You Don't Need to Wave a Card...
Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Drunk/Drugged, Slavery, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Space, Cheating, Light Bond, Harem, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, White Female, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Pregnancy, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, BBW, Body Modification, Military,

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Scott Harshman finally gets his CAP card -- but discovers that you don't have to wave the thing under someone's nose to get in trouble over being sponsor-grade! A Swarm Cycle story

I came out of the CAP Testing Center flying high! I'd just enlisted when they broke the news about the Swarm and they made a deal with the military not to poach active duty troops singly, but rather call them up by unit, if and when. This was partially in order to maintain order and discipline, because if you found out that asshole Lieutenant was really a four point two you wouldn't want to work for him. As a result, I had to wait until I was discharged to take my CAP test. Today was the day, though, and I'd justified my faith in myself fully, collecting a seven point two. I'd done my service time as an enlisted ground-pounder, but the AI's recommendation was officer country with a specialty in astrogation or fire control on the command track. To say I was happy was an understatement!

I decided to get a celebratory drink and maybe a little clubbing, so I stopped off at a dance club I only knew of by reputation and bellied up to the bar. It was VERY early -- only late afternoon -- but even though it was Sunday the DJ had the crowd moving and there were a lot of women out there, because the club had a reputation for being a hot place for pickups. I got a bottled brew and a mug and turned around to stand with my back to the bar and take in the scenery.

Since I now had a drawing account, so to speak, I enjoyed myself looking at this one and that one and thinking, 'Her. No, her! That one, maybe. I wonder if those tits make her good motherhood material?' I was looking forward to chattel ownership of four women and it was a good feeling -- no, actually, it was TREMENDOUS!

The guy who came up on my right looked pretty dour -- a real sourpuss. He got a beer and started scanning the room, but seemed as unhappy about the display as I was pleased with it. I noticed, though, that he wasn't looking at the women as much as he was the men, so I thought maybe he was gay ... I ignored him and went back to checking out all of those delectable women who I now had a chance to own...

He must have made a sound or something -- I don't know what prompted me to look back at him, but when I did, he was glaring at me. I looked back, a little surprised -- after all, I'd done nothing to him! But he snarled at me and reached behind him and I knew before I saw it that he had a gun in his waistband. I was already moving as he cleared his jacket; I hit him backhand with the mug I was holding as hard as I could! The bartender yelled "Hey!" but I pointed to the gun on the floor with the remains of the shattered glass mug and said, "See that? Call the cops!"

For the next hour or so I was hip deep in bouncers and then cops. An ambulance came for the guy, and they strapped him to a gurney and he woke up and cursed me. "You self-satisfied sonofabitch!" he rasped, "Checking out all the women you can get with your fancy CAP card, weren't you? You fuckers with the high scores are all alike! Next time, I'll be a little faster and you'll be dead!"

I was nonplussed -- but the cop wasn't. "Shit!" the cop grunted, "You were BORN stupid, weren't you, Buddy? Attempted murder, assault, communicating a threat, and knowingly attacking a person with a Citizen-class CAP score!" He turned to me and said, "Did he identify himself as an Earth First sympathizer, Mr., uh, Harshman?"

"No, but he was looking for targets," I replied. "I'm fresh out of the military and I did time in Iraq before we discovered that we had bigger problems and left them to stew in their own juices. He had that smell to him -- that suicide bomber stench. He was here to kill someone and I was handy."

The cop looked at his new, high-tech data link and said, "It says here that this one's wife and daughter accepted positions as concubines a month and a half ago -- against his wishes."

"Sluts!" my erstwhile assailant ranted, "Whores! They all fall on their backs and open their legs for the likes of YOU!"

The cop eyed him. "Do you understand your Miranda rights?"

"Yeah, yeah," the whacko ranted.

"Did you attempt to murder this man?"

"What's it to you?" My attacker ranted. "What are YOU gonna do when he's gone with YOUR women? You bet your ass I did! He thinks he's entitled..."

