The brain is a strange and wondrous organ. Apparently, mine is stranger and more wondrous than most.

My brain sees patterns and relationships. Well, except when it comes to my personal life, then I'm clueless. Women? Forget it. If they even look at me, it's like they are seeing a vacuum. So, let me state categorically, "Don't blame me. This isn't my fault."

I'm reasonably smart, but I'm no genius. I have a PhD that is pretty much a run-of-the-mill math and physics combination from MIT.

I own a consulting firm. Sometimes I'm hired to be an ombudsman - but usually, that's not a good use of my time. Mostly, I'm hired to walk in and look at all of an organization's raw data on let's say - its product lines, sales, marketing, manufacturing, personnel - everything. I read. I interview. I walk around and look.

If you are familiar with process mapping, my brain does something like that - but not so formally and on a huge scale. Then I sit, listen to some good music, and think.

Sometimes quickly and other times over weeks, the relationships and patterns jell. I have a small staff (all men) who can translate my brainstorms into something understandable, and I'm able to give my clients recommendations that typically save them a lot of time and money. Needless to say, I'm paid well. With my talent, I invest even better.

Even with the money, I'm always short in the nookie department. Make that devoid. I'm trustworthy, loyal, helpful, thrifty, courteous, kind, sometimes obedient, cheerful, brave, clean, and occasionally reverent. Apparently, women aren't in the market for wealthy boy scouts! They just don't notice me. Been that way all my life. If not for Dad, I probably would have run around naked and starved to death.

I think my university is the source of my current problem. Ever since that mass pickup of MIT, Georgia Tech, and military gurus, the Confederacy has been after me.

It didn't start out that way. I was curious and took the CAP test just after the President's TV special. Tested on the high end, too, but the Confederacy's reaction at the time was ho-hum. Anyone could look at my sub scores and KNOW that I'd be a drill sergeant's worst nightmare. Until that specialty extraction - THEN it started. I guess someone from the pickup noticed I wasn't there and wanted to know why not.

There's this Confederacy Office of Targeted Extractions, and all of a sudden, they were pestering the hell out of me. I'm telling you, they were every bit as bad as 'Ann from Credit Card Services.' First they called me in as a consultant, then gave me the old hard sell. I was offered an immediate extraction and the authorization for two extra concubines. I told them that was as useless as tits on a boar, as I couldn't attract even one woman on my best day. Then I charged them triple my normal rate and left.

Some tall dark dude showed up in my office and tried the old "duty to humanity" routine. I had him accompany me to the nearby Caribou Coffee shop where I made him stand beside me so I could order. Then I waved my CAP card and declared loudly, "I can take four companions with me right now. You can look at my card if you want. Anybody interested?"

Three women never looked up from their coffees, two looked over at him and shrugged, and the barista smiled at him, handed me my coffee, and said, "Nope."

During the walk back to my office, I told him, "You saw my problem, but I'm pretty happy doing what I do, at least for the foreseeable future. I'm helping improve operations that will help the Earth fight the Swarm when it arrives, and you simply haven't offered anything demonstrably better. Yes, we might buy or bribe women, but I want companions who at the very least demonstrate that they want to be with me. I don't patronize hookers - probably never will."

He left, and it was several months before I was bothered again. There came yet another call from the OTE with yet another proposition. They would leave the timing up to me, but they wanted to put me through a med tube to assure that I was in good health and would remain so until such time as I decided I wanted to be extracted. The cherry on the sundae was a promise to stop pestering me and to only call on my birthday to remind me to retest.

That sounded like a pretty good deal, so I agreed - if they would promise not to brainwash or kidnap me while I was helpless. I kept my promise as did they.

Around four years after the president's speech, patterns around me began to change. It took a while for me to notice - personal life - clueless - said so - remember?

The occasional woman would notice me. The barista at Caribou would actually look at me when taking my order. Not much. Not a big deal. Then more change.

Near my downtown condo, I frequent Mambo Italiano, a restaurant known for their homemade vino and their linguini with white clam sauce. They had a mostly male wait staff, so another attraction was my ability to get prompt service.

All the pickups in restaurants around the city had caused a shortage of qualified restaurant staff, but Mambo managed to keep a high quality of food, even with the use of replicators in the kitchen. One evening, after paying my tab, I stood and made my way towards the door. Almost in unison, five ladies stood and followed me out.

That was odd, but I made my way to my car and drove off. The ladies seemed confused, but as I drove past the door to the restaurant, I noticed them reentering.

