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Subject: {ASSM} You Don't Need To Wave A Card... 01/16 {Thinking Horndog} (MF MFF oral anal exhib ir BBW rom ScFi)
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A Swarm Cycle story

Chapter 1



      

<1st attachment, "Dont_Need_Card_1.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: You Don't Need To Wave A Card...
Part: 1 of 16
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: 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!

Keywords: MF MFF oral anal exhib ir BBW rom ScFi

You Don't Need To Wave A Card...

Chapter 1

	I came out of the CAP Testing Center flying high!  I'd just enlisted
when they broke the news about the Swarm and they made a deal with the
military not to poach active duty troops singly, but rather call them up by
unit, if and when.  This was partially in order to maintain order and
discipline, because if you found out that asshole Lieutenant was really a
four point two you wouldn't want to work for him.  As a result, I had to wait
until I was discharged to take my CAP test.  Today was the day, though, and
I'd justified my faith in myself fully, collecting a seven point two.  I'd
done my service time as an enlisted ground-pounder, but the AI's
recommendation was officer country with a specialty in astrogation or fire
control on the command track.  To say I was happy was an understatement!

	I decided to get a celebratory drink and maybe a little clubbing, so
I stopped off at a dance club I only knew of by reputation and bellied up to
the bar.  It was VERY early -- only late afternoon -- but even though it was
Sunday the DJ had the crowd moving and there were a lot of women out there,
because the club had a reputation for being a hot place for pickups.  I got a
bottled brew and a mug and turned around to stand with my back to the bar and
take in the scenery.

	Since I now had a drawing account, so to speak, I enjoyed myself
looking at this one and that one and thinking, 'Her.  No, her!  That one,
maybe.  I wonder if those tits make her good motherhood material?'  I was
looking forward to chattel ownership of four women and it was a good feeling
-- no, actually, it was TREMENDOUS!

	The guy who came up on my right looked pretty dour -- a real
sourpuss.  He got a beer and started scanning the room, but seemed as unhappy
about the display as I was pleased with it.  I noticed, though, that he
wasn't looking at the women as much as he was the men, so I thought maybe he
was gay...  I ignored him and went back to checking out all of those
delectable women who I now had a chance to own...

	He must have made a sound or something -- I don't know what prompted
me to look back at him, but when I did, he was glaring at me.  I looked back,
a little surprised -- after all, I'd done nothing to him!  But he snarled at
me and reached behind him and I knew before I saw it that he had a gun in his
waistband.  I was already moving as he cleared his jacket; I hit him backhand
with the mug I was holding as hard as I could!  The bartender yelled "Hey!"
but I pointed to the gun on the floor with the remains of the shattered glass
mug and said, "See that?  Call the cops!"

	For the next hour or so I was hip deep in bouncers and then cops.  An
ambulance came for the guy, and they strapped him to a gurney and he woke up
and cursed me.  "You self-satisfied sonofabitch!" he rasped, "Checking out
all the women you can get with your fancy CAP card, weren't you?  You fuckers
with the high scores are all alike!  Next time, I'll be a little faster and
you'll be dead!"

	I was nonplussed -- but the cop wasn't.  "Shit!" the cop grunted,
"You were BORN stupid, weren't you, Buddy?  Attempted murder, assault,
communicating a threat, and knowingly attacking a person with a Citizen-class
CAP score!"  He turned to me and said, "Did he identify himself as an Earth
First sympathizer, Mr., uh, Harshman?"

	"No, but he was looking for targets," I replied.  "I'm fresh out of
the military and I did time in Iraq before we discovered that we had bigger
problems and left them to stew in their own juices.  He had that smell to him
-- that suicide bomber stench.  He was here to kill someone and I was handy."

	The cop looked at his new, high-tech data link and said, "It says
here that this one's wife and daughter accepted positions as concubines a
month and a half ago -- against his wishes."

	"Sluts!" my erstwhile assailant ranted, "Whores!  They all fall on
their backs and open their legs for the likes of YOU!"

	The cop eyed him.  "Do you understand your Miranda rights?"

	"Yeah, yeah," the whacko ranted.

	"Did you attempt to murder this man?"

	"What's it to you?" My attacker ranted.  "What are YOU gonna do when
he's gone with YOUR women?  You bet your ass I did!  He thinks he's
entitled..."

