Chapter 6

Jack:

While I was getting undressed, she headed off to the bathroom and returned in a shapeless but thin nightie (not translucent, exactly -- except from wear -- or lingerie grade, by any means -- it was yellow cotton with a pattern of flowers or something on it). I gave her a look and she blushed and said, "You don't want to see my fat butt and saggy boobs."

In answer, I flipped the top sheet and blanket off me; I sleep raw any time I can get away with it -- and I considered this to be one of those occasions. Beth's hands flew to her cheeks and she gasped, "Oh!" -- but she didn't peel out of that thing right away. Instead, she came around to the side of the bed and turned her back to me before divesting herself and backing under the covers.

I chuckled. "I don't suppose that it has occurred to you that your fat butt and saggy boobs are what got us here..." I murmured as I stuck my cock between the cheeks of the first item and collected a generous handful of the other.

"Were they?" Beth had no problem backing up against me, I noted.

"The jury is still out, but if I were to throw a rock, I'd say they were instrumental," I murmured in her ear.

"You're a weird, weird guy," Beth husked, adding, "thank God..." She wriggled around a bit and reached between her legs and rearranged my cock so that it ran between them pressed against her nether lips.

That was fine with me; I relaxed and nuzzled her neck and played with her soft, soft titty, intending to drift off that way. Beth had other ideas, though, beginning with rocking herself along my meat -- which solidified under the attention, then got nice and wet from the lubrication along her slot. The urge to sleep slowly took a back seat to other urges -- in both of us. Next, she leaned forward while grasping my rod and reorienting it against her opening, after which she wrapped a hand around my upper thigh and pulled, urging me to bury myself in her. I held out for a moment, "Aren't you tired? I figure you're sore..."

"I want mine before I have to deal with the competition," Beth husked. "This is my honeymoon."

I pressed forward, into her steaming depths. "This isn't marriage," I reminded her.

"No, it's better!" she gasped.

We were beyond philosophy, at that point -- it was time to fuck. Very quickly it became apparent that I didn't have adequate leverage with us lying on our sides to give the energetic fuck we both wanted, so I rolled her up on her knees. Beth stuck her face in a pillow, but the damned headboard kept banging the wall. I ended up handling that by turning Beth sideways in the bed. That limited us to some squeaks, Beth going "Mmmm! Mmmm!" into the pillows, and me panting a lot. You can talk about that ass all you want, but watching those cheeks shudder under my hands while I slammed into her pussy worked for me! Once again, it was prime pussy -- difficult to describe, but Tina and Dottie were in trouble from a pleasure delivery point of view. I lasted maybe ninety seconds before Li'l Jack blew the first time -- and after a short pause to enjoy it I just resumed stroking, starting slow and building back up. Beth did NOT complain; I heard the whine and felt the clutch of her cunt I'd learned to associate with her climax at least four times before Li'l Jack hosed her a second time, four or five minutes later.

I rocked back on my heels and prepared to drag Beth around to our starting position; Beth came up on her hands to cooperate, then froze, looking in the mirror attached to her dresser. I followed her glance and discovered her mother standing in the doorway in a similar nightgown; her hand was drifting away from where the cloth was slowly unwrinkling and dropping back into place in front. Momma Hopkins pretended nothing untoward had occurred while she murmured, "I came in to ask you not to bang the headboard against the wall; your father is a deep sleeper, but there are limits..."

I turned to face her directly. "Sorry about that. I fixed it as soon as it got to be a problem."

Momma Hopkins answered Li'l Jack, not me -- she was talking to him in a manner that I'd spoken to any number of nice looking titties in my time when she replied, "That was some exhibition you two put on."

I shrugged. "The early plan was sleep, but Beth seems to feel that she should take whatever opportunities present themselves."

"Hmmmm, yes," Momma Hopkins mused. She shifted her attention to her daughter. "That wasn't your first time. How long... ?"

Beth blushed nearly purple. "Last night. With Jack. I ... lied. I wasn't drunk -- we were asleep, after."

Momma nodded, seemingly taking it all in stride. "I'm going to bed now," she announced, "and will try to sleep. You should, too." Her attitude said that either Papa Hopkins was going to be awakened from his sound sleep, or Momma was going to do some serious masturbation before sleep overcame her. Well, that wasn't MY problem...

