The Bunker Ch. 07 - The Cullings Pt. 01

All persons engaged in sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older.

Welcome back, and thank you all for continuing to read The Bunker.

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Characters

Kevin Ansen -- a community college physics professor selected by lottery to enter one of four government bunkers to ride out the impact of The Rock, and the conditions that follow.

Jennifer Rodriguez -- a former student of Kevin's; intended to major in Family Therapy, applies those interests to helping her new family, the first of Kevin's ladies to get pregnant

Sarah Moran -- a fellow faculty member and friend of Kevin's for several years. Sarah and Kevin were both interested and failed to recognize the signs in each other.

Constance Worthington -- a student at Simpson college, but never in Kevin's classes, learning canning and pickling techniques from a Mennonite friend and her mother.

Jessica Peters -- widowed mother of three that agreed to serve as Kevin's slave to save her children.

Belinda Ansen -- 16 year old daughter of Kevin Ansen

Leslie Roark -- just barely eighteen, a friend of Belinda and her mentor in band.

Melissa Ballas -- a former student of Kevin's from a prior semester, Kevin was surprised to learn she'd been flirting with him most of the semester.

Gabriela Fernandez -- the realty agent that helped the Ansens select a new home for the growing family, denied her commission by the seller and her boss.

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Ch 7 -- The Cullings, part 1

I sat on a deck chair staring at the soft grey line separating black from black. I mused about looking through the world's eye as the lid fluttered upward, but not open. The world was disturbed and did not want to wake. I'd been out here long enough to stop feeling the creases in my skin from the edges of the wooden slats in the chair.

Rightfully, I should have slept in. Constance, Melissa, and Leslie decided last night I needed a neapolitan foursome -- one brunette, one blonde, and one redhead. Not sure if it was just a checklist item, or they saw the concern on my face. I tried to hide it as best I could. Maybe this was one of the times I succeeded.

They pulled me from my computer, kissing and groping, giggling and whispering soft promises of naughty deeds. They didn't get frisky with each other. Four naked bodies on two twin beds in one room certainly bumped into each other, but they didn't sexually engage with each other. Much. Connie blew me right after I pulled out of Melissa. She shared that load with Leslie when I popped. Melissa declined the offer. Leslie looked uncertain, but went along with it. We'd carried on for an hour and a half before I ran out of steam. The girls admitted to sore jaws and pussies. Melissa and Leslie crawled to their beds without bothering to change the sheets. Connie walked a bit stiffly to the room she shared with Jenn.

I walked to the master bedroom and straight to a shower. After drying off, I slipped into the bed carefully and snuggled up to Sarah. My lovely Sarah. As I settled in beside her, she muttered something unintelligible and nestled into me. She smiled and let out a soft sigh. Her hair smelled of her strawberry shampoo. Fitting for her coppery hair, like my very own Strawberry Shortcake doll all the girls had to have back in the 80's. Her body fit against me perfectly. I really should have expressed my interest in her years ago.

I don't know how long I slept beside Sarah before an unrelenting wakefulness took me, but I've been out here ever since. Those bastards and their games. Now, seven women who'd joined their fates to mine plus my daughter, plus Jessica's three little ones depended on my ability to win a four man melee. Yeah, I'd been in the army, but never in combat. Hell, FO's are supposed to un-ass the OP if the enemy gets close. As in, less than half a mile. I was decent with a rifle, but this was unarmed combat. The only training I'd had in hand-to-hand combat was a half day in basic and a year I'd spent learning Tai-Chi -- which isn't a combat art, but some of its forms are used in teaching martial arts.

Which is why I'm here, greeting the dawn. It's also why my hands are lightly gripping the arms of the deck chair. When I merely rested my hands there, they shook too much for me to gather my thoughts.

The dividing line was larger now, brighter, with a ruddy tint. Enough of this mental run around.

I got up and headed to the gym. Lots of upper body work to do. A little core wouldn't hurt. Time to extend my threshold of pain.

Two hours later, I was exhausted and dripping sweat when Jenn found me. Her face went from happy greeting to raging concern. I had to talk to all of them soon.

