Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Alien Bear Baiting
Part: 4 of 4
Universe: The Swarm
Summary: A trip to Tulakat (a blockaded Sa'arm world) and a grunt's eye view
of the war on the ground there and home life at the nearby Marine base at
Truman. 'The Mercury Incident' is recommended reading first.
Keywords: MF MFF oral ScFi
Chapter 4
By the end of the pass, things were settling in pretty well. Ned
learned that sleeping with two women was pretty pleasant -- even if one or
both of them got up regularly to empty baby-constricted bladders. They
apparently worked things out that first night, because Ellie didn't come to
bed alone -- and while Ned could have been dictatorial about it, the idea of
having two women was a novel one -- something that undoubtedly would NOT have
been the case if Judy hadn't been getting in the way of just about anything
related to sex. The other bed occupant was Margeaux -- both nights; the women
seemed to feel that since she had the most interest, there was no issue with
her having the most access. Ned found that he had little or no reason to
complain.
Doing Margeaux first seemed to make sense, too; with Margeaux, it was
more about the act and athleticism, which meant that sex with Dolores or Ellie
was more intimate. Margeaux took the edge off Ned and watching or light
participation warmed the other women up, so it just worked...
Judy stayed away from the bedroom -- on her own, not due to any
requirement to do so from Ned. After that first night, Ned told his women
that they could set whatever schedule made sense as long as there was someone
there; if he decided he wanted someone in particular, he would alter things,
but otherwise, the schedule was in their hands. Judy opted out, anyway.
SGT Baker was among the first to notice Ned's new condition. In the
squad room, he looked up and remarked, "You don't look like a guy with woman
trouble."
"Probably because I'm not, Sarge," Ned replied, grinning. "I finally
took everybody's advice. Maybe things aren't totally smooth yet, but they're
improving."
"So where's that noisy hen of yours?" Baker asked.
"I've still got her, for now -- but I trimmed her volume level and let
her know she isn't in charge," Ned replied.
"Well, keep an eye on her -- and don't backslide -- and you'll
probably be okay," Baker advised.
Ned nodded. "Say, Sarge -- are you getting laid two or three times a
night?"
Baker grinned. "That will throttle back, Son. Enjoy it while you've
got it. Oh, it doesn't have to -- but you'll probably decide that you need a
little energy for other things, eventually." He cocked his head. "Aren't
that pair you got from Marco pregnant?"
"Yeah." Ned grinned. "It isn't stopping them. Hell, the one that's
about to drop is an absolute nympho!"
"Well, when she DOES drop, she'll shut down for a while," Baker
predicted. "Motherhood will take precedence."
"That won't kill me," Ned grunted. Baker laughed.
-----------------------
The S-2 was seriously concerned over the 'buzz saw laser on a stick'.
"We don't want the dickheads using that thing," he insisted. "They don't even
have to yell 'Duck!' -- they'll all be down and our people won't, and we'll
lose troops! Any sighting of the damned thing needs to be dealt with in the
most effective method that will discourage further use. Kill the dickhead
holding it, cut the stick in half -- anything that makes it look dangerous and
ineffective. I'm going to request that we discontinue use of the mine."
The company commanders weren't thrilled with that -- but the S-4 had a
new toy. "We can probably replace it with this," he told them, putting up a
3-D visual. "We're calling it a 'beehive' round. It's not what you remember
as a beehive round -- a tank round full of flechettes -- it's more like what
artillerymen used to call ICM, or 'Improved Conventional Munitions' -- but
it's delivered direct-fire, by a device that acts a lot like an RPG -7." He
displayed the launcher -- which DID look a lot like the old Soviet Rocket
Propelled Grenade, which had seen use just about everywhere in the second half
of the last century and on into the early years of the current one. The
Russians had had a knack for creating cheap, low-maintenance, and highly
effective weaponry -- and the RPG-7 and the AK-47 Assault Rifle stood at the
top of the heap. It seemed like both of them could be found anywhere there
was any conflict more intense than a fistfight; therefore, everyone in the
room recognized the basic shape.
"Okay, so what does it do?" CPT Mackay asked.
"You sight it in and tell it where you want it to go off," the S-4
related, "and when it gets there, it blankets a hundred meter circle with tiny
bomblets the size of marbles. The dispersal pattern is perfect; it'll turn
any dickhead in sector into hamburger. It's also effective against light
armor and any buildings that aren't any too solidly constructed." The 3-D
simulation displayed the round erupting in a perfect pattern of marble-sized
bomblets that carpeted the surface.
"So it doesn't explode?" Mackay asked.
