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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Buying Wholesale 02/04 {Thinking Horndog} (MF mF exhib ScFi) (Swarm Cycle)
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Date: Sat, 01 Sep 2007 13:10:02 -0400
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Chapter 2 of 4.  A Swarm Cycle story.





  
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<1st attachment, "=?utf-8?q?Buying=20Wholesale=5F2.txt?=" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Buying Wholesale
Part: 2 of 4
Universe: The Swarm
Summary: An experimental large-scale pickup of colonists is mounted in an
effort to boost the numbers of those escaping the Swarm.

Keywords: MF mF oral anal exhib ScFi

Chapter 2

	Elsewhere, teams moved into various positions.  The plan was to herd
everybody to a couple of locations and process them as quickly as possible,
transporting 'family' groups as soon as they were created.  As a result, the
fairground perimeter was covered; there were three drones overhead to allow
for subdividing things as necessary to maintain control.

	Captain McPherson, commander of Bravo Company, Second Battalion,
Seventh Marine Brigade, made his way with his XO to the control booth from
which the fair's loudspeaker system was controlled.  Despite planning, CPT
McPherson was certain that this was going to be a total disaster -- but he'd
gotten greedy and volunteered, so Bravo Company was stuck with the mission --
and in ninety seconds, planning and execution were going to diverge...
"Ninety seconds, people.  Start digging out those armbands."  Since they
couldn't wear uniforms, and they had masses of people to interact with, it had
been decided that armbands with the Confederacy Marine sigil and the
individual's rank on them would act to identify them to 'civilians'.
Undoubtedly, it would also make them targets...  Troops all over the perimeter
dug in pockets and purses and recovered the armbands, awaiting the fifteen-
second mark to put them on.  In the meantime, CPT McPherson, 1LT Briggs, and
1SG Watkins took over the booth...

	"Pardon me," CPT McPherson told a startled fair official, "I have a
few announcements to make if you don't mind..."

	The official, a florid individual about sixty years old, started to
huff -- but 1SG Watkins cut him off.  "That means get up, in case you didn't
realize it.  The Captain likes to handle things gently.  I'm more direct,
though -- you've got until I get to you to get out of that chair..."

	"Now see here!" the man blustered.  LT Briggs had the other booth
occupant trapped in a corner; when the official looked in his direction for
assistance, it became clear that it wasn't forthcoming.  "You can't..."

	Watkins had him by the shirt collar by then.  "Guess again, Bub.
We're trying to be polite, here, but this is a Marine operation..."

	"Marines?"  The man went white.  "Here?  There will be chaos!"

	"We're hoping that won't be the case," McPherson said mildly.  "Your
assistance would be greatly appreciated."

	"Yes, yes, of course..."  The official started dealing with the
changed circumstances.  "If I could see some identification?"

	Watkins was ready to frog-march him out of there, but McPherson merely
handed the man his ID.  "Certainly, Captain," The man muttered.  "Do you wish
to use the intercom, or would you prefer to speak through me?"

	"We're properly prepped."  McPherson eyed his watch, "AND behind
schedule.  ALL HANDS, EXECUTE!  EXECUTE!  EXECUTE!" he passed on the company's
internal net.  The AIs triggered the drones...

	... and from inside the fairground, the view of the surroundings
shifted to shades of grey..

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

	Before the reaction got too far advanced, McPherson got on the PA
system, "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please!  You are
about to participate in a historic experiment -- in an effort to speed things,
we plan to attempt to fill a transport today from this site!  Please remain
calm and cooperate with my troops -- they can be identified by their armbands.
We have a lot of work to do and can't really put up with anything serious in
the way of a disturbance, so I'm asking you now to follow our instructions and
try not to start any trouble -- and I think you'll be pleased with the
results!"  He shut off the mike and turned to Lt Briggs.  "XO?"

	"I make it seven hundred thirteen and a hundred forty nine, Sir,"
Briggs replied, studying his sensor relay.

