Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Pickup Number Eighteen
Part: 7 of 7
Universe: The Swarm
Summary: The resulting circus when a Confederation Space Marines pickup team
drops in on a diner.

Keywords: ScFi MF Mf MFf Mff reluc ir voy exhib oral anal humil

Chapter 7

	Pickup (or drop) number five went smoothly; a couple of political
types and their trophy wives at a fund-raiser.  I can't tell you that these
guys were honest, but they WERE smart.  I figure that they got high marks for
being savvy -- and we might need horse-traders at some point.  They were only
in the six point five plus to seven range, and so only merited one additional
concubine; even so, the pickings were not anything I'd have looked forward to.
The term 'rich bitch' applied to more than a few females present.  On the flip
side, these guys had a very solid handle on the implications of the change in
situation; the females, ex-wife or other, found themselves very solidly under
the thumb right away.

	This was good and bad; the idiots had control of their women but did
not appear to have the proper respect for Bet.  It was either have her go
three rounds with them (and their subsequent lengthy hospitalization) or
supervise their initial processing myself; I chickened out and chose the
latter -- although we DID provide a demonstration designed to show them the
error of their ways.  Basically, if a woman is a Confederacy citizen in her
own right, there is a damned good reason for it -- period.

	Twenty minutes after I went off-watch, Bet stuck her head in the door,
"And now the next contestant..."

	I wasn't up for the whole thing -- still not certain I wasn't some
kind of wild animal.  I opened my mouth -- and Marie sidled in.

	"Hi," she mumbled.  The braces were gone.

	"Hi."  I wasn't sure what else to say.

	"Becky..."

	"Becky told you I went totally wacko on her?" I confirmed.

	"She said to tell you she had a great time," Marie replied, blushing.

	I just sat there with my fork halfway to my mouth, nonplussed.

	She stood there, looking nervous for a moment, then announced, "I'll
be leaving now."

	That brought me to life.  "No, you're not.  Have you eaten?"

	"Yes."

	"Let's see what we've done with you, then," I directed.  "Take off
your clothes."

	"There, uh, hasn't been much, really," she mumbled while nervously
unzipping her skirt.  "Just the braces."

	"Why not the eyeglasses?" I wondered aloud.

	"I have to have permission, I think."  The skirt hit the floor and she
stepped out of it, then pulled her top over her head.

	"My fault, then," I muttered.  "Well, I need to do an eval.  Keep
going.  And start wearing the stuff you can get issued -- you can at least get
it washed."  The issue outfit was a simple shift that barely covered a woman's
ass -- not that it bothered guys.

	"Yes, sir."  She stood there in her bra and panties, waiting.

	"Do it all, Honey," I told her.  "We're just getting to the good
parts."

	"Yes, sir."  She finished up.  It wasn't a striptease, by any stretch;
it was a nervous girl removing her clothes before a stranger.  When she was
done, she tried to cover up with her hands.

	"Come on, none of that, now," I chided.  "How can I see?"  She dropped
her hands and composed herself.  If you took a twelve year old and up-sized
her a bit, you'd have Marie.  She was a little stocky -- not fat or anything,
just thick -- and not much of that.  She had a thick little furry pelt on her
pubic mound and tits that sat round and flat on her chest like the yolk of an
over-easy egg -- with a stiff little point, dead center on each.  Sexy?  Not
particularly, but cute.  "Turn around," I directed.  The butt wasn't bad, and
neither was anything else from the rear -- and the nervous way she eyed me
over her shoulder was so cute!  But the back side pointed up the fact that she
didn't have an hourglass figure.  Oh, there was a bit of an indent there, but
it was more like what happens when you hold a sponge in two fingers.  I
crooked a finger.  "Come.  Sit.  What do YOU think you want -- besides the
eyes."

	She sat, gingerly, at my side; I'd tossed some things down in the
chair across from me.  "Bigger breasts?"

	"They'll come naturally," I told her.  "No need to hurry them.  Once
they're here, we'll keep them up.  Frankly, I don't want to change you much,
right now."

	"Why?  Oh, I know.  So my new sponsor can make his own changes."