"So do I," the cop replied. "So do a lot of other people. Even those of us who aren't going anywhere know that if there's going to be a human race it'll be because of him and those like him." He sighed and said, "Did you get that?"

A voice from the data link replied, "Yeah. The Confederacy Consulate has requested that we deal with the threat expeditiously. Since we have a recorded confession, there's no requirement to waste further resources -- the paperwork is enough of a pain in the ass."

The cop nodded. One of the two medics standing by produced a small needle and a data pad and the cop signed the pad, then said, "Inject him, toss him off the gurney, call the morgue and go on back to the station." The medic nodded, injected my assailant in the neck and he and his partner rolled the body off the gurney. I think the guy was dead before he hit the floor. "You don't need to wave a CAP card to get into trouble -- how long have you had yours?"

"Probably less than six hours," I admitted.

"Try not to be so obvious. You're allowed concealed carry of firearms and to kill in self-defense, but it would be better if you didn't attract attention." He nodded at the door with his head. "Hit the bricks."

I got the Hell out of there.

It wasn't over -- Hell, it wasn't STARTED! In retrospect, I think it was partly my military bearing and the situational awareness that comes from being in combat. Part of it, I'm told, is because I have piercing brown eyes. And part of it was the knowledge that for the first time in my life I knew that I was ALLOWED to be a predator!

I went to the nearest gun shop, because I felt suddenly naked. The proprietor was happy to sell me a gun, but he suggested that I go to the nearby shooting club's range and try out a few first. I went over his inventory of nine millimeter automatics and picked out two that looked easily maintained and asked his opinion, then settled on a Ruger. He agreed to repurchase it at only a slight loss if I decided I didn't like it within a week. There was no seven day waiting period, no background check -- he just looked at my CAP card and sold me a weapon. I walked out with it, five boxes of ammo, a cleaning kit, shooting glasses, hearing protection and a shoulder holster. I went straight to the club, paid a somewhat expensive membership fee (but got a discount due to the score on my CAP card), and spent the next two hours sighting in the weapon and learning its idiosyncrasies. As it turned out, there weren't any serious issues. I bought some more ammo at the club, having expended all of my original supply, and went looking for dinner.

I picked the restaurant for its salad bar more than anything else. It was probably just before prime time when I arrived, so the crowd was beginning to surge and there was a short wait. I sat in the bar and watched people come in from the hot, bright day over the top of that salad bar -- it was high summer and the sun wouldn't go down until well after eight -- while I waited for a booth.

There was all kinds of stuff coming in through the door, but, strangely, one chick caught my eye. She was husky at least -- maybe more than that -- and wearing a bright yellow strapless sundress that draped to just above her knees. I think what caught my eye was her adjusting the top of it just after she came through the door with the sun at her back. Guys do that -- anything that suggests that you might get a glimpse of titty and BAM! -- the eyeballs start tracking! There was a certain amount of light penetration from the bright glare behind her and it confirmed the fact that she had a belly on her, if nothing else. This chick wasn't a fashion plate -- she was stocky and thick-legged but she had some curvature to her, here and there. She was with another, older woman, a guy about her age, and a guy who looked old enough to be her father. As I sat watching, she turned her back to me while speaking to the younger male and I discovered that sweat, apparently, had caused the sundress to stick to her back, revealing her ass in considerable detail. It was sized to match the rest of her but maybe a bit more compact than it could have been -- it was big, but not a bubble butt. If she was wearing panties, it certainly wasn't apparent from the way the fabric glued itself to her, outlining her ass in detail!

Now this chick was never going to be a swimsuit model, you know? Objectively, she was Grade 'B' or maybe 'C' -- and could easily slip beyond that. But for some strange reason, she captured my attention...