	McPherson keyed the mike.  "According to our data, there are seven
hundred thirteen male and a hundred forty nine female volunteers here with us
on site -- if you would make yourselves known to the nearest Marine, we'll see
to it that you're not molested in any way while we conduct the next phase of
things.  People, I know that many of you are in family groups -- while you may
wish to take your spouse with you, you are under NO OBLIGATION to do so -- but
if you already have a group of dependents sorted out, we'll be happy to honor
it."  He took a breath.  "As for everyone else -- if your last name begins
with A through H, please report to the amphitheater.  If your last name begins
with I through Q, please report to the sales barn.  All others, please report
to the ring where the riding events are held.  Thank you in advance for your
cooperation."  He shut off the mike.  "And so it begins..."

	The official scurried up.  "I took notes -- if you would like, I can
repeat the instructions at intervals..."

	"Very well," McPherson nodded.  Turning to 1SG Watkins, he said, "Top,
please mind the store here -- we may need to change things on the fly.  You
can pass further instructions to this gentleman..."

	"Aye, Sir!"  Watkins gave the official the fisheye, but made no move.

	"Let's go, XO," McPherson muttered, and led Briggs out.

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

	Transporters appeared at the designated sites as the Captain made his
pitch over the PA, placed there by Marines waiting for the signal.
Immediately, teams lugging equipment stepped through the portal and began
setting up.  "Wow!" Lisa exclaimed, "What are they doing?"

	"We can't go through the usual rigamarole," Ed told her, "so we're
going to try something different.  You'll see."  He put her on her feet.  "I
need my hands now."

	"Do I stay with you?" Lisa asked.

	"That's up to you, Honey.  You do what you think is best," Ed advised.

	"What if I want to?" Lisa asked, her eyes serious.

	"Then, yeah, I'll take you," Ed gusted.  Turning to Mindy, he added,
"Both of you."  Mindy looked mildly confused until Lisa crooked a finger, then
she glanced up at Mike and backed away.  Mike just nodded; he wasn't sure he
wanted the responsibility she entailed -- besides, he HAD his quota...  "Stay
out of my way, but within reach," Ed instructed.  "If things drop in the pot,
I might need to move fast -- and I'll want you right behind me!"

	"Yes, sir!"  Lisa nodded, all business.

	"Don't call me 'Sir' -- I work for a living!" Ed snapped.

	Lisa looked confused, but Mike rescued her.  "Officers are 'Sir' --
we're not officers."

	"Oh..."

	"Don't worry, you'll catch on."  Mike swept his gaze across the ring
-- "Don't bug us now -- we need to work..."

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

	Peter Wilson stood in the dusty parking lot, staring at the wall of
energy that robbed the color from the fairgrounds before him.  It was ironic;
ever since he'd hit six point six on his annual CAP retest (these took less
than fifteen minutes, as a rule, given the stored base data on the individual
involved -- and they gave some people hope, so they were allowed once every
twelve months when everyone who was going to test in an area had done so) he
and his wife Beth had been virtually inseparable -- to the point that she had
quit her job, and they ran all of their errands together.  Now, they happened
upon an unexpected but absolutely perfect situation -- but they were on the
outside of the barrier!

	"No fair?" Little Paulette, who was riding his left hip, asked.

	"Yeah," Peter grunted.  "No fair."  He turned sadly away from the
fairgrounds and began trudging back toward his car, thinking glumly, 'No fair
at all...'.

	"Excuse me -- Mr. Wilson?  Mr. Peter Wilson?"

	Peter looked up; a tall, muscular guy in a brush cut stood beside him.
"Yes?"

	"May I speak with you -- in private?"

	"My wife can hear anything you have to say..." Peter blustered.

	"Please, Sir -- it's best if we spoke privately for just the moment --
then by all means..."  The man waved him away.

	Peter put Paulette down and turned to Beth.  "I'll be right back."
Then he trudged off to where the irritating fellow was standing.

	"May I see your CAP card, sir?" the guy asked.

	"Why?" Peter wanted to know.

	"Surely you're aware of what's going on..." the guy said, eyeing him,
his head cocked.