Time passed. More women now seemed to know I existed. Not many, but in a restaurant, a random woman or girl would touch me as I dined alone. Then they'd leave.

Nookie? Nada! Nil! Nichts!

Late one Friday evening, I returned home and found a naked redhead asleep in my king bed. In the dim light, I could hardly see her, but stunningly beautiful seemed an inadequate description. Not one to ignore blessings, I undressed without turning on the light and slipped in beside her. She didn't stir, and I lay there for a while before drifting off to sleep. At some time in the night, it seemed a warm body snuggled up to me, but in the morning, I woke alone.

A few minutes after waking, I heard a melodious voice, "I hope cheese and asparagus omelets are okay. I'll throw in a little ham, but your fridge is kinda bare."

Okay? With that voice, Spam on dry toast would have been a feast! "Yes, that sounds great. Let me do a couple of morning things, and I'll be right out."

Came the voice, "Save the shave and shower, and I'll pour the eggs. We can shower after we eat."

'We?'

Immediate morning necessities complete, I threw on a terrycloth robe and headed for the kitchen. By the stove stood the auburn vision, spatula in hand, dressed in a short pale green babydoll nightie and an open robe.

She motioned me over, kissed me lightly on the cheek and began to plate two omelets. We moved to the already set breakfast nook where juice, coffee, and English muffins waited.

"My name is Cynthia," the vision began as we ate, "I know who you are. I moved some things into the empty half of the walk-in closet. I hope you don't mind."

"Not really," I replied, "but if you were sent by those morons at the Targeted Extractions Office, you can call them and tell them I said, 'thanks, but it ain't gonna work.'"

She looked genuinely confused. "Targeted what? Who or what is that?"

"Never mind," I responded. "It's not important. Care to explain what's going on?"

"I'm not exactly sure myself," she began around healthy mouthfuls. "I've had this empty feeling for months. Then, the first time I ate at Mambo Italiano, the feeling changed - like there was an answer for something. I noticed you leaving and followed you out, but you got in your car, so I went back inside and finished my dinner."

She must have been one of the five women who followed me out that day, but why?

We seemed compatible, with similar tastes in music, complementary tastes in books - she prefers fantasy and I prefer hard SF, and neither of us watch much TV. She isn't big on 'chick flicks' or action movies, and neither am I.

We talked about relationships, well she did. I explained that there was no woman in my life, never had been.

"I don't have anyone in my life either," she started, "Since I started to develop, I only attract lotharios looking for a quick conquest or arm candy. No man has ever really expressed interest in me or even tried to find out who I am."

Tragic, but with her stunning beauty, I could see that many men would think they had no chance and wouldn't try.

"I get hit on by women, pretty much in the same category as the men," she continued, "but I have no real friends - I suppose they consider me too much competition. I've never even had a wingman." It was amazing how open she was with me, a stranger.

"I bribed my server at Mambo," Cynthia confessed, "he gave me your name from your credit card, and I Googled you. I liked what I found and decided to follow through on the chemistry I felt. So here I am."

Cynthia and I talked until the coffee was exhausted. We cleared the table and she turned to me. "We've now had a longer real discussion than I've had with a man since my father died. Why don't we take that shower and see what it leads to?"

It led to pure joy.

Cynthia preceded me into the large ensuite bathroom, reached into the shower, and started the multiple heads as if she had lived in the condo for months.

For a pair of virgins, things proceeded very well. They proceeded very well for anyone - period.

Cynthia looked at me shyly and slowly removed her robe and babydoll, letting them slip to the floor. She smiled playfully and stepped into the streams of water. A hand reached back and crooked a finger at me.

Under the water, I reached for shampoo and began washing her hair. She sighed contentedly and stepped back against me. When Junior saluted her, she giggled.

We took it slow and easy. Aided by the Internet's unintended tutorials, we both had a pretty good intellectual (Intellectual! Really?!) understanding of tab A and slot B. The reality was a major and pleasant surprise to both of us. We washed and played with naughty bits until we were both panting. If not for the shower, we'd have been covered with perspiration.

We exited the shower and dried one another. I loved her perky breasts and delightfully matching auburn landing strip - damn I loved everything! Cynthia was equally enamored with Junior.

"Let's not rub him raw with that towel," I advised, "He's got a job to do in a few minutes."

Cynthia tossed the towel over her shoulder and into the shower, grabbed Junior, and pulled me into the bedroom.

After the messing around in the shower, I was all in for more experimenting such as I had seen on the Internet. I was especially interested in eating out her pussy. Cynthia was having none of that; she was ready for the main event - her deflowering.

