Author: Thinking Horndog Title: Shopping Around Part: 3 of 6 Universe: The Swarm Summary: A side jaunt before a pickup nets a Confederacy Marine a hidden jewel Keywords: MF M+F Mf oral anal noncon reluc exhib ScFi Chapter 3 Wayne Moore was examining the line when the woman he'd spurned came up to him, towing a hairy, muscular construction type in a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out and jeans. "Wayne? I found this..." Wayne, looking irritated, glanced over. "I'm busy, Cathy." He took a quick look at the guy's meat, which Cathy was maintaining by jacking it, then addressed the guy, "Are you willing to stick that in this skank's ass?" The guy shrugged. "I ain't goin', so I might as well fuck." Wayne nodded. "Sensible. She's supposed to be using the biggest dick she can find -- do you figure you win the size prize?" The guy DID have serious meat -- maybe nine inches... The guy thought about it. "Dunno. I figure Nate is probably bigger." Wayne eyed Cathy. "So why isn't Nate standing here?" "Wayne!" Cathy sputtered, "Nate is, well, black!" "So much the better," Wayne turned away. "Okay, okay!" Cathy grabbed Wayne's arm. "If I do this Nate..." "I'll think about it," Wayne replied. Cathy turned to the other guy. "Sorry, Ed." Wayne turned back to her. "Uh uh -- you made commitments. You do something for Ed, too -- I don't care what. Whatever he wants." He eyed her. "You're running out of time." Cathy gulped. "Yes, Wayne." She sped off. Ed looked at Wayne. "You gonna take her?" Wayne sighed. "Probably. But she's a conniving little bitch -- she needs the lesson. How many guys at your table?" "Three." "Put her over the table and all of you do her. Don't be gentle -- if you tear something up, I hear they can fix it where she's going. Tell Nate to draw blood, in particular. I'll come get her when it's time to go. Deal?" "Deal!" Ed grinned, and stalked off. Wayne went back to his examination of a blonde in a spandex gym outfit -- who was now a good deal less enthusiastic. In a few seconds, there was a crash and a screech and Cathy yelled "Wayne!" Wayne didn't even look up. "Shut up and fuck!" There was a slap and an "OW!" and some rough laughter. Wayne ignored it. The blonde started backing off. "No thank you," she told Wayne. Wayne shrugged. "Suit yourself. She deserves it. She uses men. She needs a little payback." "All the same..." The woman stepped back. Wayne shrugged and moved on." Elias was chatting up another one of the staff, a tall, hippy, twenty- something Hispanic chick with a permanently angry expression. "So, you busy?" "Not right now." The girl rolled her eyes. "Do you fuck?" "Go on -- you're too short!" Elias snorted. "Not where it counts," he leered. "I can do better," she declared. "Doubtful," Elias replied. "With your attitude, you'd probably be the last one standing." Alicia's eyes flashed. "You little bastard!" "Yes?" Elias looked amused. "Right on both counts, Honey." Just as it looked like her temper was going to get away from her, there was an interruption. A muscular black in a muscle shirt and tattered jeans arrived, following a sizeable erection. "You work here, right? Got any butter? I'm goin' into a dry hole..." Alicia's eyes popped. She turned and reached behind the counter, surfacing several individual pats of butter. "Here..." "Thanks." The black man moved off; Alicia's gaze followed him to where a couple of guys were holding a brunette down over a table. One of them was busy jamming his cock in her mouth. "I need a cigarette," she muttered. Elias fished out his pack. "We're both gonna have to quit," he muttered, handing her the smoke and flicking his lighter. Alicia took a big puff, savoring it, and letting the smoke leak from her nose. She smiled. "I hope they have something decent to replace it with." She eyed the old clerk while deliberately taking a second puff. "Is it really big?" "Come find out," Elias replied. "Are those tits real?" Alicia's eyes narrowed, but she got it -- you didn't win battles of wits with the guy. "Of course." She rolled her eyes theatrically, "I SUPPOSE you want to touch them..." "I want to do a whole lot more than that, Honey," Elias retorted. "Let's go over here and play doctor..." Alicia let him take her hand and lead her toward a booth, hips swaying, waving her cigarette behind her. -------------------- "Mickey, no! Don't do this! They're all insane! This thing -- it'll go away..." Bettina Gregory held onto Michelle Rawlins' forearm, trying to keep her in the booth they were occupying. Bettina couldn't believe what she was seeing -- it seemed like every sexual act ever described was going on around them! Mickey shrugged her girlfriend off. "It'll be all right." Bettina's eyes were pools