She had it. I can't tell you what it was to this day, but she was sexy. It happens -- you look at what should be a thoroughly unappetizing girl and something about her gets your attention. Maybe it's obvious, like the set of her boobs -- and maybe it isn't. Maybe she snorts when she laughs. Who knows? SOMETHING puts her on your top ten list despite obvious flaws that would cause you to never consider her. And usually, you just look and that's it, because she's going her way and you're going yours. But I had a piece of plastic with embedded computer chips in my pocket that could make her make a U-turn and I sat there, watching her, considering the idea.

Things had changed. Four years before, if you showed undue attention to a strange woman, you were stalking her and she could get all shrill about it. Touching was an absolute no-no. But the Swarm changed all that -- courts started deciding that if a woman put her assets on display, it was okay to look and depending on how far she went, even touch -- and women kept baring it anyway, because advertizing was important to their survival. So I could sit there, staring at her like a hungry wolf -- and I did.

Now, there was female flesh visible all over the room -- breasts, thighs, bellies, asses -- almost every female in the place was showing whatever she thought was her best feature. Tattoos had come and gone, and there was an industry involved in removing them using Confederacy technology for those for whom a tattoo was a mistake. The latest thing was a blouse with a strip across the breasts that went from opaque to translucent to transparent at the touch of a button -- or cycled back and forth over ten seconds or so. The first skirts of the same stuff were just coming out...

... But I was ogling a chick who was dressed fairly modestly by comparison. Go figure.

My little beeper went off and I got up and headed out to the hostess to get myself seated -- and made a point of eyeballing the babe in yellow. This time it was more about 'Why?' as I had no idea what it was about her that captured my attention. She had olive skin and brown hair and she looked like she was fairly upbeat -- smiling, not looking too serious -- a happy chick. Eh, so what? That yellow dress still hugged her ass like saran wrap and I didn't see any panty line, but it hadn't gotten any smaller ... She seemed to have plenty of breast to keep the dress up, but they weren't huge. The hostess was getting impatient, so I reluctantly let her lead me off, figuring that she would seat them clear across the restaurant.

Surprisingly, it didn't happen that way. I was waiting for the waitress when they came up the aisle to be seated in the next booth! The older couple was in the lead and seated themselves first, followed by the younger guy -- and I leaned out of the booth to take in the young one again from head to foot. When she detected me, she stopped dead, looked at me for a moment, and hung her head, but eyed me sidelong while standing there, picking her fingers. I twirled my finger and she actually turned in a circle! I was amazed! I beckoned her forward and she came tentatively to stand before me, so I ran my hand up the outside of her thigh and right up under her sundress. "What's your name, Honey?"


"Who are you with?"

"My parents -- and my brother." All three of the others were working on expressing some kind of outrage.

"You're cute -- you know that?"

Rachel's eyes widened. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Honey. Go sit." I actually took her by the hips and turned her, then patted her on the ass! Four years before, I'd have been arrested for manhandling a young woman, but tonight her father grumbled a bit and glared at me but Rachel herself was thrilled to death! And nobody bothered to ask if I had the right...

The waitress came and took my order and I ordered the salad bar, but waited until she moved on to the next booth and Rachel had ordered before getting up. Rachel, who was watching me like a hawk, made sure SHE ordered a salad bar, which was the object of the exercise. Her brother didn't and her father didn't and I only think her mother did because she knew we were up to something. As it was, her husband had to let her out -- a further disruption -- but that occurred after I had passed and Rachel got up smoothly to follow me. I got a plate and she got a plate and she leaned close to me and said, "I'm cute?"

"I said so..." I replied as softly, adding, "I'd rub your butt again, but your mama is coming."

Rachel giggled. "I don't get that much."

"I can't remember the last time I told a girl she was cute!" I replied, "never mind rubbed one's butt!"

"Well, Momma is gonna have questions, but I don't care! You can do both any time -- and I don't care if you're one of them or not!"


"You know -- a guy with a score."

"Ah." I grinned to myself. "Why don't you wear panties?"

