Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Surprise, Surprise!
Part: 1 of 1
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: Jacques Moreau was one of the new breed of selectees picked for
traits that didn't show up on a CAP test.
Keywords: MF oral 1st ScFi
Surprise, Surprise!
Copyright © 2008 The Thinking Horndog
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit is
forbidden. Any distribution must include this note and the author's email
address. Don’t be caught attempting to make a buck off me!
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Early on, it became apparent that we weren't getting all of the help
we COULD -- or even SHOULD -- get from the Confederacy. The psych boys and
the policy makers and the politicians puzzled it out -- and, oddly, the AIs
helped more than one would expect. Most of the Confederacy left supporting us
to the Darjee -- which allowed them to ignore uncivilized behavior by both us
and the Swarm. Some of them knew better, but just couldn't bring themselves
to play; others apparently had an interest in watching the Darjee take it in
the shorts and were willing to gamble -- after all, the Swarm weren't the
first threat the Confederacy had dealt with. Of course, it had been a LOOONG
time since the last engagement, but...
The Darjee weren't putting out one hundred percent, either. They were
between a rock and a hard place -- if they gave us too much, we were a worse
threat than the Swarm -- but if they didn't give us enough, we couldn't do our
job. Add to that the fact that the Darjee had other things to do besides put
forth a full-fledged support effort for their rather vicious protégés, and it
becomes obvious that the handouts would be limited in scope.
Technology assimilation was another matter. We had a limited period
in which to try to maximize the benefit of technologies that other races had
been developing for millennia. Look what giving whiskey and rifles did to
Native Americans and you can see the dangers of that -- but we weren't going
to defeat the Sa'arm with what we had. So the Darjee doled out bits of this
and that, crossing their fingers that we wouldn't go wild with anything -- and
we adapted the technologies to our needs. This kept a lot of hothouse brains
going twenty-four hours a day...
Some things just take too long to replicate. It wasn't enough to get
bodies off the planet -- we needed all human knowledge and culture. The
Darjee gave us a scanning technology that went all the way to the molecular
level, but they didn't give us a method of replicating the target quickly
beyond a certain size; if you wanted a duplicate of the Louvre, for instance,
nanobots would do it -- in several months. We didn't have the time or
resources for such, so it was decided that we would evacuate some facilities,
along with people. By Year Three, it was clear that, efforts to stabilize
things by taking along the less desirable as second-class citizens aside, we
were STILL participating in someone's idea of a eugenics project -- which was
unacceptable to a large number of people both on and off the homeworld. The
methods we were using for extractions were great for starting colonies that
would be self-supporting -- but once they were up and running, we could move
things better by less resource-intensive means.
Managing priorities was a bitch; the war effort HAD to come first --
but the evacuation was a pivotal feeder. Every body we got off the Earth was
a producer of additional bodies we would need to engage the Sa'arm -- which
meant every body counted and the evacuation effort must be maximized within
the support constraints. Colony ships were great -- and we sized the original
hundred pod ones up tenfold -- but once we had essential services set up on a
colony and it was environmentally adjusted for habitation, we didn't need pods
-- or, at worst, we could manufacture them on-site.
Replication technology is a lot faster than manufacturing, on the
small and medium scale -- but you have to do research and development first.
We had places doing that on Earth -- and you could no more replicate them than
you could any other product that doesn't exist. It wasn't enough to evacuate
the hothouse minds -- we needed for them to have familiar surroundings to work
within to get the job done. That meant not only taking scientists and
technicians, but taking the labs and the fabrication facilities. On top of
that, you have the issue of economics -- for every one of these primary
resources, you needed three to six support personnel -- butchers and bakers
and candlestick makers -- to take the load off so they could concentrate on
their jobs. Concubines take care of a lot of keeping the home fires burning,
but they have resupply needs and requirements for communications and
infrastructure... We needed to jack things up.
The first cube ship rolled off the assembly line in orbit around Nova
Terra at the end of Year Five; it was a giant cattle car, capable of
evacuating and processing 250,000 people. It was all rooms and corridors and
hallways and dining facilities and briefing areas -- and mounted six field-
bubble generators capable of collecting a facility a quarter of a mile in
cubic volume and toting it for a month, then setting it on a new planet.
Transit time was cut to a week; crews were Fleet Auxiliaries, and the kind of
trouble to be expected from a mixed mess made regular pickups simple by
comparison -- but it helped cut down on the eugenics angle, and it allowed us
to extract critical facilities.