of fear. "It's all about sex! They want to turn women into sex slaves and human baby factories! Look around you!" Bettina couldn't do that kind of thing. One pregnancy had been enough for her -- and little Tyler was a handful! If she wasn't escaping to the gym with Mickey twice a week, she'd have gone insane! Thank God David had backed off on the sex thing after Tyler was born... Mickey leaned on the table and locked eyes with her friend. "Buck up, Betty! It's about getting out of here before those creatures come and tear the place up! I love Brett, but I have two little girls to think of!" Well, that was the official tale, anyway; fact was, Brett's ardor had cooled quite a bit, especially after Lisa was born. Mickey ascribed it to the pear shape she'd assumed, but there could well be more to it than that. Certainly, her trips to the gym -- which HAD been somewhat effective -- hadn't lit any sparks between her and her husband. The other thing was the fact that Mickey and Bettina had attitudes toward sex that were polar opposites; Betty feared sex and hated the results, and hid behind fundamentalist religion to keep her husband under control. Mickey LIKED sex and liked being pregnant and liked having children -- and the virtual orgy going on around her aroused her as much as it scared Betty! Betty made one last desperate attempt. "It's a lie, Mickey! It's all movie stuff -- special effects! Those creatures don't really exist; they're horror movie stuff! Pastor says so!" "Wishing them away won't save you," a voice behind her declared. Bettina whirled and both women found themselves staring at one of the Marines. "I've seen them -- and I've seen what they do to a place before they move on. You wouldn't like it. You know, to them, most species are just livestock; they don't mess with them too much unless they get in their way -- but we're a little more dangerous than most of the stuff they've been running up against lately -- there's no telling what they're going to come up with to use as a flyswatter." "Pastor says..." "Pastor says whatever will keep his flock docile," Pete replied in a hard voice. "The Lord helps those who help themselves. Think on that." Mickey shook Betty off. "Am I too late, do you think?" Pete waved at the line in front of the counter, "There's only one way to find out..." -------------------- "More butter -- PLEEEEZE!" Cathy Clark whined. Nate must have had nine and a half inches, and he was sinking it into her butt a LOT faster than she wanted him to! Wayne was being a real bastard; okay, so, she'd passed him up even though he was cute -- a girl did what she had to to get ahead, didn't she? Wayne just wasn't on the direct path... Well, not until now, anyway; now he was on the direct path to survival, so Cathy would do whatever it took to get him to take her out of here -- including this! Nate's wasn't the first dick she'd taken up the ass; sometimes, she'd even enjoyed it, although usually she merely pretended -- but it would be nice if he didn't rip her colon! "Easy!" "Guy said we should break something, Cunt!" Nate grated. "Might as well be your ass!" "He did?" 'Oh, God!' "Yep," the hairy white guy -- Ed --- agreed. "He said if you pleased him, they could fix whatever when you got where you were going. I figure if you piss him off, you're gonna stay busted..." Ed loved this -- he could go to town on the kind of snotty bitch that always looked down on him, and because it was during a pickup, there would be no charges; looking at Nate, he could see that he was thinking the same thing. "You talk too much," Ed told Cathy "Open up and suck." He rubbed his cock against her lips, then slapped her when she didn't open up. Maybe it was a good thing, given the way Nate grabbed her hips and jabbed himself balls deep in her ass. Besides, when she opened her mouth to wail... Ed's description of Wayne's instructions scared Cathy -- and his follow-up both hurt and pissed her off -- but what Nate did to her flattened her resistance like a thousand pound bomb! Pain tore through her guts and when she opened her mouth to give vent to her agony, a dick punched in -- but it was almost a blessing as it gave her mouth something to do while Nate backed out; it felt like he was pulling her insides out with him through her little brown ring! "MMMMMMMMMFFF!" "I think she likes it!" chuckled Ed. "All them stuck up types really want a big dick to work 'em over," Nate grunted, slathering another pat of butter on his cock. That last stroke had damn near torn the skin off his dick; no sense in doing this shit and not enjoying it... Nate's next in-stroke hurt Cathy less, but putting her colon back where it belonged and then stretching it wasn't pleasant. Thank God the