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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} You Don't Need To Wave A Card... 04/16 {Thinking Horndog} (MF MFF oral anal exhib 1st ir BBW rom ScFi)
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Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2011 10:10:03 -0500
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Chapter 4 of 16



      

<1st attachment, "Dont_Need_Card_4.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: You Don't Need To Wave A Card...
Part: 4 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 1st ir BBW rom ScFi

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

Chapter 4

	I stopped to watch Faye's fairly broad fundament sway up the hallway
ahead of us in a knee-length skirt.  She was moving fairly quickly and not
trying to be seductive at all, but it wasn't bad for a woman probably
approaching forty.  It was robust, and it would take guts for her to wear a
bikini, but Faye DID pinch in a bit at the waist and had that upright
carriage that goes with a fairly bulletproof bra to present a nice pair of
puffy jugs with a round but pointed shape similar to the pair her daughter
carried on HER chest.  If she swung around to face you, the first thing that
came to mind was that a weapons system of some type had been brought to
bear...  In my considered opinion, she could get away with a bikini, if it
was more substantial than a thong and a couple of tiny triangles.

	"Do you think you could put up with her?" I asked Rachel.  Faye
seemed high-strung -- not the happy soul her daughter was.

	"You'd cool her out, Sweetie!" Rachel replied with her usual carefree
expression, "A couple of shots from that fire hose of yours and Momma would
be absolutely laid back!"

	"Hmmm.  I'm not prepared to commit to lug along any more members of
your family, but I'll take the idea under advisement."

	Rachel stopped me in the hall, serious for once.

	'Daddy is, well, fading, somehow -- I think he's got more than just
little problems,' she transmitted soberly.  'Momma has been slowly picking up
the ball.  Nick can take care of himself, but Momma may need a sponsor,
soon.'

	<Working...  Tests indicate possible prostate cancer.  A biopsy was
scheduled, but Roger Mercer has rescheduled it three times.  There was a
consultation with a neurologist that suggested early onset of Alzheimer's
disease -- which is prevalent in his family history and corrected for in the
concubine Rachel Mercer -- again not followed up.  There appears to be a
substantial life insurance policy, entered into before any formal
diagnosis...>

	'He suspected something and took steps...'

	<A plausible hypothesis.> the AI agreed.

	'You were talking to the AI!' Rachel accused non-verbally.  'Does it
know something?'

	'It knows quite a few things, but nothing conclusive,' I replied.
'Come on, Momma is waiting.'  I took her elbow and drew her toward the
kitchen.

	So we had coffee.  Faye settled down as much as she was going to with
the pair of us sitting nude before her.  I admit to getting a kick out of the
whole thing and Rachel was deliberately all over me.

	"What are your plans for the day?" Faye asked.

	"I'm going to call in to the police station and talk to my contact,
then Rachel and I are going to breakfast on the way over there," I related,
leaving out the fact that on the call I would be asking if any one restaurant
seemed to be more dangerous than the others at this time of the morning.  I
rubbed Rachel's butt and added, "Why don't you go shower, Honey Bun.  I know
you're going to be disappointed about this, but for now, put on some clothes
-- something cool and accessible, but that more or less covers the subject,
okay?"

	"Well...  Okay!"  Rachel never seemed to let anything interfere with
her sunny disposition more than momentarily.  She kissed me on the cheek and
swayed off.

	Faye watched her leave and then gathered herself.  "Not to look a
gift horse in the mouth, but why Rachel?"

	"Aside from the fact that she's sunny and sweet and just about the
cutest thing I ever saw?" I replied, picking up my coffee cup and looking at
it for a moment, reflectively.  "Well there WAS this morning..."

	Faye shook her head.  "There were times when that looked like
Superman having sex with Wonder Woman!  I SAW you pick her up once!  She HAS
to weigh more than you do!"

	"Surely, you're mistaken," I mused.  I didn't remember any such
thing.

	<She is not.  Right after you rolled over, you shifted the concubine
Rachel to the center of the bed.  This is statistically significant in that
your augmentation is not fully implemented.> the AI insisted.

	Faye was right there with it, unbeknownst to her.  "You picked her up
after you rolled over and shifted her to the center of the bed.  I saw it!"

	"Rachel helped," I theorized.

	<There is no empirical evidence of said assistance,> the AI argued.