	"So do I," the cop replied.  "So do a lot of other people.  Even
those of us who aren't going anywhere know that if there's going to be a
human race it'll be because of him and those like him."  He sighed and said,
"Did you get that?"

	A voice from the data link replied, "Yeah.  The Confederacy Consulate
has requested that we deal with the threat expeditiously.  Since we have a
recorded confession, there's no requirement to waste further resources -- the
paperwork is enough of a pain in the ass."

	The cop nodded.  One of the two medics standing by produced a small
needle and a data pad and the cop signed the pad, then said, "Inject him,
toss him off the gurney, call the morgue and go on back to the station."  The
medic nodded, injected my assailant in the neck and he and his partner rolled
the body off the gurney.  I think the guy was dead before he hit the floor.
"You don't need to wave a CAP card to get into trouble -- how long have you
had yours?"

	"Probably less than six hours," I admitted.

	"Try not to be so obvious.  You're allowed concealed carry of
firearms and to kill in self-defense, but it would be better if you didn't
attract attention."  He nodded at the door with his head.  "Hit the bricks."

	I got the Hell out of there.

                       ----------------------------------

	It wasn't over -- Hell, it wasn't STARTED!  In retrospect, I think it
was partly my military bearing and the situational awareness that comes from
being in combat.  Part of it, I'm told, is because I have piercing brown
eyes.  And part of it was the knowledge that for the first time in my life I
knew that I was ALLOWED to be a predator!

	I went to the nearest gun shop, because I felt suddenly naked.  The
proprietor was happy to sell me a gun, but he suggested that I go to the
nearby shooting club's range and try out a few first.  I went over his
inventory of nine millimeter automatics and picked out two that looked easily
maintained and asked his opinion, then settled on a Ruger.  He agreed to
repurchase it at only a slight loss if I decided I didn't like it within a
week.  There was no seven day waiting period, no background check -- he just
looked at my CAP card and sold me a weapon.  I walked out with it, five boxes
of ammo, a cleaning kit, shooting glasses, hearing protection and a shoulder
holster.  I went straight to the club, paid a somewhat expensive membership
fee (but got a discount due to the score on my CAP card), and spent the next
two hours sighting in the weapon and learning its idiosyncrasies.  As it
turned out, there weren't any serious issues.  I bought some more ammo at the
club, having expended all of my original supply, and went looking for dinner.

	I picked the restaurant for its salad bar more than anything else.
It was probably just before prime time when I arrived, so the crowd was
beginning to surge and there was a short wait.  I sat in the bar and watched
people come in from the hot, bright day over the top of that salad bar -- it
was high summer and the sun wouldn't go down until well after eight -- while
I waited for a booth.

	There was all kinds of stuff coming in through the door, but,
strangely, one chick caught my eye.  She was husky at least -- maybe more
than that -- and wearing a bright yellow strapless sundress that draped to
just above her knees.  I think what caught my eye was her adjusting the top
of it just after she came through the door with the sun at her back.  Guys do
that -- anything that suggests that you might get a glimpse of titty and BAM!
-- the eyeballs start tracking!  There was a certain amount of light
penetration from the bright glare behind her and it confirmed the fact that
she had a belly on her, if nothing else.  This chick wasn't a fashion plate
-- she was stocky and thick-legged but she had some curvature to her, here
and there.  She was with another, older woman, a guy about her age, and a guy
who looked old enough to be her father.  As I sat watching, she turned her
back to me while speaking to the younger male and I discovered that sweat,
apparently, had caused the sundress to stick to her back, revealing her ass
in considerable detail.  It was sized to match the rest of her but maybe a
bit more compact than it could have been -- it was big, but not a bubble
butt.  If she was wearing panties, it certainly wasn't apparent from the way
the fabric glued itself to her, outlining her ass in detail!

	Now this chick was never going to be a swimsuit model, you know?
Objectively, she was Grade 'B' or maybe 'C' -- and could easily slip beyond
that.  But for some strange reason, she captured my attention...