	"That assumes that you change hands," I told her.  "I have three
openings on MY staff; I just might keep you!"

	Hope flared -- and died.  "Yeah, sure."

	I looked mildly insulted.  "You don't like me?"

	"No, that's not it," she replied.  "What do I have to offer?" she
waved at herself disparagingly.  "As opposed to, say, Becky?"

	"I can read a CAP score," I replied.  "Anybody can be blonde and
slutty."

	"Oh."  She cocked her head and opened her mouth -- but I told her,
"Quiet, I'm eating."  And I let her stew while I finished.

	When I was done, I stood and shoved the dishes into the collection
port, then turned to her.  "I need a shower; come on and wash my back."  I saw
her blink and take on the idea; a glance behind me at the bathroom door said
she was there.

	Darjee had no idea why you would want to get wet if you didn't have to
-- they used various other means.  We had to remind them that we rode wet in
our mother's uterus for nine months before they got it -- but we got showers
and bathtubs in our quarters.  They used separate recyclers for bath water --
some worry that they wouldn't handle drinking water properly, which was
laughable, since they were recycling urine -- but we didn't complain.  I fired
it up and got in, then eyed her over my shoulder.  "Well?"

	"It's tight in there."

	"You don't want to touch me?  I want to touch you," I replied.

	"No, that's not it..."  She came in and closed the door, tucking
herself against me.

	I turned and she stayed behind me, so I deliberately pressed her
against the wall and rubbed myself against her.  "See?  You can handle it."

	She giggled, and I knew it was her coming back from being momentarily
distressed.  "Give me the soap."

	Darjee absolutely refused to have anything to do with the stuff we
normally rubbed on ourselves, but what they substituted worked as well or
better.  I handed her the odd-looking bar -- it had half-circle dents in each
side to make it easy for a Darjee to hold while they washed whatever it was
THEY washed with it -- and she went to work on my back.  "Go ahead and do the
arms and legs and stuff," I directed.  When she got to 'and stuff' -- which in
this case was my ass, I chided her, "You can do better than that!" when she
only gave it a swipe.  I know she had to be cherry red, but she did better.  I
spread my legs and she worked down them, carefully avoiding my balls, then
came back for my arms.  I turned around at that point.  "Now the front."  The
arms went better from the front, anyway.  She did them and my chest, slowly
working downward over my belly until there was something there she couldn't
avoid.  She looked up at me for confirmation and got it and took me in hand.
I was already stiff; watching her face as she went over my cock millimeter by
millimeter, exploring it and my balls with that look of wonder on her face was
probably one of the most enjoyable not-quite-sex things I'd done in a while.
When she was done (probably the third pass) she looked up earnestly and asked,
"Do I suck it now?"

	"Let's get that stuff off of it, first," I told her.  "God knows what
it tastes like, or what it will do to you."

	"Oh."  She was CLEARLY disappointed.

	"Besides," I added, "It's time to wash you!"

	"Okay."  She got going with the soap.

	"Uh uh," I told her.  "Gimme."  I took the soap and went over her,
covering every millimeter -- and making sure she enjoyed it.  Halfway through,
she was making excited giggles and dancing from foot to foot.  She had HARD
little nipples that stuck straight out and begged to be mauled; actually, her
areolas were small, but her nipples were a half-inch long.  And her clitty was
tucked between her plump outer lips until they swelled and got pinkly flushed
with need; then it was right there where a cock could rub it on every stroke.

	We rinsed well and got out and dried one another -- taking extra care
at certain points, obviously -- and I took her hand.  "Time for bed."  We got
to my bunk and I pulled her close and she was ready for the kiss before I got
there, head up, eyes closed, thick lips puckered in anticipation.  I didn't
make her wait.

	Marie had needs; a pleasant romp, a swat on the ass, and "See you
later, maybe," didn't fulfill them.  She needed to be treated as more than a
collection of fuck-holes -- and I'd had PLENTY of that in recent days.  She
wasn't going to get rejection from me -- or indifference.  I wasn't going to
just use her and park her in the hallway with "It's been fun!" -- that would
crush her.  No, Marie tickled my romantic bone -- yeah, I had a little romance
tucked away in there, somewhere -- and she was going to get the benefit.