	"Painfully!" Peter rasped.  "And I'm ALSO painfully aware that I'm on
the wrong side of the barrier!"  Everybody knew that if you were on the
outside, you STAYED on the outside...

	"Yes, Sir -- but that's not an ordinary pickup -- and the ordinary
rules don't apply," the guy retorted with just a touch of impatience.

	"What are you saying?"

	"I'm saying that you don't have to STAY on this side of the
barrier..."  The guy pulled out HIS ID -- and it was clearly that of a Marine!

	Peter's hand flashed to his back pocket.  "Really?"

	"I was stationed out here to pick up stragglers," the Marine told him
while observing his card.  "Come with me and I'll open it up."

	"What about my family?" Peter asked.

	"You can take your wife, your children -- either or both -- or none,"
the Marine replied.  "That's why I asked you to step away -- to avoid any
embarrassment, if..."

	"I want my family," Peter asserted.  "ALL of it."

	"Fine," the Marine replied.  "I hope your, uh, spouse, realizes that
she's about to be demoted.  There is no such thing in the Confederacy.  She'll
be a concubine -- one of two, in your case."

	"Yes, well," Peter muttered, "We'll deal with it."

	"Very good.  Please collect them and follow me."

	Somewhat dazed, Peter returned to his family and returned little
Paulette to his hip.  "Come along, everyone."

	"Where are we going, Daddy?" Paulette asked.

	"To the fair, Sweetie.  To the fair."  Taking Beth's hand, he led her
off to their new life.

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

	"Here I am!"  SSG French glanced up as a handsome blond boy entered
his presence waving a CAP card, with six giggling girls of varying
descriptions in tow.  'Oh, an easy one!' was his first thought -- but his data
link said otherwise.  There were several CAP cards in range -- and none of
them sported an eight point five, or even a six...

	"Let me see that," he told the boy, taking the card.  Verifying it
took but a moment; SSG French took another few seconds to do a scan of the boy
before snapping the card in half.  "Counterfeit.  Now, sir, if I might see
your real card?  I believe it is in your wallet..."  Turning his head while
the boy fished in his wallet, SSG French called, "Corporal Potter!"

	A statuesque redhead fully six and a half feet tall came quickly
forward.  She was wearing the uniform of the day -- that is to say, not much
-- a miniskirt and her armband -- and the boy ogled her high, proud breasts.
"This one is a counterfeiter," SSG French announced.  "Do the honors, won't
you?"

	"Yes, Sergeant."  She dug under her jean skirt, which flipped up
neatly to display a holster around her thigh with several pen-shaped devices
hanging from it.  Retrieving one, she turned to the boy.  "Look this way,
please..."

	The boy looked in the direction she was pointing and she pressed the
object against his shoulder.  There was a snick and a hiss.  "Ow!"  The boy
jumped and glared at CPL Potter angrily.  "What was that?"

	SSG French eyed the boy.  "Do you have any idea what the penalty for
falsifying a CAP card is?" he asked, glancing at the boy's CAP card, "Mr.
Duane Ellis?"

	"No."  The boy shrugged indifferently.  Jail time, maybe, he figured.
'Pop will fix it...'  'Pop' was T. Beckwith Ellis, and he was a Big Man Around
Town; Duane had been in trouble before, and Pop had always managed to paper it
over...

	"Counterfeiting a CAP card always seems to travel in company with
other offenses," SSG French mused aloud.  "I figure I'm looking at six counts
of fraud..." he continued, eyeing the girls.

	Dee Dee Whitaker frowned.  "What's going on?  Why did you break
Duane's card?"

	Marissa Skomp tossed her blonde ponytail angrily.  "We've been had,
Dee Dee!  Duane lied to us!"

	"What?"  Dee Dee turned to glare at Duane.  The other four girls
started murmuring among themselves.

	CPL Potter nodded.  "Duane lied to you, girls.  His CAP score is two
point four.  How many of you gave him your virginity, thinking he was an eight
plus?"  Five of six girls raised embarrassed hands -- the exception being
Marissa.

	"I was right," SSG French nodded.  "Six cases of fraud, five cases of
theft of virginity through misrepresentation...  That's a big black mark for
your headstone, Son."