	"If she did, I didn't see it!" Faye retorted.

	"Well..."  I shrugged.

	"Look, you can't do that here," Faye reiterated.  "Roger has...
issues.  Quite aside from his protective instinct toward Rachel, he has
personal problems.  His, um, performance is not what it was.  A demonstration
such as the one I witnessed would, well, emasculate him -- and he's not the
type to handle that well."

	I settled back in my seat.  "I don't think he's the only one
suffering."

	Faye took it between the eyes, blinking in shock, then recovered
herself.  "Yes, well..."

	"I wouldn't want to break up your marriage or anything uninvited, but
Rachel has asked me to consider you for a slot in my harem.  Should I?"

	Faye, who had lifted her coffee cup to cover her surprise, put it
down.  "You're kidding me, right?  Just teasing?"

	I pursed my lips.  "Well, no.  Rachel seems to think that you might
benefit.  I'm asking if I should bother -- I don't want to offend or presume
to underestimate the value of your long-standing marital relationship.  There
are clearly risks as well as benefits..."

	Faye's blush ran from her hairline to the tops of her breasts -- at
least.  "I'm flattered, but -- how old are you, anyway?"

	"I'm twenty-two -- not that it is particularly relevant, when the
Confederacy can regress your age to younger than that," I noted.  "Your
experience would be valuable -- and it isn't as if you aren't presentable in
your current form..."

	"Oh, come now!"  Faye was pleased despite the protest.  "I really do
not know how to respond!"

	"In that case, I'll put you on the short list as an alternate," I
told her.  "We'll make the call when the time comes for us to depart, if I
haven't filled all of my slots.  All right?"

	"Yes.  That seems... sensible..."

	"I think I'll go check on Rachel and see if I can get some hot
water," I announced, standing up.  Faye nodded, distracted.  I admit to
enjoying myself -- Faye had a fine case of ambivalence going...

	I teased Rachel out of the shower and ducked in to get myself clean.
Rachel was just returning as I shut off the water and snatched up a towel to
present me with.  "You sure put Momma's head on backwards!" she giggled.
"What did you say to her?"

	"I asked her if I should consider her for a concubine slot," I
replied blandly.  "You asked me to, remember?"

	"Goody!  What did she say?"

	"She wouldn't commit herself, one way or the other.  I think that
makes sense, since saying yes is more than a little traitorous to your Dad."

	Rachel nodded, taking the towel and using it to dry my legs.  "Maybe.
Nick and I are both almost gone -- me, in particular, now.  Sometimes I think
we're all that is holding them together.  Once the nest is empty..."  She
shrugged, detailing my cock and balls.  I spread my stance so she could work
and she grinned up at me.  "Daddy is a terrible hypochondriac.  Even if he
DOES have a problem, he's likely to act as if it is life-threatening when it
isn't."

	"What if it is?" I asked.

	"Then he would REALLY be a baby!  Oh!"  Rachel's eyes popped and she
looked up at me.  "Come on, Sweetie!  Spill!"

	"Let's do it at breakfast."

	"Okay."  Rachel waved for me to turn around so she could wipe my
backside.  "What did you tell Momma?"

	"That I would consider her for a slot as an alternate, and that we
would get serious when it was time to leave, if I had slots left."

	"That's more than fair."  Rachel hugged me from behind.  "Thank you,
Sweetie!"

	"Well, thank you for pointing her out," I replied.  "She's done the
motherhood thing -- she could be a valuable asset."  I turned to her as she
put the towel over the shower bar; she was nodding.  "Let's go dress."

	I got into my street clothes and Rachel got into a halter and
miniskirt and wedgie sandals.  This made it clear that she was plump -- but I
liked the display and I didn't really give a shit what anyone else thought.
I called the police station and asked for Detective Donelly.

	"Donelly."

	"Scott Harshman.  We're running late this morning -- I was wondering
if there were any breakfast places we should frequent?"

	"Hmmmm.  Give me a minute."  He rustled some papers.  "Full-up or
fast food?"

	"Which is worse?"

	"Hard to tell."

	"Full-up then."  I wanted a real breakfast.

	"There is a diner over on East Twentieth that has been hit once.
Mel's."

	"Okay, we'll head there.  Should I bring you anything?"

	"Coffee.  The squad pot SUCKS!"

	"Thanks for the warning!" I grinned.