	We kissed and fondled and caressed standing up for what must have been
fifteen minutes before I pushed her back onto the bunk -- then lay entwined
another endless time while I prepared her and she prepared me -- not that I
needed it.  At one point, she broke a kiss and asked, "Should I suck it now?"

	"Later," I told her.  "I don't need it -- I know you can tell.  We're
going straight to the main event, when you're ready."

	"Okay."  A few minutes later, her innocent face turned up, cherry-red,
mouth slack, eyes closed as she undulated on my fingers, we both knew that the
time had come.  Her legs were already spread wide to allow me to work when I
rolled atop her, but she lifted her knees, anyway.  "Now?  Now, please..."  I
lined myself up by touch and her hand snaked down to assist; she parked my
glans against her maidenhead and hissed, "Yessss..."

	There was no doing it easy, so I snapped my hips; "Uuuhh!!" she
grunted, and reached out to stop further progress -- but I'd already halted.

	"Sorry!" I whispered, and lipped her neck.  "That was the hard part.
Let me know when..."

	She sniffled and nodded and clutched me to her; in a bit, one hand
slid below my ass, gently coaxing, and I applied some pressure to drive
forward slowly into her, allowing her to tell me how far with that hand on my
ass.  First, she relaxed, slowly, then she tightened up again -- but it was a
different urgency.  As I drifted into her for the sixth or seventh time, she
let me know it was time to move on and set a rhythm; the hand pressed hard
until I was buried to the hilt, then went away as she crossed her legs behind
mine.  I took the hint and slowly accelerated.

	Less than a minute later, she surged against me, her mouth open in a
soundless scream.  After that, it was all gravy; she didn't really seem to
come down very much, and I have no idea how many times she peaked.  I know I
couldn't handle it for long; her inner walls provided an almost constant
rolling massage for my cock that added to my stroke to the point that control
went out the window in virtually no time at all.  I remember exploding inside
her; her eyes popped open and stared into mine, wide, as I painted her cervix.
Her channel milked me and she clutched me and we kissed feverishly as we both
slowly settled back to something approximating normal.

	"Oh my God..." I realized that my neck was wet where her face pressed
against it.  "That was so..."

	"Yeah," I agreed.  I wasn't going to come up with a proper
description, either.

	"I'm ruined," she sighed.  "I'm going to be looking for that from
whoever finally takes me..."

	"That shouldn't be difficult," I replied, and touched my neck, where
my implant resided.

	"Yes?" the AI intoned.

	"Marie is mine.  Record it."

	"Done."

	Marie eyed me in mixed hope and fear.  "What was that?"  The other
half of the conversation was, of course inaudible to her.

	"Tell her."

	The room speakers came on.  "Miss, it has been recorded that you are
now officially the concubine of one SGT Peter Griffin, CSM.  Congratulations!"

	Marie's eyes bugged.  "REALLY?"

	"Really."  We were a chorus, the AI and I.  "I have it," I dismissed
him.  The speakers clicked off.  "I'd been toying with the idea for a while,
but this..."  I shook my head.

	"You had?"  Wonder permeated her voice.

	"I'd have settled for you not being a dead lay," I replied, grinning.

	"Oh, you!"  She swatted my arm, then caught herself.  "Oops!  Sorry!"

	"No harm done -- it's a female thing."  I sobered.  "You have to share
me -- I already have one concubine -- and she's pregnant."

	"That's the nature of things, isn't it?" she replied, eyeing me
earnestly.  Then she shifted modes.  "What's CSM?"

	"Confederacy Space Marines," I explained.

	"Oh," she replied.  "So you're... in harm's way."

	"We all are," I retorted.  "some more than others, that's all.  What
I'm doing right now isn't terribly dangerous."

	"But you've seen worse."

	I nodded.  "We have a race to defend."  I changed up.  "Not to be a
prick or anything, but I have another candidate in mind."'

	"Not Beverley, surely!" Marie snorted.

	"No, but I didn't evac Elle because I found her ugly..."