	She had it.  I can't tell you what it was to this day, but she was
sexy.  It happens -- you look at what should be a thoroughly unappetizing
girl and something about her gets your attention.  Maybe it's obvious, like
the set of her boobs -- and maybe it isn't.  Maybe she snorts when she
laughs.  Who knows?  SOMETHING puts her on your top ten list despite obvious
flaws that would cause you to never consider her.  And usually, you just look
and that's it, because she's going her way and you're going yours.  But I had
a piece of plastic with embedded computer chips in my pocket that could make
her make a U-turn and I sat there, watching her, considering the idea.

	Things had changed.  Four years before, if you showed undue attention
to a strange woman, you were stalking her and she could get all shrill about
it.  Touching was an absolute no-no.  But the Swarm changed all that --
courts started deciding that if a woman put her assets on display, it was
okay to look and depending on how far she went, even touch -- and women kept
baring it anyway, because advertizing was important to their survival.  So I
could sit there, staring at her like a hungry wolf -- and I did.

	Now, there was female flesh visible all over the room -- breasts,
thighs, bellies, asses -- almost every female in the place was showing
whatever she thought was her best feature.  Tattoos had come and gone, and
there was an industry involved in removing them using Confederacy technology
for those for whom a tattoo was a mistake.  The latest thing was a blouse
with a strip across the breasts that went from opaque to translucent to
transparent at the touch of a button -- or cycled back and forth over ten
seconds or so.  The first skirts of the same stuff were just coming out...

	... But I was ogling a chick who was dressed fairly modestly by
comparison.  Go figure.

	My little beeper went off and I got up and headed out to the hostess
to get myself seated -- and made a point of eyeballing the babe in yellow.
This time it was more about 'Why?' as I had no idea what it was about her
that captured my attention.  She had olive skin and brown hair and she looked
like she was fairly upbeat -- smiling, not looking too serious -- a happy
chick.  Eh, so what?  That yellow dress still hugged her ass like saran wrap
and I didn't see any panty line, but it hadn't gotten any smaller...  She
seemed to have plenty of breast to keep the dress up, but they weren't huge.
The hostess was getting impatient, so I reluctantly let her lead me off,
figuring that she would seat them clear across the restaurant.

	Surprisingly, it didn't happen that way.  I was waiting for the
waitress when they came up the aisle to be seated in the next booth!  The
older couple was in the lead and seated themselves first, followed by the
younger guy -- and I leaned out of the booth to take in the young one again
from head to foot.  When she detected me, she stopped dead, looked at me for
a moment, and hung her head, but eyed me sidelong while standing there,
picking her fingers.  I twirled my finger and she actually turned in a
circle!  I was amazed!  I beckoned her forward and she came tentatively to
stand before me, so I ran my hand up the outside of her thigh and right up
under her sundress.  "What's your name, Honey?"

	"Rachel."

	"Who are you with?"

	"My parents -- and my brother."  All three of the others were working
on expressing some kind of outrage.

	"You're cute -- you know that?"

	Rachel's eyes widened.  "Thank you!"

	"You're welcome, Honey.  Go sit."  I actually took her by the hips
and turned her, then patted her on the ass!  Four years before, I'd have been
arrested for manhandling a young woman, but tonight her father grumbled a bit
and glared at me but Rachel herself was thrilled to death!  And nobody
bothered to ask if I had the right...

	The waitress came and took my order and I ordered the salad bar, but
waited until she moved on to the next booth and Rachel had ordered before
getting up.  Rachel, who was watching me like a hawk, made sure SHE ordered a
salad bar, which was the object of the exercise.  Her brother didn't and her
father didn't and I only think her mother did because she knew we were up to
something.  As it was, her husband had to let her out -- a further disruption
-- but that occurred after I had passed and Rachel got up smoothly to follow
me.  I got a plate and she got a plate and she leaned close to me and said,
"I'm cute?"

	"I said so..." I replied as softly, adding, "I'd rub your butt again,
but your mama is coming."

	Rachel giggled.  "I don't get that much."

	"I can't remember the last time I told a girl she was cute!" I
replied, "never mind rubbed one's butt!"

	"Well, Momma is gonna have questions, but I don't care!  You can do
both any time -- and I don't care if you're one of them or not!"

	"Them?"

	"You know -- a guy with a score."

	"Ah."  I grinned to myself.  "Why don't you wear panties?"