Selection was by a number of means -- multinational corporations
tended to have the facilities, and they stumbled upon the means. DuPont was
the first; they traded ALL of their proprietary process information for the
extraction of six research facilities, workers and all -- and their top tier
management, of course.
When people started going off-world more or less without regard to
their CAP score, many of the disaffected settled down and 'normal' extractions
became easier. Confederacy staff started looking at making deals with
individuals who didn't quite measure up, but who could provide a particular
function... And someone realized that if basic health care support was
available to the entire population of the homeworld, not only would it cut a
step or two out of extraction processing, the troops on the ground when the
Swarm arrived would ALL be available for duty...
-----------------------
Jacques Moreau pulled up before the restaurant and got out of his van,
collecting his toolbox from the back. It was an early summer evening in Year
Five, which provided him with a fine view of a couple of sweet young things in
skimpy clothing as he followed them inside. The number of females per male
had definitely fallen due to extractions, and older, post-menopausal women
were seeing increased popularity among those left behind -- but there was
still a lot of stuff still out there that met the basic standards for pickup.
He flashed his credentials to the manager at the door. "Replicator
repair," he announced.
The manager frowned. "There's nothing wrong with ours."
Jacques nodded. "You wouldn't notice, but there is a minor issue.
We're going through ALL food replicators to fix a problem that could lead to
output degeneration over time." The manager frowned and examined Jacques'
credentials and the work order closely -- but they were genuine, even if his
excuse wasn't. Jacques waited patiently while the manager called the support
call center on the work order for verification; this was his 360th call in the
last ninety days -- the drill was MORE than familiar.
"Okay, there are four replicators -- but you probably know that," the
manager grunted. "Please don't haul them all down at the same time -- we're
headed for the evening rush." People tended to eat out more and more -- it
was a chance to socialize and the pricing had dropped dramatically due to the
availability of cheap replication. Cooks now concentrated on making new and
different foods that could be replicated easily, rather than mass-producing a
few items on a menu. Besides, restaurants were a great place to get picked
up... Servers were in high demand as the average restaurant's business
quintupled -- but cooks had a hard time if they were just hash-slingers.
Female waitresses tended to disappear during a pickup, so restaurant owners
shifted to males -- and gay males surfaced as a preference just because they
were more detail-oriented, gossipy -- well, you get the idea. Jacques merely
nodded and headed for the kitchen area.
The staff wasn't thrilled; Jacques was MOST DEFINITELY in the way.
Food preparation was programming, extraction, and presentation -- people STILL
didn't like the idea of eating the identical thing to the person next to them,
so the wait staff routinely adjusted something or fed minor variants on a dish
to keep people happy. Jacques moved from replicator to replicator, opening a
panel and extracting a module and replacing it. The process took about twenty
minutes; as he placed the last old module in a rack in the bottom of his
toolbox, a light on a small round unit the size of a hockey puck next to it
began to glow green. Jacques smiled gently; this was what he'd been working
toward all these months... Closing his toolbox, he headed out to the bar.
There was nothing technically wrong with the replicators; Jacques was
adding an additional function. And that little green light meant that his
period of effort was over, and it was time to extract his reward!
The addition was a module that provided six basic health-maintenance
nanobots and dispensed them in the food. The Confederacy had decided that an
announcement might cause all kinds of foolishness and insanity, so they
drafted five thousand technicians to go around making the adjustments in
secret. By the time people began to realize what was going on, the vast
majority of the populace would already be treated and it would be a dead
issue.
-----------------------
Jacques, personally, was selected for his task when he went for his
annual CAP test. Jacques' hands were highly talented, but he lacked in other
areas -- he had a five point seven CAP score and nothing in the world was
going to improve it. But he was a premiere technician, and some things just
can't be taught... The desk agent had stopped him on the way out, "Can I have
a word with you?"
"Yes..." Jacques was still smarting under his disappointment.
"Not fun, is it?"
"No." Knowing that your death sentence has once again not been
commuted did rather tend to make for a bad day...
"You know, not everybody has to have a six point five..." the man
said, eyeing him.
Jacques smiled ruefully, spreading his hands. "Do I look to you like
some woman's idea of a gigolo?" Jacques was five feet eight, slight and wiry,
balding, and had a rather long, narrow nose.
The man smiled. "Perhaps not -- but you DO have other talents, don't
you? It appears that as long as you understand its basic function, you can
create or repair just about anything..."
Jacques grunted. "Too bad that doesn't show up HERE!" he groused,
waving his useless CAP card.
