Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2008 00:29:31 -0500 From: Jeff A Subject: Copping a Feel Copping A Feel a story by parrafan Disclaimer: The following story is fiction - none of the events or people depicted correspond to real events or people. Cute, isn't it? I borrowed that from Law & Order. Wouldn't they be pissed if they found out, huh? Oh, and there's also the bit that says "Adults only - no minors allowed". Copping A Feel Phil Calburne led a boring life. Sometimes he thought that his life just had to be the most boring existence in the whole country. Even roaches had a more interesting life than he did - they got to go out at night and scuttle around in his kitchen in the dark, eating leftovers, and they could have sex anytime they wanted.... Sex. That one word pretty much summed it up. Sex - or the lack of it - defined Phil's whole life. Phil had zero luck in the dating game. Even ugly girls, who should have been desperate for a roll in the hay, knocked him back. "You? Go out with you?" one buck-toothed, pimply faced, big-nosed fat slut said to him once. "Not a chance!" It wasn't as though Phil was a hideous monster himself - true, he was no oil painting: about forty pounds overweight; and by the time he had reached thirty-two, his hairline had been receding for several years; and he had pale skin that freckled easily, and bad breath from several untreated dental cavities - but there were plenty of guys who scrubbed up worse than him that had dutiful (if not beautiful) wives and pleasant kids and nice homes in the suburbs. Obviously, Fate had it in for him. Phil might have gone to his grave unloved and unfulfilled, had not that same Fate stepped in and thrown him a lifeline...in the form of a page fourteen news item in his local paper. It only ran for two paragraphs, and there was no picture, only dry official press-release type text: POLICE HUNT SCALED DOWN Police have conceded that there are no fresh leads in the mystery that has been dubbed "The Cloned Cop Case". A white male, impersonating a State Trooper, has taken it upon himself to patrol the Interstate Highway, even to the extent of pulling speeding motorists over and writing up very realistic-looking citations. Several people have been fooled by this man, but his identity and whereabouts remain a mystery. The fraud only came to light when one of the drivers attended City Hall to pay the "ticket" he had received from the maverick cop. The bogus officer has not been sighted now for some weeks. Baffled Police have appealed to the public for assistance. Phil put the newspaper down and ran a hand through his thinning hair. A brilliant idea (so he thought, anyway) had exploded in his brain fully formed. He would become the Cloned Cop! Only he wouldn't waste his time chasing after speeding motorists, oh no...he would use the authority that came with a badge to get some pussy! And maybe not just pussy, but - he scarcely dared admit it to himself - boy ass! Hell, if he was going to pull some soccer mom over and rape her, he might as well go for broke and do sonny boy as well - and anybody else who happened to be unlucky enough to be in the car! Even the family pooch wouldn't be safe! Energised by his plan, he scrambled to his computer. Removing last night's stinky cumrag from the keyboard, he launched several searches for items he thought he might need. Handcuffs, sure, that was a given. A uniform, yes, complete with Smokey hat and tinted reflective sunglasses. What else...a phoney citation book, a police badge, maybe a can of capsicum spray...replica service pistol, black boots, a thick leather belt, a baton...gotta get some red and blue strobe lights for the car, too...Phil's fingers flew over the keys: locating, ordering, purchasing... * * * Marge Folsham coaxed her beat-up Ford Taurus to life one more time, gingerly piloting it out of her driveway and onto the road. The car had looked good when it rolled off the production line twenty years ago, but now it was showing its age. Five o'clock already - she was cutting it fine today. The last time she was late in collecting her son from dance practice, he was bullied by two girls while he waited, and she certainly didn't want that to happen again. Marge swung by the town library first, to pick up Tamsin, her daughter, who had been researching a school project. "Hi Mom, thanks", Tamsin greeted he as she jumped in the back seat. Marge didn't want to play favourites with either child, so she insisted they both sit in back. Pulling out into the traffic, Marge smiled at her daughter in the rear-view mirror. "A productive afternoon, dear?" "Oh, yes, Mom. Mrs McGrady is going to be thrilled with the extra work I've done on kidney bean farming in Venezuela", Tamsin replied, hugging her books to her flat chest. "That's lovely, dear. It makes me proud to see you putting in the extra effort to please your teachers. You should always respect people in authority, such as your teachers, and try to exceed their expectations of you. That's the way to get on in this world. We'll just go pick up Marshall at the dance academy, and you can put in a few more hours on your project at home. And don't press those books to your chest so hard, dear, your breasts will never grow properly if you do." Tamsin put the books down on the seat beside her. "Huh! Breasts! What breasts? I'm nearly twelve and a half, and all I've got is nipples! I don't think my boobs'll ever grow!", she spat in frustration. "Now, dear, don't let yourself give in to despair. Why, before you know it, your breasts will get bigger, and you'll be needing to wear a bra and everything. Your period will start, and you'll be a woman! I'm sure I'll be fighting off boys on the front doorstep any day now!" Tamsin giggled. The image of her mother fighting off boys on the doorstep always made her laugh every time her mother said it. "The boys would probably be coming to date Marshall, not me!" she smirked. "Now young lady, that's quite enough of that!" Marge rebuked her gently. "I've spoken about this to you before, and you are far too intelligent to require a reminder. We both have to be very supportive of Marshall - he's had a difficult time of it since his father...well, since Daddy went away. Besides, he's only eleven, I'm sure he hasn't made any, er, lifestyle choices yet." "Sorry, Mom" Tamsin apologised. "I didn't mean to be...petty," she added, trying out a new word, a