"Don't like 'em," Rachel replied, tonging tomatoes onto her salad plate. "Besides, if there is a pickup, they're a liability. I wear them when I have my period, but on a night when I'm going out to eat? Uh uh!"

By then, 'Momma' had arrived, collected a plate and proceeded to get in front of me, sandwiching me in. "Can I ask what you're up to?"

"You can ask," I replied calmly, "but since I don't know myself, I'm not sure you're going to be thrilled with the answers." I proceeded to collect some cucumber slices.

"What does that mean?" Rachel's Momma asked sharply.

"It's pretty simple, really. I looked at Rachel and I liked what I saw."

"And you commented on it and you got a little bit familiar with her. What was THAT all about?" Momma retorted.

"I was feeling ballsy? Rachel didn't seem to mind ... Actually, where I come from, rubbing her bare ass under her dress is maybe more than a little familiar..."

'Momma' sucked in a breath. "I missed that."

"It was quick -- wasn't it, Honey Bun?" I smiled at Rachel who was leaning in close so she could follow the conversation. "We're blocking traffic. Want to step back and get it all out in the open and then dive back in?"

"Let's." Momma backed away from the salad bar and I made to follow, but Rachel grabbed my wrist, almost upsetting my plate.

"Honey Bun?"

I shrugged. "If you don't like it..."

"I LOVE it!" She rubbed her right tit against my arm and purred.

"Let's go see Momma." I took her hand and pulled her back away from the salad bar to the vicinity of her mother.

"So what's going on, exactly?" Momma asked.

"Well, I dunno. I find Rachel attractive. She seems to return the feeling," I offered.

"That's all well and good, but we know nothing about you, Young Man!" Momma retorted. "You two can't just decide you're made for each other based on a quick look in a restaurant!"

"Well, I would tend to agree..." I mused.

"I DON'T!" Rachel erupted. "What if there was a pickup right now? What if... ?" She glanced at me.

"Scott," I supplied.

"Scott offered me a concubine slot?" Rachel finished. "Wouldn't that be all rather sudden?"

"Yes, Dear, but we're not talking about that, are we?" Momma eyed me. "If Scott was a volunteer, he would have an entourage, wouldn't he? Do you see other girls? Or do you think he's keeping a low profile and waiting for the last second?" Momma had feathers in her mouth, and she though they came from my tail...

"There are exceptions to that scenario," I replied calmly, "and I happen to be one. Besides, Rachel said she didn't care. Maybe Rachel has an eight point six and can take ME along!"

"Uhhh, nooo..." Rachel looked sad.

"Don't worry, Honey Bun," I said reassuringly, squeezing her hand. "It'll be all right."

"How, exactly?" Momma asked. "What would these exceptions be?"

"Military personnel are not given their CAP scores until discharge, in order to maintain good order and discipline. If the Confederacy picks up an entire unit, it is reconstituted then, but individuals are not retrieved from the ranks as a rule. I'm a recently discharged veteran."

"How recently?" Momma asked, cocking her head.

"Very recently!" I replied.

"So you COULD be sponsor-class..." Momma mused.

"I could be."

"But you're not saying."

"The walls have ears and gun-totin' Earth First characters are everywhere," I replied.

"You just told me."

"I certainly did. But you'll want verification and it ain't happening here! You could be a threat to me -- or your husband or your son..."

"Very well." Momma sighed. "Let's get our salads."

"Good plan." I held Rachel back and said, "Let Momma go ahead, so she's settled when you breeze on by to MY booth! We can play footsie under the table, then..." Rachel giggled, perfectly happy with the idea. We fell in behind Momma and got our salads, making sure she had plenty of time to squeeze past Daddy and sit and begin to relate the results of her intelligence gathering. Then we swept past and I stood to wait while Rachel slid into my booth before I penned her in by settling on the same bench to her left. Rachel was perfectly happy with this arrangement -- but her parents both turned around in their seats to see what was going on.

"What are you doing?" Momma wanted to know.