"Well, actually, it does." A door had opened and a Fleet Auxiliary
Petty Officer stood there. "We're discovering that the early criteria for CAP
selection, while definitely a priority for mainstream colonization, aren't
all-inclusive. Would you perhaps like to hear more?"
Jacques DID want to hear more -- and he liked what he heard. The
Confederacy offered him a job -- and a ticket out -- with the usual benefits!
He was given his kit and a list of target locations -- and when he'd hit his
numbers and done his time, he would get his reward...
-----------------------
Jacques hauled himself onto a barstool, having set his toolkit down,
and scanned the restaurant from his perch while he awaited the attention of
the bartender. The clientele barely showed the effects of having part of the
top five percent of the human race cherry picked from it, but there were some
indications. Really hot women were getting harder to find, and families
sitting at the tables tended to feature parents with a wistful, beaten-down
look. Young women ran the gamut from virtually nude to covered from head to
foot, but older women tended not to bother with the extremes -- and guys
didn't bother, either. You had a better chance of being struck by lightning
than of being picked up if your CAP score was below the mark and you were
male. If you WERE a volunteer, other guys didn't fuck with you; it was a
summary execution offense to assault a volunteer -- one of several such
offenses that had been instituted to keep volunteers from suffering reprisals.
Marriage was 'until she gets picked up,' not 'until death do us part' --
despite the fact that the numbers said the second option was the more viable.
The bartender surfaced, and Jacques ordered a draft and the menu. If
he turned his back to the bar, Jacques could see new customers entering over
the glass cover of the salad bar. As he watched, a pair of twenty-something
girls came through the door. The first was an olive-skinned thing with dark,
sullen eyes and dark brown hair; she was five feet five, maybe, and too wide
to make the top ten list of most young guys, having that bell shape below her
rounded breasts that led to hips probably four inches in excess of the
legendary thirty-eight inch standard. She picked up Jacques' eyes and licked
her lower lip while tugging the hem of her thin, empire-waisted top -- which
accentuated the cleavage between her high, round breasts cradled in what was
probably a bathing suit top from the pattern that bled through the thin fabric
-- then dismissed him and moved on.
The girl behind her could have been her sister when it came to shapes,
but her coloration was totally different. She had light brown hair and creamy
skin with a sprinkling of freckles over the nose -- and she smiled at him,
displaying a gap between her incisors before moving on, too, her big, round
ass rolling in the tight jean skirt that displayed a considerable amount of
her thick but muscular thighs due to some very artful fraying that laddered it
from waist to hem. They settled onto benches near the entrance to wait for a
table and Jacques turned back to his beer -- but only momentarily; he had a
limited amount of time before his transporter ceased to function and self-
destructed. He could get out after that, if he had to, but it would be
complicated; the plan was to pick up his two women here... He scanned the
room from his perch, looking for other candidates, interspersing his scans
with the consumption of his beer and the hamburger that appeared a bit later.
As it turned out, his perch made for an excellent view, especially of women
who went through the salad bar; their faces tended to be obscured by the
frame, but their busts were generally well displayed by the lighting and the
angle and the fact that they had to bend forward a bit to get under the glass.
Jacques was watching the show when the girls were seated in a booth
right behind his stool a few minutes later -- and he discovered the other pair
with them. The third girl was red haired, heavily freckled and rail thin --
and the fourth was -- well, between the size and the shape and the clothing,
Jacques just wasn't sure whether the fourth occupant of the booth was male or
female. As he watched them settle in, the young guy next to him snorted,
"There's some real oinkers..."
Jacques merely grunted. The bartender, who had stopped to wash
glasses at the sink in front of Jacques' position at the bar, chuckled.
"They're regulars. We call 'em table-hangers -- or booth-flies."
"Why?" Jacques asked.
"They're in here almost every night," the bartender related. "They'll
get a salad and they'll sit there, taking up space until closing, hoping there
will be a pickup." He shook his head. "We had one three months ago, and they
were all here -- fat lot of good it did them."
"No wonder," the young guy snorted, "Look at them. You've got Miss
Piggy, there..." he pointed out the light-brown-haired girl in the skirt --
which was drooping open at the side to display a LOT of white thigh flesh.
"Then there's her sister, who's already been roasted some..." The brunette
was sitting beside her. "Then there's the skeleton -- and I don't know WHAT
the fuck the OTHER one is!"
