loco crazy
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In Loco ParentisChapter 11 free porn video
The scheduled extractions for the remainder of the Kon Tiki's human cargo were to begin arriving at thirteen hundred hours. Tiffany found herself working with Gia at the Med Bay. She had worried that she would find herself stacking clothes in bins.
"Tiffany," Gia hugged her hello. "You look so real." Breaking away, she spun Tiffany around. "God your tushy looks yummy." Gia slipped her hand under the front of Tiffany's miniskirt. "Are you permanently bare down here?" Gia massaged her mound.
"Nothing's grown back yet." She surprised herself by the quick retort.
Gia pulled her hand away. Winking, she kissed Tiffany on both her cheeks. "In about fifteen minutes, we will take on new volunteers and chattel."
Tiffany raised her eyebrow. Gia returned a smirk, pointing first at herself and back at Tiffany. Shrugging her shoulders, Tiffany realized the horny thoughts invading her mind showed her acceptance of the 'chattel' moniker.
"Sometimes parents take longer than the kids do," Gia began. Tiffany remembered emerging from her tube to see Salome holding her worried son, Ben. "I also could use help tossing clothes for those who have them in the bins for..." she quoted her fingers as she said, "cleaning."
"Cleaning?"
Gia smiled. "There was a group of Earthies that put something in the phosphorus supply of several companies who make laundry detergent. Once on people's clothes, it was supposed to cause the transporters to malfunction and explode." Tiffany nodded, wide-eyed. "It's harmless, but sometimes it can cause itching after prolonged exposure. We dump the clothes into a recycler and a replicator recreates them clean and folded and phosphorus-free."
"Like the sheets from the bed. We ripped one the first night. We thought we had just received a replacement set. It's a new one each day."
Gia nodded in affirmation. "On a ship, we do not have the facilities for a laundry. It is easier to replicate replacements."
Tiffany giggled, "We were convinced it centrally cleaned everything."
After the shared snicker, Tiffany helped Gia stack twelve bins near each set of eight med tubes. A Marine entered the Med Bay carrying an ebony-looking rocking chair. He looked cute and truly fuckable; six-seven at least, large strong hands, a baldhead, and green eyes covered with hawk shaped ginger eyebrows. He would be hard to kiss. Suddenly that thought seemed stupid. She might hobble the big boy, rip off his pants, and drain his balls, but a truly passionate kiss would only work with Ray-ray or Bill.
Placing the rocker near the wall, he turned to Gia and Tiffany. "I'm security here, ladies." He smiled. "Normal drill," he added. "Gia runs the bay unless ship's personnel arrive." He patted his stunner, and turned to Tiffany. "They get one warning from either of you." His voice dropped deeper. "Then they're mine."
The calmness of his statement reassured Tiffany. She exchanged a glance with her fellow concubine. Gia winked.
"Tiffany, this is Corporal Mendez." He extended his hand. "Corporal this is Tiffany..."
She smiled and replied. "Jenkins, Tiffany Jenkins." The AI had explained that taking Bill's name reduced confusion and provided additional security.
She took his hand. He kissed the back of her hand. Tiffany acted passively.
"Corporal, I don't think her sponsor shares."
A sad lost puppy look invaded the corporal's visage, "Perhaps later, Tiffany."
He let go. Tiffany retreated to a high school tactic. She looked him up and down bodily, and then pictured him in a pink peewee athletic cup. Her resulting snicker caused the poor Marine to wink hopefully.
"Tiffany," she was startled by the AI speaking to her.
"Yes," her response was a bit shaky. Could the AI read her mind about the tiny jock thought?
"Please place your hand on the back of your collar. You should feel a larger link."
Reaching up, Tiffany felt the area. It came off and stuck to her finger. Pulling her hand forward, she looked at the link.
"This is an ear piece for covert communication. Place the link into your external auditory meatus," Tiffany looked up, perplexed, "In your ear canal. Nanites will secure the link. It will not slip."
The weight and feel of the earpiece were nothing. Tiffany had no sensation of anything in her ear.
"Tiffany," this voice belonged to Corporal Mendez. "This is a comms check."
She turned to face the Marine as he spoke. He was across the room. It was disconcerting to hear his voice and his mouth never moved.
"I can hear you." She smiled.
This time he moved his mouth. "Good. You and Gia will be able to take direction." He paused, and then continued. "Our first group is arriving in five minutes."
Butterflies danced in Tiffany's stomach.
The diaper was full; Tiffany tossed the dirty one into the recycler for disposal. Cooing at the two-month-old was more of a pleasure than a duty. Slipping the fresh diaper on, Tiffany snapped the crotch of the onesie closed. He shook his little arms in glee. Tiffany picked the boy up. His mother was going to be in the tube another ten to fifteen minutes. In the diaper bag was a 150-ml bottle filled with formula. It looked like the 4-ounce one she used when her children had been younger. Hector attacked the nipple, drinking half of the contents. He stopped.
"Are you full?" Baby Hector blew a milky bubble. Tiffany smiled. Removing the bottle, Tiffany placed it on the ledge next to the clothing tub intake. Tiffany moved Hector Davila Sanchez onto the towel draping her shoulder to burp. Three taps and a bounce later, any air in the tummy had been evacuated. Tiffany tossed the baby cloth into the recycler. A new cloth appeared in the dispenser. Whatever intelligence out there that had created the replicators, Tiffany silently thanked.
Sitting in the rocker, she snuggled the baby close and gently began rocking. Humming My Favorite Things eased the baby to sleep. As she started the second chorus, Hector fell into a deep slumber.
Gia brought Hector's mother Leta to Tiffany. The mother noted the wristband on her son's arm. She smiled worriedly. Leta touched her throat. Tiffany noted the surprise in her eyes. She clutched the collar. Unlike hers, Leta had an Orange stripe.
Tiffany shifted Hector toward his mother.
"Gracias."
Tiffany smiled and handed her the diaper bag. A full bottle of formula sat in the dispenser. She slipped it into the bag.
Jason kept an eye on the big centurion. Something about the man set off his danger sense. He looked to be one of those nosey busybody types who think they know best. Best to play it cool. As soon as he pumped a bun into Anita, he'd be on easy street.
The boy listened to him. Jason had needed less than a week to teach little Howie to learn his place.
Jason even carried the boy through the transporter pad. Once through, he handed Howie to Anita. He took a quick feel to check that the Boys still swung free and remained attached. After adjusting his package, he turned back to see the blacksmith's wife, Martha, looking at him.
He smiled at her. She never looked away. It was as if his soul lay open for her inspection. Jason turned away first. It tore at his manhood; this wisp of a woman had stared him down. She needed a good slap to put her in her place. Of course, he did not know of the previous discussions about him.
No matter how much he wanted to slap her, Jason figured discretion to be his best option. The fact that Alan's forearms were bigger than his own calves helped sway his decision, for now he needed to wait. Martha's time was coming; a good yank on her hair. That was a way to start letting a bitch know who was boss.
He turned back and followed the group to a cafeteria. There he discovered that the food was free.
"It is imperative that you follow the guidelines on this ship." An Arab looking guy was pontificating at the far end of the hall. "You will be given a preliminary health screening."
That started a question and answer session that Jason tuned out. Several naked youths came wandering by. Watching the budding breasts and lightly dusted cooters held his interest. One thing he could see. It was certain the head and pussy did match. His cock liked the display.
Marisol
- 18.01.2023
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