Chapter 2

Despite the fact that both involve being completely bereft of clothing, there is a profound difference between nudity and nakedness. To be nude is a simple situation lacking any notion of shame. To be naked, on the other hand, is an expression often used to mean one is vulnerable, exposed and defenseless. It is rarely—if ever—used in a positive sense. The only exception to this would be "nekkid" but that's a whole other thing altogether and it definitely didn't apply to what we were presently looking at.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many naked people in all my life."

Under any other circumstances, Clara would have slapped Roger upside the back of his head for his comment but she was just as astonished as he was—hell, as we all were. To go from the sedate environment of a rural Idaho church to a large white room—presumably on a ship orbiting the Earth—filled mostly with noisy naked people was definitely a shock to the system.

"Do you think those are real," Roger asked no one in particular, nodding in the direction of a very top heavy blonde not far from us, "or are they fake?"

I could only shake my head at the question. Leave it to Roger, the army and police vet, to ask something like that. Everyone else was pretty much speechless.

Now don't get me wrong. The reason for our surprise wasn't because we were sheltered and repressed church folk unaccustomed to seeing that much bare flesh. No, Harkin wasn't so far removed from current American culture that we were unaffected by the changing fashions. It was already pretty common to see bare breasts covered in only body paint while wandering the aisles of the grocery store, among other equally provocative choices in apparel.

"Now that's just plain wrong," Roger muttered, as a very heavyset man about my age walked past us, followed by several older overweight women, all sans clothing. "I could have gone my entire life without seeing that."

I would have laughed had it all not been so sad.

No, this scene was something different entirely. And Roger was right—the people were naked and it wasn't pretty. There was nothing titillating or erotic about it. I think what was so shocking to me was how pathetic it all was. This wasn't nudity. It was nakedness with a purpose, namely humiliation. It was the quick and efficient way of informing everyone that concubines were now property—not people. I didn't like it but I got it.

And into this great naked mass of people came our particular group—57 individuals all still in their church clothes. We were a huge complicating factor they hadn't counted on—a fly in the ointment, if you will. I could tell immediately that this was not going to go well.

The first indication was the disapproving stares by the staff attending the transporter room where we first came in. The second came in the form of a huge, nearly seven foot, frowning Confederacy marine stalking in our direction just minutes after our arrival.

"You ... concubines ... clothes off ... now," he barked. "Get your tits a flopping and your dicks a swinging!"

We'd hoped to avoid a scene but Decurion Sundberg had warned us that we would most likely face this kind of reception. Even with that advanced notice, though, the crudity of the marine took many by surprise. I wasn't but then I'd spent twenty one years as a U. S. Army Chaplain serving in a variety of duty stations, from combat units in the field to military detention centers. It would take a lot to surprise me.

Still his aggressive stance and continued demeaning invectives were more than a little disconcerting. As we'd previously arranged, the concubines began disrobing—the most reluctant and the slowest, unfortunately, being a few from my group. Because of this, I kept a close eye on one Corporal Grigorian as he harangued Roger, Felicity, and Sharon. He was definitely getting into their personal space but so far he'd avoided touching them, not unlike a drill instructor. What disturbed me, though, was the sadistic gleam in his eye. I'd seen that too many times before and it never ended well.

Meanwhile I had Trisha go and stand with Erica's children. With her chronic shyness and body image issues, the last thing she needed was to be forced to disrobe in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Unfortunately, this sleight of hand did not go unnoticed. The corporal's head tipped, as if listening to something or someone, and then turned his malevolent glare toward the children.

"Concubine Patricia," he bellowed, "get those clothes off now!"

Trisha, however, did not move—her eyes and mouth locked open in a look of complete terror.

Visibly upset by this apparent act of disobedience, the marine turned and strode in her direction. I did the same, with the result that by the time he got there he was not scowling down at her but me.

"Sponsor Hendricks, you will remove yourself so that I can carry out my duties."

"There is no need," I replied calmly, seeking to defuse the situation. "Patricia has simply followed my orders by remaining clothed and staying with the children. If anyone is to be punished, it will be me."

"The rules are clear and there are no exceptions," the corporal growled, stepping closer. "Remove yourself or I will be forced to move you myself." The menace in his voice and posture was unmistakable.

"You are overstepping your authority," I challenged quietly, my eyes never wavering from his. "I will not move and I will not let you touch my property."