Beth's work schedule made her a late sleeper, but I had things to do, so she set the alarm for six. I managed not to destroy the thing and rolled out headed for the bathroom that Beth pointed out to me before sleepily announcing, "I'll make you some coffee..." and padding off in that nightgown. I showered and thanked God that I'd had my beard's growth retarded quite a bit; I'd passed on the option to have it removed altogether as sometimes facial hair is a fashion thing with males. Climbing into my clothing from the day before wasn't the greatest thing, but I had time to pop by the hotel and swap out. As I came down the stairs, a male voice sounded in the kitchen, "You're up early..."

I peeked around the corner to see Beth turn to her father, who was seated at the table drinking coffee, "Yes, Daddy." Momma was in the background, watching the tableau -- and enjoying it, no doubt. She picked me up visually, but said nothing.

"You were quite late again," Mr. Hopkins noted. "Your mother didn't come to bed until very late. What are you up to these days?"

Beth turned pink -- but hit a brick wall, no doubt from a certain reticence over discussing her blooming sex life as well as the hypnotic blocks she had in place. After she tried a couple of times, she flicked a glance at her mother, but merely got amusement in return; Momma was unaware that she was inhibited. It was time to do something...

"Hi," I announced myself, stepping around the door. "I'm Jack."

Mr. Hopkins's glance shifted from me to Beth, who was looking relieved if apprehensive, to his wife, who wore an expression of vindictive amusement. "All right -- what's going on?"

Momma chose to reply, "Oliver, meet your son-in-law -- or as close as we're going to get, anyway."

That put all eyes back on me. "Pleased to meet you," I muttered, advancing a bit into the room, but trying not to appear too aggressive. "I didn't intend that you be surprised."

"I don't think you could have avoided it," Mr. Hopkins replied, eyeing me for a moment, then shifting his glance to his daughter. "When did this all start? And when were you going to tell someone?" Before she could stammer out an answer, he returned his attention to me, "I assume the uproar last night wasn't your first date."

Stepping carefully, I said, "It's all been rather sudden..."

"Oliver is no fool, Young Man," Momma interjected, "Show him what you showed me."

I pursed my lips, considering, and nodded. "Fine." Reaching into my wallet, I extracted my ID and presented it.

"Armed forces of..." Oliver Hopkins stopped and eyed me. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but a CAP card qualifies you for citizenship, but doesn't make you a citizen. THIS, on the other hand..."

"You're correct," I confirmed. "I've been off-planet for a couple of years."

Oliver flicked a glance at his wife. "What's this about you being my son-in-law? Vera..."

'So THAT's her name!' I mused. "Well, as your wife indicated, that isn't accurate -- but Beth has been a concubine since sometime last night."

"Concubine..." Oliver eyed his daughter. "Usually, they don't hang around..."

"Well, this is a special case," I replied, "since it isn't an extraction. I'm here on official business..."

"Why Beth?" Oliver cut me off.

"If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that..." I shook my head. "We clicked, okay?"

"It's pretty abrupt," Oliver noted, "but then, if it HAD been an extraction, it would have been considerably MORE abrupt, wouldn't it?" His gaze swung to his daughter. "Your friend Frieda pointed that out last night." He mused for a moment, "In fact, why are you still here? If Beth's status is what you say it is..."

I grimaced. "I'm running what my superiors would no doubt consider an unjustified security risk," I admitted, "but I thought it might be nice if Beth got a chance to say goodbye. As to her status, these contracts are verbal and recorded, but documentary evidence..."

<Can be provided, > my AI announced.

"Hang on a sec..." I addressed Oliver. 'How?' I subvocalized to the AI.

<There is a computer in a room down the hall, > the AI announced. <A quick search of Confederacy records will produce a satisfactory document.>

"You have a computer?" I asked.

"In my office," Oliver replied.

"If you'll show it to me, I think I can verify things for you."

"Indeed." Oliver got up. "Does either one of you intend to get Jack some coffee? Beth, this would seem to come under your list of duties..." He paused, eyeing her, and I knew the more publicized duties of a concubine were flickering through his brain. Beth turned away and busied herself with a cup. We waited while she got it, Oliver eyeing his daughter in mild sadness; I had a good idea why. She wasn't his little girl any more...