grown-up word. The dance academy was downtown, a few minutes' drive from the library. Marshall was waiting on the kerb, wearing a tracksuit over his leotard. "Hi Mom, hi Tammy. Thanks," he squeaked, as he climbed into the back seat next to his sister. Marge had made it clear to both her children that good manners began at home. "Traffic looked a bit heavy going through the town," Marge observed. "I think I'll take the other way home. It would prove to be a life-changing choice for Marge and her family, as Fate decreed that this was to be the afternoon that Phil - that's Patrolman Calburne to you - took his fantasy on the road. It was the shabby looking, early model vehicle, with a female driver and the two kids in the back seat that made the decision for Phil. They looked to him like the kind of family that would succumb to his domination pretty readily. He did not realise just how readily. "Mom! What're those lights? Is it the police? Is that a siren? It doesn't look like a police car! I think he wants us to pull over!" A plethora of comments and questions erupted from the back seat and combined with the blaring siren and flashing lights (courtesy of the local Tandy Electronics store) to disconcert Marge; she weaved all over the dirt road before jamming on the brakes and pulling over without indicating. Marge shook with terror as she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her fingers blanched. "Licence and registration, please Ma'am" Officer Calburne demanded menacingly, his face filling the window. "Uh, luh-luh- uh, licence? It's in my handbag, Off- Uh, Tuh-tamsin, did you s-see Mommy's luh-licence" Marge managed to stammer. But even as she asked the question, she could clearly visualise the handbag sitting on the kitchen bench back at her home, waiting to be picked up. And she was pretty certain the registration papers were on her bureau, awaiting a renewal cheque. "I- uh, I don't, uh..." she half-grunted, before moaning in frustration and fear. "Please step out of the car, Ma'am" Phil demanded. They were his two best lines: he had rehearsed those twelve words in front of the mirror for hours until he fancied he got just the right blend of menace and false courtesy. From here on, though, Phil was going to have to wing it. Phil stood beside the Ford with his hands on his hips, trying to radiate an air of authority. It was largely wasted on Marge, who would have been frightened by a Hall Monitor at this stage. "I'm going to have to search you for concealed weapons, Ma'am - I'm sure you understand. it's for all our safety. Please stand with your feet apart and lean your hands on the roof". Marge turned to her car and assumed the requested position, her two children now dumbstruck at the situation, silently gawking from the back seat at the sight of the uniformed man running his hands over their mother's chest...then up her legs...and under her skirt... "Do...do you have to..." Marge began to protest feebly as Patrolman Calburne's eager hands slid closer to her panty-covered crotch. "You'd be amazed at the places people conceal weapons, Ma'am", Phil replied curtly as he ran his hands over her skinny bottom. "Of course, we could do a full strip-search down at the Station if you prefer..." "No! Er, no, that's...that's o-okay, Officer, I expect you to be, uh, diligent- oh!" Marge's response was cut short by the sensation of Officer Calburne's hand slipping down the back of her panties and sliding across her pussy. "What- what are you- uhh...ngg ...mmfff..." Mary's words lost coherence as Officer Calburne's groping hand stroked back and forth across a place on her body that had not felt a man's hand for many years. She bit her lower lip and tilted her head back as Officer Calburne rubbed back and forth, back and forth... "Just keep those legs wide apart, Ma'am, while I...search..." Phil grunted. The fact that the woman's two kids were watching from the back seat made it more erotic for Phil, and he was having trouble thinking straight. This was the first time in his life he had touched an actual pussy, and he wasn't sure what to do next! Even though the two kids could see that he was standing behind their Mom, due to her bent-at-the-waist stance, and her dress, they couldn't see what his hand was doing, so he decided to employ his other hand at the same time. Tamsin was the first to see it, and she gasped. Officer Calburne had reached a hand around her mother's waist and insinuated his fingers under her sweater. The girl could see the large hand moving upwards towards her mother's breasts. It stopped, temporarily blocked by the bottom of Marge's bra, but then it pushed upwards still further, and a visible shudder that ran through her mother's body told Tamsin that the policeman had pushed his hand under her Mom's bra and was now feeling her...her boobs! Phil had an idea. He leaned in close to Marge's head, to whisper in her ear. "Now, I don't want to do any more...searching...than I have to , Ma'am. I've pretty much satisfied myself...that you do not pose a threat to public safety. I'm going to have to search the kids as well - you would be wise to tell them to co-operate, and I'll do it as quickly as I can, and it'll all be over with." Marge, her body still trembling with fear and erotic sensory overload, nodded her acquiescence, and Phil withdrew his hands. He opened the back door, and with a flick of his head indicated that Tamsin should get out. "Do as the Officer says, honey, I'll...I'm right here..." Marge reassured her daughter. Phil gave Tamsin the meanest look he could summon, through the tinted glasses. "Name?" he barked, expecting an immediate response. "T-Tamsin, er, Sir" the girl answered. "Assume the same position as your mother, young lady. I need to search you for weapons", Phil growled, hoping to sound fierce. "She's a good girl...don't..." Marge whimpered as Tamsin copied her mother's stance and leaned against the car. "Weap-" was all the girl could get out in her incredulous protest before Phil clapped a hand over her mouth. He leaned in close to her head, similar to the way he was sure Tamsin had seen him do with Marge. "I'm sure you know from police shows on T.V. that you have the right to remain silent," Phil whispered in her ear in what he hoped was a tone of menace. "I strongly suggest, for your mother and brother's sakes, that you make use of that right. Your mother said you were a good girl - when I take my hand