Chapter 1

I had barely gotten into work that morning after getting my CAP results, and I could already tell that something was ... different. Not so much wrong or dangerous per se, but different as in OFF, for lack of a better term. The noise that usually accompanied the staff at the office had abruptly turned quiet, no buzz to be heard, only the sound of ringing phones and the occasional voices answering them. Then there were the tones of those voices, that was the next thing to reach my ears. They sounded so nervous, so muffled and hushed. It was truly bizarre, at least to me.

Margret Dubsky was in her usual spot, of course, and even she seemed a bit shaken. It was hard to describe the way that the mood had changed, and what was worse, seemed to have been triggered by my arrival, or at least coincide rather strangely with it. The receptionist visibly shivered in my presence, so I decided to break the ice and see what the hell was going, to try to calm her down and get her to return to normalcy, at least. When someone as professional, intelligent, and down-to-earth as Margret got that disturbed by something, things were truly helter skelter. The office needed its rock, and that rock was Margret.

"Margret, what the hell is the matter? Everyone seems to be walking on eggshells suddenly, and why it did happen the moment I arrived? I might take that rather personally, you know," I griped, truly concerned about this surreal working atmosphere. It made my skin crawl.

"Uh, Jack, how do I put this? This IS about you. Word got back here from Flora Torres, who said that she saw you leave the CAP testing station with a hundred dollar smile on your face. That's all it took. A little speculation, and now the only guess is just how high a score you have and how many concubines you can collect for your new career in space. That's what has changed things. Many of the girls here are actually afraid of you, in case they say something that might cost them a slot and get them and their families trapped here. You need to figure out how you're going to approach this whole thing, dear Jack," Margret used the tone that a caring, but concerned aunt might use with her now grown nephew. Then again, she was fifty-four, even if she could easily pass for six or seven years younger on a good day.

"Let me guess. Flora spilled the beans to dear cousin Rosa, and it snowballed from there. Jesus! I had hoped for a little more time to plan this! You ladies can't leave a guy alone to sort out his options in peace before he decides that it's time to interview prospects, can you? You just have to force the issue sooner," I groused, but a large part of me was relieved. It was a hell of a secret to keep and sooner or later, I would welcome all that feminine attention and company for sure.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag, now, mister. What will you do about it?" Margret wondered aloud, pressing the issue further and not letting me decide in silence and solitude.

"Other than wishing that you were available for one of the slots?" I evaded things slightly through the distraction of flirtatious flattery. We both knew better, of course. She was past menopause and there was no way around that.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, but no complaints, either. I don't mind. I've lived a full life, and it's another decade, perhaps, before the Swarm show up. I can live it up until then, especially with the dearth of younger women and the glut of men that your pickups leave in their wake. Lots of fun for an older dame like me, servicing lonely, horny, and desperate ex-husbands and ex-boyfriends, not mine so much as others'," she winked at me, not in the least offended by my comment.

She even hummed "It's Raining Men!" as she did so, mostly to get my goat. To be fair, Margret Dubsky was the very embodiment of the saying that "living well is the best revenge." Her ex-husband Casimir, a pediatrician, had been among the first in our area to be extracted by the Confederacy, due to his rating of 6.6 and his usefulness in the medical services industry. She had promptly laid her hands on everything that the man owned, as he didn't need or care for it anymore, and she was now loaded. That she still worked here these days instead of quitting was a mystery to nearly all who knew her.

A woman like that could easily find men to sleep with her, though she oddly preferred my bed of late, or rather me in hers. Yes, I had fucked her semi-regularly since her divorce, but strictly on a "friend with benefits" basis. Take it from me, of course, that with Margret, "sleeping with" was a serious misnomer, as no man got any sleep in her bed until she was plain tuckered out, and that took several sessions with cock and tongue alike. White hairs among her short blonde locks didn't hide the surprisingly vigorous partner underneath.

"Back to your question, I haven't quite decided yet, as I don't yet know who is after me and why. I don't know what to expect now, so I'm getting to let them approach me and find out what their intentions really are. That's the only thing that I can do, at least until I get more intel," I explained, being as logical and careful as ever. I could be bold when necessary, but there were times to simply watch and see what transpired. This was one of them.

"If that's a request, I have only a favor to ask in return," Margret declared, this time very much in earnest.

"What's that?" I wondered, but found that I could guess it.

