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Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2008 00:29:31 -0500
From: Jeff A <parrafan@ureach.com>
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