" SGT Holden grated. "I have two, Sarge -- check it yourself!" Ed yelped. "Actually, he has zero, Sergeant -- his new pair of concubines have already been credited to him," the AI piped up. "But they do not appear in CPT McPherson's calculations." "Uh huh..." SGT Holden muttered. "Please correct that -- as anonymously as possible." SGT Holden didn't want a visit of the Skipper's wrath, if he could avoid it... "Colon! You and Evans evac your little pussies, NOW! You get me? Do NOT get caught holding them on the surface!" "Roger that!" Ed snapped. "Come on, girls, we've got a ship to catch!" The four of them dashed for the nearest transport nexus. LT Briggs looked up from his data pad. "Skipper -- my counter just rolled over." Switching to the AI channel, he asked, "What's up?" "The numbers failed to take personnel fills into account," the AI related. "There were troop fills." "Troop fills?" the CPT frowned. "Several personnel have unallocated slots," the AI related. "Oh. Didn't think of that..." CPT McPherson swapped glances with 1LT Briggs. "Let's roll, XO. Top, tell the platoon sergeants to press the evacuation -- I want everyone off-site in ten minutes, max!" "Yes Sir!" 1SG Watkins shifted to the all hands frequency. "All right, Ladies! It's time we shook off the dirt from this hole and got back to our nice, clean transport. MOVE! Platoon Sergeants, I want a status in five! By the numbers, people -- I do NOT want anyone tripping over their feet and getting killed at this late date!" The interdiction field lifted seven minutes later. END? Obviously, there is room for a follow-on... ------- The End ------- Posted: 2007-09-01 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------