I was so fucking right, too.

"I'm not ready to drop you as a companion just yet. I want you to keep up the pace, at least for now. Think that's a good price to pay for information?" Margret smiled at me with lust showing through her lenses.

"Works for me. Speaking of which, I need to clock in," I grinned as I walked away and heard her whistle after me, a real wolf whistle, oddly enough. I still couldn't place why she had been afraid of me. It wasn't like I had any control over her fate, right?

Not thirty minutes later, I had my first interaction of the desperate kind. Stacey. Damn her! She must have stood no more than five feet tall and weighed a hundred ten pounds soaking wet, but she had an uncanny ability to throw me off balance. I had to get a grip and remember who was in the driver's seat now. I had the reins and it was time to pull them. Yes, time to seize control of the situation at last. I wouldn't let Stacey and those like her put me on a leash, short or otherwise. That was contrary to the whole idea of the new way of life, after all.

"O Captain, My Captain!" Stacey blurted out, suddenly giggling like a schoolgirl as she greeted me with those lines from Walt Whitman, of all things.

"I'm afraid I don't get the joke, Stacey. What gives?" I somewhat feigned ignorance, having to really just guess, but at least it was an educated one.

So much for the dread and awe of me. That was gone, at least with her, consequence of my behaving normally around Margret, no doubt. That was not exactly missed, but quite a shift nonetheless. Speaking of shifts, I had heard rumors about those and being the only garments for concubines or something like that. Apparently, I would find out soon enough, as would many others like Stacey, in her case first hand.

"Well, I want to be on your crew, if you will. I want to be your first mate, if you approve. Come on, we've all heard it. You're a sponsor, aren't you, Jack?" Stacey finally said what she was thinking and what I knew she really meant all along.

"Yes, I am. You're married, as I recall. How would hubby take this idea of yours? Especially if it meant that you could evacuate, but he is left behind, that is," I observed.

"Oh, I would like him to tag along if he can, but in the end, I want to get my little boy and me off this rock," Stacey actually planted a lip lock on me, much to my shock.

That was extremely bold, even given the circumstances. She didn't seem ready to take "no" for an answer, though I admitted to myself that I enjoyed the kiss and was inclined to take her as a concubine. She had this wonderful, "new mom" look and attitude, which felt since she only had one kid, and he was about six months old. She also came across as a bit sexually frustrated, as if she had been doing without a lot. That also fit her situation, since it was common for new parents to have little time or energy for sex at that point after the birth. It is a hard adjustment, after all, from being just two to being three with the third a little tyrant who had no mercy on his victims, morning, day, or night. Well, better that she got used to it, of course, and at least as a concubine it was easier to find sexual release than as a typical working wife and mother.

"So, this is your application, as it were, to be one of my concubines. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I indicated that Stacey should hand me her CAP card.

She smiled and showed me a score of 5, which exactly matched her height. Her motherhood numbers were higher, but everything else was more or less average across the board. Her sexual score revealed something in particular: that she liked to be controlled sexually, and I got the distinct impression that hubby wasn't perceptive enough to realize this about her. If he was, she would probably be a little more satisfied in that area, but he might well have been brainwashed like most men into political correctness, which fit with buying into the whole monogamy scene. I had a somewhat more Nietzschean world-view, so I was better able to adjust to this new regime, as my score of 8.3 indicated.

"Well, Stacey, these numbers are fairly decent, but this one piques interest more than the others," I noted her sub score for sex and the explanation.

Suddenly, Stacey blushed like crimson, no longer the cat but the mouse, "Yes, sir. I suppose that my secret's out, sir. It's another reason that I'm cool with this whole sex slavery thing."

So Stacey had the sense to see concubinage for its true nature, not through the blinders of wishful thinking. That boded much better for her than many others like her. I wonder if her husband would have that good sense. A good male concubine had his uses, but many men in that situation had trouble accepting that they weren't head of the household or something like that. Of course, given the way that women have taken over many households in the post-feminist era, the men frequently deluded themselves there. Now, the men were getting, rightfully, much of their power back, but this only applied truly to sponsors (and some of those were women). Life was not easy for a male concubine, though it likely still beat being Swarm food for many of those who lacked the skills to actually fight the bugs.