His eyes narrowed and in a very quick motion, he grabbed my wrist. I was expecting it, however, and in a series of well practiced moves of my own, I had him quickly restrained and face down on the floor. He attempted several times to get up but that only brought him pain.

Mere seconds after that, I was surrounded by four other marines, all pointing some sort of metallic device at me.

"Explain yourself," the clearly ranking member of the foursome demanded. An Amazon of a black woman, easily six and a half feet or more, her insignia and nametag identified her as Sergeant Davis. Her first name, however, was a mystery—not that I had any need of it at the moment. I was just glad she seemed willing to actually listen, unlike the über-doofus I was currently sitting on.

"My party was still clothed when we were brought on board a few minutes ago," I started to tell her. "Once the order was given to disrobe, my concubines were in the process of compliance when the corporal here decided they were not moving fast enough. While verbally assaulting them, he was apparently informed that one of my concubines, who was tending to the children, was not disrobing. She was simply following my orders. The corporal was visibly angered by that and, despite my attempts to dissuade him, tried to physically get at her through me."

I patted my subdued but still struggling attacker on the back. "As you can see, I did not allow that."

"Indeed," she quipped. Her sight glassed over momentarily but quickly refocused on me. "The AI confirms your account. Corporal Grigorian was clearly showing unnecessary interest in your concubines. If you would please release him, I will see that this is resolved quickly."

While skeptical about letting my prone attacker up, I knew not doing so would cause me even more problems. Releasing his arm, I quickly stepped back. I was not quick enough, however. Grigorian was up and moving at me far faster than I anticipated. Fortunately, the sergeant and the other marines were just as fast, if not faster, than he was. In less than a second he was back on the floor, twitching from what appeared to be bursts of electrical energy from their weapons.

"Fucking douchebag," the sergeant swore, nudging the now catatonic marine with her boot. "You want to press charges?" she asked, looking back at me.

I nodded. "The guy's a sadistic menace."

"Noted," she replied. "Two counts of simple assault, under Article 127 of the CMJC, have been filed. You will be contacted when the case comes before the tribunal."

"Thank you."

"Glad I could help." Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself. "Serena Davis."

"David Hendricks, but you already knew that."

She chuckled. "That I did, Colonel. Now, how about we get you and your crew out of this zoo and into your own quarters?"

Setting the box of books from my office on the table, I stopped to gaze around at our new home.

Sergeant Davis—"just call me Serena"—had escorted us the whole way and helped settle the rest of our church group in some of the other pods in this ring on the ship. She was actually quite a lovely person and rather pretty, if you're into giant Amazon women. Personally, I prefer to do the physical towering in a relationship, but other than that we got along famously.

Anyway, along the way she gave us the basic run down on concubines, pods, AIs, and life aboard an Aurora Class transport like the Pacific Princess. Turned out our destination was the new colony world of Demeter in the Posideonat System—not that the names or location meant much to me. The ship wouldn't leave for another two weeks and then we would spend another three in transit.

As I took in the overall layout of the pod with its two levels, I suddenly realized it was oddly quiet and turned to find everyone staring at me. It was especially disconcerting for me as they were all—aside from Trisha and the children—standing there nude.

"What?"

Sharon rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He drops that huge marine in just seconds and he's asking us 'what?'."

"That was so cool," little Matthew, Erica's seven year old, added in. "You were like ... Kung Fu Pastor!" And, of course, he had to show us his version complete with sound effects. I had to admit it was pretty cute, especially when his younger sister, Gretchen, age four, joined in the fun. At the very least, it helped lighten the mood. Gina—a very bright and precocious nine year old—was far too mature for such frivolity, but even she managed a smile.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Trisha asked.

"In prison," I replied as solemnly as I could.

Gina gasped, brushing her blonde hair from her face. "In prison? What did you do?"

"I joined the army," I quipped. I could hear the men snickering in the background.

Kneeling down so I could look her in the eye, I reached over and briefly tugged on her cute little nose. "Gotcha."

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes soldiers do bad things, so the army locks them up in their own prisons. But even prisoners need to be able to hear about God, if they want, so the army sends chaplains like I was to work at the prisons."

"But prisoners can be dangerous," Matt added from his sister's side, seeming to understand where I was going with this.

"So everyone who works in a prison is taught how to defend themselves, even chaplains," I finished, looking back over at Gina.

"Oh."

"To tell the truth, the only reason I was able to stop that marine was that he underestimated me. Do you know what that means?" I asked her.

