Chapter 14 – Cat House

Vickie Arbuthnot woke to find herself in the middle of a tangle of feminine arms and legs, having slept in the brothel's massive second-floor bedroom, or playroom, or whatever you'd call it, along with an indecent number of unclad and currently unconscious 13-year-olds, all classmates of her promised future sponsor, Samantha Redburn. Quite a few of her fellow Filles du Roi were also snoozing next to the just-slightly-underage girls.

Over in a bed in the corner her two charges, Mickey and Allie, slept on. It had been late enough for Vickie, it had been incredibly late for the two girls. Now both girls lay unconscious on their stomachs, still wearing their loincloths, their cute little bare butts showing. She wondered if her late sister would have approved of letting Allie observe the carnal goings-on in what had started as a somewhat conventional party but evolved rather quickly into an enthusiastic orgy.

They'd been permitted to see their mother, or rather adoptive mother in Allie's case, have sex with first Carruthers and then a line of other men – and more than a few women, as well. The tall Amazonian Sergeant-Major had dragged her out on the dance floor a few times to dance... horizontally.

Vickie rose and stretched, her bladder advising her of the urgent requirement to use the lavatory before much delay. Something felt different about her this morning. Could it be all the men she'd slept with the night before? Could it be waking up in the strange surroundings? Could it be the fact she had slept naked? When was the last time she'd slept naked?

Oh, right, she'd never slept naked. Even on the Aurora, she'd kept a concubine shift on when she turned in for the night.

...She suddenly realized she was still naked...

Beside her, face buried in Cassie's crotch, Samantha stirred. She looked around and blinked, and realized that Vickie was now awake and almost functional. “Come, sister, time to make the doughnuts.” She staggered to her feet and started toward the showers on the other side of the wall lined with toilets.

“Um, you're going to shower here?”

“Kind of have to. I'd stink all the way from here to my home pod if I tried to wait.” She turned to the vet, and realized that the woman was still suffering from a severe case of inhibition. “Look, it's OK. This is considered 'normal' out here.” She pointed to a family on the slidewalk, a mother, father and eight-year-old daughter. The daughter was pointing to the shower, and the mother looked at the pair in the doorway. Samantha waved; the mother and daughter waved back. The mother was as nude as the two women.

“I need to use the loo,” Vickie announced, and settled herself on the nearest toilet. That's when she got her second surprise of the day.

She could have sworn the toilet she just sat on was white vitreous china. She looked at the line of toilets marching down the half-wall: White vitreous china, every one. She looked at the one she was perched on. Clear glass. She stood up. It instantly turned into white vitreous china. She moved to the second one in the line and settled on it. The toilet instantly turned into clear glass, while the one she'd sat on a second ago remained white vitreous china. Her bladder was by now far too full to make it to the lavatory in the B1 level, or even the one in the restaurant on the main floor, assuming it was even open. She began to void her bladder, and decided the smartest thing would be to get over it as quickly as possible. She bore down.

“I suppose there's a logical reason for this little parlour trick?” she asked Samantha, who was standing by now under a ceiling-mounted shower-head.

“What, the disappearing toilet? Of course. Any of my girls on this floor is here for pregnancy, not privacy. She's not trying to be decent, demure and innocent – she's trying to be a wanton slut.” The shower started pumping out shampoo, and as Samantha lathered her hair she advised the mother, “Get your kids up – they can help you with your work.”

“My work? Oh, right – the pet pods.” She had first wondered what carnal delights this strange place expected the children to participate in, but remembered just in time that she had another function besides reproduction.

The restaurant had been thoroughly cleaned up long before Samantha, Vickie, Michelle and Allison took the “elevator” down from the party room floor. The tables and chairs had been restored to their usual positions and the tablecloths repositioned, the streamers had been taken down and the chrome and lacquer work shined.

The two children were as nude as their mother was, as Samantha had not seen the purpose of getting them dressed just yet. Samantha walked over to the only occupied table in the place and greeted the couple and daughter who had spotted her and Vicki in the shower earlier.

As Samantha played the part of gracious host, Vickie steered her two charges to a vacant table. The concubine-waitress, wearing a light blue shift with the name “Gladys” in white script above a stylized martini glass sewn onto the pocket, walked over and proffered menus – on ceramic interfaces. The menu in Allison's hands changed to consist of pictures rather than words.

“Thank you, Gladys,” Vickie nodded, certain that Gladys wouldn't have a clue what her name was. Before she could introduce herself, though, the waitress responded.

“You're welcome, Vickie, and Mickey, and Allie. Do you need a minute? I know what Sam's having. Oh, and if you need any help or advice or anything, just ask me. I'll see what I can do.”

To Mickey and Allie's delight, both girls got a uniform, the same one their mother had: a white shift with a gold Rod of Asklepios, with a black “V” over top. Samantha bent down to Allie and asked, “Can you read that?” She pointed to gold script lettering above the symbol.

“'Allison'!” cried the delighted girl.

“And who is Allison?” teased Samantha.

“Me!”

“Oh, what a smart girl!” Samantha cried as she gave the youngster a tickle and a big hug.

Then, all three properly attired – Samantha in her Civil Service grey daily uniform – they repaired to the pet pods, to feed, water and change the animals.

“This is going to get real rough, real quick,” observed Samantha. It was just plain taking too long for them to get all the pets done. “How did you do this on board Aurora?”

“Lots of help. We could use about another half-dozen concubines.”

“Well, let's have a word with the Civil Service officer about rustling up some
'voluntolds'.”

“'Voluntolds'?” Vickie asked. She'd never heard the word before.

“Yep, 'I need three volunteers. You, you and you.' The military does it all the time.” She came to one cage. “Oh, you look just like Smokey.”

Vickie looked at the cage number, and turned to the girl. “Did you finish reading that letter from Tribune Whitefeather?”

“Finish?” The letter proved to still be in Samantha's uniform jacket pocket. She perused the additional paragraph that time constraints had prevented her from reading earlier.

“Cage W-149.” She looked at the cage number. W-149. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Smokey! When I saw you last, you weren't this big!”

Vickie watched the girl gently remove the contents of Cage W-149 and cuddle the bundle of grey fluff. It was indeed Smokey, the kitten that Samantha had thought lost forever to her on Earth the day she and her fellow hockey players were extracted.

Sometimes, Tribune William Whitefeather infuriated his fellow humans. Sometimes he amused them. And sometimes, not often enough for his own conscience but sometimes, he mended a broken heart.

Up in his quarters, Colonel Deschenes acknowledged the message from the planetary Command and Control Centre. He glared at the ceiling for a moment, and then reluctantly woke Penny. There was work ahead today, more than originally anticipated.

“AI, contact Lieutenant Carruthers, Lieutenant-Colonel Desrocher, Sergeant-Major Blondell and Optio Redburn. Meeting in my office in one hour.”

“Aye aye, Colonel Deschenes.”