	"Don't like 'em," Rachel replied, tonging tomatoes onto her salad
plate.  "Besides, if there is a pickup, they're a liability.  I wear them
when I have my period, but on a night when I'm going out to eat?  Uh uh!"

	By then, 'Momma' had arrived, collected a plate and proceeded to get
in front of me, sandwiching me in.  "Can I ask what you're up to?"

	"You can ask," I replied calmly, "but since I don't know myself, I'm
not sure you're going to be thrilled with the answers."  I proceeded to
collect some cucumber slices.

	"What does that mean?" Rachel's Momma asked sharply.

	"It's pretty simple, really.  I looked at Rachel and I liked what I
saw."

	"And you commented on it and you got a little bit familiar with her.
What was THAT all about?" Momma retorted.

	"I was feeling ballsy?  Rachel didn't seem to mind...  Actually,
where I come from, rubbing her bare ass under her dress is maybe more than a
little familiar..."

	'Momma' sucked in a breath.  "I missed that."

	"It was quick -- wasn't it, Honey Bun?"  I smiled at Rachel who was
leaning in close so she could follow the conversation.  "We're blocking
traffic.  Want to step back and get it all out in the open and then dive back
in?"

	"Let's."  Momma backed away from the salad bar and I made to follow,
but Rachel grabbed my wrist, almost upsetting my plate.

	"Honey Bun?"

	I shrugged.  "If you don't like it..."

	"I LOVE it!"  She rubbed her right tit against my arm and purred.

	"Let's go see Momma."  I took her hand and pulled her back away from
the salad bar to the vicinity of her mother.

	"So what's going on, exactly?" Momma asked.

	"Well, I dunno.  I find Rachel attractive.  She seems to return the
feeling," I offered.

	"That's all well and good, but we know nothing about you, Young Man!"
Momma retorted.  "You two can't just decide you're made for each other based
on a quick look in a restaurant!"

	"Well, I would tend to agree..." I mused.

	"I DON'T!" Rachel erupted.  "What if there was a pickup right now?
What if...?"  She glanced at me.

	"Scott," I supplied.

	"Scott offered me a concubine slot?" Rachel finished.  "Wouldn't that
be all rather sudden?"

	"Yes, Dear, but we're not talking about that, are we?" Momma eyed me.
"If Scott was a volunteer, he would have an entourage, wouldn't he?  Do you
see other girls?  Or do you think he's keeping a low profile and waiting for
the last second?"  Momma had feathers in her mouth, and she though they came
from my tail...

	"There are exceptions to that scenario," I replied calmly, "and I
happen to be one.  Besides, Rachel said she didn't care.  Maybe Rachel has an
eight point six and can take ME along!"

	"Uhhh, nooo..." Rachel looked sad.

	"Don't worry, Honey Bun," I said reassuringly, squeezing her hand.
"It'll be all right."

	"How, exactly?" Momma asked.  "What would these exceptions be?"

	"Military personnel are not given their CAP scores until discharge,
in order to maintain good order and discipline.  If the Confederacy picks up
an entire unit, it is reconstituted then, but individuals are not retrieved
from the ranks as a rule.  I'm a recently discharged veteran."

	"How recently?" Momma asked, cocking her head.

	"Very recently!" I replied.

	"So you COULD be sponsor-class..." Momma mused.

	"I could be."

	"But you're not saying."

	"The walls have ears and gun-totin' Earth First characters are
everywhere," I replied.

	"You just told me."

	"I certainly did.  But you'll want verification and it ain't
happening here!  You could be a threat to me -- or your husband or your
son..."

	"Very well."  Momma sighed.  "Let's get our salads."

	"Good plan."  I held Rachel back and said, "Let Momma go ahead, so
she's settled when you breeze on by to MY booth!  We can play footsie under
the table, then..."  Rachel giggled, perfectly happy with the idea.  We fell
in behind Momma and got our salads, making sure she had plenty of time to
squeeze past Daddy and sit and begin to relate the results of her
intelligence gathering.  Then we swept past and I stood to wait while Rachel
slid into my booth before I penned her in by settling on the same bench to
her left.  Rachel was perfectly happy with this arrangement -- but her
parents both turned around in their seats to see what was going on.

	"What are you doing?" Momma wanted to know.

	"Eating," I replied innocently.

