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Message-ID: <56079asstr$1182078603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Pickup Number Eighteen 5/7 (Swarm Cycle) {Thinking Horndog} (ScFi MF Mf MFf reluc ir voy exhib oral anal humil)
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Date: Sun, 17 Jun 2007 07:10:03 -0400
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Chapter 5 of 7.  The resulting circus when a Confederation Space Marines
pickup team drops in on a diner.

   A Swarm Cycle story.





  
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<1st attachment, "=?utf-8?q?Pickup=20Number=20Eighteen=5F5.txt?=" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Pickup Number Eighteen
Part: 5 of 7
Universe: The Swarm
Summary: The resulting circus when a Confederation Space Marines pickup team
drops in on a diner.

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

Chapter 5

	I stepped into the transport bay of the Darjee pod transport ship to a
cacophony of noise.  Aside from our six selectees, we had twenty-nine
concubines (well, at least twenty-seven -- if puffy nips or the babe in the
peasant blouse woke up and didn't want to be here, we'd dump them off as close
to the original extraction point as we could and wish 'em luck), two males,
and six children, one of whom was on the verge and already spoken for.  I was
aware of an additional five kids that would require pickup to be with their
mamas on the great adventure to come -- but who knew what we were missing?
"All right!  Pipe down, everybody!  Concubines gather in groups with your
sponsors -- there's plenty of room in here!  Do it!  The sooner you all make
some attempt at organization, the sooner we can ALL get comfortable!"

	This took, predictably, ten minutes.  Somewhere, a kid was wailing,
above the general din -- then shut up.  I thought about it and headed over to
Jeff's group; sure enough, Little Mama was breast-feeding.  It simply amazed
me that those tits of hers could look like that and actually function...
Grandma eyed me with disgust and grunted, "Do you have ANY shame?"

	"No," I replied, "and she shouldn't either.  That's a necessary task
and one she shouldn't have to hide, since it's downright beautiful.  It's a
privilege to watch."

	"Well, he's on solid food," Little Mama said, "there won't be much
more of this."

	"This time," I retorted.  I turned to Jeff.  "If I were you, I'd make
sure she kept them."

	"I plan to," he grinned.

	"Well, it's back to work," I grunted, "no rest for the wicked."
Grandma got a kick out of that.  I headed back to the central area and
announced, my voice amplified, "Sponsors!  I need to see you now!"

	The six of them ambled in and I told them, "Okay, so, this is how it
is -- you're responsible for whatever you ended up collecting --TOTALLY
responsible.  And it's life or death, as necessary.  We're going to start
trying to get you processed, now, and the first things are first.  Go through
your concubines and determine if they have children that are not with them
that they -- or you -- wish to have recovered.  This is under age fourteen,
folks -- you should know the drill by now.  Collect IDs -- we need to register
them and notify their next of kin, and we'll use the data on their IDs to do
that and track the kids.  We're going to get everyone to medical screening
today, but we may need to prioritize -- check that everybody had their meds,
for instance.  We don't want someone in trouble from a health standpoint
because they're missing a pill or a shot.  Diabetes and high blood pressure
would probably be top priority.  Got all that?  Come see me in fifteen
minutes."

	Tom eyed me.  "About Tina..."

	"I'm just going to wake her up.  Why don't you brief Vickie and come
pick her up."  I headed on over to where we'd laid out the three who were
unconscious.

	Tina was one of those skinny ones with the protruding hip bones and
the legs that locked at the knee such that the whole leg curved backwards.
She had brown hair, a long thin nose, not much chin -- not a top pick.  I
don't have to tell you that she wasn't much in the breast department, do I?
Her first word was "OW!" and I couldn't blame her -- stingers set fire to your
entire nervous system -- but then she kept whining.  Fucking great...  I
decided to leave the other two unconscious for the moment.

	Tom came over and took a look and shook his head.  I understood; Tina
looked too much like a twelve year old at sixteen.  "That reminds me," I
grunted, "you need to drag your crew over here and drop one off -- you're one
over."