	"See you when you get here."  There was a pause, but he wasn't gone.
"So, did you keep her?"

	"If you got what I got this morning, you wouldn't ask," I replied.

	"Huh."

	"I know what you're thinking," I told him, "but you know, it isn't
always about the wrapping paper."  Rachel eyed me and I knew that she knew
that she was the subject of conversation.  I winked at her and she grinned.

	"It's none of my business," Donelly muttered.  "No offense."

	"None taken," I replied.  "See you in an hour or so -- with coffee."

	"If you can balance two cups..."

	"... I'll bring your partner some."  I chuckled and hung up.  "Remind
me to get coffee to go."

	"Sure."

	"Do you know where Mel's Diner is?"

	"Uh huh."

	"You're navigating, then.  Kiss Momma goodbye and we'll go get
breakfast."

	"Yes, Boss!"  She swayed off.  I linked up with her again at the
front door.  "Momma says you're a nasty man if you let me go out like this."

	"Wait'll the first time you go out nude!" I retorted.

	"I can't!  Want me to shuck now?  Hey, did they give you a leash?"
Rachel grinned from ear to ear.

	"We'll start slowly, and no, they didn't -- but I have an unlimited
expense account, so we'll find you something," I replied.

	"Goody!"  Rachel gave this wriggle...

	"I LOVE that!" I exclaimed.

	"I know what to do, then!"  She did it again.

	Laughing, I patted her rump and waved at the door and we got out of
there.

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

	Mel's Diner was clearly a place where you got large quantities of
decent food cheap -- you could see it in the clientele, which was generally
three groups:  Working men who were clearly regulars and just as clearly
bachelors, rather corpulent couples who were looking to get bang for their
buck, and old folks, some of whom were no doubt taking out the rest of the
day's meals as leftovers in doggie bags.  The first group had members who
glared at us a bit as we were interlopers and Rachel represented something
they couldn't have, the second welcomed us for Rachel's sake, although she
was nowhere near the average for the group, and the third generally ignored
us.  I found myself wondering why this location made the map for incidents,
then got to wondering how many of the working bachelors were missing wives?
If my spouse bailed at a pickup and left me to fend for myself -- whether she
had been supplying ALL of my needs or not, but particularly if she hadn't, I
would probably be pissed.  I mean, think about it -- during a pickup, the
same bitch who has you on a regimen of pussy once a month agrees, without
even blinking, to fuck some other guy any fucking time he wants it, forever
-- and then presumably delivers on that promise at least to the extent that
she gets snapped up...  What's right and fair about that?  I decided more or
less not to put on too much of a show in the place -- at least, not right
away.

	A waitress who wasn't really incredibly appetizing but made shift to
display large quantities of tit flesh took our order and lumbered off, and
Rachel asked me, "Sweetie, what ARE you looking for to fill up your slots?"

	I blinked and glanced around.  "That probably wasn't smart, Honey
Bun.  We could end up starting a party in here, and I'd decided to
concentrate on breakfast, this morning at least."

	Rachel's eyebrows rose.  "You think so?"

	I shrugged.  "It could happen.  This place was a target once."

	She glanced around.  "Who would...?"

	"Well, I was thinking that if a guy's wife bailed on him...  That guy
would have to eat, and he would search out a place like this.  Maybe he just
woke up extra cranky one morning and decided to take it out on somebody..."

	"Oh..."  Rachel's eyes swept the bar, where most of the 'working men'
were eating.

	"The first guy I ran into yesterday seemed to have that kind of a
case of the ass," I related.  "He was looking for somebody who was collecting
women that he felt shouldn't belong to him.  And he was REAL PISSED that his
wife and daughter had decided that fucking and sucking a stranger to get off
planet was a better deal than staying home with him."

	"You know, Sweetie, I really didn't care about the card..." Rachel
muttered.

	"That was always apparent, Honey Bun," I told her, tweaking her nose.
"I never doubted it for a second."

	"So now what?"

	"Well, it's out there, so we might as well have our conversation and
get in a little fishing," I told her.  "What were you going to ask?"

	"Well..."  She sat there, playing with her fingers.  "I kinda
wondered what else you had in mind, you know, for the others."

	"Well, Honey, I wasn't planning.  I kind of figured it would take
care of itself.  You're kind of unique, so I wasn't planning on trying to
duplicate you.  I guess I had the idea that variety is the spice of life
rolling around the back of my head..." I replied.