	"What do you mean?" Duane asked.

	CPL Potter glared at him.  "The penalty for using a counterfeit CAP
card for any purpose is death by lethal injection!"

	Duane blanched.  "You mean...?"

	"The poison is a paralytic agent," CPL Potter spat.  "You probably
can't move now; in fifteen minutes, you'll stop breathing."

	"What about a trial?" Duane gasped.

	"No need -- we have six witnesses," SSG French replied.  "The law has
been on the books for months.  You were guilty before the girls fingered you
for taking their cherries under false pretenses."

	Duane lost his balance and toppled forward onto his face, then gave
vent to a muffled shriek. "OW!"

	CPL Potter spurned him with a foot, turning him over onto his back.
"As you can see, girls, he can still feel pain.  The law allows you to take
your vengeance upon him for what he's done to you; you can do as you like with
him for what little time he has left.  He'll feel it all -- he's going to die
of suffocation."

	Dee Dee grimaced.  "Come on, Marissa -- I can't do anything to him
while he's like that, no matter WHAT he did..."

	SSG French shrugged.  "Whatever.  We'll be posting a sign, so the
paramedics don't try to revive him.  You should all head for the collection
areas to try to get a REAL sponsor..."

	"Thank you, sir!" Dee Dee replied.  The other four were already
wandering off.  "Come on, Marissa -- we have to get to the ring!"

	"One second," Marissa replied.  "You may be civilized, but I'm not..."
Deliberately, she stepped up close to Duane and jumped -- landing on his left
arm with both feet.  It took three tries, but there was a sickening snap...
"That's for my ass, asshole!" she hissed, and walked around to his other side
while Duane tried to bawl and beg for mercy.  The right forearm snapped on the
second try.  "And that's for Dee-Dee..."  Gathering herself she leaped onto
his chest...

	CPL Potter, smiling grimly, looked on; she'd been a victim in her
time...

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

	The Wilsons followed Private Witherspoon -- the Marine -- about a
quarter of the way around the fairgrounds before he stopped and started
speaking quietly -- to nothing, apparently.  But suddenly a section of the
field sank back behind the rest of the wall, opening what looked like some
kind of passage.  "Follow things around to the left," the PVT told Peter.
"Someone will take charge of you inside and direct you to the collection
point.  Good luck!"

	"Thank you!"  Peter put out his hand and Witherspoon smiled and shook
it, then waved them forward.  Peter led his family inside into an area between
two field walls, one of which ended shortly, leaving them standing at the edge
of an area in relative chaos.  They were inside!

	A Marine -- identifiable by an armband with stripes on it -- came
forward.  "Mr. Wilson?"

	"Yes."

	The Marine glanced over his family and consulted his datapad.  "We
need to hook you up with one other concubine, then I'm going to direct you to
a transport zone.  How involved do you think collecting another concubine is
going to be?  Do I need to hold your family here while you go to one of the
collection areas?"

	"Peter," Beth erupted suddenly.  "What about Meredith and the boys?"
Meredith Bascomb was Beth's divorced sister, who had two little boys...

	"Are they here?" Peter asked.

	"We were going to meet at the handicrafts exposition," Beth replied,
fishing out her cell phone.

	"That's not going to work in here," the Marine told her, "We're cut
off from the network.  If this was a small pickup, I might be authorized to
open up the frequency, but under these circumstances..." he shrugged.

	"My other concubine is here, but we haven't managed to find one
another," Peter related.

	The Marine nodded.  "What's her name?"

	"Meredith Bascomb."

	"Let me see what I can do."

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

	Meredith was milling about with the boys at the side of the open
amphitheater the fair used for musical shows, having followed instructions
when the announcement came to gather in groups by last name.  The alternatives
had seemed to be stupid, especially after a couple of people started freaking
out and running around yelling -- and ended up on the ground, unconscious.  A
Marine had drawn some kind of weapon and shot three of them in rapid
succession -- and the explanation that they were merely unconscious didn't
really allay the fears of the witnesses, but it certainly damped down any
active demonstrations of foolishness.