away, you will tell me whether she is right or not." Phil slid his hand off the girl's mouth. "Wha- a good..?" she babbled. "Or did your mother lie to me when she said you were a good girl?", Officer Phil interrupted, patting down the side of the girl's ribcage through her polo top. "Well? Did she lie? Did your mother lie to me? Because lying to the police is a serious offence, young lady, and if she did, I might have to spank her for it." "Sp-spank...Mom?" the confused girl whispered. "That's right," Officer Phil whspered back, continuing to pat the girl down, now on the outside of her thighs. "Put her over my knee right here, pull up her dress, pull down her panties and give her a good hard spanking on her bare bottom for lying to me." Phil paused, to let that image sink in to Tamsin's brain. "Now, are you a good girl, or not?" The girl sagged, her hands on the car's roof supporting her. "Ye-yes," she conceded softly. "I'm...a good girl." "And what do good girls always do?" Phil continued his psychological attack. "Uh...I..." the girl stammered - she didn't know the right answer, and didn't want to risk an incorrect one. "Good girls do what they're told," Phil advised, his hands now reaching the girls bare legs below her knees. "So, you tell me, good girls..." "Do what they are told," Tamsin completed his sentence, resignedly. "That's right," Officer Phil verified. "So, feet apart, and I'll finish my search. And you'll behave like a good girl." Tamsin flinched as she felt Officer Calburne's hand on the inside of her thigh. She momentarily thought herself unlucky that she had chosen to wear a knee length frilly skirt today, instead of jeans, but then realised it might have been worse, and the officer might have made her undo her jeans, had she been wearing them. She felt his hands creep up, higher and higher, slowly ascending, his fingertips maddeningly dragging along the sensitive flesh on the inside of her thighs. "Oh!" she gasped as the policeman's hand at last made a light brushing contact with her panties. She had no idea what an actual police search consisted of, so she had no way of judging whether this was routine or...somehow above and beyond the call of Officer Calburne's duty. But her mother was right next to her. And she had already been searched, and survived it. Officer Calburne's knee nudged Tamsin's thigh, and she instinctively moved her feet a little further apart, giving him easier access to her damp panties. Wondering how far she would let him go before she protested to her mother, Phil pushed her other thigh. Tamsin's left foot responded before she could even think, spreading her legs even further apart. Phil rubbed along the crevasse between the girl's legs, revelling in the whimpering sounds she was now making. He thought it was time to push on - no telling how long it would be before another car took this back road. He dipped his hand inside the hem at the back of her knickers. "Oh!" Tamsin yelped as she felt her panties being pulled back, and the policeman's clammy hand enter from behind. But an even bigger shock awaited her as the intruding hand pushed downwards and forwards, and grazed across her bald pussy. "Oh!" she gasped again, as Officer Calburne's middle finger reached right up to touch her little clit, right at the top of her crack, touch it and wobble around on it, just like she did to herself some nights in the privacy of her bed. Hearing no strong complaint from the girl, Phil decided to check out what she had on top - it didn't look like there was much pushing up through the polo top, but better find out anyway, he thought. Still groping her snatch and fingering her joy button with one hand, he brought his other hand around her waist, and, replicating the move he made on her mother, he slipped it under the hem of her shirt and began feeling upwards. "There's- there's nothing- up there," the girl gasped, meaning there were no weapons, and hoping the man wouldn't discover her lack of bosom, but it was too late. Officer Phil's busy fingers had reached Tamsin's unsecured nipples and already discovered for themselves that she had no breasts under them. "You got that right, Missy", he smirked, still stroking her now moist cunt with his other hand. "Nothing but a pair of nips. Nice fat ones, too - do they get hard when you play with 'em? Never mind - I'll find out for myself!" Phil worked both hands on the girl, above and below, until her body started shaking. Then, cruelly robbing her of an orgasm, he abruptly pulled both his hands out. "Stay right there, young lady - one more to go." This, Phil felt, would be the real test. How far would Mommy let him go with her darling little boy, the baby of the family? If she let him do what he liked, he thought he had a good chance of putting the next part of his plan into effect - a plan that took shape while he was fingering the woman's daughter. He jerked open the back door of the Taurus, and nodded his head at the boy. Body language was much more effective than words, he realised. The victim, if he was the submissive type, simply assumed the worst, and went ahead and did it. Phil pointed to the trunk of the car - he wanted the boy there, so his Mommy could see what was happening merely by inclining her head a few degrees. "Name?" Officer Phil snarled, as he had done with the boy's sister. "Marhsall, Sir", the boy squeaked. Marshall assumed the 'frisk' position without even being told. Either he's looking forward to it, Phil reasoned to himself, or he's scared shitless already. It's all good, he thought, as he took up a stance behind the boy, his feet planted between the boy's spread legs. Phil began as he had done with the boy's mother and sister - patting down the sides of the boy's ribcage. Marshall squirmed as he did so, making Phil imagine that the boy might be ticklish. Well, ticklish or not, it was time to up the ante, Phil thought. "Take this sweater off," he snarled at the boy softly. Marshall complied immediately, lifting his hands off the trunk and pulling the sweater up and over his head. Phil took it from him roughly and dropped it on the ground. He wondered whether Marge would interfere with his 'interrogation', or whether she would let him do as he pleased; the strength of her reaction would have a huge bearing on his subsequent moves. Marshall now stood in front of Phil with only a pair of tracksuit bottoms over a pale blue leotard. Phil was unfamiliar