butter was starting to work! Ed grabbed her head and told her, "Keep sucking! After all, you SAID you wanted it..." Cathy did as she was told; it gave her some comfort, anyway, as long as Ed wasn't driving her -- and he seemed content not to as long as she put forth an effort. Very quickly, things got better -- after all, nowhere they were working was virgin territory, and she'd even played rough a few times, when the situation demanded it -- you did what you had to. Cathy knuckled down and pretended to enjoy it, knowing that the guys working her over would get a kick out of it -- and even did enjoy it, a little... -------------------- Mickey wasn't the only one to decide to join the party late, Pete picked up on a pair of brunettes in business casual that he'd seen earlier in the back, huddled over a laptop. Now the machine was packed up and the pair was headed his way, one confident, the other diffident. The confident one was wearing a nice blouse that showed some cleavage and dress pants stretched taut over a sweet ass that she knew how to make roll, striding along in her low heels. The diffident one was thinner, small breasts pendant under a thin sundress; there wasn't much there, and what was obviously rode low, if not sagged. The legs were thin and her gait... Yeah, pigeon-toed. When the pair pulled up in front of him, he confirmed it; the confident chick in the pants stood almost duck-foot, while the nervous one's narrow knees rubbed each other. There was no question which one knew her way around a bed and which one didn't. The nervous one mumbled, "This looks kind of rough..." while the confident one merely cocked an eyebrow and quirked her lips. Pete addressed the concern. "Well, it's kind of like a train wreck; you've got a limited amount of time to try to chase down a couple of girls that hopefully are compatible -- or at least have the potential. It's sort of like someone coming in and saying, 'Okay, you have to marry someone in this room, and you've got fifteen minutes to figure out who,' -- only more so. There are a lot of test drives going on -- something I approve of, since I've seen the results when you don't." "Like what?" Cocky asked. "Worst case?" Pete replied. "You have about a month in transit to settle in with your sponsor. Women who are too used to getting by on their looks and controlling things and just don't get it have literally been tossed out of airlocks." He shook his head. "I screwed up -- I didn't go that far, but I bet the chicks I picked based on how cute they were wish they'd gotten a clue before I handed them off to someone else to deal with. I didn't have time to screw with women I couldn't trust -- I've got to be available to fight a war, not baby-sit." The narrow girl shrugged. "Okay, but..." She pointed off at where Wayne's little gold-digging brunette was getting the living shit fucked out of her. Pete shrugged. "Some of the guys have issues. There are a couple of girls in here that were screwing with their guys' heads -- and this is the perfect time and place to get even. On the other hand, in both cases, I've been assured that once the girl is properly chastised, she's going out with her man..." The confident one pursed her lips and nodded. "That one over there?" She pointed to Rachana. "Case in point," Pete amplified. "From the condensed version I got, he's been courting her and she has been making him jump through hoops. Culturally, that isn't the thing to do for them, but her family was in on it -- probably for economic reasons. Then the wall comes down and suddenly she's all lovey-dovey and wheedling him to take her with him -- kind of a sorry- assed deal, in my humble opinion." Skinny went back to pointing at Cathy. "What about her? Those guys aren't going, are they?" "Now, they're just entertaining themselves. The chick is a serious gold-digger, I'm told," Pete explained. "Apparently, she was moving up the corporate ladder by being the office slut and spider woman. The guy she's wheedling for her ride out was beneath her notice, before -- and he's supposed to have no hard feelings. For the record, she hunted those guys down herself; the guy wants to see just how far she'll go -- and she's cooperating." "She ASKED them to do that?" Skinny burst out in disbelief. "Well, I think the guy upped the ante -- but she propositioned them. She was out sorting guys by dick size." Pete grinned while Skinny blushed. "I don't think I'd hold what's going on against these guys," he offered. "For the past decade, dating has almost come to a stop because women have made a habit of jacking guys around and then hiding behind laws that are still on the books from the days when they had no rights and needed protection. Now I know you can