You Don't Need to Wave a Card... - Cover

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

Copyright© 2011 by Thinking Horndog

Chapter 10

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 10 - 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

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  

Shannon was somewhat dazed by the whole idea, but apparently, it made sense.

"You know, Momma would sometimes get more worked up than usual about something, and she would go off to church and come back calm..." she mused. "I thought religion was good for her, naturally -- it never crossed my mind..."

"I thought she was going to hurt herself, she went at it so hard!" I replied. "You can see it anytime you want, but..."

"Yeah. I don't want to. There is something about the idea of watching your mother..." she muttered. I nodded agreement.

I went off and showered and cleaned up, taking my time, then checked in with the team in the other room. Red answered; Mike and Alisha were cleaning up. "So, what is Brother Parsons doing?" I asked.

"Arranging a demonstration for outside the hotel at nine o'clock," Red chuckled. "I figure we'll give them a few minutes to draw a crowd, then we'll have a black and white pull up and ask them for their permit and ask them to disperse -- that ought to make the news..."

"So, breakfast in the hotel restaurant?" I queried.

"I think so."

An hour later, the seven of us were in three groups, doing it up at the dance club I'd ended up clocking a guy in a couple of days before. The bartender recognized us and said, "Got your pre-pack already?"

"Nah," I replied. "I'm a couple short. I'm taking my time, you know? Targets of opportunity..." He gave me a wink and a nod -- and he spread the word, obviously, because women started drifting our way to the point that it was sometimes hard for me to keep track of Rachel and Shannon during fast dances. There were three or four disgruntled boyfriends, but they tended to vent on their dates for being mercenary, not on me. We went home after midnight and Shannon rode me energetically, then Rachel re-inflated my erection with her mouth and I drove her, missionary-style, and crashed on her afterward. Everyone was happy...

We were up at seven-thirty. Red and Cheryl had the morning lead and the five of us went through probe surveillance of various church members and such in preparation for the big nine o'clock demonstration. We were in the hotel restaurant when Brother Parsons showed up early at eight-thirty. He didn't start anything early, though -- he was just there to organize. At nine, he had probably twenty-five of the faithful, and he went forward at that point, having them pull out their signs that said things like, 'A Pre-pack isn't Marriage -- it is Sin!' and 'Sex Slavery is Sinful!' and other rants. Hey, I can see some of it, considering -- but things have changed a lot. But there was a lot of extremist ranting going on -- once Brother Parsons had his pulpit and was foaming at the mouth, things heated up rapidly! I was apparently a heathen and a devil-worshipper and violent and abusive and committed sex crimes -- you name it.

The hotel let it go on until he invaded the lobby, at which point the desk staff called the police -- who arrived virtually instantly. TV news outlets had arrived by then and there were various interviews and footage of a couple of arrests among the faithful -- including Brother Parsons -- and the dispersal of the demonstration. At noon, there was a follow-up with Rebecca Fawkes, who declaimed that I had sullied her daughter and led her to sin and that what I was doing was an offense to God. We wandered out of the hotel around two and ran into reporters who wanted to hear something from us. I went with 'no comment' and Shannon virtually hid behind me, but Rachel got out there and said, "We love Scotty -- he's our man! Shannon's momma -- well, jeez, you talked to her, right? Isn't it pretty clear that she isn't wrapped too tight?" The newsies wouldn't leave us alone and kept crowding Shannon; she clung to me and hid her face in my chest and told somebody who managed to get a mike in close enough, "We're happy! I love Scotty! We just want to be left alone!"

I managed to take things up at that point and declare, "Shannon is a shy and private person and this is traumatic for her. There is nothing sordid about what we're doing -- we love each other. No laws are being broken. Her mother and that church group ought to be ashamed of themselves for causing Shannon this distress." Then I hustled them to the Escalade and we got out of there.

The newsies had our cell phone numbers by then and called again and again clamoring for an interview. Eventually, we arranged for Rachel and Shannon to do one-on-one's with a local female news anchor and we went to the studio. By then, we had an escort of regular cops -- and Red and Mike and Cheryl and Alisha were in the hotel watching remotes and tracking Shannon's mother and everyone they could at the church with assistance from the AI.

We went to the studio and they started with Shannon...

Reporter: "Why don't you tell us your side of the story?"

Shannon, clearly nervous: "Nobody likes to say bad things about their mother or a church, but ... Well, this is none of their business, you know?"

"Reporter: "Your mother says you've been ... sullied. How would you answer that?"

Shannon: "She means that I had sex with Scott. I did -- I gave him my virginity -- and it was WONDERFUL!" She smiled beatifically.

Reporter: "Did he coerce you?"

Shannon: "What? NO! Look, I'm nineteen, and there hasn't been a line at my door. Scott was wonderful! I went to bed nervous, but I wanted it -- and it was GREAT! Momma lives in the last century or someplace -- actually someplace pretty weird, since during the last century, if I'd gone this long without a boyfriend, I'd have been considered an old maid!"

Reporter: "Two of you are still sharing him, though. You can't marry."

Shannon: "We know that -- it won't matter. Besides, marriage isn't what it was. If you go far enough back, marriage wasn't one-on-one, even in the Bible!"

Reporter: "You said it won't matter. This is a pre-pack, isn't it?"

Shannon: "That's irrelevant."