"Listen, buster," she explained, "I've been on the pill for two months, and my period was over Wednesday morning. I've been masturbating for years while waiting for this day, and I'm not about to wait another minute." She pushed me onto my back and straddled me, so excited her juices were dripping. She settled on her butt, looked me in the eyes, lifted, notched, and dropped. She yipped, then sighed, and Junior became Mister Happy!

Once she was no longer a virgin, she was contented with gentle loving, hitting several small peaks before picking up the pace and rocketing skyward. Cynthia's passion and spasming tunnel pulled me along with her. I was doubly surprised, having heard that women seldom orgasmed their first time and that virgin men seldom lasted more than a few strokes after penetration.

Life was suddenly wonderful. Cynthia snuggled under my arm and asked, "Can we go dancing tonight? I've never been."

"I'd love to, but I don't know how," I responded. "I could never find a girl or woman who would partner with me to learn. Evita is playing at the Old Emporium Theater. Could we see if I can get tickets and have a nice dinner before the show?"

When she nodded into my shoulder, I kissed the top of her head and suggested, "Why don't we plan on taking those lessons. Would you like that?"

"I certainly would," she murmured sleepily. "I've never learned either. I just thought it sounded nice," and she was gone.

My first date ever, was everything I could wish for. Dinner at Mambo was excellent, Perry Como sang Don't Blame Me, the companionship was wonderful, and a cancellation enabled me to get sixth row, center tickets for Evita. Cynthia was even teary in the same spots as me. Sex that night was wild and experimental.

We collapsed in the early morning hours, and when we woke around noon, it was clear to us both we were now a committed couple. After two decades and some years of drought, now a paradise of plenty.

Cynthia was a research librarian with a masters in library science. She worked in a relatively low pay position in the city library system. It was clear that she had skills that would fit into my firm, so I offered her a job.

My employees were ecstatic. For obvious reasons, she was our first female employee - if they wouldn't deign to look at me, how could I get them to interview? She was beautiful, and smart, and very competent.

Life, dancing lessons, work, and Cynthia were wonderful over the next months.

One afternoon, I returned home after a short out-of-town trip, and there was a small, mousy looking, blonde sitting with Cynthia on the sofa. They were deep in discussion.

Cynthia turned and announced, "Sweetie, this is Harriett, she moved in with us this morning. I gave her half of my side of the walk-in."

Harriett looked at me and smiled shyly. "It took me ever so long to find you. It was only when I recognized Cynthia from seeing you together at the restaurant that I was able to ask her."

It turned out that Harriett wasn't mousy at all. When happy, her smile was brilliant; when naked, her body was a killer; and when aroused, she was major passionate.

She was frequently aroused!

I learned that she was a recently graduated English lit major who moved to the city to write. I read some of her fiction, and it was better than good. She loved mysteries and romance trash, board games, cooking, and oldies music. She fit with Cynthia and me like a missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

When I offered her a part-time, ad hoc, job as a technical or report writer, jaws dropped at the office - one woman was miraculous, two was impossible.

My home life was happy; my sex life was wondrous. With no previous experience, I never speculated on my ability to satisfy two very horny and passionate women. Besides, they frequently satisfied each other while I watched in awe.

Our relationship had another interesting and unusual aspect. I've always needed a quiet place and music to really concentrate on my work, and I frequently worked from home. When I thought about it, these ladies never caused a distraction, never played music not conducive to my concentration, never interrupted for sex - nothing. It was both wonderful and unnerving.

One Wednesday, the three of us grabbed a quick evening meal at Chipotle Mexican Restaurant, and Elizabeth followed us home. She didn't know why, she just did.

She stood four foot ten inches, weighed in at ninety-five pounds, and had the classic, beautiful features of an Asian and Negro hybrid.

Elizabeth was a wunderkind, a certified genius. We discovered that she had graduated high school before she reached fourteen, was now sixteen and had almost completed a dual MS in statistics and computer science.

I watched as my delighted ladies oohed and ahhed over her, and then I went to our walk-in, cleared half the clothes from my side, and moved them into the second bedroom. I may be clueless about my own relationships, but I mostly recognize inevitability when I see it.

If my not-so-little family expanded any further, I knew I was going to need a cabinet maker for a bigger bed and Omar the Tentmaker for bed linens. I would remember that thought later. Then, I decided I needed the modifications now.

Like my first two ladies, Elizabeth arrived totally inexperienced with sex. As with them, once relieved of her hymen, she became a very happy wunderkind. She is also insatiable - and so-to-speak - omnivorous. On top, underneath, standing up, girl-girl, boy-girl, girl-girl-girl, on the bed, in the kitchen. If there was another willing participant, and it involved a variation of slot B with-or-without Tab A, day or night, she was and still is ready.