claim it's payback, but THIS generation of women didn't get that crap, and THIS generation of males didn't put it out, so it comes down to taking advantage." He waved at the ceiling and beyond. "Out there, things are returning to a certain basic pattern keyed to survival and propagation of the species. Some women aren't slaves -- but quite a few are, and it all has to do with their CAP score. No one is juggling the books -- if they earn it, they can be a full-fledged citizen; if they don't, someone else is giving them a ride, and the standard price of a ticket is being loyal to the person who takes you on while contributing to the species by being barefoot and pregnant. Sorry," he finished lamely, "I'll get down off my soapbox now." "So..." the cocky one muttered. "So you're fashionably late," Pete replied. "Things have probably shaken out some, so you'll probably have an easier time of it -- but you might be TOO late -- that's the breaks..." "Thanks," the cocky one said, smiling. "Come on, Penny." She swayed off. Beth Savage absorbed this conversation avidly, despite the fact that it fueled her fears, which left her rooted to her chair. Beth was in her early thirties; she had drab brown hair, currently pulled back into a bun, unremarkable features, and was heavy -- not massive, but in the size eighteen range. She'd managed marriage once, but failed at it; her husband had found a racier number and moved out. That had led to depression and low self-esteem -- and fifty pounds in eating binges, which contributed to the cycle. She generally worked nights, cleaning offices, but today she was supposed to report to one of the mall stores at twelve to help prep it for new owners. Basically, she had no life -- the closest she came to dating was participation in some internet chat rooms -- but the BIG problem was the fact that she had no children. That had been a major goal of her marriage -- but her husband had robbed her of it by the simple expedient of getting a vasectomy and not telling her. It had worked for him; he played around without worrying about the consequences, and came home to the little woman, who would initiate sex regularly, trying in vain to get pregnant. Beth had been devastated when she found out. Now, she sat rooted at her table in her wraparound skirt and wraparound tunic (purchased to accommodate her embarrassing growth), her bagel and coffee untouched, while a man talked about the fact that if she sold her soul -- and could find someone to buy it -- she could become a mother -- not once, but several times over! Pete noticed the woman, primarily due to the odd look on her face. "Can I help you?" "No, no, I don't think so," Beth looked away. "You're missing out," he noted. "You can't win if you don't play." "I--I can't..." "Can't and won't are two different things," Pete pointed out, and moved on. Maureen had taken to orbiting Pete a few feet out, trying unconsciously to make sure that when he disappeared, she did too, primarily. Debra, having smoothed the road for the two teens, was watching her, amused by her antics. "Dear, he SAID he was going to take you..." "I know," Maureen whispered, "but what if something happens? What if he changes his mind?" "What if you drive him batty?" Debra retorted. Maureen ducked her head in embarrassment. Beth recognized a kindred soul. Waving Maureen over, she said, "That man said that women who get picked to leave here will be slaves, sort of..." Debra joined Maureen. "True enough," she interjected. "He also said they would spend a lot of time barefoot and pregnant..." Debra glanced at Maureen. "Well, Dear, as unappetizing as it may sound, if you get taken out of here, your primary job is to propagate the human race across the galaxy or whatever -- we need to be able to match numbers with the enemy, and that means a large, dispersed population, so if they hit one world, they don't kill us off." "So..." Beth drew it out. "Plan to have several kids," Debra replied. Maureen nodded solemnly. "The family design is polygyny or something -- one guy, several women. He keeps them pregnant and they share the child-rearing and other chores while he's off fighting or whatever." "Are you going?" Beth asked Debra. "It doesn't look like it," Debra shrugged. "I'm going back over there, but..." She flicked a hand at Maureen. "She is. The big Marine took her for himself." "How are they picking women?" Beth asked. Debra shrugged. "Everybody's different. Look over there." Beth looked; there were all types in the group, including a couple she couldn't fathom the thought process behind. "Huh." "However odious the idea of pumping out babies might be, it's a chance to get to safety," Debra grunted. "I WANT kids," Beth muttered. "Then