Chapter 1

"Martin, can you come over for a moment?" my eldest sister Sandra, or Sandy, as she was known, asked me abruptly, breaking my concentration.

Let me stipulate what she meant by this. I am Martin Wolfe, yes, that's right ... Wolfe. I got teased a lot about that name when I was younger, especially as there was nothing particularly ravenous or wild about me at first glance. I was now eighteen years old and had lived, not quite on my own, for the past six months since my birthday. You see, we both lived near our restaurant, the Wolfman's Tavern, but in separate apartments, mine being the basement, or, the Dungeon, as my sisters called it. Oh, yes, I was the only male in the tribe now. I should mention that because it was quite relevant here. When Sandy called me to "come over," she generally meant that she wanted me to leave the Dungeon for her upstairs apartment that she shared with the other Wolfe ladies. Well, either that, or she wanted me to work an extra shift at the tavern.

"Over to work or something else?" I teased her.

"Home, baby brother. Home sweet home. Just because you moved out doesn't mean that this isn't your home, too. I really wish that you hadn't moved to the Dungeon, but I understand why you did. We miss our favorite brother, though. We all do, honey," Sandy pouted ... the "honey" was typical of her and my other sisters.

I didn't think much of it. They had started using it when I turned thirteen and hadn't stopped it since. It was just a bit strange, but normal for them. I figured that it was their way of buttering me up when they wanted something. I sighed, wrapped up my blog writing exercise, and headed up to what I jokingly called the She-Wolves' Lair. They took that in good humor, but still ... well, what were siblings for, but for teasing and bickering, and then closing ranks against anyone else who dared? That was even truer for the past year since Mom and Dad were extracted by the Confederacy, as a pair of concubines, no less, and left us the tavern to run as siblings. We were on our own and had to make the most of it.

Last I heard, Dad had been recycled and Mom passed off to the Civil Service when he got too jealous over her being pregnant by another man ... it turned out that female sponsors didn't always respect the former marital bond, either. It was Dad's genius idea that somehow it would work out better with a female volunteer, but they had picked one who clicked with a male co-sponsor later and things hadn't turned out as intended. It was bad luck, perhaps, but he should have learned to move beyond assumptions and accept that their marriage was over, whatever the sponsor's sex. Concubines don't have husbands or wives, and I had already faced that fact myself.

When I arrived at the door and knocked, my sisters practically dragged me inside their apartment and led me to the sofa in the living room, where they planted a plate of tacos on my lap and all but shoved a bottle of beer into my right hand. Sandy scurried about the kitchen, while the twins, Marla and Michelle, sat on each side of me. In the armchair, on her own, was the very youngest, Stephanie, who had just turned seventeen on the day before, on Valentine's Day, no less. I should note that Stephanie was adopted and looked like her Mexican birth mother instead of my family's Irish-German heritage. She was rather lively and pretty, even a little bit sassy at times. We didn't know her real birthday, so Mom and Dad chose Valentine's Day because they said that they fell in love with her at first sight.

"So, what's going on, gals?" I asked now, quite curious as to the occasion.

"Seems that Mom gave birth at last, in the Civil Service concubine pool. We have a new baby brother, named Adam, of all things. If we ever want to see them again, however, we need a plan of action. I don't know about you, little bro, but I want to see Mom and Adam someday, not become a juicy snack for the Swarm," Sandy popped in, planting a kiss on the top of head.

"What does Tyler think of that, Sis?" I asked her about her long-time beau and high school sweetheart, Tyler Hearst.

"Yeah, that's taken a turn for the worse. He scored an even 4 on his CAP and has opted to despair of any future for himself, even preferring that I adopt his blue funk. We haven't quite broken up, per se, but it's not looking good for us, and the news about Dad getting recycled didn't help things, either. He's also not pleased that I beat him by two percentage points. I think that he fears that I'll pass next time and volunteer without him, or even worse, that he'll end up as my slave. Not at this rate and with his attitude, he won't! He should be so lucky as to be my sex slave! Not my fault that he isn't at least a six like me. That's his doing," Sandy cursed as she sipped on her beer.