"No. The round is a delivery system designed to create the pattern,"
the S-4 confirmed. "That's the similarity to an artillery ICM round -- the
bomblet dispersion."
"Except an ICM round uses a charge to disperse the bomblets, and
they're bigger," Mackay pointed out.
"Bigger, yes -- more effective, no," The S-4 explained. "And then
there's the little added feature... We can deploy the Beehive directly over
friendly troops -- the bomblets generate a repulsion field upon detection of
the material in standard chameleon battledress uniforms and redeploy outward
using it." The simulation showed the round detonating over friendly troops --
and dispersing its effect in a circle beyond them.
"That's cute -- but you'll get collateral damage," one of the other
company commanders pointed out. "Splinters, flying debris..."
"True," the S-4 admitted. "But if the troops take cover, they'll be
out of direct explosive effect and most ejected material from explosions on
the perimeter. It's a lot safer than a 'danger close' mortar barrage. The
charges are meant to decimate the target by turning it into Swiss Cheese, not
by turning it into secondary projectiles."
"So who gets to field test this thing?" CPT Mackay asked.
"You do," the Battalion Commander replied.
"Me and my big mouth..."
-----------------------
Ned's squad trained with the weapon for a week in the 'local training
area' - a gravitationally -- enhanced area on the far side of Truman. Nobody
was anxious to conduct the 'danger close' test, but training dummies survived
it handily. At point eight G -- the local gravity amplification available in
the LTA -- the optimum dispersal point was about two and a half meters above
the target; on Tulakat, which was closer to Earth-normal, they expected three
meters to be optimum and trained to deploy Beehive RPGs at that height --
which wasn't difficult, since it was a simple adjustment made on the launcher
before firing.
Things seemed to be pretty smooth at home; Ned went back to his pod
every night to apparent harmony. Ellie and Judy were visibly changing daily,
much to Ellie's pleasure -- and Judy's displeasure. Ellie's cellulite went
away, and bulk shifted from her ass and belly to her chest, where it was a lot
more pleasing to look at.
Judy, on the other hand... Judy's modifications were deliberately
functional and not aesthetic; her hips and pelvis were widened and her whole
skeleton beefed up some to aid in pregnancy, and her low-slung titties were
enlarged -- but no effort was made to make them fun to look at. They remained
low-slung and even shifted to droopy as they sized up, with considerably up-
sized nipples hanging off the tips. Changes in her internal plumbing made to
support pregnancy led to glandular changes and an eruption of acne -- and Ned
did nothing. Worst, though, was the libido increase; sex went from a tool
used to manipulate Ned to something Judy needed increasingly -- while she
became less and less appetizing to look at. Masturbation went from an
occasional thing to take the edge off to a daily requirement -- then twice
daily...
Stubbornly, stupidly, she held on until Ned deployed, and it was too
late...
It was a Company-level deployment -- a sweep of as much territory as
they could take and hold over a two-mile front. Leopard-class troop carriers
had been transported to an offshore base in the southern hemisphere; the
troops would board them and be flown nap-of-the-earth (well, Tulak) to the
target location, and deployed. Dickhead air defense was considered murderous,
but it was oriented to expect threats from orbit, not the 25 meter level --
and Leopard defensive shields tended to stop most conventional weapons for a
few seconds, at least. The area had never suffered attack and was considered
to be lightly defended -- but had some new construction of facilities
considered key to Sa'arm expansion on the continent. At the end of the sweep,
teams would transport out using portables they were carrying with them,
regrouping at the underwater facility and transporting out to the moon base to
catch their ride home to Truman.
That was the plan, at least.
It is a generally accepted dictum that no battle plan survives contact
with the enemy -- and this engagement was no exception. The decision to fly
at 250 meters above the deck until they were close to shore proved flawed;
dickhead scans picked up the Leopards 100 kilometers out and, true to form,
they applied heavier and heavier air defense weapons until something turned
out to be effective -- in this case a tactical nuke that took out one squad of
the weapons platoon, probably because it was the last to deploy. Things were
better on the deck, of course, but once in contact the Leopards had worries
from regular small-arms fire. CPT Mackay decided that it was unlikely that
the Leopards would escape, so he redefined their mission, using them as mobile
heavy-weapons platforms; the Leopards had an excellent counter-battery
defensive capability and at low altitude they were difficult to detect and
engage using antiaircraft weapons. Hovering in support of attacking troops,
they were a combination Apache helicopter and hovering M-1 Abrams tank. The
bad news was that at some point they ran out of fuel and/or armaments and had
to be destroyed in place. Fortunately, they had fine self-destruct mechanisms
and made a wonderful attractive nuisance; dickheads converging on the carrier
for reconnaissance and salvage operations discovered this the hard way.