She nodded her head. "He thought because he was huge and you were old that he could beat you pretty easy."

It was my turn to nod, as well as chuckle at her "old" reference. "Well, this old man surprised him, that's for sure, but I doubt that would happen if I faced him again."

"Yeah," she grimaced, "that would be bad. Is that why you tried to talk him out of it at the beginning?"

"You are so smart," I said with an approving grin. Looking over, I could see Gretchen starting to fidget so I made an executive decision. "AI, is there a room in this place where the children could watch cartoons?"

"Yes, Sponsor Hendricks," it replied in a flat male voice. "There is a sitting room with a widescreen viewer down the hallway to your left."

"Very well," I answered, standing up. Motioning to Gina to take her brother and sister in search of the room, I again spoke to the AI. "Please attend to all Gina's reasonable requests on behalf of herself and the children, contacting me only when you deem it necessary."

"As you wish."

Realizing that everyone needed that kind of permission, I added to my previous request. "On second thought, extend those same courtesies to all my concubines, as well."

"Yes, sir."

With the children gone, I turned to my other companions. "Now, as much as I like the clothing optional nature of the moment, the visions of loveliness," I wiggled my eyebrows at the ladies, "and the not-so-lovely," I frowned at the guys, "are proving to be immensely distracting."

They all chuckled but to tell the truth, I needed a break from all that skin. Erica was one thing, but even without visits to the medical tubes Sharon and Felicity were tempting visions I needed covered up as soon as possible. Diane and Clara? Not so much.

Lifting my face toward the ceiling I called out for the pod's AI. "What clothing is available for my concubines?"

"There is a selection of grey shifts hanging in the closets of each of the bedrooms," the AI replied. "Other articles of concubine clothing can be requested from the replicator but not within the first 48 hours of occupancy."

"Why is that?"

"It has been found that an introductory period of near or complete lack of clothing is more conducive for concubine adaptation to their new status and living environment."

"What does that mean?" Erica, who had stepped next to me, asked in a tentative whisper.

"It means that my being clothed and you naked drives home the point that I own you."

"Okay," she said with a bright smile, trailing a finger seductively down her throat and between her breasts. "That's fine by me."

I thought I heard a choking cough from Roger and a light slapping sound, presumably from Clara, but I couldn't take my eyes from Erica and that meandering finger of hers to find out. In retrospect, it could easily have been either of the other two couples as well—not that it mattered.

"Could I override that as their sponsor?" I asked, still not looking away.

"Yes, but it is not recommended," the AI answered me matter-of-factly.

"Very well." Reluctantly glancing around, I moved my hands in a shooing motion. "You heard the voice. Go find yourself some inadequate covering and come back."

"You sure I can't stay like this?" Erica teased, running her hand across the tented front of my pants.

"You most of all," I replied with a playful slap on her hind end. "Get going!"

She yelped and then chased after the others, a huge smile on her face.

Once they were all gone, I quickly adjusted myself. I could tell the next few days were going to be interesting, to say the least.

"Is that what I will look like?"

Trisha's voice was filled with awe as she gazed at the life-sized nude holographic projection of herself.

"Oh David, she's adorable!"

I had to agree with Erica's sentiment, as did Sharon and Diane—who made appropriate noises and gave the girl a hug.

Following the evening meal in the main dining hall, the AI had been able to get us all into the nearest Med Bay for our initial scans and treatments. The med techs, however, held on to Roger, Clara, Gene and Felicity for more in-depth and potentially overnight treatments. So now, with the kids in bed and Martin upstairs in the sleep trainer doing his CAP testing, the five of us were spending the evening going over what changes to our appearance we wanted.

There was nothing all that dramatic for the ladies—just age reduction back to their early twenties, as well as a few tweaks, nips, and tucks here and there. It was a bit different when it came to me. I wanted to turn the clock back as far as they did, but the women all thought that the more mature me was far sexier. So, we compromised and settled on a fit and healthy, thirty five year old David Hendricks.

The transformation of Trisha, on the other hand, was nothing short of spectacular. All I had done was ask the AI to show us what she would soon look like now that her thyroid problem was cured—and there she was in all her blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pixie glory.

"She already is adorable," I replied, winking at Trisha. "It's just that in a week or so the outside will match the inside." Considering her age and mindset, I'd thought it best to let her current crop of nanites do the job over time rather than all in one fell swoop.