******

Jessica shooed the kids into the playroom and assured me they'd be fine alone for an hour or so. That way we could all discuss the issue as a group. Bel deserved to be included with the adults on this. I read off the information from the website about the two cycles of 'Cullings' as they were now calling it.

"So they just accidentally allowed too many men to get partnered up? How the hell does that happen?" Melissa demanded. "They know how much space they built. They should only have selected as many men as could fit there."

"According to the statement, they over selected on purpose, expecting some would not meet the general or personal requirements."

"Well it couldn't be a surprise on the part of getting women to join him." Sarah pointed out. "With all the various personal tastes, plus the threat of death, any guy with a lifeline can get as many women as he wants."

"Thanks dear."

She swatted my arm. "You know damn well what I meant. Even an abusive bastard could still find at least three, and likely six women that would put up with him, or even think it normal. And the other requirements didn't seem all that tough. How could they not think every man they selected would easily do all those things in a month?"

"Less than a month even." Jenn added.

Connie's eyes widened. "Thank God you were never on the pill and at the just right part of your cycle girl. You saved all of our asses."

"And willing," Sarah added. "That's a big ask and you took it on without hesitation."

"Ask, hell," I interjected, "she volunteered."

Jenn blushed and accepted the thanks of every member of the family. Most spoke their concurrence with Constance's comment. I looked her in the eyes and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. By the look she returned, she understood.

"Look, I don't have to win, just not get eliminated. Unfortunately, they haven't specified how many will be cut, so I don't know if I need to wind up in the top 20% or top 80%. Hell, I can drive fine, I'm good with speed."

Sarah interrupted with a snort.

"Quiet you." I said, with a side eyed look.

Bel started laughing. "Understatement of the year, Dad."

I squinted at her, but that just set off more laughter among the others. Maybe the smile underneath the squint rallied them to Bel's side.

"As I was saying, the race does not worry me, so long as I can get a decent starting position. But that is determined by the results of the melee." I sighed. "I have no skill at unarmed combat. Hell, I stayed out of fist fights growing up. I don't even know how to throw a decent punch. I might do better at grappling, but I do that more instinctive than trained."

"I seem to remember an incident with a young lady being dragged to her car at knife point by an angry boyfriend that got broken up by a fast acting, and fast moving, professor." Sarah voiced.

"Oh yeah?" Connie prompted.

"I hear this girl's scream followed by crying, look over to see this terrified young woman, knife at her throat, being pulled towards a pickup. Then from my left I see 300 pounds of pissed off physics professor blitzing in way faster than that much mass has any right to move. And he must have been moving quietly too, because thug boy has no idea what's coming at him until Kevin is about five steps away and lets out this bull roar of utter outrage like God's own paladin bringing the Holy Smackdown."

"Wait, 300lbs? No way you're that big." Jen objected.

"It was a few years back, I had barely begun getting my act together physically."

"Then how did you move so fast?" Leslie asked.

"Army brain took over -- do what has to be done, to hell with the pain, weakness, or need for oxygen."

"Hmmm. Seems to be a lesson there applicable to now." Sarah observed wryly. "Anyway, he separates girl from guy with no injury to her, jerk off winds up face down, broken arm, knife skittering away, Kevin's knee in his back. He's pinned to the ground like an insect on one of those biology trays. Campus police show up two minutes later to mop up and take statements."

"Our hero" Leslie, Melissa, and Connie giggled and fluttered their eyelashes.

"Oh yeah, and the girl later showed up at least twice to give him the goods. One time she showed up to blow him as I was leaving. How you handled that went a long way to making me want you. First the take down itself, then the ethical denial of her offering, and on top of that, the gentle way you handle the refusal. I seriously frigged myself for a month thinking of nothing but you."

Utter silence.

Sarah suddenly went beet red, realizing what she said. All the girls burst out laughing. Sarah covered her face with her hands, and Connie and Leslie moved to hug her. One by one, each of the ladies commented their agreement they would have done the same.

"God, I thought that was just a campus myth," added Jen. Connie and Melissa nodded. "and I didn't know it was you either."

"Nope, saw it with my own two eyes. If I hadn't I would be right there with you."

