Chapter 38

Poor Ollie! He knew I was different when I walked through the door that morning! Uneasiness and guilt were written all over his face -- and guilt was similarly there in Britney's -- but I wasn't upset that they enjoyed one another while I was gone -- look how much I'd enjoyed myself! I had to wonder how jealous Ollie would be...

The revelation had come in the middle of the night, while the Major was draped atop me, snoring softly. He was a simple man, really -- hard, a forged weapon. You pointed him at things and he dealt with them, as directly as possible. He'd said something about how his current concubines were a distraction -- and I knew that he probably replaced his, regularly, from somewhere, when he became too irritated with them. He was totally matter-of-fact with me, from the moment he took charge of me that night -- and yet, he was my champion! I was there to do a job -- and he had every confidence in me. I wasn't 'that fat sow of a slut, Vera,' to the Major -- I was a woman he had already fucked once and pronounced satisfactory and that he would fuck again. Orally, his cock had been a challenge -- and I'd risen to it -- and he'd been forthrightly pleased with the result.

But a big part of it was his approach when he championed me to Tillotson. Whether I was fat or not wasn't at issue with him; it was his contention that Tillotson had an unhealthy fetish for the very thin. The Major contended that Tillotson didn't mess with real women -- he had a thing for artificially constructed creatures with very little meat draped over their skeleton and outsized balloons on their chests. The subtext of all this -- which only soaked in slowly -- was that porky Vera was a REAL woman... Tillotson would bitch about my looks, and the Major retorted that I was more eager to please than one of his skinny bitches and offered better performance... It was all there, in the automobile comment: "The difference, here, Tillotson, is sort of like the difference between a sports car and a luxury sedan. The first moves impressively, but the suspension is tight and jarring and it isn't too comfortable. The latter offers a comfortable ride and... options..."

Then I PROVED it by making Tillotson ADMIT that I was good -- and the Major started talking about Judith and Tillotson started LISTENING... And in the meantime, I did it all, rimming assholes, deep-throating cocks, taking it up the ass... and realizing I'd missed it... and when we took a break, the Major was pleasant and relaxed and offhandedly complimentary... Yeah, I was a slut -- but it was what I was there for, and I was doing a fine job; what else could I ask for? And when the Major teased Tillotson into pumping his cock into me, I made DAMNED sure we both enjoyed it -- and the Major helped, and got a kick out of doing it...

And when the Major wanted his, later, he didn't begrudge me mine and we had a wonderful time and I knew that I'd need to do it all again -- regularly. The Major was ALMOST right. I wasn't a luxury car -- I was a truck! Actually, I was an SUV -- I was the Cadillac Escalade, the Lincoln Navigator of sluts! My big fat jugs and my porky ass and my thick hips were there so I could take hard fucking from big, hard men and come back for more. I was tough to damage and capable of taking a beating, but luxurious -- all of my holes knew cock and how to make it comfortable. I could climb a curb without damaging my bodywork, or do rutted dirt roads -- just wash me off, afterwards. The only problem here -- the one Ollie was going to have to deal with -- was the word 'men' -- plural -- not 'man'... Slut Vera was there for men to play with -- and just one probably wouldn't be able to get her into four-wheel drive...

This is what I knew when I walked back in that door. Ollie had wanted me loosened up and put back on track -- and he had gotten his wish -- but things had gone farther than was going to be comfortable for either of us. Jack had said something Friday night to Judith -- "There will probably be a period of 'Oh, God! I'm a slut!' and things will get rough until you move on to 'Thank God I'm a slut!' which is where you need to be." For me, the 'Oh, God -- I'm a slut!' period had started in high school and gone on for almost twenty-five years while I repressed everything and was therefore unable to move on and learn to live with myself -- but overnight, I'd finally moved on to 'Thank God I'm a slut!'

The problem was Ollie. I owed Ollie more than I could ever repay from all that time when he was giving one hundred percent and I was giving back maybe thirty. So now I was probably going to have to make do with thirty percent of what I wanted -- because that would be what Ollie could give me, working at capacity. It was pretty ironic, when you think about it...