	"So, different, then?  Different is good..."  She stewed a moment,
then came out with, "So, if I knew a girl who was about as different from me
as you can get, but is my friend...?"

	"Well, I might be inclined to look, since she's your friend," I told
her, chuckling her chin, "No promises though.  Just how different is she?"

	"Well, pretty different," Rachel related diffidently.  "She's thinner
than me -- skinny, actually -- and has kind of frizzy reddish hair.  She's
got freckles and wears eyeglasses and she's got kind of rabbity teeth and her
upper lip kind of hangs over the lower one..."

	"That's pretty different," I mused.

	Rachel grimaced.  "I'm probably not helping her.  She's probably
twice as smart as I am..."

	I had to agree with Rachel -- she probably wasn't helping her friend.
The intelligence thing might be good, as long as she didn't feel the need to
prove it all the time...

	"So what's her name?"

	"Shannon."

	"Okay, I'll tell you what.  You can introduce me as your boyfriend
and let's not tell her about the other thing so she won't be disappointed if
there's no chemistry.  How's that?"

	"Okay."  Rachel nodded.  "When?"

	"Later today."  We might as well get it over with, I figured.

	"Okay, I'll call her after breakfast.  I usually do," Rachel
explained.  "Actually, I'm late..."

	I nodded, aware that girls talk apparently incessantly about who
knows what.  As bubbly as Rachel was, I would probably need someone to help
bleed off her enthusiasm or she would drive me nuts...

	The waitress showed up with the food and we dug in; chewing took
precedence over talk.  As we were settling back, Rachel's cell rang and she
took the call.

	"Hi, Shannon!  Oh, yeah, I know I'm late -- I was just gonna call.
Yeah, I got a late start this morning -- I was out pretty late last night.
Yeah, well, it started out that way, but -- tell you what -- hang on a sec
will you?"  Rachel carefully muted the phone.  "Can we do lunch?"

	"Yeah, sure," I replied, shrugging.  "A little later, maybe?  One or
so?"  It was already pushing ten...

	"Sure..."  Rachel unmuted the phone.  "Let's do lunch and I'll tell
you -- I'll SHOW you all about it, okay?  No, that's it -- I want it to be a
surprise!  Okay, Rudy's?  Say, a little after one?  See you there!"  She hung
up and looked at me.  "We probably want to go fishing at Rudy's, anyway," she
ventured.  "There's been trouble there."

	"Okay."  Rachel was a local -- she ought to know.  "Let's get the
coffee for the guys."

	Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into the police station,
Rachel balancing a cardboard tray with four coffees on her lap.  I gave the
desk sergeant my name and we got an escort back to the desks of our
detectives.

	"There he is!" the detective I'd met twice, now, officially, erupted
jovially.  "Deadeye Harshman, the crank collector!"

	I snorted.  "I see we're off to a rocky start!  Rachel, just wave a
cup under his nose but don't give him any until he makes nice!"

	"Be good, Red!" his partner erupted.  "I can tell from the SMELL of
that stuff that it's better than what we got!"

	The detective grinned and stuck out a paw.  "Donnelly.  Fred
Donnelly.  Everybody calls me Red."

	I took the hand.  "Pleased to meet you.  I figure that by now you've
stuck my name on enough forms that you know it."

	Red chuckled.  "You got THAT right!"  He jerked a thumb at his
partner.  "Mike Pierson."

	Pierson came forward and I shook his hand, too, then told Rachel.
"Give the man a coffee, Honey Bun."  She put the tray down and handed out
cups, smiling, while I introduced her.  "This is Rachel.  I don't think her
last name has changed since last night, but it might have.  If it hasn't, her
last name is Mercer."

	"I HOPE it has!" Rachel declared.

	I don't know anything about Confed customs," Red chuckled, "but you
belong to him, so I figure it probably has."

	"Goody!"  Rachel did that little wriggling dance she had done a
couple of times before and Red nearly snorted his coffee!

	"I begin to see the draw," Red chuckled.

	"There is a picture of Rachel under 'cute' in the dictionary," I
declared.  Mike grinned agreement.

	"Okay, so, what do you figure you need?" Red asked, shifting to
business.