	"Oh, shit."

	"Yeah, sorry.  I don't know how you're going to shake it out;
ultimately, it's your call, but you might want Kellie to do it.  Of course,
it's gonna be painful..." I pointed out.

	"She has to learn about the hard choices sometime," Tom grunted.  He
waved at Vickie and included the whole group; Vickie dragged them over.

	"Okay, we have a problem," I announced.  "Tom gets four women --
that's Vickie, the shy chick, Kellie, and one other.  Somebody has to choose
who stays with him and who doesn't."

	"Oh, shit." Vickie grunted.  From the faces of the others, the
sentiment was universal.  Even the shy chick was worried, since she could
theoretically be displaced.

	I nodded.  "It's Tom's decision, but you girls are Kellie's
friends..."

	Becky had nice tits -- Hell, Becky had a lot of nice features -- but I
thought I detected spoiled brat in her face.  Of course, Kellie wasn't any
better...

	Marie had a lot of Ugly Betty in her -- except Ugly Betty is Hispanic,
and I didn't see any of that in Marie.  She had the braces, the unimpressive
hooters, the stocky build...

	"What happens to the other two?" Kellie asked.

	"For the moment, they're at my tender mercies," I replied.  "That
probably isn't as bad as it sounds.  They'll be joining those two as, well,
spares, I guess you would call them.  If someone doesn't work out, they're the
replacement pool.  Ultimately, I don't know where they're going -- but they're
no longer on Earth."  I crooked a finger.  "Marie, Becky..."  They came over
to me, obviously unwillingly.  I didn't blame them.

	"Kellie, Vickie," Tom pulled them away for the decision-making
process.  At one point, predictably, Kellie eyed Shy and said "What about...?"
but Tom and Vickie nixed it.  Bottom line, her friends had been along for the
ride; they got more than they would have under other circumstances, by a good
bit.

	The decision was somewhat predictable; the group returned and Tom
said, "Becky."  I'd have made Kellie do it, but then I'm a known bastard.
Nobody looked happy; Marie and Tina both burst into tears, as did just about
every female present in the next few seconds -- the exception being Shy, who
was understandably relieved.

	"Give me your cards," I told the two losers.  "For now, at least, you
can all still see one another."  I shifted my attention to Vickie, "You DID
tell them what they were getting themselves into, right?"  I got a solemn nod.
No surprise, that -- Vickie was a solid woman.  Stupid me -- I gave her to
Tom; but then again, I'd have been saddled with this whole daughter-girlfriend
thing.  He would probably blame me for future troubles...

	Tina was going to be a hard-sell from her scores; on the other hand,
Marie had beautiful scores -- at some point in the future, she probably could
have volunteered, herself -- all she needed was a measly tenth of a point.
Any accomplishment would have put her over, but she was still only sixteen...
"Vickie tells me that she told you the price of admission," I told them.  Both
nodded.  "It might seem sorry-assed, but the fact is that my partner and I
risked our lives to bring you here, so you owe me, personally.  Frankly, if
Bet decides she wants something from you, you'd better up it -- understand?"
I got another pair of wordless nods.  "I don't have time to collect right now,
but I'll get around to it.  In the meantime, I'm your temporary sponsor.  Does
either of you have a medical problem I should get you off to the doctors for?
Does either of you have kids?  Are you on any meds?"  I got universal
negation.  "Do you wanna go home?"  THAT one, they thought about -- until I
told them, "Tough -- the Confederacy has already invested valuable resources
in your worthless hides -- and we're gonna get payback.  Come with me."  Their
IDs were the first ones in the hopper; their folks would get a nice note
telling them that they had been picked up and were now Confederacy citizens
that they could use to deal with any complications generated by their
disappearance.  There was also contact information, but it wouldn't be valid
for several weeks -- one reason being that they would make their families
happier if they weren't bawling over their lost cherries or whatever on
initial contact.  The cooling-off period was something we learned about almost
immediately; homesickness and other complaints ran rampant in the first couple
of weeks, then, like basic training, everyone usually settled in and got too
busy to worry about it any more.  At the end of a month or so, the new
situation was old news, usually, and histrionics were minimized -- and we
censored mail in any case.