It turned out that her jigsaw piece filled my other wives' need to mother. Wives? Yeah, really. That's what I decided I have - go figure.

The next morning, I called Paul Bunyan Remodeling to have walls removed to consolidate the three bedrooms into one. I contacted Omar and ordered custom bed linens and enlisted his aid in finding someone who could quickly build us a giant bed to spec.

Then I called the local Hilton and reserved their penthouse for the ten days estimated for completion of my various orders. That afternoon, we moved in.

The penthouse was a pleasing experience for the ladies. The view was spectacular and the restaurant excellent, but it was the hot and cold running service that spoiled them rotten. Staff was increasingly anxious to please as the tips were generous, but especially because my women opened the door in whatever they happened to be wearing, or not, as the circumstances warranted. Current dress styles might be minimal, but there were few who wore (or failed to wear) as well as my lovers.

I later heard that there were fights and bribery to see who would answer a call from the suite while my ladies were in residence.

On our next-to-last day - Saturday - we were lounging on the patio by the pool when the twins joined us.

Amber walked over, sat on the lounge beside me, and ran her finger from my lips down my chest and over my stomach to Mister (suddenly) Happy. Completely distracted, I failed to notice her mirror image approaching from my opposite side. My ladies noticed and smiled.

Ember reached my side and spoke, "We noticed your ladies at the breakfast buffet, but failed to see you until we had finished eating and were on the way out. Then we had to hurry and change and leave for event finals. We're in the regional college gymnastics tournament that ends at the arena tomorrow. I'm Ember and she's Amber."

They were petite brunettes, taller than Elizabeth, but not by more than three inches or so. Both were college juniors, Ember majoring in botany and Amber in animal husbandry. After their events, they had ducked out on their team, coaches, and chaperones to find us.

Amber told us that they needed to meet the team in the morning for breakfast at seven. Their coaches would be pissed when they found the twins missing, but it wouldn't be the first time. The twins were adventurous. With the ability to be reached by cell phone, a lecture was sure, but a manhunt forestalled.

Cynthia noted that she had had enough sun, mentioned that we could order dinner from room service, and headed for the elevators, the recent arrivals trailing like newly imprinted ducklings.

The conversation was lively, the pizza plentiful and varied, and after the twins surrendered their cherries, the orgy was truly epic. Cynthia again assumed the leadership role and ensured the twins were in bed asleep in time to assure plenty of rest for the next morning's events.

The coach was livid. The twins didn't care. I booked us for another day, left a message for Omar to add a dozen sets of towels and accessories to my order, and asked Cynthia to call Peapod and place a humongous grocery order to be delivered Monday afternoon.

Then we all saddled up and headed for the arena to watch our new wives in their final performances.

I was beginning to worry. I had transitioned from no nookie to seemingly unlimited pussy, and I couldn't figure out why. Except for my personal life, I could always figure out why. Always!

My cadre now numbered five beautiful women, amazing in itself, but there were no fights, no jealousy, no jockeying for position, none of it. It was eerie. The jigsaw puzzle was growing, and there was no sign it was complete. The puzzle's picture wasn't visible either.

The sex was oh-my-god crazy wonderful.

The huge new bed had plenty of room for acrobatics and rest, puppy piles and cuddling, and even alone time in the middle of a crowd. I blessed the thought that made me order the changes. The twins contacted their professors and made arrangements to finish the semester remotely. Gymnastics were over, so a quick trip back to school with a U-Haul to move their possessions, and they were history. Our university's botany and husbandry programs were every bit as good, and the twins' academic records made the transfer easy. Done deal.

The following Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Twins appeared in our foyer and asked if they could speak with me. I showed them into our conversation pit and called the ladies in from the pool. The lovelies paraded in wearing bikinis, cover-ups, and sandals. Amber and Ember squealed when they saw their parents and ran over for hugs.

Their elders seemed relieved to see them alive, whole, and visibly undamaged. Very visibly, but Dad seemed comfortable with the view. Then again, he might have been distracted.

After drinks were served all around, Mr. Twins asked to see my CAP card and asked my intentions towards his daughters. "Is this your prepack?" he asked, looking at the gathered beauties, "It seems like a rather large number."

I handed him my CAP card, my latest bank statement, and my business card and waited while he perused them. He looked up, smiled, and waited for my answer.