"That isn't terribly charitable..." Jacques mused. There was perhaps
some justification for the remarks; the light-skinned girl had the snub nose
and the gapped teeth and the freckles and the puffy, rosy cheeks. Her top
didn't display her cleavage as much as her girlfriend's did, but that was
because it had a transparent panel that displayed a couple of very pink
nipples directly. She was DEFINITELY on display. As Jacques spoke, she
lifted her eyes to his, then looked back down at the table top, embarrassed.
"So, do you get a lot of sex from prime specimens?" Jacques asked.
"Well, no, but..." the guy mumbled.
"Looks can be deceiving," Jacques counseled as the four got up and
headed for the salad bar. "I've seen some extremely ugly things that
performed their function far better than their eye-candy counterparts." Fact
was, Jacques thought the 'sisters' were cute and their wide hips and rounded
bellies were attractive to him. Young guys who didn't know anything about
fucking wanted pin-up girls -- and pin-up girls, by and large, weren't
comfortable fucks. Besides, you couldn't trust them, and you couldn't trust
other guys around them -- they tended to be empty-headed and selfish and would
move on to 'something better' at the drop of a hat. Jacques wasn't going to
hold women with his looks or with money -- but he had a new lure...
As he watched them parade through the salad bar, Jacques idly wondered
if their shapes would change due to the health-maintenance nanobots. Obesity
wasn't considered an issue per se, but diabetes and high blood pressure and a
host of other associated items would trigger weight loss in those who needed
it to avoid them. Neither of these two was really huge, anyway -- they were
merely well-padded... As they returned, Jacques discovered that he had the
light one's attention -- and after some whispers, that attention extended to
all four occupants of the booth. Jacques pretended to be scanning elsewhere,
but every time his eyes returned to the booth before him, someone was looking
back -- and keeping notes.
After he got caught the twelfth time, he quit bothering to look away.
In a moment, the light one looked up and said, "I'm sure you've got something
to say..."
Clearly, she was expecting to be insulted or chastised or something.
"Well, yes," Jacques admitted, "but I would prefer to discuss it in private."
The dark one gave him the eye. "Let's see your card."
Jacques pursed his lips and surrendered it. The dark skinned girl
took one look, snorted, and flipped it back at him. "Okay, so you're JUST a
dirty old man. We're not hookers."
"I'm not JUST a dirty old man," Jacques insisted. He turned over the
card. "Please look closer." The back side had a little liquid crystal window
on it for special messages -- and Jacques' said, 'Special dispensation -- 2
concubines.'
The dark one didn't look -- she was angry at being taken advantage of
-- but the light one did -- and gasped. "Marcia!"
Marcia, the dark-skinned girl, snatched the card, "What?" Then she
glared at Jacques. "You know what you get for messing with a CAP card?"
"Yes. It is unaltered. I can prove it," Jacques insisted, bending
low over the table to keep the conversation private.
"Marcia..." the light-skinned girl pressed.
"Lacey, shut UP!" Marcia snapped, scowling at Jacques. "How?"
"It can't be done here," Jacques murmured. "It requires an AI."
The other two girls in the booth were sitting there, bug-eyed.
"Jeezus, Marcia!" the little redhead burst out. "Fuck it up, why don't you?"
"Shut up, Margaret," Marcia snapped. "What are the chances a guy with
a five point seven can REALLY have two concubines?"
"Why would he lie?" the big girl asked. "They kill you for that!"
Marcia glared at Jacques. "Mister..."
"You have nothing to lose," Jacques declared quietly, "while I have
just bet my life." He straightened his arms and started looking around. "I
can go elsewhere. I just liked what I was seeing."
Claws sank into his arm. "Take me," little Margaret husked, eyeing
him intently.
Jacques pulled the arm away. "I'll think about it."
Lacey looked about ready to explode! "Dammit..."
"All RIGHT!" Marcia snapped. "Let's pay our bills and then you can
show us whatever..." Her eyes swept the other three. "If this isn't good..."
Jacques was succumbing to anger. "I guarantee you that this is the
last time you will speak to me like this..."
Oddly, that was more effective than any old CAP card. Marcia shut up
and eyed Jacques as if he'd just grown horns. "Yes, Sir."
"Now you've fuckin' done it," the big girl bleated. "Mister..."
"Don't even start," Jacques waved her off.
"Yessir," the girl bleated -- but in a moment she was sniffling.
Jacques rubbed his face, then strode back to the bar. "My check?" he asked
the bartender.
The bartender eyed him for a moment. "Just go. If they come back,
we'll catch them next time." Jacques nodded and pointed to the door and the
quartet rose quietly and headed out.
Once in the parking lot, the girls stopped to see how Jacques wanted
to handle things. "I have to return the van," he declared. "Follow me." He
put his toolbox in the back of the van.