	The other groups filtered in, and I posted the cards.  There were two
more kids out there, a total of seven; Bet was handling pickups.  We stuck a
drone out in the vicinity; it would land near a pickup site and act as a
transport terminus.  Bet would take the woman involved with her to make
pickup; it was usually done with the absolute minimum amount of fuss, although
the plain grey shift we gave women who had been separated from their clothing
during pickup could be a dead giveaway.  Occasionally, there were minor
difficulties, including women using the opportunity to back out or some child
care provider -- or, very seldom, a school official -- trying to wangle some
deal -- but in general, child pickups were anonymous enough not to be a
problem.

	Martin and Dolly's group had the most issues -- but of course, there
were more of them.  The fat woman -- whose name was Noreen, I discovered --
and Lon had high blood pressure and diabetes, but that wasn't the only medical
problem; while they were standing there, the stringy forty-something  blonde
asked, "I gotta have a cigarette -- is there anywhere around here I can
smoke?"

	I cracked up, which didn't make her happy.  "Look, Honey, you and
tobacco are through.  We don't have any, and the Darjee would freak if you
smoked on their fine vessel.  Lucky for you, we can kill the addiction
relatively painlessly."  It was VERY lucky for her -- twenty minutes later,
the medical diagnostic revealed that she had lung cancer.  The autodoc sedated
her and put some nanobots in to make repairs while they worked on the other
symptoms of her addiction.  Lon and Noreen were on the next two tables getting
nanobot insulin processors and arterial cleanup nanobots while their initial
gene-therapy workup was under way.

	There were a half-dozen other minor maladies, but nothing amazing.  We
had five stations; genetic workups took fifteen minutes apiece and we had
forty-eight people to go through, so we shuffled the three needing the most
work to human sickbay and hammered away at the list.  It was going to be a
long day...

	A little bit after the thing got going good, my hitchhikers woke up.
Marie came to me to tell me that Sweet Tits, or Spider Chick, or whatever was
moving and groaning a bit.  I got there just in time for her to open her eyes.
"Well, well," I announced, "You're back!"

	"Where am I?" she groaned.

	"Three guesses and the first two don't count," I replied.  "What do
you remember?"

	"There was a pickup -- one of those Confederacy things.  I was there,
outside, kind of watching and hoping, and the wall or whatever came down, then
people started running all over the place.  I ran around the next building,
but something was going on and I was in the wrong place or something;
suddenly, the wall was up again and I..." -- she started feeling around for
bullet holes.

	"You were stunned with something called a stinger," I related.  "How
bad did you want to get picked up?"

	She had green eyes...  "I dunno.  It seemed like a good idea..."

	"Merry Christmas," I told her.  "You've been picked up.  For now, your
lily white body belongs to me."

	Marie ruined the effect.  "He likes to pretend that he's evil -- but I
think he's pulling our legs," she announced.

	"We'll see what your assessment is after I've fucked you everywhere!"
I retorted.  Turning to the new arrival, I said, "I need you ID card."  While
she dug in her purse, I told her, "I'm running a special.  You didn't
volunteer to be here directly, so you get one pass in front of Big Mouth here
and her girlfriend.  If you don't want to be here, I'll dump you back off
somewhere in the vicinity of where you were picked up."

	She turned to Marie.  "This isn't a game?  I've really been picked
up?"  Marie nodded solemnly.  "How does it work?"

	I rolled my eyes.  "What have you been told?"

	"You get a sponsor.  He takes care of you."  She pursed her lips.  "It
sounded like a lot more than that."

	"It is," I agreed.  "Someone recently compared it to sex slavery --
and couldn't find much difference.  We call 'em sponsors -- but you might as
well call 'em owners.  You have no rights.  You're a body servant and baby
factory.  Have I scared you enough?"  I leered and wriggled my eyebrows.