	"Yeah, eating!"  Rachel forked a mouthful of salad in.  The pair of
them glared at us, then began talking to each other in low tones; Momma was
apparently bringing Daddy up to date.

	I rubbed Rachel's thigh under the table.  "We should probably stop
tweaking their noses and discover whether we really have something."

	"Okay..."  Rachel immediately got timid.

	"What do you see in me?" I asked.

	"I just like you!" Rachel replied.  "The minute I saw you, I dunno,
it was like, 'Is he hot or what?'  And you were looking back -- and you KEPT
looking back..."

	"Well, we have lust at first sight going for us," I quipped.  "I have
to tell you that the thing about you that caught my eye was the way that
dress stuck to your butt, outlining it."

	Rachel blinked.  "Okay, so, you've seen my butt and we're still
talking?"

	"Well, not uncovered, but the outline for sure."  I grinned.

	"We should get married at least!" Rachel declared.

	I chuckled.  "How old are you, Babe?"

	Rachel batted her eyes.  "I really like Honey Bun..."

	I snorted.  "Okay, how old are you, Honey Bun?"

	"I'm nineteen and you're a sweet man!"

	"Flattery will get you an extra helping of, uh, never mind..."  We
got going and I got carried away.

	"Please?" Rachel ducked her head but looked up at me with big eyes as
she made the petition.

	"Maybe we ought to come to that," I muttered, eyeing her parents.
"What do you know about, you know, sex?"

	"Um..."  Rachel flicked her eyes at her parents, "When we do it, it
won't be my first time -- but it won't be my fourth, either."

	I thought about it.  "I make that out to be two."

	"Uh huh.  I liked it -- the second time, especially.  The first time,
well, you know how it is."  We were both speaking VERY softly.

	"Have you, um, done anything else?"

	"Are you kidding?" She threw out her hands.  "I'm fat.  Duh.  Fat
girls give head. Duh.  I don't do deep throat yet, but I can learn..."  It
was a little too loud; Momma was glaring over the bench at us.  Rachel glared
back, challenging her, and added in the same tone, "You like my butt, right?
Well, I saved that one..."

	"Rachel!"  Momma started approaching apoplexy.

	"Calm down, Honey Bun," I soothed, rubbing her wide back, "It won't
help us if you make your momma mad -- it'll just be a problem."  I liked her
back -- it felt solid.  It could have been, well, fat...

	"You two -- what do you think you're doing?" Momma huffed.

	"Getting to know one another," I replied evenly.

	"How old are you, Scott?" Rachel asked innocently, adding in a stage
whisper, "How long is it?"

	"I'm twenty-two," I replied, then leaned in to whisper, "A gentleman
doesn't brag, but you'll be able to find it."  Rachel giggled, watching her
mother out of the corner of her eye, and slid her hand into my lap.  I was
erect -- I generally am in the presence of a female of interest to me.
Frankly, when I watch porn I can't understand how the guys don't start out
hard.  Do they jerk off beforehand?  Why?

	"Oooo!" Rachel squealed, squeezing my cock -- and I thought Momma was
going to come over the seat!

	"Rachel!" I called her down.  "Jeezus, Honey!  Cut the shit!"  Rachel
settled back, not looking particularly penitent -- and not letting go of my
cock, either.

	"Oh, all right!" she pouted.  "Momma, you need to get a sense of
humor!  Daddy, I like Scott!  We've known each other ten minutes and he's WAY
out in front of the competition!  You two quit acting like I'm twelve and
leave us alone!"

	"Well, Sis..." Big Brother finally entered the conversation.

	"Don't you start, Nick!" Rachel retorted hotly, "Don't you start!"
Nick threw up his hands and settled back.

	"It's your funeral..." he announced, washing his hands of her.

	Momma gathered herself in.  "Rachel, you can't just take up with some
man because..."

	"He thinks I'm cute?" Rachel cut in.  "He likes my butt?  Jeez,
Momma!  Listen to you!  You should be thrilled to death!  I am!"  She
clutched my arm.  "I'm not letting THIS one get away!"  I reached around and
caressed her cheek and chin.

	Daddy turned around.  "I think you should look at his prospects," he
announced.  "What do you do for a living?"

	"Nothing..."

<1st attachment end>


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