James Parker was sitting at the campus Starbucks, which he did as often as he could afford. He was appreciating the pickup era clothing, or rather the lack thereof, that the female patrons of the shop were displaying. Most of the girls who had swirled in with the lunch crowd appeared to be barely old enough to be legal in the diaspora era and wore no more than body paint and thongs. At least some of them did. A couple of the girls who had seated themselves at a table near where he sat were clean shaven below and had painted bright flowers on their pudenda. The bright red paint they had used at the centers highlighted the girls' lower lips making them more visible than they might have otherwise been and James was sitting by himself enjoying the vista.
No one bothered to sit with him or approach him. After all no one who had a high enough CAP score to be extracted would be wearing a greasy mechanic's coverall. At least that was what he assumed most of the problem was. Another part of the problem he was sure, was the fact that the near sauna temperature where he worked simply killed deodorants within the first hour. He still wore one, but he was sure that his body had sweated it off and that he was now exuding an offensive aroma.
The arrival of several older men and women who had the air of teachers about them made James withdraw his attention from the blatant sexual display of the teens who seemed to belong to a soccer team which had been playing on the college field. These were the people he had been hoping would come to the Starbucks. A persistent rumor had it that they were part of a larger brain trust that had recently been scooped but had been away teaching at the smaller college where James just happened to work as a maintenance technician on the boilers which provided hot water for heat on the campus. No one in his department, so far as he knew, was aware that he'd made the critical cut point to be extracted. He almost grinned at that thought. He might work at the bottom of the pecking order, but he was taking night classes to complete his BS Mechanical Engineering degree and he had more than made the cut, which was why he'd taken to making sure he frequented the Starbucks.
It was a well known fact that places where lots of women and high CAP people tended to lunch were prime targets for pickups. James definitely wanted to make the first available boat off from earth ahead of the coming Swarm. The four bulky looking people that came in and joined the queue to get a cup of coffee just about screamed Confederate Marines to James' eyes. Then there was another swirl of color at the door, and what appeared to be young mothers, who had picked up children from a near by day care center, entered the already nearly full restaurant. James saw the people who he had taken to be marines exchange a glance with each other and step out of line.
One went to each of the main entrances of the building including one who ducked behind the counter and seemed to be heading for the back door. If James had any doubt about the identity of the bulky strangers, it was shortly put to rest as the one who was manning the main entry way announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't figured it out yet this is a pickup!" As the last word came from the giant's mouth, a gray haze obscured the view of the campus and parking lot. James sat in awe for a moment, thinking that he'd just won the lottery of life.
The marine at the door said, "For those of you who felt insecure enough to be armed, I'd like to remind you that we have drones that can detect weapons. So if you'd be so kind as to carefully raise your hands and step this way calmly, we'll be sure not to stun you by accident."
James' hand, along with several others in the place, went up. The marine at the door pointed to one of the women with her hand up and indicated that she should step over near him. He pointed to a square table next to the door and said, "Put your weapons there. If you're picked up, you won't need them, and if you aren't picked up, we'd just as soon that you were disarmed until the proceedings here are done."
The marine continued to point at people who had indicated that they were armed. James was a little surprised that the disarmament of the patrons of the restaurant was going so smoothly since some of the reading he'd done indicated that pickups tended to get exciting in more than a sexual way. Eventually, the marine pointed to James. He got up and went to the table, which was now fairly well stacked full of mace, pistols, and a couple of knives. He pulled the pen out of his upper pocket and set it down. The marine looked at him like he was crazy. He gave the marine a flat look and said, "I could kill you with that."
The marine got a faraway look and then said, "Maybe you could. Would you be up to sparring with me if you end up shipping with me?"
"Sure," James said as he reached into his side pocket and added a Phillips screwdriver to the pen he'd put down. Then he reached into his boot and pulled out the ceramic throwing knife that he kept there.