	Sweet Tits looked at me, poker-faced, then she glanced around.  The
Darjee see in ranges we don't, and vice-versa, so the color scheme of the
transporter room was definitely alien.  Then she looked back at me, cocked her
head, pouted, and said, "You don't want me?"

	Marie burst out laughing.  I glared at her.  "She'd have never called
my bluff if you hadn't expressed your unsolicited opinion about how awful I
am!"  I turned back to Sweet Tits.  "Honey, you're sitting there because I
picked you -- but since you weren't saying 'Take me!' at the time, you can go
back if you want -- just this once!  After this, you're stuck!" I warned.

	"I was there to be picked up," she replied, "There was just no
chance."

	"That sounds like 'I'm staying' to me, but I'd prefer that you were
clear about it," I told her.

	"I'm staying."

	"Okay, then..." I looked down at her ID, "Elle..."  She had serious
scores...  Damn!  "You're officially stuck..."

	The chick with the cute puffy nipples was named Beverley -- and she
was a whiner.  I found that out right away when she awakened.  "Owww!  That
hurrrts!"

	"Yeah, well, it'll get better," I told her.  It did for her, but not
for me; from my perspective, those nipples were the only things she had going
for her.  She decided to stay, but I found myself wishing I'd tossed her out
the airlock after a couple of hours -- and I wasn't alone by any stretch.
After a while I popped Beverley and Tina into a spare pod and kept Marie and
Elle with me as runners; Beverley and Tina seemed almost to be soul mates.

	Darjee ships had a diurnal period of about twenty-two and a half
hours, broken up into three shifts -- and I had to override the automatic
light cutout in the pod room twice before everyone was settled -- once about
four hours in and once at the end of that shift, over seven hours later.  It
was a long day and I was pretty cranky when Kellie and Vickie showed up.  "Not
tonight -- I've got a headache," I told them.  "You're not off the hook, but
I'm toast."

	"Tom wanted us to see to you, anyway," Vickie replied.

	"If I need help, I've got my own little harem, now," I retorted.
"There's no need to make Tom suffer."

	"Tom isn't suffering yet," Vickie replied, "although I think he's
moving around better already.  But he insisted on us coming up and helping you
relax a bit."  She got behind me somehow -- maybe I was watching Kellie too
closely.  Suddenly, she was rubbing my shoulders.  "Besides, he won't have
anything to do with either of us until we've discharged our debt to you."

	"Christ, that wasn't the plan," I muttered.

	Vickie chuckled, "Men of honor, and all that -- don't think he doesn't
see you for what you are."

	"A horny little slimeball?" I guessed.

	"Try again..."

	"I'm too tired," I grunted.

	"We'll put you to bed, then." Vickie said solicitously.

	"You're just trying to take advantage of me," I protested.

	"We'll see..."

	I locked down the rest of the pod ports; they had everything they
would need.  A Darjee crewman would watch the call lights and tell Bet and me
if anything came up -- but they wouldn't deal with the colonists directly --
too scary.  Thank God the previous pickups were all busy with their own things
by now and had not bothered us.  There were four more human babysitters
aboard, but they were in training, mostly watching Bet and I mishandle things;
tomorrow, I'd have to give them a thirty-minute class in how NOT to do what WE
did on Pickup Four.  On the other hand, we may not have set a record, but we
did accomplish something...  Fuck this -- I was wasted.  They could at least
help out.  I hit the crew's quarters intercom, "Private Heller!"

	"Yes, Sarge?"

	"Act as a flapper if someone gets restless -- if the Darjee on watch
alerts you, see if you can keep whoever it is in their pods before waking me
up.  Got that?"

	"Okay, Sarge.  I got it."

	"Wake me next watch."  I punched off and headed for the quarters I
shared with Bet, towing two women.

	Bet wasn't there, which I thought strange until Vickie said, "Bet
wanted to hear some war stories -- and I guess Tom has a few he hasn't told
anyone."