with the garment - to him it looked like the top half of a girl's one-piece bathing suit. "What's this?" he said contemptuously. "It- it's my leotard, uh, Sir. I- uh, I dance", the boy stammered, glancing over his shoulder at the big policeman, clearly terrified. "Leotard, huh?" Phil replied, pulling at the shoulder strap to test the garment's elasticity. "And I suppose you're going to tell me you've got nothing underneath it - no weapons?" "Uh, no Sir?," the boy replied, surprise sounding in his high, piping voice that anyone would even think such a thing. "Well, I'll just make sure, huh?" Officer Phil sneered, and began pulling the leotard down off both the boy's shoulders. The garment was quite a snug fit, and peeled off the boy's chest and stomach as Phil slowly dragged it down the boy's arms. Marshall carefully pulled his elbows free, and stood, now bare-topped, still with his back to the big policeman. Phil stared at the boy's unblemished upper body with relish. Here in front of him was a pretty little boy, ripe for the taking. Smooth, milky shoulders....thin neck...narrow waist... He was sure he could do it to him right here - right on the road, with the boy's mother watching. Rip down the boy's... whatever he called it, dance costume...haul out his own achingly hard cock, and ram it up the kid's asshole right there. Make the boy scream- and then scream for more. But that scenario, enticing as it was, would mean the end of his little game. And Officer Clayburne was enjoying his power trip too much to alight from the gravy train just yet. Better to give the boy a glimpse of what lay ahead, like he did with the girl, let him think about it, let it prey on his mind, then follow Marge and her feeble brood back to their home and plunder their innocence at his leisure. He leaned in close to the boy's ear. Marshall's leotard was bunched around the top of his hips, his tracksuit pants still covering his legs. "I guess you already figured your Mom's in a mess of trouble, huh boy?" he sneered softly as one big sweaty hand started to insinuate itself down the back of the boy's dance suit. Marshall stiffened as he felt the man's long finger push down towards his crack. "I...uh...if you say so, Sir- I mean...uh..." he stammered, even less resistance in him than his big sister. "A whole mess o' trouble, that's right," Phil continued, pushing his hand further down. Phil's middle finger ran the length of the crevasse between the boy's soft cheeks and passed over his little rosebud. Phil's fingertip now grazed the back of Marshall's scrotum. "Oh yeah, trouble is what she's in, and a whole lot more of it unless..." Marshall took the bait, even as he felt Phil's fleshy fingers grasp his tiny scrotum and squeeze his little balls carefully. "Uh- unless...what?" he moaned, feeling his immature cock stiffen with the attention it was receiving. Cocks - particularly boy cocks - don't know whether they're getting good attention or bad attention, but Marshall certainly didn't know that. To the boy, anything short of excruciating pain was pretty good. "Unless...you and I get to know each other a little better..." Phil's hand pushed forward another couple inches, and grasped Marshall's small but stiff tool. "Feels to me like you already lookin' forward to meetin' with me...in private...aren'tcha, boy?" Marge could not remain silent any longer. She had endured the humiliation of being groped by this man...she had watched helplessly as he had invaded her daughter's underclothes and doubtless touched her private parts...and now she endured the ultimate degradation of seeing her young innocent son being defiled before her very eyes. "Officer! Stop it! Please! He's...pure- untouched- chaste!" she begged. Officer Phil paused, his arm elbow-deep in Marshall's leotard. He looked at her, the glint in his eye invisible behind his sunglasses. "You sure about that, Marge?" he murmured, still fondling Marshall's hard little prick. "It's the truth!" she spat, through clenched teeth. Officer Calburne slowly withdrew his arm from Marshall's warm cleavage. "Is that so?" he asked, smirking, because he knew different. He felt it. There was something... accommodating...about the way Marshall allowed his hand access to his crotch, something about the urgent push backwards Marshall gave with his slim hips when Phil first put his hand down inside the boy's leotard. "Well, I tell you what. I'll hold off on writing up my citation, if you can show me your driver's papers. Let's go to your place right now and check them out, you'll be home free - and while we're there, we'll see if you're telling the truth about young Marshall here...I'll follow you in my car." The next ten minutes were a blur for Marge - how she managed to pilot the car home was a mystery to her, but she eventually pulled into her own driveway, Officer Calburne's car right behind her all the way. Rushing inside to find her motorist's credentials, she discovered... "Hmm..." Officer Phil murmured as he inspected the woman's licence. "Out of date..." Marge paled and her body sagged a little as she realised the implications of driving around with an expired licence - what if someone had hit her? what if she...? "Looks like someone's been lying to me," Officer Phil's voice intruded on her thoughts. Marge was momentarily startled - she had forgotten the threat that the big policeman had made to her. He had taken over immediately on arrival: he ordered Tamsin and Marshall to sit on either end of the couch and not move, and had followed Marge into her bedroom to inspect her motoring documentation...and now she was in even more trouble. Officer Phil led Marge back into the living room. Her two children sat wide-eyed on the couch, not knowing what to expect, but eager to watch the unfolding drama. The fake patrolman sat on the couch between the two kids, leading Marge by the hand to stand in front of him. Marge stood silently, head bowed, awaiting her fate. Officer Phil turned to Tamsin and asked the girl "What is the punishment for lying? What did I tell you earlier?" Tamsin's hand flew to her mouth. "You- you said Mom would get a spanking...if she lied to the pol- to you," she whispered. "So." Phil stated - a one-word sentence that meant so much. He addressed the demoralised woman standing in front of him. "You lied to me about your licence. Is there anything else you lied to me about?" Marge's face showed puzzlement beneath