"Okay, so you need to switch your workout focus from weight loss and health maintenance to combat readiness." Jenn stated. "And you probably need someone to push you."

"Got a drill sergeant in your back pocket?"

"Nope. But my coaches took that approach during training. I think one actually was. I considered a career in sports coaching and training, so I'm the best suited for it."

"Do you know any unarmed combat techniques?" I asked warily.

Jenn started laughing and blushing.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" I asked.

"I was just remembering my uncle's joke. If someone asked him that same question he'd say he knows Mexican judo -- ju don't know I have a knife, ju don't know I have a gun ..." she trailed off in giggles. A few smiles and silent laughter joined in.

"Uh-huh, so about me not having a knife or a gun ..."

"For that, we can get you set up with the local dojo, and maybe the high school wrestling coach," Jenn replied. "I'm just talking about managing your training schedule and your home workouts."

Connie started giggling. "I'm just imagining you standing over him while he's lifting weights yelling 'push' and then nine months from now him yelling 'push' at you!"

******

On the plus side, the government was pledging to maintain logistical support for all of us, regardless of how we came through the Cullings. Gabby sat down with Leslie, Sarah, Connie and I to layout the information she'd gotten from her younger brother's friends, and her daughter's group.

"The file I shared earlier lists all the hand tools Rueben and Marco requested. The second file, labeled 'power tools' lists the items that require electricity, in priority order, in the event you can come up with a long term electrical supply."

"Yeah. Panels are ok for DC, if you can get enough and maintain them. We'll make sure we get good ones that can take hail strikes and keep working. But storage batteries wear out sooner than the panels. I don't think a solar only system will still be functioning in twenty years. I'll see what else we can get."

"On top of that," I continued, "Those power tools need AC -- like some of the appliances, and some of those tools may need high-voltage AC, depending on what they asked for. All that means a different power source, or an inverter, which will eat up some power just to switch the DC to AC. God help us if they asked for anything requiring three-phase power."

"You can say no to specific items that are too much trouble," Gabriela assured me. "You are doing more than I'd hoped already. This list is because you asked. Think of it like a poor kid's Christmas list. They'd love to have everything, but they'll be happy with anything. Once we've determined what we can do, I'll pass that along to Manuelo to let the guys know."

"Okay, we'll work through the power tool list once we have a good handle on the power situation." I said. "Let's also talk about housing issues if we don't make it through the Culling." All four ladies shifted in their seats. "I'm not going back on my promise of refuge for your brother, your daughter, or their friends." Gabby leaned forward to speak, but I continued. "If I get cut, we'll build additional housing. There's plenty of land here to raise food to live on and trade and still build a few structures. If the bean counters complain, I'll just say it's dorm space for farmhands and troops. I can train them in basic fighting skills and request better weapons than what anyone else around will have. Not trying to brag, but if we stay, I can turn this space and this group into a fighting and economic force that commands attention, and hopefully, cooperation." I could see the load lift off Gabriela's mind. Her relief registered clearly as the 'business mode' face melted into a smile.

******

Leslie, Melissa, and Jenn assembled their take on party snacks for this weekend's DnD session. This included tamale bites using the pork Jenn had cooked up yesterday. Ok, tamales cut into inch long pieces, but they were still great. And her homemade queso and salsa made a great dip for them, though the salsa was meant for the corn chips they'd picked up. We only played four hours before putting the rascals to bed and putting on a nineties movie. I got a little razzing about having "You've Got Mail" in my movie collection, but who can talk smack about Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?

The only downside to the second half of the day was picking from the buffet carefully. Every time I got up, Jenn was watching me. Just when I thought I could relax on diet. Sarah grinned wryly when she caught on.

******

The same crew as last Sunday went to church. When we got back, Sarah greeted us at the front porch.

"You've got to see this," she stated. "Somebody got caught on a hot mike on one of the Sunday morning news shows."

She brought up a segment she'd recorded on DVR, one news show commenting on another, all breathless and hyped up. In the clip, some New York blue blood, fifth generation trust fund baby was interviewed about the ethics and morality of the caste system established by the bunker authorities. Since he was in the top tier, it was no surprise he'd argued in favor of it, as if it made perfect sense. Hell, reading between the lines he basically said it's the way the world should be and the low class folks should shut up and be glad they're even allowed in the bunkers.

