Warnings and disclaimers:
This story is set in the Swarm Cycle Universe created by Thinking Horndog. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is probably coincidental.
I appreciate all the help that Thinking Horndog has given me on this story. Any errors or omissions are all my fault.
Now, I'm gonna pretend this didn't happen, 'cause it's too bizarre to believe. You see, I'd run to Wally World for some stuff ... you know, groceries and toilet paper, crap like that.
Wally World was the usual madhouse, crowded as hell, with no registers open, so the lines were halfway back through the store. The normal stuff was happenin' for a Sunday ... the Mexican families were there. They bring every damn kid in the neighborhood to the store with 'em. Shit, I bet they bring kids they don't even know! When they get ready to go to the store, they stand outside and yell for all the Spanish kids to just hop in the back of the truck. They treat the freakin' store like a damn playground, kids running all over the place, yelling that Spanish gibberish at the top of their lungs. God forbid one of the girls actually be old enough to have breasts, then they dress like streetwalkers.
Now, I know that the threat of the Sa'arm comin' has made most women dress to show off all their assets, even if they don't have 'em, but Mexican girls manage to make it look so hoochie, maybe cause I remember when they used to dress so modest-like.
And the Haitian women! God help me. It was bad enough when they just walked around lookin' down their noses at people who they thought should kiss their asses. Now, they're even worse because they all are big as fuckin' houses and they don't wear no shirts and barely cover their asses, but you'd better not let one of 'em catch you lookin', cause they'll cuss you out in the crap THEY speak. It's enough to make a man wanna hide at home.
Which is what I normally do, but, dammit, sometimes a man's just gotta go get some more baloney and beer! I mean, I can do without the baloney and bread, but I gotta have some beer in the fridge, especially on Sunday so's I can watch me some football! The rest of the time, I'm at work, tryin' to make a buck by teachin' snivelin' kids how to sneak around in the woods and learnin' 'em how to shoot guns. By the time I'm done with 'em, the little brats can take a gun apart one-handed and blindfolded, and put it back together faster'n you can say 'Boo.'
Yeah, I'd watched that "Average Joe's" shit on television and got tested just like everyone else did. It was the big thing to do, which usually means I won't do it, but I was kinda curious. Shocked the hell outta me when I got a 6.6. I guess all that basic training shit they put me through in the Army done paid off somehow. I did do pretty good over there in Iraq in '91, too. My boss put me in charge of plannin' a couple of missions before one of them towel-heads shot me in the fuckin' leg and sent me home.
I liked the Army. The meals was regular and nobody bitched at ya so long as ya followed orders. I volunteered for the Confederacy Marines when I took that CAP test thingie, but figured I'd never get picked up since I never leave the damn house except to go to work or get more beer.
So's anyway, I'm standin' in Wally World of a Sunday afternoon, just mindin' my own business and tryin' not to stare at the hooters on that Haitian woman in the next line. But, who coulda blamed me for starin', them things was the size of watermelons! Then, all of a sudden like, the light in there changed, kinda like what I remembered from Iraq when you'd suddenly realize something wasn't right. It went darker, even them hundreds of lights up above couldn't keep it bright in that store, then everyone kinda went silent. I decided some kind of funky shit was goin' down and dropped down behind the watermelon hooters woman and slid back behind the first aisle.
Then there was a big voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a Confederacy Extraction, in other words, a pick-up! If you'll all stay where you're at for a few minutes, we'll get this done with as little hassle as possible."
I peeked around the end of that aisle and there was some gigantic fuckin' guy standin' in front of all the registers. I knew he was a giant cause I could see his entire upper body without havin' to strain to see over them registers. He had on this black armor-lookin' outfit and, right away, I could tell he was some kind of soldier.
"I'm Corporal Mike Tyson, Confederacy Marines. I am in charge of this extraction today. If you look around, you'll see some of my colleagues spread out throughout the store. My friends are here to keep the peace and make sure this extraction goes smoothly."