her fear. "Anything...else?" she gasped. Phil decided to bluff. "You told me your son was chaste and pure. But we know different, don't we, Marshall?" he declared, turning now to the other child sitting on the couch with him. The boy hung his head. "You're not in trouble, son - in fact, I already know all about what you've been up to-" Phil bluffed "-just tell me and your mother what's been happening at dance practice." Based on the way the boy reacted when Phil groped his little package, and his apparent submissive nature, and the probability that more had been going on than stretches and pas de deux at the dancing school, Phil played his biggest hunch. He thought that if confronted, the boy would spill his guts about everything - and spill he did. "I didn't want him to- he...he made me. It hurt...the first couple times, he was too... rough", the boy whimpered. Officer Phil put his arm on the boy's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Let it all out, son - you'll feel much better". "I didn't want to - honest, Mom!" Marshall started to sob. "But he- he...forced me. And ...after a while...he- wasn't so rough, and I...I..." "You started to like it" Phil finished for him. "I understand. We all understand, don't we, Marge? Even your sister isn't blaming you. Just say what happened. Tell us about the first time" Phil tried to coax the boy's unhappy tale out of him. "Grayson deLange is the boy that...did it. He's way older than me, about sixteen, I think," Marshall sniffed as the whole sordid tale came tumbling out. "The girls all call him 'Grace', and when I heard them say it I laughed, and he heard me, and he grabbed my arm, and took me into the boy's dressing room, and made me kneel in front of him and...and..." "Just say it, son, and it'll be all over," Officer Phil urged, although he knew very well it would be far from over. He intended to take up where the teenager left off, in spades. "He pulled down his leotard, and I saw his big...penis. It was stiff, and I was... frightened. I never seen one that big before. He...made me suck it. I'm sorry, Mom, I should have told you, but I...It hurt when he...pushed it in too far, and then he squirted his stuff in my mouth and said I had to...swallow it." Phil hugged the boy closer, trying to comfort him. "Good boy, son, I know that took a lot of courage. Did he do it to you again after that?" The boy nodded. "Most every other day", he confirmed. "He makes me kneel in front of him and beg for it. Some days he squirts it on my face and brings me into the girls' locker room and makes me...scoop it off and...eat it ...in front of them. They all laugh at me. But he's not as rough now - it's not as bad as ...before." Officer Phil had another brain burst. "They call him 'Grace', huh? And what do they call you?" Marshall dropped his head again. "They call me 'Marsha'," he conceded miserably. Letting go of the boy's shoulder, Officer Phil turned his attention back to the kids' mother, who was still coming to grips with the fact that she had been taking her son twice a week to dance practice for two years, only to be molested by a teenage pervert. And what was worse, her son now seemed to be acquiescing in the abuse, even condoning it. Maybe even...enjoying it? "So, you lied again, Marge, didn't you. He's not so pure, is he? Not so chaste? Looks to me like you've been encouraging him to be gay, exposing him to moral danger for...how long? Years now? I think it's time for a much-deserved spanking!" Before Marge could protest or react, Phil had taken her hand and pulled her off-balance so she fell across his lap. He quickly pulled up her dress at the back, and dragged her panties down to her knees, exposing her pale bottom. It was an oversize couch, so Marge's head fell in the space between Phil and her daughter, while her feet rested in her son's lap. Officer Phil felt all around Marge's bare behind, as if looking for the best place to start spanking. Marshall and Tamsin simply stared, dumbfounded. The policeman was going to actually spank their Mom's bare butt! For real! "You deserve this, don't you, Marge? Doesn't she, kids? She drove without a licence, she lied to the police, and she let poor Marshall here be turned into a queer by another boy at the dance school. Turned into a little cock-sucking faggot. Well, your Mom would be the first one to say that lying should not go unpunished, so..." Whap! Whap! Both children gasped as they watched their mother's buns get heated up by the policeman's big hand, descending over and over at about a stroke a second. After about twenty slaps, Officer Phil pulled Marge up by the shoulders and told her to go kneel in the corner. He pulled her skirt and panties down and off so she would be bare-tailed for the second part of her ordeal, and to Phil's continued amazement, she complied! Without a word of protest, Marge marched to the corner, knelt on the floor and stared at the join in the walls, her bare bottom glowing red. Both children stared, open-mouthed as she accepted her degradation. "Don't be ashamed of your mother, kids," Officer Phil reassured them. "Adults know it's important to take your medicine. Now, Marshall, while I have a word to your sister here about her small breasts, I want you to go into her room and look in her cupboard for the smallest pair of her panties you can find, take them to your room, undress completely, put them on, and come out and dance for me. Find a pretty scarf to tie around your neck as well. I'm sure you're a bright boy and can remember all that - off you go." Marshall jumped off the couch and sped to his sister's room. "Now, let's you and me have a little talk", Phil said to the girl on the couch next to him. "I can tell you're a smart girl right off - tell me, the girls in your school that have boyfriends: do they have big breasts?" Tamsin dropped her eyes to the floor. The whole family seems to have this crestfallen look worked out to perfection, Phil thought. "Yes. The girls with boobs get the boys," she conceded. "And what do those girls do to keep the boys interested?" Phil pressed. "They...let the boys do sex with them, I guess", admitted Tamsin, too frightened of the policeman to pretend she didn't know. "So they do", Phil agreed. "And what happens if they don't put out, or give head?" Phil continued, using terms he was pretty sure the girl understood. "The- the girl gets...dumped. Then the boy tells everyone that