I thought for a moment before I answered, "We haven't discussed it at all, sir. I'd like to think they would accompany me. This is one heck of a compatible group - even considering your daughters just joined. And if they don't want to go, I can leave enough money to ensure that anyone staying behind is comfortable."

I turned to the anxiously waiting ladies. "Sweethearts, I could take you all with me at a pickup. You know the deal. Would you like to go with me if I join up?"

"Unhuh." "Yep." "You betcha." "Yessss!" "Okaaay." came five separate affirmations.

"I guess that settles it, we are an official prepack," I declared and was bowled over by a happy charge of females.

I invited the relieved parents out to dinner, and Cynthia called Mambo Italiano to ensure they could handle our group after the ladies had changed for dinner.

The parade of beauty was amazing to behold, and the evening's meal was made better by the happy chatter. As dinner concluded, Mr. Twins stood and reached for his wife, then drew his two girls to him. "Your new family is very nice," he said, "and you have our blessing. May you have a long and happy life among the stars. Give us lots of grandchildren and send us pictures."

He turned, shook my hand and invited us all to visit at any time before we were extracted. Then Mrs. Twins hugged me and they were gone.

Once back in our condo, I called a conference. "I should have asked long ago. I apologize, but I was afraid of the answer. I've been alone too much of my life," I started.

My beauties nodded and waited, knowing I had more to say.

"I'm in a quandary," I continued, "There are five of you, and I'm allowed six. Is my poor tallywhacker going to be enough for you, or should I look for another guy?"

They looked at one another and quickly responded, "Nuhuh." "Nope." "Not a chance." "Noooo." "Hell no!" And that was settled.

Let me explain something. You'd think that surrounded by all these beautiful women, I would be concerned about Earth First taking an interest. I was, but then I wasn't.

I notice and analyze patterns, remember?

Long before my luck changed with the ladies, I had noticed the same men frequenting the same restaurants as I did. Like me, they were almost never accompanied by women, but unlike for me, waitresses and other women noticed them and paid attention. One waiter whispered to me, "They call you 'Mister Jinx,' because women never notice you, AND pickups never happen if you are around."

I figured something like that, because after awhile, most would leave shortly after I entered. I pegged them as Earth First, and sometimes, just hopefuls, but mostly Earth First.

Of course, they couldn't know that with my agreement with the OTE, any planned extraction would be aborted by the AIs as soon as I entered any venue.

Little changed. When I first appeared with Cynthia, there were some startled looks from the usual suspects, but with other women mostly continuing to ignore me, and a dearth of pickups anywhere near my vicinity, things quickly went back to normal.

Monday, following the parental visit, Cynthia and I went into the office as usual. While I called my attorney for an appointment, she set up an early afternoon, all-hands staff meeting.

When my five guys trooped in, I was sitting between Cynthia and Harriett. That way, I had some hope of eyes looking in my general direction, occasionally even at me.

"First, a status question," I started, "What's still on the burner, are there open ends dangling, and are there any short-term prospects?"

As it happened, we were pretty much in a lull, with a few projects that could easily be wrapped up in a couple of days.

"Okay folks," I instructed, "Wrap up what we've got. Tell the answering service that we are on vacation for a month and aren't accepting new projects until after we are back on Monday the 15th. Then get your families, girl friends, or whoever, and get the hell out of here. Go where you want and charge it to me. No cheapies either! You've made me a LOT of money, and you deserve it."

"I'm taking some time with my new ladies," I looked at Cynthia and Harriett and smiled, "and I have more than enough money, so I seriously thinking of closing down the business."

Panicked looks.

"I'm going to talk with Harry - you know, my attorney - about setting up a charitable foundation. If you want to work for it, you're hired, so don't get your shorts in a knot. If you don't, I'll set up a severance that will let you retire comfortably."

After a pause, I continued, "On the 14th, let's have a dinner party. I'll take over Mambo Italiano. Sunday should be easy. Be there by five, bring whoever you want, and be prepared to tell me about your vacation and what you want your future to look like. We'll see what we can do to make it happen. Call Cynthia by the 7th and give her at least an approximate number so Gino can have enough staff and food.

"Any questions you can't handle?" I asked. "If not, hop to it, finish up, and get your asses out of here. The 14th, remember!"

I took Cynthia with me when I met with Harry, told him what I wanted, and gave him a durable power of attorney to get it done. Harry's an old fart, but that's one reason I trust him absolutely. No living relatives, immense pride in his profession, no partners in his practice, and a competence beyond belief.

I figured Cynthia could brief the others, and I wouldn't have to worry about it. She did.