	I grunted and punched for my dinner, hoping it wasn't rump roast
again.  "Are you two gonna let me alone, or am I gonna have to take a stim
pill?"

	"Neither," Vickie replied.  "We want you to relax.  If nothing else
happens, that's fine."  She started hauling at my boots, and I had to show her
the seals.

	Don't ask me what dinner was; I ate it, I think.  Vickie kept finding
ways to keep me occupied, undressing me and rubbing me here and there; I lost
track of Kellie -- something I'd NEVER have done on duty, but I was toasted.
A lot of adrenaline had been burned in the past twenty hours or so...  The
plan was to keep my underclothes on and eject them before any trouble could
start, but the next thing I knew, Vickie had both hands under my T-shirt,
rubbing my chest from behind, and Kellie, frog-naked, was digging in my boxers
for a cock.  Yeah, there was one in there, all right -- and if Kellie was
cherry anywhere else, her mouth sure wasn't.  I gave up and let her suck; she
was only going to get one load tonight.

	... Only she wasn't.  I let go and flooded her mouth -- and didn't go
down.  She kept sucking and I stayed hard -- and the next thing I knew I was
on my back and she was settling onto my erection, grimacing -- because she WAS
cherry in her pussy.  "You like my head?" she puffed.  "I learned to do
that... to keep this... intact -- but now... it's time..."

	You don't do something like that half-assed; I found what I needed to
make it worthwhile for her -- twice -- before I lost my second and last load
of the episode.  After that, I crashed; I had nothing left.  I closed my eyes
on the picture of Kellie swaying out the door, naked, looking at me over her
shoulder, saying, "I think my ass will have to wait..."

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

	"Sarge."

	"Yeah."  It took me a second to reach the intercom; there was an arm
wrapped around me.  It wasn't Bet's, either.  "Vickie?"

	"Umm?"

	"Why didn't you go back to Tom?"

	"I told you he won't have anything to do with us until we've paid our
debt."

	"Your debt had nothing to do with sleeping with me," I pointed out.

	"Not from your perspective," she replied.  "Besides, Bet wanted to
hang out with him last night."

	"I didn't need a bed partner," I noted.  "I was in no condition to do
anything but sleep."

	Vickie's hand drifted below my waist.  "That's no longer the case."  I
couldn't argue; she had a solid handful of me.  Six hours of sleep resulted in
a full recharge; a couple of minutes later I had Vickie racked back with her
knees up and was going to town.  Vickie was better than Kellie -- she knew
what she was doing and she obviously enjoyed it.  I pounded away in her for
what must have been twenty minutes; she went nuts on me four different times,
scratching and wailing.  I loved it; she took everything I could dish out and
made my cock at home, especially when she climaxed.  When my balls finally
climbed up my scrotum and let go, I must have pumped a pint of goo into her in
long blasts.

	"Yo, Sarge!"

	"I'm coming!"  I crawled up off of Vickie, complaining, "I just HAD to
show you to Tom..."

	"You'll be fine," Vickie assured me.  "Run along -- I'll go back to
our whatever it is to clean up."  She snagged my T-shirt and clutched it to
her drooling snatch as she waddled out.  I got up, got dressed, and got out of
there.

	"So how was it?" Bet asked, grinning, when I finally got out to the
bay where we were working.  Everyone was in pre-recorded briefings about where
everything was, et cetera.  From our perspective, today's mission was to find
out how everyone managed to handle the sleep cycle -- as in whether the
concubines gave anyone trouble and did everyone seem to understand their role
in the grand scheme of things.  Thus far, there had apparently been little or
no trouble...  "I let your pets out," she added.  "They're over there in Booth
Thirteen."  The briefing room had open booths along all four walls for
sponsors and their families to get their training from.  The 'open' wall was a
privacy field, but they didn't know that -- it kept the noise down, though.

	"It was a lot more than I expected," I told her.  "I thought sex was
only good with superwomen.  What did you do?"