she was no good at sex," she added, a trace of venom in her voice. "Would you like to have a boyfriend, Tamsin?" officer Phil probed gently. The girl nodded, keeping he face towards the floor. "More than anything", she murmured. "Very well," Phil replied. "The first thing, after you've picked out the boy you want - make sure you understand that, Tamsin: the girl picks the boy, even though boys try to make it look like the other way around - after you pick out a boy with no serious girlfriend already, you ask him if he wants a blowjob. Go on, practice on me. I'll give you a few pointers". The girl looked up at the patrolman, confusion in her face. "Uh...do you...wanna blowjob?" she ventured tentatively. Phil grimaced. "Darlin', that wouldn't get a sex criminal interested, even if he just came outta jail after fifteen years. Try it again, with feeling!" Tamsin shook her hair back. "Um...how about if I give your, er, dick a suck, uh, handsome?" the girl ad-libbed. Phil frowned, not so fiercely. He took off his reflective sunglasses and set them on the end of the couch. "Well - maybe a little better. But you need to make it seem like a foregone conclusion - like the boy already wants to do it - like he's got no option. Have another shot at it" Tamsin licked her dry lips. "Hey, you big stud! What's that hiding in your, uh, jeans? Wanna bring it out so I can give it some lovin'?" Phil smiled. "Now you're getting it, honey. Okay, now act like he said 'yes!' and pull down my zipper. Take it slow, you don't want to cause any accidents, now." Following his directions, the girl pulled on Phil's zipper until his underwear-covered boner popped through the opening. Marshall picked that moment to reappear from his bedroom. The boy had gone overboard with the scarves - in addition to the slender red one around his throat, he had tied a pale blue one around his waist, and a rainbow coloured one around his forehead. Short orange ribbons were fastened above each knee and elbow. It looked to Phil as though he had put on a little lipstick as well, and maybe some rouge on his cheeks. But the crowning glory was the see-through g-string he wore: his slender three-inch pecker, stiff as a nail, pushed out the tiny triangle of faintly pink gauze in the front - in back the thin string disappeared up his skinny crack. He carried a small portable CD player with him as he approached the officer and his sister. "Can I...uh...play some music - you know, to dance to- Oh!" The boy's shock was caused by the sight of Officer Phil's dick springing up through his underwear, liberated by his sister's fingers. Tamsin looked up as well. "Did I tell you to stop, missy?", Phil demanded of the girl. "Get that mouth busy! Otherwise you won't stand a chance with the boys." To Marshall he remarked "Go ahead, son - don't mind us. Your sister is learning how to catch a boyfriend; you already know all about this side of things. Now I'd like to see what you've been learning at dance school, apart from how to eat cock and swallow cum. Show me what you got!" Tamsin blinked a few times before opening her mouth wide and settling it over Phil's fat knobhead. This was it! Finally, after years of dreaming and wanking, he was getting some head! But he knew he mustn't let on it was his first time, even thought his cock desperately wanted him to grab the girl's head and impale her face. The boy clicked his music player, and the opening bars of Tchaikovsky's 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies' could be heard from the speakers. "Figures!" Phil thought to himself. Marshall capered, twirled and minced back and forth across the living room as Tamsin slowly bobbed her head up and down in Phil's lap, one of his hands twirling her hair. Marge hadn't budged from her corner, hadn't even looked around. Phil was impressed with her self-discipline, and her obedience. She certainly practiced what she preached. Officer Phil insinuated his free hand under the girl's shirt. "Lift up your shoulders a little, darling, so I can get my hand onto your chest. Some boys like to feel tit when they're getting blown. I know you don't have anything to feel yet, but if you keep sucking cock, you'll quickly become real popular, and before you know it, you'll have a nice rack on you. That's my girl", he sighed as his fingertips found their mark, and gently palpated her buds, back and forth from one to the other. Phil was happy for the first time in, oh, forever. His hands had felt things today that he had only whispered to himself about in his private room. A grown woman, and a mother to boot, had followed his orders and abased herself to his punishment. A preteen girl was sucking on his prick, and letting him feel her tiny titties - the same girl who had earlier let him run his fingers all over her bald snatch. And a boy, a queer faggot if there ever was one, was exhibiting his nearly bare body in a shameless, wanton display of boyish sexuality. Phil felt the time was ideal to push his luck, and his lust, one step further. He eased Tamsin's head from off his throbbing tool, and let her sit up, pulling her shirt front down tidily for her. "You really are a good girl, Tamsin - I knew it all along. Now I want you to go and tell your Mommy that she can take herself into the kitchen and prepare dinner for us all. You help, too. I'll be in your Mom's bedroom with Marshall". Phil signalled to the boy to pause the music and come over. Marshall's vision was focussed on the big cock protruding from Phil's pants, all shiny with his sister's saliva. Noting his line of sight, Phil smiled at the boy. "Big, ain't it, son? Don't worry - you'll get better acquainted with it real soon. Go ask your Mommy where she keeps the vaseline, then get it and bring it with you to her bedroom. You and I are gonna make our own music before supper." Phil turned towards the open-plan kitchen in time to see the boy ask his mother for the lubricant, and watched as she paused for a second before reaching up to a cupboard and taking down the familiar plastic tub. Phil thought he'd better reinforce his earlier message, and make sure Marge knew exactly what he planned to do with her son. He strode into the kitchen, stiff prick leading the way. Marge heard him coming, and turned away, hiding her face from the sight of the rampant cock that still protruded from the officer's flies. Phil cupped her bare bottom, feeling the heat of his spanking which