"I see, but you never answered my question. How does he feel about the Confederacy, the idea of serving a sponsor, about possibly seeing you be test-driven and knocked up by your sponsor? For that matter, what is his CAP. Understand, as you saw from my card, I'm an 8.3. I get six concubines. One will likely be male, to keep you gals busy and out of trouble. Unless, of course, I can make some deal with a fellow volunteer that allows mutual borrowing and sharing of concubines. Even then, I might pick one guy. Is your man the right fit for that role? I can take one married couple, if you will, but will that couple be you, knowing that you will be divorced and both of you my servants in this way of life?" I got to the crux of the matter.

"He's a 5.1. A decimal higher, oddly enough. Decent guy, or else I wouldn't care about him, but I don't honestly know what he really thinks of this. I will talk to him about it, if you want, but if he can't tag along, I am fully prepared to jump ship and choose the welfare of my son over my marriage to Ollie. My priorities make sense to me, at least," she assured me, but her less than adoring reference to "Ollie" spoke volumes, as did that kiss.

Stacey had already moved on from whatever infatuation had once seemed like true love to her and driven her to get married. She was over it already, giving hubby faint praise like that. It could be worse. She didn't hate the guy, but it was clear that her interests lay with me now that she had hope of escaping Armageddon, at the risk of sounding biblical. It was one of those marriages that could last five weeks or fifty years, depending on a number of variable factors. Marriage was a lot like algebra that way. So many variables could enhance or subvert it. The good thing about being a sponsor was that as long as you didn't behave outrageously or weren't too milquetoast, a sponsor could easily keep his relationships from going south, especially given the way that the Confederacy always sided with sponsors over concubines. That was heady stuff, from what my research had unearthed. While PC types liked to condemn unequal relationships, there was an advantage in having things so lopsided that power struggles were futile.

"So, for you, this issue isn't a deal-breaker. You'll go with me, with or without Ollie. I admit that I agree with you. Saving your son is more important than saving your marriage. Not to mention saving your ass, Stacey, which I must confess that I admire as well," I grinned at her, making it clear that I was interested in taking her, if she proved to be compatible.

So far, I liked what I saw with the perky, brunette MILF. I wasn't kidding about Stacey's tush. From what I'd seen of its shape through her pants (and shorts or Daisy Dukes a couple of times), it was a damned fine booty. Her breasts weren't anything to write home about, but she had an ass that begged for fucking, groping, and licking. Her soft, moist lips were a plus as well. My cock had its own opinion of Stacey's prospects already, but my brain fought not to decide these things too rashly.

"Want some help picking the others? If you're ready to agree to take me on, that is. I could be a lot of help that way," Stacey continued to plead her case, now determined to show her worth as a concubine by assisting me in whatever way she could.

"Okay, but there is one final test. You know what it is, too. Are you ready to commit adultery for a road-test?" I was serious.

I hated to put horns on Ollie, but given the way that things were going, he'd either have to share Stacey or lose her altogether, making this a smaller issue by comparison. He would soon be divorced, one way or the other, so he wouldn't be a cuckold for long. Better to confront the issue of the new lifestyle head on. Monogamy was passé and harems were back in vogue. That was consistent with most of human history, with the Victorian insistence on strict marital fidelity a rather dubious experiment that had failed miserably, as witnessed by the high divorce and infidelity rates.

"Anything for Junior. I love his dad, but not enough to let my son or myself die on this planet. Next to that, this is a small affair. When and where do you want me?" Stacey continued to press her suit. She was determined, alright.

"At your place. I'll ask Margret to babysit Junior. She'll want something in return, but I can handle that. This is a test as much of your husband as of yourself, Stacey. Can he control his jealousy? If he can, he'll get plenty of strange booty himself and get to leave with you as a concubine, though you will be divorced and he will have to obey me," I clarified, gauging her reaction to this new development.

"Knowing Margret, the price will be either your cock, his, or both. None of which will upset or offend me. Sure, I'll feel some jealousy, but I know that I have a good grip on that. I'm game for it. What if he refuses this?" Stacey wondered.

"Then you'll have a choice to make between us. I hate to be cold, but that's how it is," I laid down the law, rather firmly, because I had no other choice.

"Okay, I'll go for it. I'll tell Ollie what's up, and see what he says about it. He might not be too thrilled, but if he wants another way out, he needs to find his own damned sponsor," Stacey expressed a little undercurrent of frustration that Ollie hadn't located a sponsor for them already.