When I got back to our quarters, I went to Ollie and hugged him -- and he asked, very carefully, "How was your night?"

I said, "Fine, Master. I think I accomplished everything you wanted me to." I know that wasn't what he expected at all, but it was the truth...

Soon after, we were distracted by Jack's little video object lesson -- which was rough, to say the least! Then the AI had us head for the passenger mess that Oliver's colleagues attended for breakfast. We met Jack's concubines on the way, which was nice, as it kept us from being the only ones nude -- but I was already learning not to worry about it. We were nearly settled in with food when Ollie's boss Dave and his Brinkman people started wandering in. We ended up demonstrating how to get breakfast from the replicators -- something recently learned from Tara.

Dave and Ollie talked and Dave settled in with us. In a few minutes, Jack came through the door, followed by the Major and Decurion Tillotson -- and things got embarrassing. The Major was effusive with his praise -- and very descriptive; I was thoroughly unmasked! Any thought I might have had about hiding my capacity for large amounts of sex from Ollie was totally dashed! The Major went so far as to say, "It's so unusual to find a woman who actually enjoys sex in quantity, rather than just enduring it. I'm going to have to raise my standards!" I could do nothing but stand my ground and return Ollie's gaze...

After breakfast, Jack took his girls and advised Ollie to join the Brinkman Foundation group. I think Ollie was momentarily miffed -- but Jack had things to do and couldn't babysit us all the time. Besides, Ollie got a good bit of adulation for his part in the group's extraction, which didn't hurt his ego any.

We were split up, though, for the briefings; most of it I'd heard from Jack already, so there were few surprises -- but the other concubines in the group tended to be regularly shocked! I found that I was actually a help to some of them, just by being there; someone would make an exclamation like "Surely you're kidding!" and everyone would look at me -- and I would smile and shake my head... Britney helped with this, even though she hadn't seen it all; she was still properly undressed and able to sit and look serene and shake her head.

At one point, I got up and said, "Ladies, some of you at least have been doing this job -- poorly, maybe, like I was, but you've been doing it. You were married to your man and you love him and you played bedroom games with him and you had his children -- and you're raising them. That hasn't changed. You're not equal partners any more, though -- that HAS changed. But that isn't new -- we were just crawling out from under that rock, and in some places on Earth they STILL hadn't -- the old ways held that you never HAVE been equal! You can do this -- it's been done before. There will be other women -- and the best thing you can do about that is treat them as sisters and act as though your hubby has taken an additional wife. Everybody knows that raising kids takes your attention away from your man; he may need it but they need it more, and there are only so many hours in the day and you only have so much energy. Well, now you have HELP! Lean on each other! Share the load! Save that much more energy so you can give your man that attention he's going to demand from you -- and when you can't, smile when she steps forward and provides THAT for you! I know you've heard the ugly truth, here -- you've been demoted. But your man is no more used to the idea of being the evil slave master than you are to being a slave, and what he wants in his household is peace and harmony! What they are trying to emphasize here is that you have NO RIGHT to drive wedges between your man and the other women he selects based on your previous position -- but in many ways, the easiest way to handle this is to let them step up, rather than stepping down."

I knew I was on the right track when the AI delivering the lecture said, "This may provide an easier psychological adjustment."