	From where she stood, Meredith could see some techs working on a
device at the back of the stage; while she watched, it came on.  A woman was
directed to stand in a particular spot on the stage and her image -- in three
dimensions, several times her size -- appeared in the air of the stage.
Without her moving an inch, the device displayed the woman from every angle --
even straight up from below her feet -- while the number three point four and
a tally of sub-scores with certain ones highlighted and short explanatory
notations appeared in the air beside the primary image.  Everything was sized
to be easily readable, even from off-side.  The techs tuned the image
projection locations to be almost directly over the front row of bench seats.
One of the techs said something to the woman, who spread her stance about ten
inches; in a moment, the visual swept over her again, this time catching a
view of her labia from below and between her feet.  Noting the result, the
woman first snapped her legs together, then visibly thought about it and
assumed an even wider stance -- which got a laugh and some encouragement from
the techs.  Meredith had come out in a short skirt and body paint to cover her
breasts somewhat -- no panties -- divorced women with two kids couldn't afford
modesty.  She stood there wondering if there would be a way to wipe off the
paint before she went on display.  On the stage, the woman grinned widely
while she actually squatted -- the resulting image drew whoops and catcalls
from all over the audience area, which was slowly filling with what had to be
selectees...

	Then came the REAL shock!  The local PA opened up with, "Quiet
everybody -- we're about to get started, but first, is Meredith Bascomb
present?  Wave an arm, Honey!"

	Meredith blinked and looked around, wondering why she was being
singled out, then tentatively raised her hand.

	"Please report to the Marine down front -- he'll take you to your
sponsor," the guy on the PA told her.

	'My sponsor?'  Dazed, she shuffled forward, towing Tony by one hand
and carrying Paul on her hip.

	She got no explanations when she got to the Marine; looking somewhat
harried, he told her, "Follow me.  Try to keep up -- we don't have much time."
Then he took off -- fast!

	"Sir!  Sir!" Meredith yelled, "I can't keep up with that towing a four
year old!"

	The Marine stopped dead and looked disgusted.  "Yeah.  Right you
are..."  He grimaced.  "I'll carry him, then."  He scooped Tony up and took
off again.

	This time, Meredith could keep up, but she was out of breath when they
stopped.  The Marine pointed.  "This person has offered to sponsor you as his
concubine.  You can accept, or you can return to the amphitheater and try your
luck there -- understand?"

	"Y--yes..."  Meredith glanced over at where the Marine was pointing --
and sighed in relief.  It was Peter, her sister's husband!  "I accept!"

	"Join him, then," the Marine said shortly.  "I have other things to
worry about..."  He put Tony down and was gone, just like that.

	Meredith took control of a bewildered Tony and led him to where Peter
was waiting -- apparently as impatiently as the Marine.  "Hello, Peter."

	"Hi.  Look, this is a bit of a rush job.  Beth asked, so I'm offering,
but..."

	"No, no, that's fine..."  Peter had always been a bit standoffish, but
while Beth didn't seem to have him under her thumb -- the poor dear was SUCH a
romantic! -- he'd never impressed Meredith as being uncontrollable.  This
would work...

	"Good.  We can go out with the first wave, but we need to go over
there for some kind of briefing..."  Peter, distracted, led them off; Meredith
made shift to follow.

	LT McCandless, the First Platoon Leader, had the job of in-briefing
the 'prepacks' -- the short term for sponsors who had already collected their
concubines on arrival.  When Peter and his group arrived, joining a couple of
late teen groups and one older fellow with a small harem, and several other
small family groups, he kicked off his briefing.  "Okay.  We haven't really
checked to make sure everything you're doing is legal, so PVT Russell, here,
will be checking everyone's cards to see where we stand as I talk.  This is
the 'facts of life' briefing; we've discovered in the past that most prepack
groups have one or more members who don't realize that their situation has
just changed.  It's better to sort things out here on the ground -- they get
messy, later."

