First there is no sex in this story, and it is a first story so beware of armatures. It takes place in the Swarm Cycle universe.
The Swarm Cycle is a collection of stories written around a concept introduced by the Thinking Horndog about an alien invasion and Earth's reaction to it. The intent is for it to be a public, multi-author universe after the fashion of the popular Naked in School stories. The Sa'arm, an apparently insectiod race, is sweeping across this galactic arm toward the center. The communicate by some sort of ESP, and ignore any race that does not. In their path is the Confederacy, a Galactic civilization that universally practices nonviolence -- and Earth..
The swarm universe is not available on Literotica, but my stories aren't representative of it. One of the basic ideas is that people who score above a 6.5 on an objective "CAP" test, given by a computer AI, will be allowed to select concubines (slaves) to take off-Earth as a reward for fighting the swarm. The higher your score the more slaves you are entitled to take. A perfect score of ten gives you ten slaves.
The method of being enlisted in the alien army is done by a pick-up where an area is surrounded by a force field and those with a high enough score are allowed to choose their volunteers. Generally this is done by a "test-drive" of said volunteers. Once chosen a concubine has no rights and a dissatisfied owner can and frequently does space concubines.
I have written a counter story where a man with a very high score is using a different set of criteria to pick his concubines.
There are some terrific stories in this "universe" and obviously I enjoyed many.
Finally, as DG Hear says, thanks for taking the time to read my story and please let me know what you think of my it and my writing.
*
This was my tenth pickup, and frankly it didn't look too promising. They'd picked a popular watering hole that was featuring the first two drinks free for ladies. Granted there was a large selection of women to choose from, but I didn't think I'd find what I was looking for.
Let me explain a bit about myself. My name is Jim Fellows and I'm sixty-seven, although after the Confederation treatments you wouldn't know it. I look twenty-six and fit. I'd been married to the same wonderful woman, Pearl, for forty-five years when she died from an AAA (Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm) in a podunk town on our way to camp in the Grand Tetons.
It was a case of criminal negligence on the part of the ER doctor, one he and the hospital paid a large fortune to ameliorate. I asked him three times to check for AAA, since it had killed her mother, and the arrogant son of a bitch told me, in barely understandable English, that he was the doctor, not me, and he would treat my wife for what she had, not what I dreamed up.
I got the whole thing on my phone's recorder. I watched my wife suffer for almost eight hours before she finally died. At least he gave her morphine, which eased her pain.
But, I digress. It was shortly after she died that the Confederacy showed up and began passing out CAP scores. I took the test, but before I would agree to volunteer I forced the AI to allow me to attend as many pickups as needed to find concubines who would be compatible with me. I guess a lifetime of working with Artificial Intelligence paid off for me because it was in my contract.
So this was my tenth pickup on my third ship and I'd only found one concubine. Actually, she wasn't really what I was looking for, but was the granddaughter of a dear friend. A real jackass was getting ready to give her a test drive with no intention of taking her when I stepped in. Jessica found someone else on the ship she wanted and is now pregnant with her first child. Her sponsor is a good man, and they're safe on the planet we've been assigned to. Now, I was back on Earth trying to fill my quota.
I waited patiently in my new nano suit while the marines sorted out the volunteers from the crowd and then isolated those who didn't want to go from those who wanted to be concubines. I'd been arguing with the AI for weeks that my task would go faster if I were allowed to check the scores of the would-be concubines before the volunteers began taking their test-drives. But I'd been unable to get around the "all volunteers are to have an equal opportunity" subroutines.
Resigned, I began at the end of the line reading CAP sub-scores, and as I feared, women who were enticed by a couple of free drinks didn't have what I was looking for. The sixth woman I checked was about three-fifths compatible and I had started to question her when I realized something unusual was happening.
One of the would-be-concubines had just asked for the volunteer's CAP card! I stopped in mid-sentence and watched as the volunteer sneered back "I've got a 6.5 and that's all you need to know horse-face!"
In a pleasant voice she answered "I'm sorry, but I need at least a 9.6." She then politely added, "Good luck with your search." I was a little shocked by the clear lack of interest she'd shown, after all she was asking to be selected. I was also intrigued. To be fair, to call her horse faced was unkind ... to a horse! She was tall, probably over six feet, if she'd had proper posture. Given her shapeless outfit, it was hard to know what her figure looked like, but I could tell from her arms that she was skinny. The outfit surprised me too. Not only was she the only candidate who was fully dressed; she was the only one who wasn't wearing clothes designed to show off her assets. She had good skin, but it had that pasty look that said that she spent all her time under artificial light. It was hard to tell much about her hair, other than that she'd never bothered to have it styled.
The volunteer, who needed a second or two for her dismissal to sink in, turned an interesting shade of puce and showing amazing speed, ripped open her blouse putting two small and not particularly well shaped breasts on display.
I've often heard the expression "my jaw dropped," but I had never experienced it until what happened next. It wasn't that the woman attempted to slap the volunteer, but that she was allowed to connect! Not only did she leave a five-fingered-handprint, but the female marine standing next to the jerk stopped his retaliation!
The woman made no attempt to cover her breasts, but in a voice cold enough to freeze nitrogen said, "Never cast your pearls before swine! Now, leave before I'm forced to hurt you."
I know that they'd announced that "No meant no" when testing a would-be-concubine, but I'd never seen it actually enforced, or need to be. I handed back the CAP card to the woman I'd been talking to and walked over to the anachronism. She was young, I'd guess no more than twenty-two, and was totally unconcerned about what had happened
"You do know volunteers with a 9.6 are about as scarce as hen's teeth, don't you?" She gave me an indulgent smile, but made no effort to cover her breasts ... she might have been more attractive if she had.
"Actually, I won't settle for anything less than a 9.8 but I didn't want to embarrass him. I didn't have high hopes for this pickup, but it was convenient; so I thought I see how they're done first hand."
She said it with such quiet confidence that I ignored the implication that she'd been able to anticipate this pickup and asked, "Why do you think you need someone with that high a score? I mean, I can understand someone wanting to know more about her sponsor, but what could one volunteer do for you that another couldn't?
"Actually, that isn't my only requirement, but anyone with a score of 9.8 or above would certainly be offered a planetary governorship, and I want to be a governor's wife."
If she'd used any other tone, I would've immediately lost all interest. I hate social climbers and the only thing worse is someone who's power hungry too. I just didn't get that feeling from her.