	"A list of possible targets -- preferably ranked -- and backup," I
told him.  I put the case I'd been given on a relatively uncluttered part of
his desk and opened it.  "I'm armed, both conventionally and with this little
goodie..." I explained, retrieving a stinger.  "It looks sort of like brass
knuckles, but it's that nerve disrupter or whatever -- it's called a stinger
and it's like a Taser on steroids."

	Red nodded.  "We've got a list of places that have been hit and
places we THINK have at least had an aborted run.  Give me a few minutes to
pick at it."

	"Sure.  Got anyplace I can scatter parts of my Ruger while I clean
it?" I asked.

	"Over there," Red waved at another desk.  "Clear it for me,
please..."  I went through the procedure for him, which gained his approval
when he saw that I knew what I was doing.

	The rest of the morning was involved with planning activities in
general and our first outing in particular -- which would be Rudy's.  Rudy's
was on the short list, but about a third of the way down, and thus out of the
'urgent' category.  Red and I agreed, though, that it was a good choice for
testing our procedures.  It was imperative that we be properly recorded, in
case someone attempted to contend that an attack wasn't provoked or faked or
whatever, avoiding lawsuits and legal challenges.  At this point, with the
active cooperation of Homeland Security, we had full immunity and
considerable latitude, but we were preparing for the day when that might not
be the case.  Current challenges to the laws facilitating operations were
inexplicably having a hard time getting on the calendar of the courts,
largely because Confed investigative teams were helping prosecutors and
judges put criminals of all types in jail left and right on good, hard
evidence.  It probably didn't help that criminals and the types of people
most likely to be Earth First operatives or those headed the same direction
tended to have the same demographic -- especially if you analyzed CAP
scores...

	Also in my bag of tricks was a six-pack of miniature drones -- and a
couple of larger models.  The small ones -- no bigger than a fly -- were for
reconnaissance.  They could be posted all around the room we were operating
in -- or in the open for that matter -- to record the action from different
angles, controlled by an AI.  If I wanted something specific, I could ask the
AI or, in a pinch, control the drone myself, once I figured out the mental
interface.  The larger models -- neither one bigger than a conventional
rubberband-powered balsa-wood prop plane that you could buy for a couple of
bucks when I was a kid -- were capable of delivering small objects here and
there.  Their carrying capacity exceeded their size, too -- largely because
they were antigrav units, not anything aerodynamic.  They could deliver a
transport pad in a pinch -- and I had one of THOSE, too -- but that was about
it.  Of course, once you HAD a transport pad...

	We left for Rudy's at a quarter to one.  On the way over, I asked
Rachel, "How do you want to play it, Honey Bun?"

	"I'd LIKE to surprise her," Rachel replied diffidently.

	"Hmmm, that depends upon timing," I mused, "But I have an idea..."

	That put me hanging out in the back of the room watching via a drone
perched on the napkin dispenser at our table while Rachel sat waiting for
Shannon.

	Shannon was punctual -- and just about faithful to Rachel's
description.  She was thin, serious-looking, and harried, wearing a white
blouse, a sweater, a pleated tartan skirt that looked like part of a school
uniform, and black leggings, which made her narrow, somewhat bowed legs and
bony knees look like a couple of sticks with big knots in the center of the
front of them.  Above, well, she had to be small, but it was difficult to
tell because she was wearing a lot of clothing for the post-Swarm era.  This
was a girl who wasn't bothering to angle for a pickup...Her frizzy dark
auburn hair was tied up in twin ponytails over her ears -- what we used to
call 'doggie ears' where my family came from.  Settling into her chair, she
got right down to business...

	"So what happened last night that you were eating breakfast at ten in
the morning?" Shannon erupted, cutting to the chase.

	"Well, there was an Earth First attack on the restaurant where Daddy
took us to dinner," Rachel began.

	"You were in THAT?"  Shannon gasped.

	"Hip deep!" Rachel nodded.  "Then we had to go to the police station
to make statements, which led to a bunch of other things..."  Rachel paused
and looked sly, "It was two a.m. before I got home and to bed with my new
boyfriend!"

	That was my cue, undoubtedly.  I started moving while part of my
visual field displayed Shannon shaking her head sadly.  "Rache, how many
times have you tried to suck me in with that tired old joke?"

	That put me right at her left shoulder when I announced, "Sooner or
later, it had to be true, didn't it, Honey Bun?" and settled into a chair on
her left and Rachel's right.


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