	"Much of this," the LT continued, "should not be new -- but sometimes
hearing it from the outside and experiencing having it actually applied to you
are two different things, so I'll be repeating this crap anyway.  When you
step into the matter stream and arrive on the transport ship, your situation
changes forever -- and for some of you, it involves the removal of a favored
status.  How many of you are married?"

	Several women raised their hands -- including Beth.

	"Officially, any advantage that your marital status has afforded you
in the past is terminated," the LT told them.  "Officially, you are now one of
the herd of two, four, six, eight, or however many women that your husband is
assuming responsibility for.  He may choose to continue to hold you in some
special regard -- and he may not -- and it is HIS decision, not yours!
Technically, you're divorced -- and you get no alimony and no child support,
so you'd better plan on making your OWNER happy!  Do you understand?"

	Numbly, Beth nodded with the other affected women.

	"Good.  Trust me, remembering what I just told you will save both you
and your sponsor trouble later.  Anybody want to leave?" the LT asked, looking
around, apparently hopefully.  "Okay.  How many of you OTHER women are here
because your sponsor is friend or relative or co-worker or some such that got
you a free ride as a favor to somebody?"

	Several women raised their hands, including a thoughtful Meredith.

	"Okay.  Whatever you think he owes you, wash it RIGHT OUT OF YOUR
HEAD!  He owes you NOTHING -- and YOU owe HIM your LIFE!  You need to kick off
your new life by treating him as if he'd just picked you up over there at the
meat market -- in fact, it might be smart if you did what you would be doing
if he'd gotten you over there -- listen to the rest of this briefing from your
knees with his dick in your mouth!"

	There was a collective gasp, and the LT grinned nastily.  "Sponsors,
I've done all I can on the other end -- now it's YOUR turn!  Many of you are
no doubt married to one of the women with you.  It's a solemn responsibility
that no doubt you entered into soberly and with all good intentions.  But that
marriage is dissolved -- without a lot of legal crap or alimony or waiting
periods or lawyers -- it's just DONE!  If you've discovered that the girl you
married is a worthless lazy bitch, point her out and PVT Russell, here, will
herd her sorry ass off!  You can keep the kids and go find them a newer model
step-mom with the proper attitude!  Any takers?"

	There was one.  "Robert!" a hefty, angry-looking woman blustered, "You
can't do this!  Wait until I tell my father!"

	The LT grinned from ear to ear.  "Daddy won't help you, Lady -- he
can't!  I'm sure you made the right decision, sir!  Anyone else?"  PVT Russell
entered the crowd to chivvy the woman out of it and she resisted.  There was a
zap, a short screech, and the woman was on the ground.  The LT took control
again, saying, "Don't worry, she's just unconscious.  She'll have plenty of
time to mend her ways and chase down a new sponsor -- or, she can be some
dickhead's lunch, if that's her preference."  Eyeing the man involved, he
added, "You may want to re-think your other commitments, now..."  The woman on
the man's left got an EXTREMELY fearful look on her face and quickly knelt
before him and started wrestling with his zipper -- the opening of which was
the loudest sound in close proximity for the next few seconds.  When she had a
mouthful and the fellow hadn't made any visible sign of relegating her to the
out box, the LT continued, "Sponsors, what you're entering into is NOT
marriage!  It's more and it's less -- basically, it is chattel ownership!  You
are TOTALLY responsible for anything any of your little clan does, and those
responsibilities include LIFE AND DEATH!  So if you have a slip with you who
is too dumb to live, save yourself the trouble now, on the front end!"  He
glanced around again, but nobody moved -- except the woman pulling her throat
onto her new owner's cock, obviously pushing herself to take in as much of his
length as possible by pressing him into her throat with her hands on his ass.
Against the background of the woman's gurgling, the LT asked the man, "Who IS
that?"

	The man shrugged.  "Her sister."

	"You should have married HER, it looks like to me."

	"Well, things are different now, I guess," the man said.  "Keep
gagging, Slut -- knowing your sister, I'm going to want a LOT of mileage out
of YOU!"

	"I'd drop her like a hot rock and go get two new ones," the LT told
him.

	"Nah," the man replied.  "I think with the bad influence gone, she'll
work out."