That night was loving, affection, cuddling, and non-stop sex.

Tuesday morning, when I could finally roll out of bed, I prettied up, ate, and shut myself away in my office. Something I had not done since Cynthia's arrival.

I had a pattern to determine - it involved me and women - so I needed every resource, including solitude.

I used my large whiteboard, again highly unusual for me. I started with a heading for me and each of my wives. Under them, I listed everything that came to mind. Events, places we met, tastes in music, food, books, movies. I started in the present and moved back in time. When my eyes blurred, I asked Elizabeth to work up a spreadsheet and list all the items in columns while I took a walk.

I walked to the park. Even though it was a pretty day, the benches and swings were mostly deserted. There were a few young mothers with babies in strollers and a pretty, thirtyish, black woman riding herd on a bunch of raucous preschoolers. I wondered how she could handle so many. Then a pair of youngish teens walked up and began handing out popsicles. Curiosity satisfied, I walked on.

That night, I enlisted my ladies. I explained how difficult it was for me to see patterns and associations that deal with me and women. Each day, while I took my walk, they were to gather in my office and add anything they could think of about each individual under what I had already listed under each name.

When I returned, I'd look at the list for a while, then ask Elizabeth to add to the spreadsheet, sort, and delete duplicates. It was frustrating for me, as this was what my mind usually did without benefit of the whiteboard or spreadsheet. In some ways I began to understand my employees' difficulties when they had to construct datasheets from the patterns I described intuitively.

On Wednesday, I walked after lunch, and there were more people in the park, but none from the previous day. The same time again on Thursday, with a few I recognized from the previous day. On Friday, I was later and saw that same herd of kids shepherded by the black woman with two teens. They had the kids lined up and were wiping hands and faces. Apparently popsicles happened earlier that day, or maybe I was a tad later.

When I returned for dinner, my sweeties were chattering brightly about today's listing and trying random associations in an attempt to help me. Dinner was again a happy time, followed by the start of a marathon movie session. Starting that night, there would be four consecutive nights of the Hunger Games series. There is something special about watching a young woman developing competence and confidence while a gaggle of young women in the process of doing the same are sitting around you.

Before we started the movie, I advised them to develop a 'pickup pack' with items that they wanted to carry with them. Space and weight were limited, so I told them to load memory cards with all the books, movies and music they could buy or borrow, not neglecting Project Gutenberg.

I gave each a credit card with effectively unlimited credit and advised against gathering duplicates. If they picked one laptop, one media player, and one anything they could agree upon, once extracted, we could probably replicate a copy for each of them. Then I told them that I would really like for them to have a varied supply of day and night time unmentionables.

There would be no white boarding on Saturday, I had unleashed the shopping monster!

In a short time, I had come to enjoy my visits to the park. They were relaxing and empowered thought. Today, the park was busy with a whole new cast. More noise, but happy noise. I found an empty bench in the shade, closed my eyes, and dozed.

I came aware to a soft pleading voice. "Please Mister, take my girls. You'd be very good for them, and they would be good for you! I can tell."

Oh damn, what now? I opened my eyes and looked straight into the pleading face of the pretty black woman of the herd of preschoolers. Tears were running, unheeded.

I patted the bench beside me, told her to explain, and she started, "I don't want those Swarm things to eat my babies. Letty is fifteen and Lucy is sixteen, and they're smart and pretty, and both are GOOD girls. I'd go with you, too, but I hear that volunteers can only take two, so you need to take my babies."

She waved over to the trees, and when the two teens ran over, she shifted to let them sit on either side of me. Up close, 'pretty' didn't half describe them. Each sat, reached and pulled my arm around herself, snuggled in, and purred.

"See, I told you they'd be good for you," she exulted. "They're yours. Take them with you."

"Now wait!" I interrupted her entreaty. "You don't know me, and I don't know you. What if I'm a predator?"

"But you are NOT!" said one of the teens hotly. "Mom's name is Penelope - Penny - and we saw you Tuesday while we were getting popsicles for the preschoolers. You were alone, and all the women in the park ignored you. Then we saw you alone again, yesterday, and we just knew. You are a good man," she rushed on until I held up my hand and stopped her.

The light suddenly flashed, and I too, knew. Food, at least one common factor was food. But what else, and how?

"You had popsicles with the kids?" I asked.

"Well, no, me and Letty always have Dreamsicles, and Mom had a Brown Cow," Lucy gushed, interrupted by Penny's, "Letty and I - watch your grammar there girl! But what have popsicles got to do with anything?"

"Everything and nothing," I opined. "I want you to come home with me."