Leopard crews were absorbed into the formations they'd been transporting and
fought on.
The raid was largely successful, if abbreviated; all four platoons
reached their individual objectives -- new facilities -- and obliterated them,
while mopping up the local defenses and quick-response elements. In addition,
they did their best to penetrate and at least damage local dickhead
underground installations -- but the dickheads had some extremely
sophisticated defenses for same, so the effectiveness of such attacks was
difficult to assess. Basically, it seemed that Sa'arm underground warrens
were walled with blast doors -- penetrate one set and you were faced with a
new one. Electronic 'moles' -- remote-controlled antigrav platforms firing
shaped charges and heavy lasers -- generally made it less than 100 meters into
Sa'arm warrens before being cut off from behind and self-destructing.
Beehives turned out to be highly effective -- particularly in answer
to the threat of a buzz saw. Ned himself used one on a buzz-saw wielder,
timing things perfectly so that the thing never started but the Sa'arm element
on the ground around the unit deploying it got carpet bombed and never really
knew the difference.
Of course, a good, on-target laser pulse at the buzz saw or its
support stick did just as well, generally.
The dickheads got a couple up, but effectiveness just wasn't
impressive -- nowhere near as good as beehives or even conventional weapons in
use by either side. Dickheads were just too slow and clumsy about the
deployment and the thing basically required a unit to be upright while
deploying it -- not a good thing in a combat situation. In fact, one major
advantage human troops had over the Sa'arm was the ability to go prone and
low-crawl instead of standing up like asparagus. The Sa'arm could go flat in
extremity, but weren't built to operate that way. They relied upon visibility
and numbers to get the job done on the surface; underground, it was posited
that they operated somewhat horizontally, boring forward using their legs on
what we would have considered the walls and ceilings of the tunnels. There
was some evidence that aside from 'rooms' or 'collection areas', the
underground structures really required no hallways, but that the Sa'arm used
some technology to just bore their own routes to wherever they were going and
close things behind them like a worm, if a suitable tunnel didn't exist. Of
course, that wouldn't work too well while lugging large objects or in any
number of situations requiring organization of any type...
The twenty-four hour deployment lasted eighteen; we kept pulling
rabbits out of our hats, but the dickheads deployed more and more units until
holding territory became infeasible without a supply train. Since we didn't
want them to know that we could create one anywhere using the transporter
network, it was time to bug out. We blanketed everything in sector around the
platoon strong points with a rain of explosives -- something the new beehive
RPGs and related devices did very well -- and transported out in a matter of
seconds while their heads were down, leaving the usual explosive calling
cards.
Aside from the squad in the heavy weapons platoon, casualties were
light -- but we needed to trade 10,000 for one and while the numbers were
good, they didn't approach that goal closely enough. The loss of the Leopards
was painful, too -- even with component-by-component replication lowering
costs, they were expensive in time and expertise to manufacture.
Fortunately, aside from the nuke used on the Weapons Platoon Leopard,
the battle was limited to conventional weapons -- or at least 'clean' energy
weapons. Apparently, the Sa'arm had learned long since that if they intended
to rape a planet, they needed for it not to be radioactive... On the other
hand, since they cared not about water, the underwater bases were vulnerable
to nuclear attack; the Sa'arm probed the seas from the air and from orbit for
a week, making life miserable for people trying to live deep under water with
a minimalist electronic footprint. Fortunately, since the Sa'arm had no use
for sound, they'd apparently never invented sonar... Since we hadn't
telegraphed base locations by attacking directly from them, the Sa'arm's blind
sweeps brought them nothing; no doubt they eventually decided that we had
appeared over water from nowhere, like we did on land.
The lockdown of the bases delayed extractions; it was nine local days
after he departed that Ned finally returned to his pod. Dolores was the first
to pick up on his arrival; she made a beeline from the kitchen and collected
him, silencing him with a finger to her lips, and dragged him into her
bedroom.
"What's up?" Ned asked quietly.
"It's about Judy..."
"What about her?"
"She's... distraught."
"And?"
"No, I mean it's really bad, Master. She's, like, teetering on the
edge..." Dolores insisted.
"Tell me about it." Ned sat on the bed.
"Well, a lot of it is the changes," Dolores began. "I know you were
leaning on her, but there's a lot about what has changed that is unflattering
-- and many of the things that Judy considered good about her physical
appearance have been changed for the worse. At this point, she considers
herself to be absolutely hideous -- and getting worse, daily."
