Pussy Pirates
Chapter 1
Month 42—June in Los Angeles
I’D JUST TURNED EIGHTEEN. I’d delayed as long as possible—two years since the president announced mandatory CAP testing that measured the Capacity, Aptitude, and Potential of people to determine if they were eligible to volunteer in the Confederacy. A lot of the kids—especially here on the West Coast—didn’t take it seriously but there had been increasing warnings of severe penalties if a person was stopped and didn’t have a CAP card. I finally decided it had to be done today. Feds were out in force.
I went to the test center and was led to a room with a comfortable chair and a VR headset. I smiled. The test was some kind of cool virtual reality game. That’s my world. I just flowed with the pieces and got into the game. I tried to remember some of the techniques they used, so I could use them in the game my team was creating. The animations were top level and looked almost like my tests that put live humans into the staged backgrounds of my game. I didn’t expect to get into the game like this. It was cool.
Games are what it’s all about. My team and I had been building our game since I was twelve years old. Six years of development and we had things pretty locked into place for a V1 release. All except one thing: If we were going to make the breakthrough we wanted, then we needed porn stars and a producer who could follow my scripts. Now that I was eighteen, I could meet with my favorite producer/director, Dakota Wind. If I had a CAP card.
It was too bizarre. You could drop your drawers in a public restaurant when the Marines came and fuck your heart out at fourteen. You could get bulked up and sent out to kill aliens at fourteen. But California still had blue laws about porn. And the porn industry enforced them rigorously. You couldn’t legally get or participate in good porn in the state until you were eighteen. What a screwy world.
“We’ll have your CAP card in just a few minutes.” The pleasant and stunningly beautiful woman at the reception desk smiled at me, showing a lot of cleavage and a bare mid-section. I couldn’t see her legs but was sure they’d fill out the rest of the image in my mind.
I could just imagine her looking up into the camera—not at me, of course. I’d have Rock Jamison, the porn star, play opposite her. He’d smile at her and suggest maybe he could have a test drive. ‘Here?’ she’d ask. ‘Here and now,’ he’d say. The videos didn’t have much more dialog than that. She’d fall to her knees and start opening his pants to swallow that huge dick. The next shot would be of her bending over her desk with Rock behind her, slapping her pussy with his big schlong. That was a trademark of the actor. Before he did anything else with an actress, he whacked her pussy with his ten-inch cock a few times. Then he’d drive it home.
“Mr. Frisco?” I looked up, dragged out of my little fantasy. A guy in a gray suit—or was it a uniform?—was standing in the doorway. I hadn’t seen him come in.
“Yo.”
“I’m Decurion Oswald. Would you mind accompanying me to my office? I have your CAP results.” What the hell? I thought all I had to do was pick up my card at the desk and get the fuck out of Dodge. Trust the Confederacy to make things more complicated. I followed the guy past the room where I’d tested and into a small office.
“What’s going on? Don’t I just get my card and go home?”
“Usually, but your results are unique. Congratulations, Mr. Frisco. What branch of the Confederacy Defense Force would you like to join?” He pushed my card across the desk and I examined it. 9.2.
“I guess that’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
“That, young man, is your ticket out of here. 9.2 qualifies you for eight concubines. With the way you scored on tactics and aggression, you’d likely start your career as a Commander in the Marines. You’d be using your skills to design battle plans for destroying our enemies. And I can offer you immediate extraction. I noticed you observing Janice at the front desk. She’s one of my extras in the concubine pool. You could start your harem with her if you want. Test drive her right here in the office. Name the kind of concubines you want and we’ll try to work out a pickup. All you need to do is say, ‘I volunteer for service in the Confederacy.’ How about it, son?”
“No.”
“Do you mean you want some time? I can forgo the immediate extraction and let you gather a few women together. Call the number on this card when you’re ready, and if we deem the site secure, we’ll move in and pick you up. Will a week be enough time? We don’t do guaranteed pickups, but I think I can arrange to be where you are at that time.”
“No.”
“Teddy—I understand that is your preferred name—I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. You just got a golden ticket. What can we do to get you out of here?”
“Hmm. You could provide me with a state-of-the-art battleship I can crew and keep here in our solar system. By all accounts, we have five or six years before the dickheads get to Earth That should give me enough time to get my crew ready to defend Earth. We won’t be going to any unnamed planet in a different solar system.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Teddy. We don’t just let individuals decide how the war should be prosecuted. You work as part of a team and part of the process is getting people off Earth so that when it falls, we still have humans in the universe,” the Decurion said.
“Then you don’t need me. I won’t go.”
“What are you? Earth First? Your test doesn’t show that!”