what are you doing sitting here?" Debra asked, amazed. "Come on..." She grabbed Beth's arm. Beth pulled back. "Nobody will want me." "You don't know that," Maureen replied. "Look at me! He took one look, and... I--I don't know what he saw..." She looked away, tearing up. "Well, okay... Will you stand with me?" Beth asked Debra. "I don't know if it'll help, but sure..." The pair moved off, looking a bit like Mutt and Jeff. Maureen decided to go join the selected concubines. Elias and Alicia were smoking an after-sex cigarette, still coupled, Alicia on her back on a booth table with her legs over Elias' shoulders. "Did I lie?" Elias prompted, taking a self-satisfied puff. "No, I guess not," Alicia smiled. She'd had worse -- a LOT worse -- from her current boyfriend. "Good. I hate to fuck and run, but I have three more women to find. Lift your legs..." "THREE?" Alicia exclaimed. "Three," Elias confirmed. "I'm due six. You, the Jap girl -- whatever her name is -- and that sow Sue make three, so I have to hunt down three more. Pack your suitcase -- on second thought, just go over there naked and wait." He backed out from between her upraised legs and headed off, hauling his trousers up, his cigarette dangling from his lips. Alicia eyed him in frank surprise. Six women? Wayne had been interviewing the fitness crowd, but it wasn't working; Cathy was too visible an object lesson and they weren't that desperate. Wayne needed someone who could put a thumb on Cathy when he wasn't around, too -- and that was going to be difficult to find. He scanned up and down the line of women; several more seemed to have decided that it was time to make a break for it and wandered over since his last pass, but... Hold it a minute... The tall, thin forty-something woman with the exhibitionist blouse stood out like a hawk among the chickens; there were a couple of polished business types on down the line, but he'd seen them, and they were probably as much trouble as Cathy. He wandered over. "Can I see your card?" he asked Debra. Debra fished hers from her purse and Wayne applied the card reader. The scores were... interesting. "You're a schoolteacher?" "Yes." Debra countered with a question. "You seem to have something to do with that circus over there -- can I ask what?" Wayne sighed. "It's an exercise in stupidity. She's a co-worker -- one who uses sex to get ahead. When we got stuck here together and it became apparent that I was being picked up, suddenly I was a hot property. I got a little angry and decided to get even with her for every guy she'd ever screwed then screwed over." Debra lifted an eyebrow. "How, exactly?" "I told her to go look for the biggest cock she could find and take it up the ass. When she got going good, I sicced the other guys on her -- largely because she turned up a racist streak. I know it wasn't right, but..." "Temptation overcame you," Debra smiled. "Let me guess -- she wouldn't give you the time of day before." Wayne shook his head. "Not even." He eyed her. "Why are you here?" Debra shrugged. "I don't know -- survival, I guess. Or loneliness. I really don't want to do the kid thing any more -- it interferes with me paying attention to students -- not that I'd have any if I went, I guess." "What if you had, say, one kid?" Wayne shifted his eyes to the Cathy Show. "We could saddle her with your offspring, too..." "That's... tempting..." Debra looked that way, too. "She's completely amoral -- you'd have to protect the kids from that," Wayne pointed out. "Or break her of it..." "THAT might be a job..." Wayne commented. "Sex?" "Love the stuff," Debra replied. "You have great nipples..." "...On not so great titties," Debra retorted. "I suppose you could have them redone or something." "Not sure I want to," Wayne replied. "May I?" He waved at Debra's nether regions. "Certainly." She undid her slacks and let them slither to the floor, leaving her standing there in heels, a thong, and that blouse, her reading glasses perched anachronistically between her breasts. She had a bit of dark fluff on her pubic mound the size of a postage stamp, maybe -- you could see it through the translucent front panel of the thong. "You DO have fashion sense," Wayne commented, grinning. "Why, thank you, Sir!" Debra vamped back. "I doubt that I would kick and scream too much if you wanted to sample the merchandise..." "Really?" Wayne commented blandly, getting into the swing of things. He reached out to finger Debra's slit, sliding the thong's narrow crotch aside. The rubbery inner lips popped open easily, granting access to her damper inner core. Debra's clitoral hood was fairly prominent, too. "I don't appear to be too terribly busy -- let's find an open booth, shall we?" He crooked