"Well, that was deliberate," Ned replied, "although I never planned
for it to be permanent."
"If you wanted her to realize that her life is in your hands, you've
certainly succeeded," Dolores replied, "but I think you ought to think about
reversing things before she commits suicide!"
"That bad?"
"When you add the constant urge to fuck without any outlet -- it's
killing her," Dolores declared. "You've created a monster -- you may not WANT
to fuck her. But if you don't, she'll probably go insane!"
"Maybe I overdid things..." Ned mused.
"'Maybe' probably understates it. I'm not sure she's even rational!"
"What do you think I should do?"
"Find her, fuck her -- more than once -- tell her she's a good girl
and you're not mad any more -- and that you'll fix her!"
"Are you sure it's as bad as all that?" Ned asked. "AI?"
"The subject Judy appears to be in serious mental turmoil any time she
is conscious. She is sexually agitated to the point that her ongoing efforts
at masturbation may injure her."
"Can we fix anything right away without going to Medical?"
"A general halt can be ordered for all processes. Beyond that, no."
"Would this cause any issues?"
"Minor ones, perhaps -- but it is what you would call the lesser of
two evils," the AI responded.
"Do it." He turned to Dolores. "Do you know where she is?"
"Probably in her room trying to jill off," Dolores guessed.
"That is correct," the AI confirmed.
"Okay." Ned got up. "Let's go."
-----------------------
Judy staggered out of her bedroom on the way to the bathroom to go
pee. She'd have thought that widening her hips and pelvis to the point that
you could have stuck a football between her thighs with her knees together
would have improved her balance, but it seemed like she staggered
everywhere... Three fingers inside her gaping maw of a twat and a thumb on
her clit couldn't satisfy her -- it seemed like she could SMELL Ned! If he
didn't show up soon... What? She couldn't let him see her like this -- and
she CERTAINLY couldn't expect him to fuck her! She sat to pee, then struggled
up from the toilet, catching her reflection in the mirror. Tears sprouted;
her cheeks looked like someone had thrown acid at them -- or an ugly, pink
lunar surface with craters and angry volcanoes that erupted puss everywhere...
She carefully re-tied the cloth belt that helped stabilize her saggy EEE dugs
by pinning them against her chest; they hung to her waist, but bras didn't
help -- they rubbed her hyper-sensitive nipples and made her constant arousal
even worse! She'd been naked for days -- any thought of having clothing touch
her breasts -- or restrict her access to her clamoring twat -- was anathema.
Ned was going to space her -- or feed her to a recycler -- and she was looking
forward to it! ANYTHING to end this misery! 'If I don't shake this delusion
that Ned's around...' she thought, looking toward the door, 'I'm going to
break a wrist trying to fist myself! I'm even seeing...' "OH!
GAAAAWWWDDDD!!!" 'He IS here! And I'm a monster! AAAAUGH!' She ran for her
room as fast as her splayed legs would carry her!
Ned stood rooted. "Okay, yeah, THAT's overdone..." he mumbled to
himself as he reprocessed the series of images he'd captured of Judy as she
staggered from the room.
"This is an emergency!" the AI reported . "The being called Judy is
apparently contemplating what your species calls suicide!"
"Time to get moving, then..." Ned loped down the length of the main
room to Judy's door. "Open it!" he directed.
'I need to die -- fast!' Judy had the cloth belt off her chest and
tied around her neck and was casting about for a tie-off point when Ned burst
into the room. "Noooo! Don't look at meeee!!!"
"I did it -- I can look at it!" Ned retorted -- but he was too busy
tying Judy's limbs up so she couldn't hurt anyone. With her wrists in his
hands, he shoved her back against her bed, using her own arms for leverage
against her. Judy crashed back and fell onto the mattress. He lost his grip,
but Judy merely covered her face, wailing.
"I'm a monster!" she howled.
"I'll fix it" Ned retorted, hauling at his battledress shirt.
Judy, however, had already shifted modes. "I can't think -- that
smell..."
"Smell?" Ned blinked and stopped undressing.
"Pheromones," the AI supplied. "She smells a male. She is already
uncontrollable -- do you want me to send for medical aid?"
"Yes!" Ned yelled.
'He's HERE! I HAVE to have him -- NOW!!!' "COME!" Her hands like
claws, her strength superhuman, Judy grabbed Ned and dragged him to her.
"Dolores!" Ned yelled, "Help me get my..."
"NOOO!!!" Judy threw Ned to the side and leaped up, screaming like a
banshee! "MINE!" There was no question that she would leap onto Dolores and
attempt to kill her if she intervened.
"Go!" Ned used the respite to unzip his fly. "Leave her alone, Judy!