"What if...?" Marcia started.
Jacques pointed to Lacey. "Get in the van," he snapped. Lacey didn't
say a word -- she just made for the van. "You'll keep up," Jacques declared.
He turned to the van and the three remaining girls ran for a shitbox Nissan
and piled in. As Marcia started the engine, Margaret snarled, "Why don't you
piss him off, Marcie? That's a fucking plan!" Marcia didn't bother to say
anything. In the back seat, Judith was still sniffling.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Jacques flicked a glance at
Lacey, "Are you satisfied with my bona-fides?"
"Yes. Yes, sir!" Lacey nodded, eyes wide.
"Take off your clothing and show me your body."
"Yes, sir." Lacey threw the top over her head and reached behind her
for the zipper to her jean skirt. "Shoes?" she asked.
Jacques glanced at the floorboards. "I want to see your feet. There
were men in the restaurant who believed you have cloven hooves."
"Excuse me?" Lacey shoved the skirt over her hips.
"Forget it," Jacques waved it off. "It was rude. Still, your feet
are a part of you -- I will examine them."
"Okay." Lacey kicked herself clear of her high heels. Lacey ALWAYS
wore high heels -- they did wonders for her legs...
"Do you do oral sex?" Jacques queried.
"Yes."
"Show me." Jacques adjusted the seat so Lacey could get her head into
his lap. Lacey draped herself across the engine cover and went to work on his
zipper. Ten seconds later, he was unfurling in her mouth. "What do you
think?" he grunted.
Lacey backed off to examine the plush mushroom head atop Jacques'
iron-hard shaft. "Mister, I'd be happy to suck this every day for you."
"At least one of you has the proper attitude," Jacques grunted,
jiggling one of Lacey's chubby ass cheeks with his hand. "Suck some more."
Lacey didn't argue.
-----------------------
Thanks to Lacey, Jacques' anger subsided by the time they reached the
local CAP testing site. He was nowhere near orgasm -- too many distractions
-- but her lips felt wonderful on his hot shaft and the handful of soft,
round, pink-nippled titty he was mauling felt very satisfying. The engine
cover was hard and got warm as they drove, but Lacey knew better than to
complain. She got up on her hands and knees just far enough to clear the
surface and let Jacques play, concentrating her efforts on his hot, firm shaft
in her mouth. Marcia could be a stupid cunt all she liked, but Lacey was
going with Jacques -- even if it was nowhere off-world! An old guy he might
be -- but he had a NICE cock, and this was ALREADY the nicest offer Lacey had
gotten in some time...
Jacques pulled up to the gate and waved his CAP card under the
scanner. "Good evening, Jacques Moreau. I detect a female with you -- and
three others in close proximity," the AI intoned.
"They are with me," Jacques replied.
"Very well." The gate slid open -- and stayed that way while Marcia
gingerly drove the Nissan through. Jacques parked the van.
"Get out," Jacques directed Lacey. "Bring your shoes, but don't put
them on -- and your CAP card. That's it." Lacey didn't argue and Jacques
didn't even look at her while he extracted the toolbox and modules from the
back of the van. The testing center door slid open as he approached and he
stepped through, then turned to watch Lacey tiptoe through the door. Marcia,
Margaret, and the big girl came dashing up behind. Jacques turned and moved
into the building as the trio hit the door, not looking behind him.
Jacques moved down the hall past the testing cubicles to a room at the
far end, where he opened the door and entered. The lights came on
automatically and he stepped to his right and placed the toolbox in a rack,
then removed the modules one by one and inserted them into a device protruding
from the wall. "Jacques Moreau," the AI erupted, "The completion of your
mission is confirmed. We would have extracted your vehicle from your last
target, had it been necessary, and you carry a transport terminus -- why have
you returned here?"
"These women questioned the validity of my identity documents and
indicated that they believed that my CAP card might be counterfeit," Jacques
declared, waving.
"I didn't!" Lacey yelped.
"Indeed." There was a pause. "This unforeseen situation has
inconvenienced two of your mission group and actively endangered one. Your
initiative in bringing this to our attention is noted and a commendation will
be appended to your service record, Jacques Moreau. In recognition of this
issue, your visible CAP score is hereby advanced to six point six, although
your true score remains documented on the card and the special circumstances
are noted, in order to avoid similar mishaps. Ladies, Jacques Moreau
possesses special aptitudes and has already performed signal service to the
human race and the Confederacy. In recognition of this, Jacques Moreau is to
be extracted this date to the heavy transport Goliath where he will assume
duties as a noncommissioned officer of Grade Five with a specialty of
Artificer. He is authorized two concubines. Jacques Moreau, is the
assumption that the already nude female has been selected as a concubine
valid?"