	"Not a lot," Bet admitted.  "I got a pass for a hot date at some point
in the future."

	"I was wasted, I thought," I told her, "but somehow, I managed to get
two in anyway."

	"One in Kellie and one in Vickie?"

	"Two in Kellie, last night.  One in Vickie this morning," I amplified.
"I did a better job this morning, but I think I did okay last night."

	"Kellie seemed pleased," Bet replied.  "No wonder, I guess."

	"Frankly, I don't know how I did it," I said.

	"I was under the impression that you were aware of this," our AI
announced.  "The augmentations put in place for Confederacy Space Marines on
ground combat duty to allow them to be physically effective against a Sa'arm
have certain implications for systems and functions not directly involved in
combat -- one of which is libido."  Since your average Sa'arm stands about
seven foot two inches and is on a very stable tripedal platform, it was
decided to make individual Marines stronger and faster to compensate, if
possible.  Bet went beyond this as an individual, of course, but I didn't
because being the Hulk would interfere with be getting to be a fighter jock
later...

	"So, sexual function is..."

	"Augmented, yes," the AI agreed.  "Since we are also attempting to
assure the continuation of your species despite the imminent invasion of your
homeworld, this is seen as a benefit.  Your potency is also increased as a
side effect, since you -- and your semen -- are more durable."

	"I see..."

	"This, like other adaptations, is not passed on, since we have very
solid guidelines for altering a race as a whole, even with the permission of
the race involved -- but it provides immediate value in this case.  While we
could suppress the augmentation, it appears to be counter-productive," the AI
finished.  I figured he was pleased with himself.  Since genetic disease WAS
within the spectrum of repairs allowed, colonists would never suffer from
diabetes, for instance, unless it was triggered externally by extreme obesity,
maybe -- but that, too, was on the short list, at the discretion of the
individual involved.  Even then there were rules about how far the treatment
could go and be passed on...  "I am detecting that you are concerned -- would
you like to see the data and guidelines?"

	"Yeah," I muttered, and took a booth.  The AI displayed extracts of
several documents.  Essentially, a disease or genetic malady was treated in
the individual without issue, but there was a sliding scale for adapting the
patient's genome to prohibit occurrences in his or her offspring.  The
additional potency the AI described was a simple outgrowth of enhancements
applied for my job -- enhancements that could be reversed and that would tend
to fade as I aged without booster treatments.  Confederacy guidelines allowed
for non-transferable modification at will (such as Bet had done), but
transferable alterations were treated VERY seriously.  In general, the rule
was that if it was really, REALLY serious, they would fix it, but as the
seriousness of the issue trended downward, the best you could get was a
reduced likelihood of occurrence in offspring.  For example, the diabetes:
Diabetes is serious, and treated in the individual -- but the best you could
get for a transferable mod was a reduction by fifty percent in the likelihood
of recurrence in future generations.  If you were obese and weighed eight
hundred pounds, in a year or so they could re-shape you into a Twiggy look-
alike, but the best you could get for your kids was a max weight of six
hundred pounds.  An underlying glandular problem might alter that number or it
might not, depending upon how serious it was. I left the booth satisfied.

	Bet and I took turns watching the spares -- which was good, because I
couldn't stand Beverley's voice and Tina wasn't a whole lot better.  Marie and
Elle, on the other hand, I looked for excuses to have with me.  Bet noticed
this and commented on it, "So, we play favorites?"

	I grimaced.  "Yeah."

	"Don't blame you.  Are you thinking about adding to your harem?"

	"Maybe," I admitted.  "Have you seen Marie's and Elle's scores?"

	"Yeah," Bet nodded.  "You're an intellectual snob.  On the other hand,
Marie has a tough row to hoe if she's going to get a sponsor based on looks."

	Funny, I didn't have a problem with that.  The more time I spent with
Marie, the more I liked her; she was cute, endearing -- and intelligent, and
witty, and she had common sense.  There was one final test, though...


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