Come here! Help me get ready! I know what you want!" Judy didn't obey
immediately, she pointed at the door and growled. Dolores backed out of the
room and the AI closed the door. Then Judy turned on Ned -- and he KNEW she
wasn't sane! A catch on one of his boots caught and she nearly ripped his
foot off with his battledress pants -- then she was on him; having shoved him
backward two feet onto the bed, she squatted astride him, her pussy seeming to
suck in his cock.
According to the AI, the ensuing fuck lasted an hour and twenty-three
minutes. Ned came four times -- and no one could count for Judy. For the
first forty minutes, no one could enter the room; Judy screeched, "You can't
have him! I'll kill him first!" and Ned wasn't certain that she wouldn't find
a way, such was her insanity. He held her saggy, dripping dugs (she was
lactating; Ned had thought that it might be a good idea for her to wet-nurse
Dolores' and Margeaux's little ones when they arrived.) while she hammered
herself against his crotch thousands and thousands of times. His first load
came quick and easy; the second wasn't hard -- but after that, the third
waited a long time -- until she stopped going at it so hard. At some point --
somewhere about the time sanity seemed to return -- she settled into a slower,
gentler pattern -- and her pussy clutched at him, milking him constantly until
the much delayed third load flooded her hungry twat. It seemed like the thing
drank semen; seconds after he finished shooting, the sliminess of his flood
disappeared from her clutching cunt. The fourth time came while she begged
and pled for just one more while being supported by two male medics in her
exhaustion; they had to send for a second male, since Judy hissed and spat and
wouldn't let the female who responded with the original team near her. Ned
got them to hold her up and punched up into her the few times it took them
both to finish. Ned managed to work up another small flood, and as it
splashed inside her, Judy quivered and her eyes rolled up for a moment, then
she seemed almost human again. "Let me lay down," she puffed, and the medics
let her fall forward onto Ned.
Judy was quiet for a moment, then raised herself on her arms and
produced a beatific smile. "I'm pregnant!" she announced with utter
certainty, then turned to the medic on her right. "Hey, are you busy?" She
reached for his fly -- but collapsed, unconscious, before she could get to it.
The endorphins bled off, and Ned began to hurt -- seriously. The
medics hauled Judy off him and did an exam of them both. "You have a broken
pelvis," he announced. "So does she!" They got them both onto stretchers and
headed for Medical.
"While she's under, we need to fix a few things," Ned declared.
"I guess!" the medic laughed.
Ned was up and around again in no time -- and the legend made the
rounds, enhancing his reputation somewhat. Judy, they left out until her face
was fixed and her voice was fixed and her breasts were down to a nicely
supported D cup -- only a couple of days while living in a tube. No one was
willing to guess what her mental state would be when she emerged, but they
ratcheted back her libido to a level roughly equal to her peers.
Ned's was the first face she saw upon awakening. "Ned! Master!
Omigawd!" Tears poured as she clutched a hand.
"It's okay, Honey. We fixed a bunch of stuff -- things got WAY out of
hand! I'm sorry!" Ned apologized. "We shrank your chest back some and made
it look better, and fixed your face -- and you won't be quite as horny...
Some things, though, I hesitated to fix."
"Like what?"
"Well, your pelvis. In the first place, you broke it -- and in the
second, well, you're gonna need the size increase, since you're pregnant."
"I am? I really am? Gee!" Judy lay there, wide-eyed. Ned became a
little concerned; the old Judy wouldn't have been thrilled...
"You're okay with that?" he asked.
Judy grimaced. "I was scared. Now that it's happened, I can stop
worrying and start enjoying it...." she shrugged.
"Well, you're better equipped to carry, now -- but not a brood mare
anymore," Ned told her. "You're still lactating, but Margeaux is due next
week..."
Judy just nodded. Sitting up in the tube, using Ned's hand for
support, she gusted a sigh, "You have NO IDEA what it was like hauling those
ugly bags around! And sensitive? Omigawd!"
Ned laughed. "Well, you're still bigger than you were..."
"Um, yeah, but I think they're riding higher than ever!" Judy replied
-- then frowned. "Maybe a bit TOO high! Could I, uh, maybe lower them a
bit?"
Ned grinned. "We'll see."
"If you like them there, I'll get used to them..."
-----------------------
Things wobbled a bit, off and on, but the Peterson clan stabilized and
began to grow exponentially almost immediately. Ned made Sergeant, too. Judy
and Dolores eventually learned to operate as a team at the top of the internal
chain of command.
And the sex was never boring -- even when all four of Ned's women were
pregnant!