still lingered. "Good to see you didn't cover up, Marge - I haven't given you permission to do that yet. Maybe later, if you behave. Marshall and I are going to give your bedsprings a workout before dinner - but now, I think it would be a nice gesture if you told him that you love him even though he is a faggot. After all, you let it happen. Shit, you practically forced it on him. Go ahead..." The boy turned expectantly towards his mother, respectfully avoiding looking at her nakedness. "Uh, Marshall, dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise what was, uh, going on at dance, and I...uh..." She paused for a moment, not sure how to formulate the words. Phil raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. "...And I want to make sure that you know that, uh, even if you are homosexual-" Phil interrupted. "There's no 'if' about it Marge, he's a queer. And he's about to go for his first flying lesson, thanks to you. So wish him luck. Now." Marge sighed. "The officer is right, my darling," Marge murmured, cupping her son's cheeks in her hands and gazing into his eyes for the last time as a virgin. "I...love you Marshall...even though you are gay, and now...honey...go with the officer and...he'll... show you some things you need to know for your...later life." Phil thought it would be a nice touch to rub her nose in it a lttle further. He held out his arms to the boy. "Climb up, Marshall, that's my good little faggot." He picked up the child, cupping his bottom with big hands. "Now, lean over and give your Mommy a kiss - your last virginal kiss - that's the way, my little fairy boy. Got that jar? Okay, point the way to your Mommy's bedroom. We'll be back out here for dinner soon, and you'll have...a whole different outlook on life." Marshall giggled, rather enjoying the officer's hands on his butt, and the whole sensation of being carried by a male. Phil strode into Marge's bedroom with his prize in his arms, and dropped the boy onto the bed. Marshall splayed himself like a little boy starfish, pecker still stiff, jar of vaseline in one hand, across his mother's bed as he watched Officer Phil remove his police uniform. Quickly naked, Phil climbed onto the bed and lay next to the boy. "I'm betting you're as smart as your sister, Marshall. Maybe even smarter. Do you know why I asked you to get the vaseline?" The boy nodded solemnly. "So, tell me," Phil ordered gently. "It's to put in my bottom, so you can, uh, fuck me," he whispered. "Good boy. And what am I going to fuck you with?" The boy glanced down below Phil's waist. "With your big penis," he murmured. "Very good. And why am I going to fuck your little ass with my big penis?" Marshall licked his lips. "Because...because I'm a..." He hesitated. Phil ran his fingers slowly down the boy's smooth chest, circling his tiny nipples before travelling down to his navel. Briefly twirling his index fingertip in the small indentation, as though stirring an invisible drink, his fingers then continued to Tamsin's g-string. Phil gripped it firmly and gave it a tug, nodding at the boy, who lifted his hips to permit the garment to be stripped off his skinny legs. "Did you like dancing for me today in your sister's pretty things, Marshall?" Phil changed the subject slightly. The now nude but still beribboned boy nodded. "And do you like sucking on that boy's cock at the dancing school?" Marshall gave another tiny nod. "So, are you ready now to tell me..." Phil took Marshall's little erection between thumb and index finger "...why..." He rubbed the boy's little organ slowly up and down, giving it a tiny squeeze at the top of each stroke "...I am going to..." He bent his mouth down to the boy's cheek and licked the frail jawline "...fuck...your...ass..." It was the licking that broke the last vestige of Marshall's resistance. A whimper broke from the boy's lips as the man's rough tongue grazed his pale throat on its journey up to his earlobe. "Because I'm...a...a...queer. A faggot." A sob broke from the boy's lips as he said the crucial words. "That's the boy," Phil encouraged, still working the boy's pecker. "No need to cry, it's not a felony to be gay. Let it all out, Marshall." "I'm a...homo. I'm a fairy," the boy's voice, though still high, began to strengthen. "I'm a fudge packer! I'm a pervert cock-sucker!" "And what do you want, Marshall?" Phil cooed in the boy's ear. "I want...a good hard fuck! Right now! Jam it up me! Break me in! Stick that big prick in me and ream my guts out!" the boy yelled, an excited delirium in his voice. "You got it, babe!" Officer Phil responded to the boy's nascent self-realisation. Unscrewing the vaseline jar, he dipped two fingers in and hauled out a dollop of the greasy gel. "Hold your legs open for me, faggot, and I'll lube you up. That's it. I'll smear plenty of this gunk around your hole to make it nice and slippery. Okay, here it comes, queerboy - what you've been asking for!" Even though Phil was as much a virgin as the boy he was preparing to deflower, he had over twenty years' masturbatory practice and thousands of hours dedicated to perusing erotic literature. He knew the theory of fucking boys frontwards, backwards and sideways, and he was about to put all that pedophilic knowledge into practice. Phil lined up his lance at the entrance to Marshall's glistening anus, gripped the boy's shoulders, and with a lunge drove it in. At the sound of her son's glass-shattering screech, Marge gripped the benchtop. "It's for the best," she thought to herself. The next noises coming from her bedroom were a series of loud whimpers, 'Oh!'...'Oh!'...'OH!'...'Uhh!'..."UHH!', which rose and fell in ferocity as her son's bum was relentlessly pummeled by Officer Phil's cock. "The Officer knows what he's doing," Marge reassured herself, her fingers turning white from the strain. The whimpers developed into high-pitched gasps of 'Yes!'...'Ahh!'... 'Gooood!', before devolving into long drawn-out gurgles, 'ohhhhh!'...'moooore' ... 