	"How many are you allowed?" she asked, settling in with the idea.

	"Four."

	"And Elle would make?"

	"Three."

	"What about Tina?"

	"'Sexually, she's incredible -- but no.  No connection," I told her.
"I'm in no hurry to fill quotas -- I just got lucky."

	"I like Elle," Marie said, approving my choice.

	"She hasn't passed her final exam yet," I told her.  "I'm just opening
you up to the possibility."

	Somewhere in this discussion of mundane concerns, my erection fled; I
slipped out of her.  "NOW, can I suck it?" she asked.

	"Yeah, go ahead," I grinned, rolling off her.

	It was good; despite the fact that there was no hurry, she insisted on
giving me her ass, too, that night, riding my cock cowgirl-style -- and THAT
was good, too!  All in all it was a very happy little pint of peanuts who came
out of my quarters with her arm around me the next morning.  I left her with
the other three for the day and went to work.

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

	Bet took the opportunity to bust my balls.  "So I HAVE been replaced!"
she huffed, hands on hips, pretending to be pissed.

	"Gimme a break!" I retorted, "You CAN'T be replaced -- for one thing,
you're your own woman!  And for another, you've got my back -- a concubine
doesn't share my foxhole with me and make sure I don't get my head crushed in
my sleep!"

	"Well..." Bet grinned.  "I suspected that you might be getting sweet
on Marie when you had me cater to her insecurities the other day."

	"It was a maybe, then," I told Bet.  "Last night made it a certainty."

	"Really?  That good?"

	"Magic.  It wasn't just sex," I responded.

	Bet shook her head.  "Amazing."  I know that to her, Marie just didn't
look like a candidate.  There's no accounting for taste -- and that includes
mine.

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

	I almost passed on Elle, despite her original favorable review; I
probably would have, except for Marie -- which is ironic, since Marie was the
reason I seriously considered not bothering with Elle.  But it was Marie who
brought Elle with her that next 'night' or off-watch period, when she
cautiously stuck her head in the door, "Can I come in?"

	"Sure," I replied.  "Only Bet has more right.  You're the only
concubine I have on this tub."

	"Okay," she peeped.  "Can I bring a guest?"

	I settled back in my chair, figuring it would be Tina.  "All right."
If it turned out to be Tina, I might have to explain the facts of life to both
of them...

	It wasn't.  Elle peeked around the doorjamb and smiled that reserved
smile of hers.  Some people come with a built-in expression, it seems like.
I've seen women whose natural expression, in repose, looked unhappy, or
haughty, or any number of expressions.  Some, I felt sorry for -- I wondered
if their personalities had to adapt to that expression -- and if they did,
some were destined for a life of pain.  Elle's default expression had a hint
of sadness in it -- as though she was making the best of something.  Or maybe
the thought behind it was, 'This won't last.'  She could turn it up to pure
joy, or down to demure, but that was her default.  She watched me while Marie
tugged her through the door.

	The good news, undoubtedly, was that I relaxed visibly.  The bad news,
perhaps, was my welcome, "What can I do for you?"

	"Marie seems to think I should see you," Elle replied, eyeing me
sidelong.

	"Ah," I replied.  "Probably something I said in an unguarded moment.
Look, you don't owe me anything -- I picked you up without your permission and
we have no agreement on the books."

	Elle ducked her head.  "Maybe, but I need a sponsor, and I hear good
things about you."

	"You'll get a sponsor.  I'm... not sure I'm currently in the market.
I'm sort of on my honeymoon," I told her.

	Marie blushed fire-engine red.  "I can hardly walk!"

	"You were the one who insisted on losing ALL of your cherries in one
night!" I pointed out, grinning.

	"I'm not complaining," Marie beamed over her embarrassment, "but I'm
probably not much good to you tonight."

	"Everyone seems to believe I need to have sex three times a day!" I
retorted.  "I'm not Superman!"

	"You could have fooled a number of the girls I've talked to!" Elle
grinned, "Including her!"

	"Yeah, well..."