As we walked the short distance, I learned that Penny had her EdD, specializing in early child development, and that the two teens were home schooled so that they could help her with the daycare center that she owned. She whispered, "And so I can try to keep the boys' hands out of their panties."

"We heard that, Mom. Geez!" came a burst from the nearest teen.

We entered the condo and three sets of eyes widened. The girls and I had root beers, and Penny asked for sweet tea, good southern gal that she was.

My mouth had just opened to begin, when in burst five highly vocal, joyous, and seriously over stimulated women. Bags and bags and bags went everywhere. My ladies pulled up short and stared when they saw Penny and the teens sitting with fallen faces and tears starting.

"You have too many already," Penny wailed, "You can't take my babies!"

Pandemonium erupted. "No, he doesn't." "Yes, he can." "Don't cry." A cacophony of other statements flew.

The ever practical Cynthia walked to the weeping mother, wrapped Penny in her arms, and guided her over to sit on my lap. Following Cynthia's lead, the others bracketed the teens and stroked them until they calmed.

After a while, I squeezed my bundle and softly told her, "We can make this work, but you have to listen and let me explain."

She nodded into my neck.

I turned to my returned shoppers, and started explaining, "This is Penny, she's the final missing puzzle piece. She's going to be the mother in our family." I hushed Penny's incipient protest and continued. "Her daughters are Letty and Lucy, and they fit, too. I just need to do some negotiating to make it all work."

I turned to Penny and started the explanation, "I have something that the Confederacy really, REALLY wants. I have a LOT of negotiating power, and on top of that, you just helped me figure out something that they are going to want to know."

I paused, turned to my brain trust, and said, "It's food. The common factor is food. Those sneaky bastards installed nanites when they gave me my medical. Because my eating haunts are regular and predictable, it was no big deal for them to tailor nanites and place the replicated nanites in all the food."

"Now, don't get upset by this next part. I'm not," I interjected, "but the nanites you ate resonated with mine, and we were attracted. The nanites are searching for elements that make us fit. We never fight; we are ultra compatible; and we loved each other from the start. I'm certain that wasn't programming. Think of it as 'nanite dating.' In the early stages, I think those various women's touches were the nanites calibrating."

"You weren't forced, you were found!" I declared proudly.

"So what's this about Penny and something the Confederacy needs to know?" demanded my two budding scientists in unison. Twins, don't ya know!

I grinned, "I think they outsmarted themselves. Penny doesn't eat at our restaurants. It was the ice cream vendor. The tailored nanites have gone feral and are spreading through the city."

"How do you know I don't eat at 'your' restaurants?" Penny wanted to know.

"I see patterns," I answered, "and you aren't in my restaurant pattern.

"So the Confederacy needs to know this and fix it," I stated, "or they'll be extracting a heck of a lot more than eight concubines with me. Who would think that with all those years of famine, there are this many women compatible with me?!"

"Yeah," declared Amber, "and just think how interesting it could get if the ferals start to fixate on any other sponsor-level CAP score. Could happen you know."

I used the number I had been given for the Office of Targeted Extraction. Bureaucracies are the same all over - end of the world or not. I got the duty officer who sounded like a wet-behind-the-ears-kid. Turned out that he was.

I gave him my name and told him I was coming in to the nearest testing center Monday morning at ten and needed a senior officer to meet me.

His back was up and he exploded. "Who do you think you are? You can't make demands like that!"

"Son, you pass that on like I told you, or I'll be the worst nightmare you ever had. If I get there and there's no one to meet me, by lunch time you'll be counting buffalo chips in South Dakota." I was mad. You think, maybe?

Probably for my benefit, I heard the unmistakable voice of an AI. "Signifer Barry Manilow Smith, there is a ninety-nine point nine eight four seven six probability that your caller is correct about buffalo chips. The alternative probability is cow patties in the Nebraska Sandhills. I can be more precise if you wish."

Dead silence. Barry Manilow? Really! BMS? Really! No wonder the kid was anal.

Finally, "Yes sir! I'll pass it on. Anything else, sir?"

"Yes," I replied, "I will be arriving in a small limo bus with eight other individuals. It will be advisable to have some stealth security around, though it probably will not be needed."

"Yes, sir. Indeed sir!"

I thanked him, hung up, and called a limo service.

The setup done, I turned to Penny, "If I can take Lucy and Letty with us, will you go with us and be my concubine with all that entails? You know I'll be getting more than my hands into their panties, right?"

"Yes, and yes," she replied forcefully.

"Lucy, Letty," I asked them, "You are legally adults, do you want to go with us?"