There was a question and answer period with a concubine who had been in the job for a while -- and I don't know whether it helped or hurt things. I think she was settled in her role -- but many of those present seemed to think she was broken. The harsh realities were old hat to her; she confirmed many of the downside issues -- but her attitude said they were irrelevant, something I got, but I don't think a lot of the others did. You could be killed for a major infraction -- so you just avoided major infractions. It was a lot like going to jail in our old life -- how many people worry about that all the time? You avoid the problem in the first place by not doing things that will get you arrested, that's all... I could tell, though, that several didn't get it. At one point she got irritated with someone over rape... "Honey, there is no such thing -- well, only in a few special circumstances. If your sponsor is off somewhere and a male concubine or another sponsor who hasn't got his permission won't take no for an answer, that's rape, because they don't have the right. If your sponsor wants something and you don't feel like giving it up it's NOT rape, no matter WHAT he does, because in that case YOU don't have the right to say no! If he busts you in the mouth a couple of times to get you to hold still while he sticks his dick up your ass, it's YOUR fault, because YOU didn't have your head on straight! You don't GET headaches -- or if you do, you go to Medical and get something for them. Fucking your sponsor is your JOB! There would have been a lot fewer divorces on Earth if married women had managed to remember that rather than pretending the old man had to get permission every time he wanted a little!"

"B--but," the woman involved stammered, "What about abuse?"

"Honey, there is 'abuse' and 'abuse.' If your sponsor shows a pattern of beating the shit out of you for the fun of it, that's abuse -- and the AI's see all and you can file a complaint if you like -- and it will get seriously looked at. If the Civil Service pool is a better place for you, maybe they'll take you away from him. If he slaps the shit out of you because he tells you he wants something and you don't provide it, though, that's an attitude adjustment -- not abuse." She cocked her head and looked at the woman. "You'll straighten out real quick, I think -- your head's just full of mush. It won't take more than a couple upside the head for you to stop parroting stupid shit and get down to business."

I found myself amused.

Somebody else asked, "Can we come back to the part about permission?"

The concubine cocked her head and grinned. "You're property, Honey -- just like a lawnmower. If your sponsor wants to lend you to the neighbor -- or a Marine Recon unit returning from a deployment -- you grin and bear it, because they have permission to do whatever he agrees to. If that's just cleaning the neighbor's pod because his concubine is in the hospital, that's easy street -- but if fucking is on the authorized activities list, you'd better make happy noises! On the other hand, if the neighbor tries to borrow you without permission, you have the right to fight and argue and when Daddy gets home, he's gonna call the cops, because it's stealing. Male concubines in the household need permission to fuck you -- your sponsor may want him concentrating on something else -- but in a lot of cases, they have blanket permission, because who's gonna keep the cobwebs out if your sponsor is out on a six month cruise? Male concubines OUTSIDE the household had BETTER have permission -- because if they don't and you complain, it's likely they'll end up dead!"

Someone asked, "What if the guy is physically repulsive?"

The concubine scratched her head. "Huh! THAT's a new one! Let's take that a piece at a time. Sponsors get upgrades, just like you will. Old guys get some years peeled off and ugly guys get to make adjustments. They get muscles -- and bigger dicks, too, some of them. I can't see why you would present yourself to a sponsor who makes you sick to look at him, even if you could find one. If your sponsor wants to lend you out to the guy next door and he squicks you, then you need to ask yourself -- or him -- why he's doing it -- have you been fucking up? Does he just owe the guy? Or is he trying to break you of some bad habit? Maybe your problem is a race thing? In any case, the answer seems to be 'you grin and bear it'. You give him what he wants and try not to puke. If you DO puke, apologize..."

Ollie came and got us after a couple of hours and took us to Medical -- which was HUGE, but they were handling thousands... There was really nothing to do but hop in the tube...

When I came out, though, everyone else was out already, standing there. Ollie had this odd look on his face -- he either wasn't happy or he was trying to be happy and having a hard time of it. "What's wrong, Master?"

Ollie eyed the medic. "I assume that there is some kind of manumission..."

The medic looked back and nodded. "Yes, Doctor. Actually, she's been fitted with the standard implants. Once we discovered this..."

"Master?"

"You can revert to Oliver, Dear -- or whatever you like, it seems," Ollie said, somewhat sadly. "I'm not sure what this means yet, but the initial piece is clear -- you are no longer my concubine."

"WHAT?" The world rocked.

"I had you tested again while you were in the tube, at the request of the medic," Ollie said. "Your scans just didn't match the profile on your CAP card very well. It seems that the last few days have been, um, beneficially traumatic... Your CAP score has increased to six point six."