"Fair enough. Pleasure doing business with you, madam," I winked at Stacey, to which she reacted by moving her hips and ass in a clear invitation to me.

"Likewise, sir," Stacey gave her Parthian shot as she left my field of vision and got back to work.

I took a quick break, just for a moment and approached Margret again, whispering in her ear, "Could you watch Stacey's kid while I road-test her tonight?"

"Sure, but you owe me and so does she. One good fuck from you and another from her husband, if it all works out," Margret also kept her voice low this time.

"I know that I can deliver myself. If he signs on, I can add him as well, but otherwise I'll pay you back twice over," I promised her.

"Deal. What happens if he's not cool with this? Do I still watch the kid?"

"Sure, because she'll have custody pretty soon, and then so will I," I continued to speak under my breath.

"Consider it done. If you two need any help persuading Ollie, I'm game for that, too. I've seen him. He'd be a solid concubine if he didn't have his head up his ass," she tacked on another offer, the quid pro quo involved there unmistakable. Another roll in the hay or two from each man.

"That would be splendid, my dear friend. You're the best," I smiled at her for a number of reasons, sincerely regretting that she was post-menopausal, as she would have made a damned good concubine herself.

"And don't you forget it," she replied, copping a feel of my ass as I walked away from her desk and headed back to my cubicle.

Contrary to how this might seem, I am no lazy worker and neither were the others, but when matters of life and death are at stake, these things take precedence over normal responsibilities, institutions, customs, etc. I quickly sent Stacey a text indicating that Margret had agreed to the terms and wanted time with Ollie in the sack in return, as well as myself.

Her response was priceless, "Offer her my services, too, if you wish. You're the sponsor. If you command me, I'll eat her out."

"Very well. You're really eager to see this happen, aren't you?"

"Damn straight. I'm an eager beaver, honey," Stacey texted back.

That you are, my dear, I thought, as I buried myself in work for a good while longer, fully focused for now, as were the others. I put in a good ten hours at times, and no less than eight the vast majority of days. I rarely went on vacation, showed up late, or called in sick, so this was just a matter of me putting the future ahead of the present, rather than another lazy staffer slacking off. When it was time to start my lunch, I walked over to Margret and slipped her a note about Stacey's offer. Margret licked her lips and sighed with anticipation.

I made it about a foot or so when Kelsey went behind me and put her arms around my waist, not bothering to ask my permission first. If Stacey was a budding soccer mom type, Kelsey was a bonafide cougar with real claws. Her auburn hair had a bit of silver in it, but she still had a firm body toned well by constant visits to the gym, and since our billing firm handled that gym, she had rights there under the office membership. That reminded me to get back to the gym soon. Lately, I had been so overworked I had gained back some weight from little exercise.

That didn't seem to bother Kelsey, who held on tight and wouldn't let go of me. I almost felt suffocated before I finally pulled free of her. Shelly then stood in front of me and blocked my path. It was clear that these women were in cahoots, but what did they expect to gain by such tactics? Why should I agree to take them?

"Alright, Shelly, let me through," I insisted.

"Not without a lunch date," Kelsey spoke behind me.

"Lunch, huh? Why? Why would you want to go out to lunch with me, girls?" I played dumb to get a rise out of them.

"Cause you're our sponsor, or will be. We're not taking no for an answer. This lunch date is our way of proving it," Shelly answered me, grinning wickedly, as she evidently had plans for me.

"Show me your CAP cards, girls, and then I'll think about," I asserted.

"We'll do that over lunch, dear," Kelsey persisted.

"Fine, lunch it is," I sighed, texting updates quickly to both Stacey and Margret about the entire situation, including Shelly and Kelsey.

"Yeah, just hear them out. If you don't like what they say, refuse to take them. If you do, you can punish them for their insubordination later," Margret advised, a sentiment that Stacey echoed afterward, adding, "I'll join you gals."

"Stacey's joining us, though," I announced.

"Alright, Stacey can join us. The more the merrier, right, babe?" Shelly smiled like a guilty cat, sensing that she might have overplayed her hand here. Kelsey wasn't bright enough to catch on to that just yet.

"And we're going to Outback," I told them, making it clear that I held all of the cards, in spite of their attempt to kidnap me.

"I wouldn't mind a Bloomin' Onion myself," another voice inserted itself into the group ... Rosa Torres.