"Yes, please," was their polite answer.

"Okay," I continued. "The three of you will need to go with us to the testing station on Monday, so call in whatever coverage you have. I don't think they'll want us on Tuesday, but best to be prepared. You might also want to look for someone to take over your business, but be very careful who you tell what."

I looked around the room and met eager eyes, so I invited, "We'd like you to stay the rest of the weekend with us. We can run you home to pick up clothing and stuff, or you can share with the others. Penny, no sex is required or requested from any of you. Until I can talk to the Confederacy, I can't commit beyond saying 'I will, if they will,' but I will."

They eyed me seriously, and I expounded, "However, there is only one huge bed, and nights get quite lively - even if not everyone participates. Your soon-to-be sisters can show you the bedroom or not, as you prefer."

The teens looked at each other. "Momma, we're able to make up our own minds now. Don't worry about us. We know what we want."

Penny sighed. "I suppose so, Loves. If you want to stay, I think we should. The sooner we build this family, the better."

That night the welcome was warm, two cherries were given up, and Penny was in for a pound, with multiple body-shaking orgasms - not all delivered by me. It turned out that Letty and Lucy were pussy licking good, and Penny? Penny was a virtuoso!

Even in the land of sculptured beauty, my parade of lovelies going into the testing center was a sight to behold. As soon as we were inside, the limo zipped off with instructions to be ready when we called.

We were met by my tall dark contact who had a twinkle in his eye that faded when I told him he was in deep manure. He tried to shoehorn me into his office without my ladies, but they crowded in. Giving up, he moved the bunch of us into a conference room. There, I proceeded to climb all over him about the nanites, while he pointed at my wives and tried to shush me.

"What," I shouted. "You think I'd be dishonorable and withhold something like that from those I care about? What kind of monster do you think I am?" I scowled, "but then you betrayed me and broke your promise when you put them in me."

I was on a roll. "What kind of perversion allows the use of medical nanites for this? After all, the original purpose was to spread good health throughout the general population, not to build a mobile pussy magnet."

He was taken aback. "We thought you'd be pleased with the results," he countered.

"I am, but I despise the method and resent the broken promises," I countered. "In addition, you outsmarted yourselves. There's feral nanites loose in the city. Why didn't your smartass AIs predict this was going to happen? You folks need to fix it fast!"

I outlined the twins' theory that the nanites might begin to fixate on other sponsor-grade people still walking around. "Imagine a pickup with several 6.5 level sponsors and each with a harem of three or more firmly bonded. Look at mine. We all go, or nobody goes."

He blanched and called in a medical team to draw blood and obtain saliva samples from each of us. At his urging, I explained the process my family used to determine why we fit so well, how we arrived at the theory of feral nanites, and our projections if the problem were not fixed.

Turning to me, he said, "Now I begin to understand why that research team keeps bugging me about when you will be extracted. Are you ready yet? You seem to be over quota already."

"Well, about that. I'm getting close to ready," I temporized, "but there are some conditions. First, everyone in this room goes. You created this family, and you aren't going to break it up."

"Granted," spoke a disembodied AI's voice.

"I need some time. I'm endowing a foundation whose major mission will be to look after 'children' between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one whose parents were picked up." I looked him in the eye, "Another Confederacy let down as far as I'm concerned. I won't need the money, and that's the best use I can think of."

He nodded and asked, "How much time?"

"My employees think that I'm retiring, and I'm having my retirement party on the 14th of next month at a restaurant named Mambo Italiano. I have the whole place reserved, and only family, friends, and employees will be present. You can pick us up there, and anyone else who wants to go. If my conditions are approved, be there. If not, don't bother."

"If you do extract us, we all go to the same research colony that requisitioned me. I'll need a team, my friends, and especially, good food."

So far he was smiling.

"Finally, if I happen to acquire a few more companions, they go with me. After all, it's your fault - don't blame me."

* Epilogue*

The fourteenth came, and Gino greeted us at the door. We heard Sinatra crooning ". ... blame all your charms that melt in my arms ..." from our unofficial family theme song, as late-lunch regulars prepared to depart. Among them were three Earth Firsters hanging back, but when they saw me, they grinned, shrugged, and hurried out to whatever the evening held for them.

When the party started winding down, the gray interdiction field materialized, and we emptied Mambo of every person, utensil, pot, pan, leftover, spice, and ingredient. Then we lifted the wine cellar, and ALL the cooking and wine-making equipment.

Good food and wine are necessary if you want good results. I know. I see patterns.

*finis*