A voice inside my head declaimed, <Welcome to sponsorship, Vera Hopkins.> I recognized it as that of an AI!

"Can we break this down into digestible pieces?" I whined.

<Your development has been... arrested... for quite some time, Vera Hopkins. You are aware of this, just as you are aware that you have been moving forward over the past few days...> Oliver opened his mouth at the same time and I raised my hand to stop him -- but he stopped anyway; I guess the AI made him privy to the conversation. <Once you began to accept the reality of what you are and rose above the poor self-image issues, there was an epiphany -- and your CAP score reflects this change.>

"What does this mean?"

<Oliver Hopkins is no longer your sponsor -- and you are no longer bound to him in that manner. The contract between you is void.>

"But I love Ollie!"

<There is no reason that you cannot continue to cohabitate and share a family,> the AI declaimed. <You may even choose to think of yourselves as 'married,' although from a legal perspective that contract is also voided.>

The medic surfaced a coverall. "Here. You should put this on -- but you may want to take a look at things in the mirror first."

I stepped over to the full-length mirror on the wall. "Not much has changed..."

Ollie looked diffident. "Even though at the time I was authorized to make radical changes, I didn't feel it was right to do so. I asked for a few minor things, but I wanted the essential you to be there."

The medic called up a hologram. "This is what is in process. The nannites will take a few days for parts of it."

I still had a belly -- it just bulged a bit rather than being a saggy roll. I still had big jugs -- and while they had been brought up a bit, they hadn't shrunk and they looked more like what I had when I was twenty. My ass was headed back to its old shape, too. My face... I was younger... "You didn't do a lot at all. I'm still a porker."

Ollie shrugged. "I love you like that."

I burst into tears. Ollie came forward clumsily and wrapped his arms around me, mumbling, "I'm sorry..."

Realizing he had no idea what was going on, I forced out, "Oh, Ollie! You say the sweetest things!" Then I just blubbered on him for a while. After that, I re-examined the hologram. "It's probably better than I ever looked."

Jack said something the other day," Ollie muttered. "I was going for the 'essential Vera'."

"You got pretty close, I think," I muttered into his neck.

The AI did something like electronically clearing his throat. <Vera Hopkins, you have not actually volunteered for Confederacy service. We need to clarify this and discuss your job assignment.>

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

<Merely sub-vocalize,> the AI instructed, <and it will be detected. You are a specialist. We have problems with many concubines over attitude -- they are unable to assume the proper frame of mind. We believe that you would be of valuable assistance in the Civil Service as a teacher and brothel administrator.>

"A Madam?" I burst out.

<Affirmative. We believe that your capacity and attitude are an object lesson in and of themselves. Many concubines enter the Civil Service brothel with attitudes inculcated by their female parent and their environment that are contradictory to their role; they were told that sex is to be avoided, not enjoyed. Your physical structure is also something that will help others accept themselves, now that you have accepted it, yourself. The changes recently put in place leave you well within the definition of voluptuous. They are an example to males that the creation of a narrow caricature of a female is not always the optimal solution for a concubine destined for motherhood.>

"About my capacities..."

<As a sponsor, you will be allotted four concubines. Up to all four could be male. The situation regarding your relationship with Doctor Hopkins is negotiable between you. Doctor Hopkins has been retested and his score increased to seven point four; this would allocate him up to eight concubines under the offer the government of Nuevo Angelino has made for this group, based upon the various factors, such as the acceptance of a couple with children.>

'So you're saying that he'll get plenty of sex without me and I should suit myself,' I thought back.

<Essentially. It is clear that you feel that there is a debt to be discharged -- and there is justification for this; however, you will have some difficulty limiting yourself -- and it will not be in your job description to do so in any case. Oliver Hopkins will have sufficient... distractions that his ego will not be damaged, in the long run, particularly if you continue your romantic relationship. He is highly intelligent and will be able to see the issues. You may wish to look at having two solidly performing -- or perhaps augmented -- males, and a couple, the male of which you could deal with as you wish and the female available as assistance in child-rearing; as a sponsor, you still have that requirement, although there are limits placed upon it by your other duties.>

'If I want to have more children with Ollie...?'