	"Look, I know you find me physically attractive," Elle pointed out, in
a more or less businesslike tone, "and I understand that you pay more
attention to CAP scores than some.  I see a lot about you that I like -- and I
hear even more.  I'd like to try out for the team -- really!"

	"I can't imagine what you would see in me..." I muttered.

	"Well, for one thing, you're irreverent," she replied, surprising me
with an answer.  "I like that -- it means you think outside the box.  And I
had a long talk with Vickie today, then went around and talked to a bunch of
other women, asking them what they thought about things.  Most of them said
something on the order of, 'Just like he said.'  Sometimes they added, 'only
better,' or 'only worse,' but in general, a lot of women on this..."

	"Call it a ship," I told her.  "It's a Darjee colony pod transport --
simply put, a cargo ship.  It just sails in space."

	"Ship, then," she continued.  "It appears that you like your truth
unvarnished, from what I hear, but a lot of women who don't even know your
name consider you to be an honest man."

	"I'm too stupid to lie and get away with it for an extended period," I
replied.  "Sit.  Let's discuss your resume."  She circled around and sat on my
bunk, knees together, hands clasped in her lap, leaning a bit forward -- and
displaying the soft cleavage that had gotten her picked up.  Her expression
didn't say that she knew what she was doing, however -- it said, 'See?  I told
you so!'

	"What?" I asked.

	"I bet you disparage yourself like that all the time," she replied.

	I opened my mouth, shut it, and sighed.  "Regularly.  Let's talk about
you.  You're how old?"

	"Nineteen."

	"Boyfriends?  Girlfriends?  Husbands?"

	"Boyfriends, three or four," she replied.  "A couple that I thought I
loved and a couple that I knew better about fairly quickly.  Girlfriends, only
to party with.  No husbands."

	"Kids?  Do I dare ask?"

	"No kids."  She shook her head.

	"Sex?" I asked.

	"Some," she admitted.  "Usually, well, sort of committed.  A couple of
wild escapades, but usually I thought we were going somewhere."

	"Are you a virgin anywhere, then?" I asked.

	"Anally," she admitted.

	I nodded.  "Despite a burst of insanity that generated several recent
opportunities, I'm generally a vaginal or oral sex kind of guy," I told her.
"Still, at some point, I would be taking it.  Is that a problem?"

	"No," Elle shook her head.  "Kellie says you're considerate, and Becky
thinks you're a god back there..."

	"He is," Marie declared.  "Both."

	"Quiet Munchkin," I told Marie, then turned to Elle, "I tend to treat
my own women a little better than I treat more or less casual..."  I couldn't
think of a more polite term that didn't seem snooty, so I went with the
basics, "... fucks.  Frankly, I'm kind of ashamed of my second bout with Becky
-- that isn't me."

	Marie produced a wry smile.  "Becky brings out the worst in everybody
-- deliberately, I think."

	I nodded.  "I'd been told that."

	Marie nodded.  "Believe it.  All of her boyfriends treated her like
shit -- and she ate it up."

	"Back to the interview," I waved it off.  "Do you like it?" I asked
Elle.  "Sex, I mean."

	"Mm hmm," Elle nodded.  "I stayed with a couple of my boyfriends
hoping that great sex would get me past the other stuff."

	I nodded.  "A lot of us do that -- and end up in divorce court.
What's your outlook on life?  Marie seems to me to be a romantic rooted in a
practical woman."

	Elle smiled that smile.  "I see me as the opposite -- a practical
romantic."

	"You understand that teamwork is required?" I asked.  "You would have
to share, not only with Marie, here, but my other concubine -- and possibly a
fourth."

	"Only an idiot would have missed the fact that it's the way things
are, here," Elle replied.  "I think this is a better plan for living than the
old institutions in the first place.  Men's drives make demands that a single
woman generally can't fulfill."

	"I know a lot of guys who would agree with you," I muttered, "but not
a lot of gals."

	Elle smiled.  "They'll come around, when they see it working."

	Belief wasn't in me, but I moved things along.  "I guess it's time to
get a look at the physical plant."  I motioned for her to stand and she flowed
to her feet and immediately started undressing.