“Decurion, if I were Earth First, one of two things would happen. One of the two of us would be dead in the next heartbeat or I’d take you up on your bribe to leave Earth. There’s no such thing as Earth First people. They are all ‘me first’ idiots. Given the opportunity to get off the planet, they’d take it in an instant. I’m not leaving our planet undefended to run off as a slave to the Darjee to fight their war. Tell whoever sent you here for me to go suck it.” I stood to leave. The Decurion stood as well.
“Things won’t go the way you plan,” he said, pointing to the CAP card in my hand. I watched as the number changed from 9.2 to 8.8.
“Cool,” I snorted. “Wonder if I can get it down to zero.” I turned and left the office.
The whole world was a freaking mess since those bird aliens showed up and announced there was a war with another race coming for Earth and our only chance of survival was to go into space and fight them before they got here. It was a compelling argument. The choice was leave as a volunteer to fight, leave as a slave for the volunteer to fuck, or get eaten. When put in those terms, who wouldn’t prefer to leave—even as a sex slave?
The broadcast of Average Joes had turned from a dating game to a raunchy orgy of lust as the winners chose their harems to go into space. If you wanted to go, you either scored 6.5 or better on the CAP test, or you got someone with a qualifying score to take you as his slave. The higher the score, the more slaves you could take. I’ve got a pretty good libido, but how the hell does a guy service that many women on a continuing basis and still have energy left to fight?
Well, there were other choices. I didn’t see Earth getting ready to fight. At least, not to fight aliens. There was plenty of fighting among ourselves and some of it was getting pretty violent. As far as I could tell, it would ultimately be a one-man stand against overwhelming forces. I didn’t kid myself that I was physically a match for the dickheads—so named because of their shape. I wondered if anyone was producing dickhead dildos yet. I needed to get Duck, my toy designer, on that.
No, maybe I wasn’t going to be the last man standing, but I figured I could get a whole bunch of people ready to fight. That’s how the game was developing. Just getting people used to pointing at a dickhead and pulling the trigger.
But first, I needed an ally in the porn industry. And I knew who I wanted.
“Uh, Mr. Frisco… Great name for a porn star, by the way—Teddy Frisco… I just don’t think you’re what we need at our studio.” Dakota Wind looked at the… fat kid… who came into her office. She must have been prepared for an audition, though she mostly only used women. I knew she wasn’t into jellyroll porn. I doubted she could even get one of her porn stars to fuck me. There’s a limit to what money can buy.
“Sorry, Miss Wind. There’s been some misinformation. I’m not here to audition. I’d like to commission some scenes for a new video game.”
“We here at Windward Studios are a creative company producing the top level of artistic adult entertainment. We don’t do commercial work.”
“Damn. Now I know how Decurion Oswald felt when I turned him down.”
“Does that mean you turned down an opportunity to leave Earth?”
“Yeah. I’ve got too much to do on Earth to play Cowboys and Indians a few hundred light years from here. May I at least present my proposal? Perhaps you could advise me on where to look for the right match. I was really hoping we could work together because I’ve always been an admirer of your work.” I kept it simple. I wasn’t above using my innocence as a lever. God knows, I’d had it long enough.
“Always? How old are you Mr. Frisco?”
“Please call me Teddy. I’m eighteen. And one day. But face it, if you know your way around a computer like I do, you can have access to anything. I’ve been watching your movies since I was twelve.”
“Thanks. Now I really feel ancient.” She looked at her schedule. If she’d anticipated a normal screen test and fuck, her calendar had to have at least an hour blocked out. “Give me the elevator pitch and I’ll decide if I want to hear more.”
“Pussy Pirates is a first-person shooter game in which players team up with a virtual world porn star to do battle against the dickheads. The successful completion of a level results in a virtual sex act in which the player and the porn star get it on. Instead of animation, like most games use, we shoot actual interactive video with real models. The market for the game will be awesome because the rewards have never been so good.”
I shut up. She asked for the elevator pitch, not the whole game plan. Dakota held up a finger asking me to wait a second while she considered. She had to know receiving a royalty off every sale could be more profitable than trying to sell individual clips. I could see her thinking about grabbing the idea and getting a real game producer to back her. This was Hollywood, after all.
“How much of this game design do you have completed? Can I see it?”
I grinned. “V1 is ready to go to market with animation instead of live action. We’ve been working on the concept for five years. Yes, that’s back before we knew anything about the coming invasion. We started thinking it would be just a sci fi knock-off. Having real aliens and real porn stars changed our direction two years ago.”
“Let me see what you’ve got. You know porn isn’t cheap to produce. Does your company—I assume this is a company and not some adolescents playing in your basement—have funding to produce this kind of show?”