<This is not an issue.>

'Okay, I'm in.'

<Acceptance recorded. You will report to Decurion Tillotson, for now. He has been notified and understands your value to him.>

'I'll need to go nude sometimes to do my job, won't I?'

<Yes.>

I eyed the hologram. Ollie had done a fine job. I didn't WANT to be a skinny bitch. I was Rubenesque, a Big Beautiful Woman -- which is what I WANTED to be. 'This works.' The hologram disappeared. "You did a good Job, Ollie."

"You've been... away..." Ollie murmured.

"Talking to the AI," I agreed.

"And?"

"I've accepted a position. We'll need to talk, Dear. I really want to combine households, but the results might be embarrassing for you," I said gently.

Ollie pursed his lips. "You're going to need to bring in help, I assume."

"Yes. From what I hear, though, you couldn't possibly handle me AND eight other women," I smiled.

"True." Ollie smiled ruefully. "I really would have had to make some arrangement in any case, wouldn't I?"

"Yes."

"You still want to...?"

"We have more than a master-concubine relationship, Ollie," I told him. "Much more. I owe you more than I can possibly repay; you may call on me as a love slave at any time. I'll be the wife to you that I SHOULD have been all these years -- and we can have more children. But there will be other things going on; we'll both have our work, and we'll both have other outlets."

Ollie nodded. "Yes, that's sensible. What will you be doing?"

"I have accepted a Civil Service position," I replied. "Maureen will be scandalized -- I will be a whorehouse madam." Judith gasped. "I'm told that many concubines end up in the Civil Service brothel in an effort to get them to at least tolerate sex; I'll be trying to teach them to let go and enjoy themselves." I undid my concubine collar and began donning the coverall. "This isn't particularly attractive."

"The grey uniform is nice, if a bit severe," Ollie pointed out, "but for now, we have some training and orientations ourselves, and apparently it is felt that this is simpler." I nodded.

"So Momma is..." Judith muttered.

"Again my companion and significant other," Ollie replied. "Britney..."

"I understand..." Britney dropped her eyes.

"I don't think you do," I interjected. "I need for you to take care of Ollie as best you can, because I won't be available all the time. I need for you to lead whatever other girls he takes in and be a big sister to them. I'll be around -- as 'Big Mama' or something -- but I have to leave the bulk of Ollie's daily maintenance to you!"

"Oh!" Britney exclaimed, "I thought I was gone!"

"Nothing could be further from the truth," Ollie assured her.

"Besides, I might want the occasional tongue ride!" I teased. Britney blushed.

"It seems like we ought to be celebrating, but we don't have the time," Ollie noted. "You girls need to get back to your concubinage classes and Vera needs to get caught up on sponsorship and we both need to move forward..."

<Indeed.> I think everyone got that, including Britney and Judith, through their collars.

"You two were already nude on arrival, so..." the medic said to Judith and Britney and waved us at the door. We dropped them in the concubine class and I sat in on the sponsor class, to the surprise of a large number of people. Ollie helped me explain things as best I could to the curious...