I looked around and saw a few others of them big dudes ... and a couple of chicks too. All of 'em were over six and a half foot tall and they all had some big ass lookin' guns in their hands. Tyson then had everyone who was carrying a weapon put 'em on the floor and kick 'em away. I hated kickin' my gun away, but I watched one of them soldiers drop another guy who didn't get his gun out quick enough. I figured I could get it back later. One of the soldiers came by and picked it up, then put it in some kinda bag and wrote my name on it.
Tyson went on talkin', "I need the following people to report to one of my fellow soldiers..." He called out about 18 names, and one of 'em was mine! Maybe I was gonna get lucky today! I decided to head over to one of the chicks ... maybe I'd get even luckier!
The chick, Corporal Brown, asked me for my CAP card. Well, I had to dig in my wallet for the card. I was still half not believin' that this was really a pick-up, one of them extraction thingies. Brown told me that it really was an extraction when I asked her and, after she looked at my card, said that I needed to pick out my two concubines. I looked at her like she was nuts ... what do I need fruit for?
Brown explained that concubines are what they call the girls you get to take with you when you're picked up. Shit, I didn't know they had a fancy name for it. I just been callin' em slaves, prolly will continue to call 'em slaves, too.
I started lookin' around and noticin' that all the women who did have clothes on, even if it wasn't coverin' nothing, were now getting naked. Sheeeit! I was the wolf in the henhouse!
Brown stopped me real quick, "You should probably look for more than big tits. You need somebody who can keep your family straight while you're off fighting, probably an older woman, and a younger woman who is willing to have lots of babies. This will help you figure out who to take." She handed me some kind of contraption that you put over the CAP card and it told you stuff about the slaves.
I walked over to watermelon tits and said "Give me your card!" She looked at me and asked "Why I do this?"
"You want off this planet with them kiddos there? Give me your damn card!" She handed it to me, and I put that thing over it to read it. A lot of shit jumped up at me, most of it I didn't care about, but it said she was good at handling kids ... and that she wouldn't be so bossy if a man cared to put her in her place.
Brown had followed me and told me, real soft-like, "You should probably test drive anything before you commit to it. You don't have to take it even if you do test drive it, and we'll back you up if you don't want it."
Well now, I was thinkin', I could have me a whole lotta fun in here today. It'd be my best trip to Wally World EVER. I looked around and licked my lips. "Watermelon tits," I smacked her on the ass, "You ever give head?"
Her eyes got huge and she shook her head. "A good woman does not do this. A good man does not ask."
I looked over her shoulder at the Mexican woman behind her. "You suck dick, honey? Make me happy, I may be your ticket off this planet." Chicka was on her knees fishing for my dick before I finished talkin'. "Oh, yeah, you done this before. Get your hair outta your face, I wanna see them eyes." She looked up at me and started blabbering in Spanish.
I looked over at Brown and she rolled her eyes at me. "She's telling you she'll suck your dick every night if you take her and her bambinos off this planet."
"Sure she will, IF I decide to take her. How many of them damn kids are hers anyway?"
Brown asked chicka and she held up six fingers. "Six kids? Damn, don't your husband work?" I said.
Chicka stopped sucking long enough to say "No husband, senor." Then she started vacuumin' little Charlie again. She was doin' pretty damn good as far as I was concerned and I figgered she'd do for the mommy part, since she was used to havin' kids around anyways. I let her work on me for a while, though. It was real nice, her suckin' my dick right there in the Wally World. Finally, though, I told her to gather up her kids and go stand by Brown. I still had to find one more slave girl and I'd seen somethin' across the way I thought I might like.
Somethin' was what it was, too. A little blond cheerleader lookin' bitch. She was standin' there naked, like she wanted to be picked, but she wasn't advertisin' worth shit. Her hands were over her little bitty titties and her little coochie. And little was what everythin' about her was. She wasn't even five feet tall. I could almost see me settin' my beer on her head.
"Little Bit," I said. "You wantin' off this planet?"
She looked just like Bambi in that damn movie, scared as hell. "Yeah, mister, I do want to go, but I'm scared."
"How old are you girl?"
.... There is more of this story ...