Jacques took a moment to analyze the AI's announcement. "It is."
"Will you be selecting your other concubine from this group?"
"I plan to," Jacques affirmed. Rubbing his jaw, he ordered, "Get
naked -- all three of you!"
Skinny Margaret managed to dump out of her clothing in under two
seconds though some feat of legerdemain. "Mister, if you take me, I'll do
ANYTHING!" she announced.
Jacques eyed her. "I really don't see me doing anything with you --
you're just too incredibly bony."
"Look, if you want to hang huge jugs off me and make me bigger than
Judith I won't complain -- really! I know I could use some padding..."
Judith, bending to step out of her shorts and panties next to her, let out a
wail. Jacques' expression when he passed his eyes over Judith wasn't
encouraging, certainly; he merely tightened his lips and shifted his gaze to
Marcia, who was down to the bathing suit Jacques had known all along she had
on under her outfit.
Sensing his gaze, Marcia looked up. "You said it in the restaurant,"
she said, throwing up her hands. "Never again."
Jacques was ready, but Margaret wouldn't let go. "Can't we suck your
dick or something? I mean..."
Jacques thought about it. The AI interjected, "Performance-oriented
selection criteria are usually superior to subjective visual
representations..."
Mildly irritated at having his elbow joggled, Jacques grunted, "All
right." Margaret knelt up and extracted Jacques' cock and went to work on it
-- but it wasn't that good. There was no doubt that she was trying, but there
was too much tooth. He endured it for about a minute and grunted, "Enough.
Next!"
Marcia replaced her, and delivered a decent effort. She was clearly
eager to please after the poor initial impression, watching him with wide
brown eyes while she rolled her lips over his shaft. Jacques would have been
satisfied to let her finish him, but the big girl, Judith, eyed him
mournfully. "Mister?"
"Oh, all right..." Jacques waved Marcia off, pointing to a position
on his left and Judith crawled up to engage him. Jacques expected little or
nothing -- and got a shock! Judith was by far the best fellatrix he'd ever
come across! Her mouth was soft and liquid and she seemed to know just what
to do with her teeth and tongue to make her efforts intense. Jacques buried
his hands in her hair, but let her handle things as she would -- she was doing
better than he could at making it incredible! Jacques lasted about forty
intense seconds before blowing a copious wad into Judith's hungry mouth -- and
she was reluctant to release him, after. Jacques found himself eyeing Lacey
and Marcia and wondering if replacing one of them with the big girl was a
viable option!
Marcia, who was no fool, picked up on this and ventured, "Maybe you
should look at our cards?"
Jacques pursed his lips. "Good idea." Such was Judith's effect on
him that he had to remember to let go of her hair -- something Judith frankly
did not want him to do. Anything that put her in the competition was a good
thing; after collecting her CAP card, she scrambled right back to Jacques'
side and leaned against his hip.
CAP cards presented Margaret in an unexpectedly favorable light; she
had the highest 'motherhood' scores of the group. Marcia was the most
intelligent and self-reliant of the group -- no surprise -- but while she was
a natural leader, she was somewhat cantankerous. Lacey was a sheep; she would
follow anyone who appeared to know what they were up to anywhere. And Judith
showed some surprising aptitudes...
"Selection appears to be difficult," the AI ventured.
"Yes," Jacques agreed distantly. "How long do I have?"
"Until zero six hundred local," the AI replied. "Would you care to
discuss the issues, Jacques Moreau?"
Jacques grunted. "I'm looking for balance -- and there isn't any --
not with any two of them. The original plan was Lacey and Marcia, but Lacey
won't act as a brake on Marcia and neither of them has the aptitudes that
Margaret and Judith display. Judith gives INCREDIBLE oral sex..."
"Perhaps you should test normal copulation, Jacques Moreau."
"Maybe. Is there a good place?" The floor didn't look inviting.
"There is a suite of rooms three doors down on the right, Jacques
Moreau."
"Fine," Jacques grunted. "Gather your stuff," he told the women and
led them from the room. The door to the suite slid open as the group
approached, making entry simple. Jacques waved at the queen-sized bed and
said, "Lacey..."
"Yes, Boss. On my back?"
"Is that best?"