Reporter: "It seems to be the issue, here."

Shannon: "It might be for some. It isn't for us."

Reporter: "What's Scott's CAP score?"

Shannon: "You know, I don't know, for sure -- I've never seen his card."

Reporter: "Then he could be lying about it."

Shannon, shaking her head: "No, other people clearly know -- and this is a pretty big mess to be a hoax. Yes, I'm taking his word for it -- but it wouldn't matter, anyway."

Reporter: "Why not?"

Shannon, cocking her head and eyeing the reporter as if she were an idiot: "Because I love him."

The interview with Rachel didn't go THAT well...

Reporter: "So, Rachel, why are you with Scott?"

Rachel, tittering: "Love, silly!"

Reporter: "How did you meet?"

Rachel: "In a restaurant. It was love at first sight. I saw him and he saw me and, well..." She looked down at herself. "The very first thing he said to me was, 'You're cute -- you know that?' Well, frankly, I DIDN'T know that, but he's slowly convincing me!"

Reporter: "So he told you his CAP score..."

Rachel: "No, he didn't, actually. His CAP score has never been an issue. I'd have moved in with him if it had been a three. He told my mother that they could discuss it in private -- but I'm not sure they ever did."

Reporter: "So you don't know his score?"

Rachel: "No"

Reporter: "How do you know... ?"

Rachel: "The police do. After the shooting at the restaurant..."

Reporter: "Shooting? What shooting?"

Rachel: "You remember -- it was only a couple of days ago. They were shooting at Scotty! It was the second time that day someone tried to kill him!"

I was sitting off to the side, out of sight. A couple of the people in the studio spun to me, wide-eyed, then there was a scramble. I just put up my hands and waved them off and they headed for their computers to get the background. Everything ground to a halt for about twenty minutes while they begged me to make a statement and they prepared the reporter with the background of the previous Sunday evening. I refused to go on camera. After a bit, they resumed...

Reporter: "So you were in the restaurant last Sunday evening?"

Rachel, dimpling: "Yes. It's where Scotty and I met. I was having dinner with my family. Scotty saw me coming down the aisle as we came in, and the rest is history..."

Reporter: "What happened in the restaurant? With the Earth First group?"

Rachel, looking vexed: "Daddy triggered it. Scotty was trying to convince him that he was an okay guy without broadcasting that he was sponsor-class all over the place -- after all, some guy had tried to kill him in a dance club earlier in the day -- but Daddy got loud and obnoxious and tried to drag me off!" She looked mildly penitent. "I guess I wasn't helping any -- I was teasing Daddy a little by cuddling up to Scotty and being stubborn about things -- but I wanted to be with Scotty, you know? I didn't CARE about his silly CAP score!" She sat there, looking adorable, for a moment, then continued. "Daddy got a little loud and there were a couple of guys in the corner who were looking for somebody to shoot at. When we all got up to leave, they called the people in the car, and when we came outside, the car came up and a machinegun -- no, machine pistol -- stuck out of the window and started shooting at us!"

Reporter: "Then what happened?"

Rachel: "Scotty saw something that made him suspicious, and one of the inside guys followed us to the door, so he had me duck between two cars. Then he shot the guy with the machine pistol and the woman who was driving..."

Reporter: "My goodness! That's impressive!"

Rachel: "Scotty was in the war. He knows how to do these things." She turned to face the camera and added, waving a finger, "Don't mess with him!"

Reporter: "Then what happened?"

Rachel: "The police and rescue came. I didn't see the next piece -- I was having a scrape on my knee bandaged -- but Scotty went in with the police to get the other two and shot one of them when he pulled a gun..." She dimpled. "So you see I KNOW Scotty has a score! I don't have to SEE it!"

Reporter: "Well, you still don't know what it is ... Will it just be you and Shannon?"

Rachel, grimacing and shaking her head: "No, there will be a couple more, I guess. It's okay -- we'll handle it..."


We were half of the six o'clock news on that channel. We were the lead story on two others. There was 'commentary' on the safety and morality of pre-packs. We were a minor sensation. The hotel staff couldn't decide whether it was better to kick us out or to let us stay free. I wouldn't let them do either.

By the end of the day, we'd pretty much decided that the church was just cranks; one of them might take a shot at me, but it wouldn't be an 'official' Earth First hit. That didn't mean that they couldn't be discredited; I had a talk with Shannon about her mother's antics with the Reverend Mr. Marshall and Company and we decided that Shannon wouldn't be hurt by the release of the video to the congregation -- that bastard needed shutting down. As for her mother, well, she needed help -- and maybe she would get it, once this all came out.


At seven forty-five, we sneaked out to the parking garage and got into the Escalade to go to a restaurant-bar called The Oasis to meet Roger, Faye and Nick for dinner and dancing. Nick was bringing a date. Shannon was wearing the top that went with her schoolgirl outfit and a black leather skirt that was not only slit up one side, but the hem actually curved, displaying a LOT of juicy thigh -- apparently, she was slowly getting used to exposure. Rachel wore a yellow wraparound top and a brown leather skirt that rode low, displaying her belly, and barely covered the subject when she stood still -- and didn't, if she moved at all. I caught her looking in the mirror while re-tying the top so that her breasts showed and asked, "What gives? We're going to dinner with your family!"

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