'ngggggg!', finally dying away into a series of deep sighs. "Tamsin! Come in here! Now!" Phil's voice commanded from Marge's bedroom. Glancing at her mother before scurrying to follow the policeman's order, the girl briefly thought that it might be her turn to follow her brother into a state of orgasmic bliss. No such luck. "Get a washcloth, make it soapy and warm, and bring a towel. Now!" Phil demanded when the girl stuck her head in the doorway. Tamsin got a few seconds' view of her brother, draped across the policeman's stomach, kissing the man's big belly before grabbing the cleaning items from the bathroom. "Wipe my cock, Tamsin, and give your brother's ass a bit of a cleanup while you're at it", Officer Phil directed. "Has your mother got dinner ready yet?" "Uh, yes, Sir, it's, um, ready now," Tamsin bleated as she cleaned blood, vaseline and shit off the officer's softening tool with the damp rag. She then dabbed at her brother's ass as he licked the man's hairy chest. "Get me a robe," Phil demanded peremptorily. Tamsin jumped off the bed and grabbed a white terrycloth bathrobe from Marge's cupboard. Officer Phil slid it on and tied the belt, shepherding the two children out to the dining room. His eyes met Marge's for a moment before she lowered her gaze. "We've...uh...only got three chairs, Officer", she apologised. "No problemo. Marshall can sit on my lap, isn't that right, my boy?" he herded the ten year old boy, still naked but for his ribbons, towards the table. "Up you get," Phil hoisted the boy onto his lap, his big hand going round his waist to the boy's pecker immediately. After swallowing a few mouthfuls of the cold meat salad Marge had prepared, Officer Phil made a pronouncement. "I've been thinking about your situation, Marge, and taken into account how you've responded so well to my authority. I've decided to allow you seven days to get your licence and registration paperwork in order. So I'll be back out here in a week's time to check that you've done everything properly. Is that fair, do you think?" Marge kept her eyes lowered as she toyed with a piece of lettuce on her plate. "Uh, yes, Officer, more than fair, thank you, A week...will be fine...plenty of time," she murmured. "So when I come out here again, in one week, to verify that you've done what you're supposed to, if it isn't done, what do you think might happen? Kids?" Tamsin volunteered the answer. "Mom will get...another spanking?". "Exactly. And I'm not sure I should let you go for a whole week unsupervised...so I think I'll leave you in charge of telling me if Mom needs a spanking sooner, Tamsin. Here's my mobile number, but remember, only if she needs it - if you call me out here and I find out your Mom hasn't misbehaved, then it will be you that gets the spanking, do you read me, missy?" Tamsin flushed and nodded. Turning back to Marge, Phil continued his directives. "I think I'll drop in on Marshall's dance school tomorrow afternoon as well, Marge, and have a little discussion with this boy that's been bullying him. Can't have just anyone feeding his cock into our little faggot boy's face now, can we? Who knows what he might try next?" "Yes, thank- thank you, Officer. I'm sure Marshall will appreciate that," she murmured again. "So when I come back next week we'll have a lot to discuss, won't we? Your papers, Marge; your progress with the boys, and your chest, Tamsin; and we'll reinforce our little lesson with my favourite fairy here, maybe even try something new, how does that sound, Marshall? Good?" The boy giggled and nodded. He knew exactly what the policeman was suggesting. Phil stood the boy up and rose from the table. "Well, crime never sleeps Marge; I have to be getting back on the job. Next week maybe you can make a hot meal - salads are fine for lunch, but a man needs something substantial for supper. You have my permission to put your clothes back on, by the way. Marshall, come help me dress." The boy followed the robed man back into his mother's bedroom, and stared boldly at him as Phil took off the gown and put his police uniform back on. Phil enjoyed the attention, leaving his half-hard cock uncovered for as long as possible. Unable to resist one last exercise of his new-found power, Officer Phil inclined his head at the boy, who took the signal and scrambled over to kneel in front of him and mouth the prick that Phil had left uncovered for him. "I can tell why this Grace guy likes your tongue, Marshall. You're a fucking genius with it!" Phil sighed, lightly holding Marshall's head as the boy licked up and down the length of his rod. "Okay, that'll do - any more and I'll have to stay the night!" He zipped up, and left the room. As he reached his car, Officer Phil took one last look back at the family he had held captive - and reflected that he had himself been a little captured - or at least captivated - by them in his turn. The three Folshams stood on their front doorstep, Tamsin giving him a little courteous wave, as he climbed into his vehicle. Marshall gave a strangled sob and dashed across the front lawn towards Phil's car as it eased out of the driveway and back onto the road. "Damn!", Officer Phil thought to himself as he adjusted his crotch comfortably. The car increased in speed almost imperceptibly. "What a family!" Phil's mind was already beginning to plan out the details of his visit next week. Maybe he wouldn't even wait that long. Yeah! Maybe he would call in one evening after supper, check up on his little brood of submissives. Hmmm. Maybe Marshall would be already in his PJ's, ready for bed. And maybe he would be saying his prayers, kneeling by his bed with his Mom sitting there next to him. Damn! Phil could picture the scene, almost taste it. Walk up behind Marshall and lift the boy's nightshirt. Shove his cock up the kid's tight little ass even while he prayed to jesus. In his fantasy, Phil could even hear the boy. "Oh, jesus, keep Mommy and Tammy safe, and Officer Phil, and, oh, fuck me deeper, Officer, oh, jesus, harder, oh, yes, jesus..." Phil adjusted his crotch again as he imagined Marge setting a few pillows on the boy's bed, then helping as Phil lifted Marshall onto the pillows to elevate his rump. Holding her son's face as Phil rode his butt. Oh, yeah! His foot pressed the accelerator pedal a little more as his mind embraced the fantasy, making him totally unprepared for the lights and siren of the black and white patrol car which now filled the rear-vision mirror. "Aww, crap!" Phil grunted as he eased off the gas and swung the car to the side of the deserted back road. Turning off the engine, he wound down his window and waited for the inevitable. "Well, looky what we got ourselves here!" the smiling patrolman drawled. "Fake police uniform...plastic badge...toy gun...the Chief has been waitin' quite a time to talk to you, boy, you bet he has..." end