"I think so." Lacey spread herself and Jacques entered her from a
position standing beside the bed. She wasn't really ready, so penetration was
difficult -- but after a few moments, she dilated and lubricated and things
warmed up. It was good pussy, too -- Jacques had no complaints. He stroked
her for a bit over a minute and managed not to follow her to the orgasm she
managed by withdrawing and standing there, panting, fighting for control.
Jacques gestured with his head and Lacey rolled out of the way.
"Next!" Jacques directed, and Margaret crawled onto the bed.
Margaret was a bit of a surprise. She was hot and wet and energetic,
even if she WAS bony and unappealing. Jacques had to give her a shorter turn
than he'd given Lacey in order to keep from losing his load and his erection
with it. "Very nice!" he panted. "Next!"
Marcia was third up, just as she had been during blow job testing.
Jacques deliberately took his time so that he had full control -- and he
needed it, because Marcia was talented; in fact, her efforts exceeded both
those of Lacey and Margaret. Jacques withdrew twice in less than a minute in
order to maintain control -- and Marcia attained orgasm during the second
pass, anyway. When he withdrew, Jacques settled onto an armchair for a
moment, panting, working at getting his control while Judith replaced Marcia,
arranging herself on the bed.
Jacques took his time getting himself under control; once Judith was
in position, the ungainly woman eyed him with some concern, worrying if he
would just stop testing. Jacques actually thought about it, but decided that
it wasn't fair; odd looking as she was, Judith gave incredible head. Detecting
the fact that his erection was threatening to go lank, Jacques surged up and
positioned himself between Judith's legs.
Nothing much happened at his first attempt at penetration; he didn't
get in. Deciding it was lubrication, he rubbed his cock up and down Judith's
slit, causing her to moan. Things seemed wetter, so he took another run at
it.
There was still surprising resistance -- then something gave way and
Judith went "UUUHH!" -- and suddenly things were very wet. Jacques stopped
dead and looked down, to discover blood on the shaft of his cock!
"You were virgin?" Jacques asked, surprised. None of the others had
been.
"Yes!" Judith hissed.
"You should have said something!"
"I didn't want to stop you. Please..." Judith looked up at him with
those puppy dog eyes.
"Very well..." Jacques started moving.
Ungainly or not, Judith's pussy was a Cadillac of twats. It snapped,
it nibbled, it clutched -- it did incredible things for a virgin cunt!
Judith's eyes rolled up in her head after thirty seconds or so and the stomach
muscles under the roll she had at her belly tightened visibly while her pelvis
lifted so Jacques could find her cervix. Despite his deliberate efforts at
delaying things, Jacques was in no condition to ignore the demands of her
womanhood; Judith's orgasm drew his seed from him for a second time that
evening. Roaring, he mashed himself against her, certain that her cervix
probably dilated fully just to take in his jets of cum from the way she
reacted to his pulses. When he was done, he threw himself backward and
crashed into the chair, his lungs heaving from the excitement of the
admittedly short bout.
No one said anything. Jacques sat in the chair for a while, getting
his breath and thinking, then waved the women over, one by one -- except
Judith, who lay where he left her, raising her head to look at him, her face
cycling from an expression of sated happiness to anticipation of
disappointment and back. It didn't take a genius to realize that she'd just
experienced a pinnacle -- and expected to crash. Lacey, he drew onto the left
chair arm, Marcia on the right. Margaret settled between his legs and began
licking the pink froth from his subsiding erection -- a froth color-matched to
the creampie oozing from between Judith's spread legs.
"It appears that selection continues to be a difficult proposition,"
the AI announced after about ten minutes of silence.
Jacques sat rubbing the flanks of the women seated on the chair arms
and sighed. "It's worse than ever."
"Your concerns about the stability of your family unit appear
warranted, Jacques Moreau," the AI declared. "Each of the candidates
apparently has unique aptitudes and abilities. The fact that you encountered
them as a group is apparently not a coincidence." There was a pause. "It
would also appear that these women were instrumental in the detection of the
issue that you presented for analysis upon your arrival."
"You could say that," Jacques agreed.
"What are your wishes in this matter, Jacques Moreau?"
"I wish I didn't have to choose!" Jacques growled vehemently.
"Very well."
Jacques froze. "What?"
"Is it correct to assume that you wish to retain all four candidates?"
the AI queried.
"Uh, yes!"
"Very well. In recognition of the special circumstances of their
collection and the fact that they assisted you in the detection of a
potentially serious issue in the current mission program, you may retain all
four candidates as concubines, Jacques Moreau. Your service record is hereby
annotated with this information. Please report to the transport nexus in Room
Seven to depart with your concubines."