"Eating," I replied innocently.

"Yeah, eating!" Rachel forked a mouthful of salad in. The pair of them glared at us, then began talking to each other in low tones; Momma was apparently bringing Daddy up to date.

I rubbed Rachel's thigh under the table. "We should probably stop tweaking their noses and discover whether we really have something."

"Okay..." Rachel immediately got timid.

"What do you see in me?" I asked.

"I just like you!" Rachel replied. "The minute I saw you, I dunno, it was like, 'Is he hot or what?' And you were looking back -- and you KEPT looking back..."

"Well, we have lust at first sight going for us," I quipped. "I have to tell you that the thing about you that caught my eye was the way that dress stuck to your butt, outlining it."

Rachel blinked. "Okay, so, you've seen my butt and we're still talking?"

"Well, not uncovered, but the outline for sure." I grinned.

"We should get married at least!" Rachel declared.

I chuckled. "How old are you, Babe?"

Rachel batted her eyes. "I really like Honey Bun..."

I snorted. "Okay, how old are you, Honey Bun?"

"I'm nineteen and you're a sweet man!"

"Flattery will get you an extra helping of, uh, never mind..." We got going and I got carried away.

"Please?" Rachel ducked her head but looked up at me with big eyes as she made the petition.

"Maybe we ought to come to that," I muttered, eyeing her parents. "What do you know about, you know, sex?"

"Um..." Rachel flicked her eyes at her parents, "When we do it, it won't be my first time -- but it won't be my fourth, either."

I thought about it. "I make that out to be two."

"Uh huh. I liked it -- the second time, especially. The first time, well, you know how it is." We were both speaking VERY softly.

"Have you, um, done anything else?"

"Are you kidding?" She threw out her hands. "I'm fat. Duh. Fat girls give head. Duh. I don't do deep throat yet, but I can learn..." It was a little too loud; Momma was glaring over the bench at us. Rachel glared back, challenging her, and added in the same tone, "You like my butt, right? Well, I saved that one..."

"Rachel!" Momma started approaching apoplexy.

"Calm down, Honey Bun," I soothed, rubbing her wide back, "It won't help us if you make your momma mad -- it'll just be a problem." I liked her back -- it felt solid. It could have been, well, fat...

"You two -- what do you think you're doing?" Momma huffed.

"Getting to know one another," I replied evenly.

"How old are you, Scott?" Rachel asked innocently, adding in a stage whisper, "How long is it?"

"I'm twenty-two," I replied, then leaned in to whisper, "A gentleman doesn't brag, but you'll be able to find it." Rachel giggled, watching her mother out of the corner of her eye, and slid her hand into my lap. I was erect -- I generally am in the presence of a female of interest to me. Frankly, when I watch porn I can't understand how the guys don't start out hard. Do they jerk off beforehand? Why?

"Oooo!" Rachel squealed, squeezing my cock -- and I thought Momma was going to come over the seat!

"Rachel!" I called her down. "Jeezus, Honey! Cut the shit!" Rachel settled back, not looking particularly penitent -- and not letting go of my cock, either.

"Oh, all right!" she pouted. "Momma, you need to get a sense of humor! Daddy, I like Scott! We've known each other ten minutes and he's WAY out in front of the competition! You two quit acting like I'm twelve and leave us alone!"

"Well, Sis..." Big Brother finally entered the conversation.

"Don't you start, Nick!" Rachel retorted hotly, "Don't you start!" Nick threw up his hands and settled back.

"It's your funeral..." he announced, washing his hands of her.

Momma gathered herself in. "Rachel, you can't just take up with some man because..."

"He thinks I'm cute?" Rachel cut in. "He likes my butt? Jeez, Momma! Listen to you! You should be thrilled to death! I am!" She clutched my arm. "I'm not letting THIS one get away!" I reached around and caressed her cheek and chin.

Daddy turned around. "I think you should look at his prospects," he announced. "What do you do for a living?"


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