After Momma's amazing metamorphosis at Medical, Britney and I got to go back to the concubine briefings. There were women from the big group in the room this time; the room held maybe three hundred of us, each on our own little mat. The AI tended to make everything seem dreary and seemed to take delight in telling us that this or that type of misbehavior could end in a death sentence, but mixed in with the gore there were a few nuggets of wisdom and such. It also revealed some, well, not rules, per se, but traditions we might possibly run into, such as walking one step behind and one step to the right of our sponsor, or lining up in order of seniority, if our sponsor dictated such things, or a couple of 'service postures' like kneeling back on your heels with your knees spread and with your hands clasped behind your back. A lot of it was embarrassing and humiliating for most of us, but the AI insisted that we attempt the postures so we wouldn't look totally stupid if someone wanted one of them. They all had names -- the one I just mentioned was called Presentation Two. Presentation One was similar -- but you cupped you breasts, offering them -- very embarrassing. Presentation Three was worse -- you go forward onto your forearms and raise your butt -- facing away from your sponsor, naturally, and looking back at him over your shoulder. In Presentation Four, you at least got to put your knees together... I preferred kneeling at Attention, sitting back on my ankles with my hands on my thighs, naturally. There were other behaviors -- for instance, a concubine was never to speak unless spoken to before company -- urgent needs could be fulfilled by raising your hand like a first grader. In private, if you were talking and your sponsor tired of it, he would stick two fingers in your mouth -- and it was your job to make him wish it was his erection by sucking and licking them. Concubines never ate until their sponsor and the children are fed -- and not then, of course, if the sponsor directs otherwise. Where you eat is also at the option of the sponsor -- including from his hands or from a bowl on the floor. According to the AI, sponsors seldom had time for the dog dish kind of thing for a concubine who wasn't being punished, but it wasn't unusual for concubines to eat in the kitchen -- and eating from your sponsor's fingers was a clear reminder of who controls your world... It was highly recommended that in such circumstances you made sure your sponsor's fingers were squeaky clean after each bite...

A lot of the women were horrified and some, embarrassingly, couldn't get into some of the positions. There was one older woman named Harriet something who came in very late -- someone whispered that they'd done a LOT of work on her at Medical, but she still suffered a lot and couldn't rise from the positions without help. I'm, well, chunky, but I'm still young -- I did everything. So did Britney.

After all this, we had a question and answer period, with a mildly irritated concubine who had been around a while. I understood her position after a half a dozen questions -- it was like nobody believed a thing the AI was telling them, so they wanted to hear it all again! For instance, there was this really nice looking older dark Italian-looking woman who asked the concubine, "Look, I'm hearing these things about incest..."

The concubine cocked her head and put on this sardonic smile. "Is that your daughter next to you, Honey?"

"Yes..."

"Okay, then," the concubine continued, "Either your one-time husband wants to dip his wick in your daughter, or you have a teenage son. Which is it?"

"I... have a son..." the woman replied, looking away and turning pink.

"And he's got good taste and knows that he isn't likely to do better than Mama and Sis, then, huh?" the concubine cackled. "Look, I KNOW you've probably heard the long answer from the AI -- and like every OTHER idiot in this room, you're pretending you didn't, because it isn't what you want to hear -- so I'll give you the short answer: There ain't no such thing!" She settled back on the little stool she was sitting on up in front of the room and continued, "Where you come from, they had some rules about that and they seemed to make sense -- but you aren't there anymore and they no longer apply and nobody is gonna say anything about it other than calling him a lucky dog. So tonight, if you've got any sense, you'll go on back to the cabin where you live and you'll kneel up side by side in Presentation Three and look over your shoulder at him with those big brown eyes of yours and say, 'Come on, Big Boy!' -- and find out what HE got at Medical today -- and everyone will live happily ever after..."

There was a general titter -- but it didn't keep some idiot from asking why she wasn't Number One since she had been her sponsor's wife once...

After a while the concubine lost patience, and said, "Y'all are scary, you're so slow -- how many times do you need to hear something? I'm done here -- but I have some parting advice. Many of you are gonna have to make a little video personal ad tonight and put it up on the ship's network for people to look at. DON'T tell everybody what you WON'T do. As you talk, go through the positions, those you can manage -- at the very least, assume one while you give your spiel. The guys are getting this separately, but you should know that they're supposed to do their best to keep their dicks tucked out of sight in positions -- remind them, because if they're as slow as y'all are, they'll fuck it up. Good luck -- and remember, all you have to do to get an answer to a question is ask the AI -- but if you won't listen to it, you're screwed anyway! Good luck, girls!" She got up and left, and the AI released us. Momma and Daddy were home when we got there; we turned right around and went out to dinner at the Mess.