He also commented his one quibble -- that his wife ranked below 'lower class men'. The fun part came later, a moment caught during commercial break, but the mikes were still recording.

"Granted, this new system certainly puts her in her place subservient to me, but I'll have no poor trash acting like he's equal to or better than her." There was, as yet, was no reaction from the man's wife, but it had only been aired a few hours ago. Maybe she was too busy burying the body to comment.

That wasn't even the most inflammatory part. A later segment of the panel discussion touched on rumors of planned sex parties of men swapping partners or at least passing around their sex slaves. He flatly denied any such events occurring or planned or even mentioned in passing. During the next commercial break he went off about that saying "no low brow will ever take liberties with my wife, nor even my slave women." He added "...of course, I'll dally with their sluts whenever I damn well please, party or no."

The reaction story ended with the shocking reveal that the man could not be reached for comment.

"That puffed shirt twit shows up in the same hallway as any of you, let me know. If he thinks he's dipping his quill in my inkpots he's out of his privileged little mind." I paused. "I should probably re-phrase that in a less possessive manner, but I frankly don't know how without watering it down."

Sarah took my head in her hands and kissed me. Pulling back, she spoke, "Baby, you demonstrate your concern for us as people and equals, clearly, every day. We all know where we stand with you. Besides," she added with a wicked grin, "sometimes it feels good for you to be possessive." She walked away swishing her ass.

******

Jen got hot on her new duties as my trainer. First she submitted a list of additional equipment for the home gym Sunday afternoon. And then she put me through a workout regimen that left my arms so tired I had to concentrate to lift a glass of water without spilling for several hours after. Monday morning, as soon as shops opened, she called both dojos in town, one teaching karate and aikido, the other offering instruction in krav maga and muay thai. We decided aikido would match well with my preference for grappling over strikes, and muay thai would be the best defense plus offense regime. Both instructors were made aware of the time constraints and agreed to alter their training plan accordingly. Though certain skills had to remain in their usual sequence.

Late mornings, each day were now set aside for muay thai training. Monday and Wednesday early afternoons for aikido, and Tuesday and Thursday early afternoon for wrestling training with the high school coach. My morning runs got cut back to three times a week to make more time for strength and agility training.

With Jenn now confirmed pregnant, and Jessica possibly pregnant, to be checked in a few days, sex settled into a reduced pace of 'when she's up for it' times six. Sarah stuck to bedtime sex, about twice a week. It was easy, comfortable, and reassuring for the both of us. Well, usually. Sunday night after the 'want to be possessed' comment, I came on strong, controlling her, manhandling her body and pulling her hair. Given the three orgasms she had and the slow, passionate kissing after she caught her breath -- not to mention the huge grin on her face -- I think she enjoyed it. My arms had barely recovered from the earlier workout to pull that off. It hurt, but it was clearly worth it.

******

We stayed in groups to go out now. Protests were forming all over the country. Not so much in our little college town, but we were getting some cross looks. Women would look my ladies up and down, as if measuring them, as if suggesting, why my girls and not them. Well, some looked with disgust, prejudging my women as sluts willing to fuck to get in the bunker. That pissed me off. The best way to deal with that was to walk past them. Sarah would walk past them with her head held high, and a satisfied look on her face. Jen and Jess would cling closely to me. Leslie vacillated between the two. God, the glares when I was out with anyone but Jess or Sarah doubled. You just knew they were thinking "Dirty old bastard and slutty little girl." Tough shit.

In large cities and urban areas, protests were loud and increasing in frequency. LGBTQ folks screaming about being 'erased'. If the concern was repopulating the species, and you don't have sex in a way that makes babies, then, no, you aren't getting selected. It's harsh, but damn people, we're talking about extinction here. Besides, if you believe your own talking points, some of the kids born in the bunker and after will still be gay, or lesbian, or whatever 'protected class' you are worried about. Protesting suggests you don't believe what you've been saying. Or you're not so much worried about your group as you are yourself. At least that I could understand.