	The LT shrugged.  "You might as well go over there and let her finish,
then go chase down a replacement for her stupid sister..."  Looking at
everyone else, he reiterated, "Again, sponsors, it's a new day with new
responsibilities -- your old commitments are washed away!  Re-evaluate as
necessary!  Concubines!  It would be wise if you acted as though your man just
picked you up out of a line-up!  Planning to capitalize on the past is a
recipe for failure!  If you USED to rule the roost, I'm here to tell you that
THAT is over!  It just isn't institutionally supported -- you'll get nowhere
and he'll get nothing but embarrassment until everything is visibly under
control!  Take a minute to get organized, and we'll start shipping you out..."

	Meredith swallowed and eyed Peter.  "If you want, I'll..."

	Beth piped up, "You don't have to..."

	"Beth!"  Surprisingly, both of them said it in unison.  Peter looked
disappointed in her.  "In case you haven't been listening, Sweetheart, the job
description includes sex with me -- carrying my children, in fact.  Are you
sure you understand what's going on, here?  We've discussed it a number of
times..."

	"I--..."  Beth shut up.  A number of things were coming home to roost;
a number of realizations were penetrating.  Meredith was her sister!  Wasn't
this incest?

	Meanwhile, Meredith went to her knees in the fairground mulch and
started opening Peter's zipper.  Peter looked thoughtful and said to Beth,
"Maybe you should get down there and show her how I like it?"

	Beth did as she was told as far as kneeling up, but pressed Peter
with, "Perhaps this was a mistake.  Meredith is my sister -- that's incest!"

	The LT appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.  "Not really," he opined.
"She's no more related to your sponsor than you are.  Besides, the woman
apparently has children by another man, which sweetens the pot, genetically.
We're fine with it."  He eyed Peter, "Trouble?"

	"I'll handle it," Peter said confidently.  The LT nodded -- but he
didn't go far.  "Beth, Sweetheart, shut up and suck."

	Beth opened her mouth again -- and it was Meredith who pushed her from
behind onto Peter's cock.  "And I bet you thought I'D be the stupid one!" she
told Peter, rolling her eyes.

	"Well, I'd hoped she had a better understanding," Peter sighed.  "We
DID discuss this..."

	"It's a shock," Meredith replied.  "Suck, Sis.  Give your man
pleasure.  Show me what he likes."  Beth stopped fighting and started sucking,
watching her sister through eyes dark with betrayal.  Meredith sighed and
turned to Peter, "I didn't think you liked me.  You were always...
standoffish."

	Peter grimaced.  "It wasn't my job to get cozy with you.  It wasn't
fair to Beth.  I find you attractive, but she was my wife; flirting with you
would be a betrayal.  So I stayed away..."  Of the pair, Meredith was the hot
one -- but Beth was the woman Peter had forged a relationship with in college
and married...

	"How sweet!" Meredith sputtered.  "I feel so much better!"

	"I own't!" Beth got out around Peter's cock.

	"It'll be all right."  Meredith rubbed her sister's back, watching her
efforts.  "She's not very good, is she?" she asked Peter, eyeing the
performance critically.

	"Hey!" Beth gurgled.

	Peter pursed his lips.  "Well, she's a better fuck."

	"Not better than me," Meredith purred.

	"Mr. Wilson!  Head 'em up and move 'em out!" LT McCandless yelled.
Peter nodded and pulled his former wife off his cock, zipping up his pants.
"Let's get out of here -- we'll sort this out upstairs."  He started chivvying
the kids toward the transporter.

	The sisters stood to follow, collecting the littlest ones.  "You're
acting like some hussy!" Beth hissed.

	"Straighten up and fly right," Meredith retorted, "or I'll be the
Number One hussy!"  The light on the transport terminus turned green and PVT
Russell waved her into the beam.  When she'd disappeared, he offered the
opinion, "If I was you, I'd shuck out of that sundress and remind your old man
who he fell in love with -- and NOT by talking to him about it!"  Beth bit her
lip, unbuttoned the dress, and left it on the ground as she transported out.

<1st attachment end>


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