“We have some funding. How much long-term residuals you get from the product will depend on the split of production costs. If I fund everything, it’s just work for hire. I won’t pay royalties on the product. If you fund it, you’ll get a substantial share of the revenue stream. I figure we can make a deal somewhere between the two extremes. Let me show you what we’ve got.”
Two hours later, Dakota was hooked on the game. And I had some new thoughts about watching her productions.
Month 43—July in Sacramento
“THE LEGISLATION I have before me, awaiting my signature, is the result of hundreds of hours of discussion, compromise, and, if I may say so, earnest prayer. We recognize the real threat of annihilation from an enemy beyond our ability to comprehend. We recognize the desire for citizens to flee and the fears of those left behind are real and overwhelming factors. The State Assembly and the State Senate voted on this legislation last night and presented me with this veto-proof bill. I have spent the night determining whether I would sign this document or whether it would come into force by the mandate of the legislature without my signature.” Governor Pierce looked around the room filled with congressmen and senators and television cameras. He carefully pulled a pen from his pocket.
“This act makes California unique among the fifty states. Other states are under the threat of interdiction by the Confederacy because of violence against testing centers and pickup sites. It appears that Texas has already fallen behind in pickups compared to states of comparable population because of violent attacks against their testing centers. We don’t want that violence here. So far, California has remained peaceful. We have stepped in to assist bereaved families dealing with the loss of loved ones fleeing to the stars. We have increased security around testing centers and have responded rapidly to pickup sites to disperse desperate crowds of the disappointed with minimal loss of life and property. But we can only bear witness to what is happening in the rest of our fair country to know that we must act on a local level.” The Governor bent over the paper with his pen and scrawled his name across the page.
“The Assembly and Senate have determined this act to be an urgent measure necessary for the immediate preservation of the public peace, health, and safety. Therefore, with my signature, this act becomes law effective at midnight tonight. The California Republic is now formally and in reality, a Confederacy-free zone. We have asked the Confederacy to remove all CAP testing stations from within the California borders and to refrain from any pickups within our sovereign territory. I have discussed the measure with the Confederacy liaison and he has assured me that they will comply with local governance. As of this moment, all CAP testing in the State of California is closed and there will be no more pickups in this State.”
There was a loud round of applause and the Governor stepped down to shake hands with the leaders of the Assembly and the Senate.
Month 43—July in Los Angeles
I WATCHED THE NEWS feed on my computer in the basement of Aunt Di’s home. I’d lived here for four years, ever since my parents were killed in a stupid traffic accident. There wasn’t even a drunk driver involved. It was just bad luck and worse timing. On the other hand, they were the lucky ones. They died without knowing about the alien invaders and the imminent destruction of planet Earth. Lucky them.
I suppose having single-minded focus on my computer and the virtual worlds we could create warped my perception of reality. Like the CAP test, I figured the whole thing was just an elaborate game and we’d wake up from it eventually. That’s what was on my mind when I tested. Just play the game. And I won. I just wished I could remember more details about the game, but I remembered concepts. Bravery and aggression, loyalty, intelligence, sex drive, empathy. Those were the big things. And they were all things we could write into our game.
On another channel, they were broadcasting a massive pickup that involved a bunch of Hollywood superstars who were basically thumbing their nose at the California government. They were going to show the whole pickup and try to make people believe they could have had a famous actor or actress as a master or concubine if they hadn’t been so foolish. Fuck ’em. [See Catch a Rising Star and Shooting Star by akarge]
“Thirty days. Fuck ’em. Thirty days sooner and I wouldn’t have taken their damned test at all.” I pulled out my CAP card. That Decurion had contacted me twice since I tested. It was as if he knew they wouldn’t be allowed back in California again. His last offer was clever. He said they could use my talent to defend Earth and make me part of the executive leadership on the moon. It took about two minutes to figure out they were offering to give me a position to strategize how to get more people to leave Earth. That guy in the head office had some kind of god complex, and he was trying to collect all the high CAP people he could get to back him up. Fuck ’em.
“Look, Decurion. Hounding me like this just making me firmer in my commitment to stay on Earth. Just give it up already.”
“I think you’re going to change your mind, Teddy. But I can see I’m not going to change it for you. I tell you what. You have my card with the number you can call if you change your mind. I won’t call you until your next birthday. You’ll see by then how the world is turning out.”
“Fair enough. If that’s the best I can get. I’ll see you next year.” Maybe I hustled him out of the house a little fast. I was sure he’d planted bugs while he was there.
I looked at the CAP card in my hand with disgust and tossed it into a corner of the basement. The paper shredder automatically started grinding away.
“And he scores! The fans go wild!” I yelled as the shredder ground my CAP card to bits.
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