an arm and led her off. Beth stood there, amazed; the whole conversation went beyond anything she'd ever heard of, let alone experienced! The pair of them had been so mater-of-fact about so many weird things... Maybe she shouldn't be here.... She became aware of a short but cocky-looking fellow standing before her, smoking a cigarette. "So, what's your claim to fame?" he asked. "Ah, er," Beth sputtered. "I want to have children!" she blurted. "No shit?" He cocked his head, studying her. "That's refreshing. Don't run off." He moved on to the next woman, though, asking her basically the same question. -------------------- Mickey Rawlins made her way along the line toward the end, where two late twenty-something guys had a couple of young girls on their knees, naked, getting blowjobs from them. "Aren't they a little young?" she asked. "They sure are," one of the men replied, "Easy, Honey -- watch the teeth!" He was stroking her cheek rather than driving her onto his erection, however. "I'm gonna need a b--..." He stopped short, gazing at Mickey. Mitch Franke saw an early thirties bleached-blonde with a bob hairdo that was kinky enough, either through a permanent or naturally, that it stood almost straight out to the sides and back like the thatched roof of a hut. Below that was a decent-enough face sporting blue eyes and an up-tilted nose -- and a firm mouth with a lot of resolve to it. Moving lower, he discovered a probably pretty decent rack being crushed in a sports bra under a spandex exercise leotard. Over that were shorts and leggings and running shoes -- the shorts masking the spread of the hips somewhat but not completely camouflaging her pear shape. "Babysitter?" she offered. "Yeah." Mitch nodded. "Um, are you, uh, taken?" "So you're not a child molester?" Mickey shot back. "She volunteered -- didn't you, Honey?" he asked the brown-haired girl. "Mike couldn't take on her and her girlfriend both, so I..." But Mickey was looking at the girl, waiting. The girl watched her through a couple of suction cycles and backed off long enough to say, "Uh huh." Mickey looked dubious. "So you came to her rescue..." But the brown-haired girl popped off Mitch's dick to say the most she'd said all morning. "Uh huh. He did." Then she resumed sucking. Mickey blinked and shut up. Mitch, feeling kind of stupid, muttered, "She's learning. Some woman gave them a quick class..." Mickey recovered herself somewhat. The situation was so weird -- was this any less believable? "How's she doing?" "I might make it," Mitch replied tightly. From his answer, Mickey suspected that the girl's efforts were somewhat uneven. Nodding, she said, "Where were we?" "I was... asking..." Conversation became difficult for Mitch; the girl -- WHATEVER her name was -- had found a sensitive spot. "There! Keep that up, Honey! UUUHH!!" "Oh, I remember," Mickey said brightly. "You were asking..." Mitch held up a finger. "I... can't... really... AHHH, SHIIIT!" He hunched over and Mickey watched his hands clench as he fought the urge to impale the girl on his erection. The girl's eyes widened and she started swallowing -- but she didn't look any too upset over the whole thing. "AWWW JEEZ!" Mitch found something to do with his hands -- rub the girl's back. He gasped a few times, then backed off. "That was just... SUPER, Honey! Jeez, what's your name, anyway?" "It's Vickie," the girl replied. "Unless you want to change it. I'm a slave, right? Slaves don't really have names... I like Honey..." Mitch looked like he'd been hit with a baseball bat. He pulled the girl to her feet and tucked her against him, muttering, "You're not a slave in MY household. You're still Vickie -- but I might call you Honey because you're so sweet..." He reached up to dash tears from his eyes. Mickey's perception of the situation underwent a sea-change during that fifteen or twenty seconds; on top of Mitch's demonstrations of gentleness and concern, there was the contrast with Mike, who was DEFINITELY manhandling the little blonde teen, holding her head and occasionally choking her. Seconds after Mitch's orgasm began, Mike lit off in the blonde's mouth, choking her with his sticky load while holding her pinned as she instinctively tried to back off. When he did let up, the girl backed off, made a face, and said, "Yuck!" to which Vickie replied, "Aww, it wasn't THAT bad! I thought it was okay!" "Yeah, well," the blonde glared at Mike, who had the sense to look apologetic. Given the way things had gone down, chastising Mitch for his role in things seemed stupid; when he looked over at her, Mickey's response was a quiet, "Yes, I'm available." Mitch, still recovering, waved at the booth area. "Let's go sit down somewhere and talk about it."