	I'd been going to move slower, but this worked.  She was everything
I'd imagined -- a collection of plush, softly rounded curves.  Her heavy
breasts sagged just enough to announce, 'I'm real!' and she had sweet hips and
a nice ass with those two dimples in the saddle of her back above it.  She was
more Rubenesque than current fashion finds preferable, but she was sweet to
me.  "What would you change about yourself?" I asked.

	"Mmmmm, a firmer bust, perhaps," she replied.  "Ten pounds off, here
and there."

	"A little firmer, maybe," I replied.  "And we'll discuss those ten
pounds -- maybe not."

	"I'm jealous," Marie huffed.

	"Don't be," I told her.  "I love you for what you are."  I heard an
odd thump and turned my head to find Marie had collapsed into a chair and was
gaping at me in adoration.

	"She loves you," Elle pointed out.

	"She doesn't know me," I grunted, embarrassed.  "She'll learn better."

	Elle smiled.  "I think not.  Can we move on?"  She flowed to my feet.

	"I guess," I croaked.  As much incredible sex as I'd had recently, I
was acting like a high school sophomore in the clutches of the school slut.
My pants came down and my cock came up and lips surrounded it while green eyes
danced above them.  It became abundantly clear that unless she lay beneath me
like a dead fish, Elle was going to pass the final exam...

	She was a SERIOUS cocksucker.  Butterfly licks blended with lip
service that harmonized with deep sucking strokes to bring me onto my toes,
knees locked, groaning at the sensory overload -- and through it all she
smiled and her eyes twinkled and she seemed to enjoy what she was doing.
Marie hovered nearby, watching, rapt; she knew I was being transported.  Elle
backed off only long enough to whisper, "Lick his balls."  I have no idea what
contortion Marie used to get between my legs to do it, but she did -- and I
lasted another thirty eternal seconds of ecstasy before erupting into Elle's
mouth.  She didn't play with it -- she merely swallowed, then licked her lips,
her eyes never leaving mine.

	I don't remember the transition to fucking; I just suddenly realized
that I was in her and pumping, holding a double-handful of soft breast flesh.
I don't think our eyes unlocked until then.  She had this satisfied purr she
made between orgasms; it rang in my head while her eyes hypnotized me.  I
didn't count her orgasms, but I know there were more than the one I got.  I
exploded inside her, erupting in blasts that, had I pulled out, would have hit
the wall above her head.  Then someone's hands rubbed my back and I settled
onto her pillowy breasts, listening to that purr until consciousness fled...

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

	I awoke on my back, my cock erect in a mouth.  I knew it was a mouth,
because it came off and a voice at my waist said, "Like this?"  It was
Marie...

	"Mmm hmm," Elle replied from somewhere against my left side.  "Use
your tongue.  Trade off licking him with taking him deep -- yes, like that..."

	I luxuriated in Marie's efforts while reflecting that apparently
teamwork wasn't an issue.  "You two are going to kill me," I gasped.

	"You'll die happy," Elle purred.  "Besides, we'll take a LOOOOONG time
doing it -- we need our lover, don't we Marie?"

	"Mmmm hmmmm," Marie hummed around my cock.

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

	Thirty minutes later, I was short another load and Elle was officially
mine.  Tina and Beverley were picked up by a guy we picked up during Drop Six
-- which was abbreviated when someone tried to set fire to the little club we
were running the pickup in and we had to collapse the field so the fire
department could put it out.  Two days after the guy took on Beverley, she
stopped talking -- period.  I think he had her voicebox shut down.  On the
other hand, they both seemed happy with the situation, so I left it alone...

	I think we set a record for selectee handling, finishing our load
phase in the minimum amount of time, pulling in and processing larger than
average groups -- and My Girls were a big help during orientations for the
newbies, getting them pointed in the right direction and exhibiting the proper
attitude.  We're in transit now; I think both of My Girls are pregnant, but
they keep lying about it -- I think they're worried I'll back off, sexually,
if they admit that they are.  Both of them are starting to get bellies (well,
they both had a little pooch before, actually, but I think it's growing), and
Elle has been trying to get me to try out her ass...