"Uh... Right!" Jacques levered himself out of the chair, stepping
around Margaret. The four women were exchanging startled glances. Jacques
tucked himself back into his coverall. "Let's go before it changes its
mind..." Pointing, he dispatched Lacey to help Margaret up and Marcia to help
Judith get to her feet.
"I'm going?" Judith blurted, "Really?"
Marcia rolled her eyes. "Come ON, Jude! Don't be so frigging dense!"
She shoved the oddly-built woman before her. "Try to keep up -- we don't want
to get lost!"
Judith's eyes popped. "Right!" She hustled after Lacey, Jacques'
spend rolling down the inside of her right thigh.
Margaret was in front, so close behind Jacques that she bumped into
him when he stopped to open a door. "Can I have boobies? Huh? Huh?" she
pressed.
Jacques stopped to look back at her. "Something that meets the need,"
he agreed. "Nothing grossly huge. In fact, we'll build you out a bit so you
can handle things easier."
"Cool!" Margaret bubbled. "You won't be sorry!"
"I already am," Jacques muttered under his breath -- but he was
joking. The door to Room Seven slid open before him; as he entered, the
lights came on and the transport terminus powered up.
"Link to the Goliath is established. You may transport," the AI
intoned.
"Step through," Jacques pointed, pushing Margaret's scrawny ass. "Keep
going -- the others are right behind you."
"Yes, Boss!" Margaret stepped into the field and disappeared.
Lacey almost stopped, but Judith ran into her from behind and Jacques
put a hand in the small of her back while she was still stumbling. She
disappeared, too. Judith stopped for a moment, but Jacques was eyeing her, so
she stepped forward tentatively -- and was gone as soon as her trailing foot
entered the field. Marcia pursed her lips, nodded at Jacques, and followed.
Finally, Jacques, who had never before used a transporter either, gathered
himself and stepped into the field...
Margaret was helping Lacey up; apparently the chunky girl had fallen.
Judith was recovering her balance from having had to sidestep on arrival.
Marcia was busy trying to lurch to her left to avoid hitting anyone -- and
Jacques nearly tripped over her trailing leg.
The transport crewman blinked, confused. "Four?" He checked Jacques'
identity data on his display screen.
"Four," Jacques confirmed.
"But you're a six..."
"Jacques Moreau is authorized four concubines via special
dispensation," the AI on board -- one with a feminine voice -- clarified.
"Congratulations, Jacques Moreau -- arrival scans indicate that the concubine
Judith has been impregnated."
"Wh--what?" Judith went bug-eyed. Then: "YIPPEE!!!" She jumped up
and down, her odd rolls jiggling.
The transport crewman eyed her dubiously, then turned to Jacques.
"Why?"
Jacques shrugged. "Weird as she looks, if you get a suck or a fuck
from her, the answer will be obvious."
"Huh." The crewman obviously didn't believe it.
"I didn't believe it, either, but she's the best of the four," Jacques
insisted.
"Right..."
"You're welcome..." Jacques offered.
The crewman cocked his head, eyeing Judith. "Can't."
"I've got it." Another crewman stepped up to the console. "I've
gotta see this. AI?"
"Change of operations station logged," the AI responded.
"Get it," the second crewman nodded at Judith, who was still dancing
around.
"Judith!" Jacques called her down. "Blow the man!" He nodded at the
crewman. Judith immediately began to look nervous and upset.
Marcia intervened. "Go on, Jude. Mister Moreau has been bragging
about how good you are."
"Oh." Judith looked to Jacques. "You have?"
Jacques pointed at the crewman who was busy shucking out of his
coverall. "Prove me right."
Judith bit her lip. "Okay." She knelt up before the crewman and took
his cock in hand.
"This is how it is going to be, the way I hear it," Jacques reminded
the others. "If I ask you to do something, you do it -- right Marcia?"
"Yes, Boss!"
"Whoa!" the crewman yelped. "Jeezus!" Judith had him in her mouth.
"Damn! You're right! She's GOOD!" He took a handful of Judith's hair, "I
want to borrow you to teach my girls how you do that!" Judith contrived to
smile around his cock.
"Jacques Moreau," the AI intoned, "your party must be in Briefing Room
Thirty Two in fifteen minutes."
"Understood. Fuck her face, we've got a meeting..." Jacques told the
crewman. The crewman nodded and took off -- and Judith handled it like a pro.
Three minutes later, she was wiping her mouth, following Lacey down a
corridor.
All of them were on their way to a new life...
-----------------------