Beth turned back to me with a cup, ignoring her parents out of embarrassment. "Cream? Sugar?"

I smiled gently, taking it from her. "Like that." Turning to Oliver, I said, "Shall we?" He led the way; Beth followed me, and Vera followed her.

The computer was up and running; Oliver logged in and invited me to take over the keyboard. The AI provided a URL, letter by letter, and I typed it in. he computer then produced this on an electronic representation of Confederacy Consular stationery:

"Let it be known to all who view these presents that Elizabeth Grace Hopkins (there followed her birth date and CAP card serial number), hereinafter referred to in this document as concubine, is the bound concubine of LT Jack LeRoy Harper, CSN (there followed my identification data), hereinafter referred to as sponsor, effective (there followed a time stamp that converted to about a quarter to eleven p.m. the previous evening, converted to UTC) in accordance with the validated verbal contract recorded at that time. As such, the sponsor holds sole proprietary rights and responsibility over said concubine effective as of the conclusion of said contract."

There was more verbiage about the document's value in the disposition of Beth's estate and the remuneration of her creditors and such, and it was signed by some Decurion with a signature block indicating that he was the custodian of records for the Confederacy Consulate on Earth.

"Well, that's it..." I waved at the screen. "I'd never seen one before, but there it is."

"I have," Oliver muttered. "You didn't know how to get there, either, did you? You've been talking to one of those AIs..."

"Yeah." Oliver was even less stupid than his wife, I noted.

The AI agreed. "Oliver Hopkins's CAP score is six point nine. Vera Braithewaite Hopkins possesses a five point nine. Their relationship, however, is somewhat the reverse of the one their CAP scores indicate."

I chuckled. Vera was the boss -- CAP score or no CAP score. Still, if Vera could swallow her pride, I could evacuate the pair justifiably. That led to another question: "Where are Beth's sisters and brother?"

"They've all ... left the nest," Oliver said quietly, flicking a glance at Beth. I got it; oldest or not, Beth's horizons had been limited in comparison to her sisters and brother.

I sipped my coffee, thinking. I'd painted myself into a corner; I was going to have to do something about Beth's family, since they knew too much. "Do you have any plans to emigrate?"

Not surprisingly, Vera answered. "No. You'll kick these Swarm things to the curb. We'll be fine."

I pursed my lips. "I agree with you -- but there is a little problem regarding the timeline," I sighed. "We're going to do it -- AFTER we've grown a lot and spread out as a race. Whether Earth will be in their hands or ours is open to question."

"Told you," Oliver grunted to his wife.

Vera's face turned red. "Ollie..."

"If I may?" I interjected. "You'll have a few early run-ins with the AIs, but if Oliver wants to delegate his domestic situation to you he can."

"What?" Vera came up short.

"I'm assuming that you object to assuming the role traditionally assigned to concubines," I amplified.

"You're damned right!" Vera flared. "I REFUSE to be treated like stupid breeding stock! Besides, Ollie is..."

"Not domestically oriented?" I offered.

Vera pursed her lips. "That's one way of putting it."

"Let's work our way back to the basics," I murmured. "Do you object to a little additional breeding?"

"I'm too old."

"You won't be."

"Right." She eyed me dispassionately.

I hadn't put my ID away. "Look at the age on that."

Vera took the card -- and her eyebrows rose dramatically. "You're thirty-six?" she erupted. Beth gasped.

"Yes," I admitted. "I hope it doesn't matter to you, because it's too damned late," I told Beth.

"No," Beth muttered, "it doesn't. Are there any MORE surprises?" She DID look mildly irritated; to her, it was another lie.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure," I told her. "If there are, they'll be omissions that will occur just because I don't realize they're relevant."

"I'd heard about this fountain of youth thing, but, really..." Vera muttered. "Everybody gets it?"

"Everyone who needs it, I guess," I replied. "Of course, your sponsor determines where you are regressed to and what other adjustments get made."

"That again." Vera's eyes flicked to Oliver.

I turned to Oliver, "So how urgent is your need to wriggle out from under Vera's thumb?" I asked, deadpan.

"I've been comfortable there for years," Oliver replied blandly. "Work is another matter -- but I'm not interested in dictating what I'm going to have for dinner -- or even what I'm going to wear to work, for that matter."