"Shit!" the marine said when he saw the knife hit the table. James just shrugged and continued to disarm himself. He unzipped the coverall and unstrapped two knives from under his arms. They too were made entirely of ceramic. Then he sat down to pull his boots off so that he could get out of the coverall. The last item he placed on the table was a neat little all plastic pistol, which got another "SHIT!" from the marine. James barely repressed a smirk at the marine's distress. His knives and pistol were specifically designed to get past the sort of detection that he suspected the confederacy drones used.
"You don't mind if I put these with my coverall?" James asked.
"You don't think you can take those with you do you?" the marine asked.
"I'd best be able to," James said flatly as he extracted his wallet from the coverall. The pen and screwdriver were common items, but the knives and especially the pistol were items he'd personally designed and made as part of his classes.
The marine got a faraway look again and then said, "We'll have someone send down a secure container after you've picked your harem."
James nodded and carefully set his weapons on his coverall. When he was done the marine handed him a device, which he said, would read the details of the sub-scores from CAP cards. James looked up from the arrangement of his weapons and noticed that now the other marines in the shop had separated the people. Those wishing to participate in the pickup were in the front of the shop while those who didn't wish to participate were in the back of the shop. As a courtesy to the women who had brought in toddlers, some of the people in the rear of the shop were keeping an eye on a makeshift creche there while their mothers apparently joined the throng that was in the front of the shop.
A heavy CRUMP! sounded somewhere near the building and the marine in charge reeled off a half dozen names saying, "People it looks like Earth First is getting serious, you all need to pick your companions as quickly as possible so that we can get going."
James took the CAP card reader and headed for the body painted teenyboppers that he'd been perving on just before the the pickup started. He was fairly sure that he didn't want them both but it seemed that one or the other might be interesting entertainment. "Since you're both still out here, I assume you ladies are old enough to be concubines," James said as he approached their table. "If so, I'd like to see your CAP cards."
"Will you let us look at your scores too?" asked the girl with the bright purple and red flower painted on her mons.
"Maybe," James said, "if I like your scores and decide to try you out."
"I guess that's reasonable," the girl who had yellow and red body art said as she produced her CAP card in what seemed like a minor feat of sleight of hand, because James wasn't sure he could determine where it had been hidden on her naked body.
James slid the card under the reader in his hand and noticed a red notation on it that said that the girl, Brandy Oaks by name, would probably achieve a sponsor level CAP score in a supportive environment. Everything about the scores except maternity screamed leader with very little experience. Brandy went to the top of his list and he made a decision to see how she would do in a role as a leader as soon as he had the other more hesitant girl's card. He tapped the table a bit impatiently and finally the other girl made her card appear from wherever it was hidden.
The girl's parents had been a bit too creative, he thought as her name appeared when he had the reader over the card. Serena Sierra Salvador didn't look like she had much direct Spanish or Mexican heritage, but that would be hard to tell. The use of modern makeup and body paint could do a great deal to change the outward look of a girl. "Serena, stand up," James ordered.
The girl did as he bid her. James shook his head and looked at her card again. A newly minted adult was what it mostly informed him. The only score that seemed to stand out was nurturing or maternal scores, but they were flagged as not being based on experience.
"Brandy," James said, "why don't you lick your friend Serena's pussy until she cums?"
"Is that a question of would I be willing to lick Serena's pussy at some future date, or are you telling me to do it now?" Brandy asked.
"Do it now if you want to be my concubine," James ordered.
"The paint we're wearing really isn't edible," Serena said, interrupting the confrontation that looked like it was developing between the person who obviously a sponsor and her girlfriend.
.... There is more of this story ...
Ma/Fa / Ma/ft / Fa/Fa / ft/ft / Fa/ft / Mult / Consensual / Lolita / Reluctant / Coercion / Slavery / Gay / Lesbian / BiSexual / Heterosexual / Science Fiction / Humiliation / Gang Bang / Group Sex / Orgy / Harem / Interracial / First / Anal Sex / Lactation / Voyeurism / Public Sex / Workplace / Military /