"Geez, it never rains but it pours, does it? Sounds like Tyler needs to get with the program and work on improving himself," I declared grimly, taking a sip myself.

I started to grab a bite of the tacos, when Marla slapped my hand. Before I could protest, she began feeding me herself, much to my shock. Seeing the surprise on my face, Michelle started feeding me, too, after which Stephanie knelt to remove my shoes and socks. The real stunner was when Sandy took off my shirt and began unzipping my pants. I was now in my underwear, at which point, the girls rifled through my wallet to find my CAP card. Now it was their turn to be astonished, as they saw my seven point seven. Yeah, my number was all lucky sevens ... very lucky for me, in fact.

"This is real? You're a volunteer?" Stephanie spoke up first, her eyes growing quite large.

"Well, I'm not gonna counterfeit, Sis. I don't fancy being executed by the methods that I've heard about. Yes, for the record, I'm a sponsor. I didn't tell you for obvious reasons," I assured them.

"What 'obvious reasons, ' kid brother? Don't you think that your sisters deserve to know if you can volunteer and take them to space, away from the Swarm?" Sandy demanded to know, reminding me that she was indeed the firstborn at twenty-three.

"Sandy ... concubines are expected to sleep with their sponsors. Presumably, you know that. Even worse, they're supposed to breed with them. If you and I did that ... that's incest! We shouldn't do that, should we? It was already weird enough when you stripped me to my boxers, but damn, surely you were just playing! You weren't planning to actually fuck me, were you?" I asked, seeking reassurance of their intentions.

"Um ... Martin, I got news for you, honey. We were already going to fuck you, but now ... now we're really going to drain you, baby brother. Screw all those taboos and rules, bro. We've wanted you for years. I was just planning to retest and keep you as a concubine once I passed, but who needs that now? I mean, come on, Marty ... we're your sisters! You're not going to leave us behind, are you? You don't want us to get eaten by the Swarm, do you?" Sandy laid it on very thick, in fact.

"Besides, only three of them are related to you by blood. I'm not, so there's some fresh blood already to limit any genetic problems, and the Confederacy can fix the rest of the consequences. Come on, big brother! You promised Mom and Dad that you'd take care of us, didn't you?" Steph pleaded with me.

"Oh, alright, if you insist! I was just gonna try to set you up with someone else who was a sponsor, but if you really want to sleep with your own brother... ," I slipped in a guilt trip of my own.

"Hey, that trick is NOT gonna work on us! We don't want some friend of yours, anyway, gamer or whatever! We want someone we know and love! We want you as our sponsor! So, please drop the passive-aggression and how did you put it, 'get with the program!' Brothers and sisters go together more than you think. Even fathers and daughters, mother and sons. It's a brave new world, kiddo," Marla observed.

"Besides, this way, you won't have to test-drive some stranger when you're very nervous at a pickup and wonder if you've made a mistake. You won't catch some stupid socialite or desperate housewife, or some pathetic legal eagle career woman who suddenly discovers a biological clock in time to save her hide! Or the silly cheerleaders who never had any time for you in high school, but who will somehow develop a convenient crush on you right at pickup time! We're not just any girls. We already love you and care for you for yourself. We're your sisters!" Michelle remarked with some very good arguments there.

"Yeah, we know that you're a virgin and we'll rid you of that in a way that you'll actually get to enjoy!" Sandy winked at me.

"Okay, sold, but some things will have to change! From now on, I'm the Boss! Before you object, you know the rules, girls!" I commented, "no sense in delaying the transition and suddenly having to adjust when it's life or death at stake."

"Yeah, like you'd toss us out an airlock, but you're right, bro! You're right for once. You get to be head of our family now. So how about moving back upstairs where you belong and fucking your sisters into next year! Think of it as a late extra birthday gift to Stephanie!" Sandy urged me before yanking down my boxers to start licking the head of my dick.