Fucking My Sexy Lodger Pinki
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NYPD Pink free porn video
Author's Note: This is my gut reaction to the reports of what's been happening
in Central Park the last few days. What the punks are doing to those women is
despicable, but - if it's true - what the cops are doing by not stopping the
punks is much, much worse.
NYPD Pink
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000
Police Sergeant Jim Pollatti turned off the Squad Room TV in disgust. He was
tired of hearing about the women mugged near the entrances to Central Park. "So
now they got Internal Affairs investigating. Damn!"
"You think they'll find anything out, Sarge?" Rob Boyle was new to the force, a
rookie that the others were slowing beginning to accept and trust.
"Nah, we got nothing to worry about. Most of the folks in the crowd were too
busy watching the purps fooling with the dame to notice what a couple of cops at
the edge of the crowd looked like."
"I still think we should've stopped 'em. Ain't that what we're there for?"
"Discretion, Rob, discretion. There was fifteen guys on that one broad and just
two of us."
"Yeah, Sarge, but we was armed, and they weren't. I -- I dunno."
"Look, kid. If a bunch of ditzy dames want to run around the park in them skimpy
outfits of theirs, just asking for trouble, who's to say in the long run, that
they shouldn't get some trouble. Teach 'em a lesson."
"Yeah, but rape's kind of a tough lesson."
"They deserved it, kid. You just relax and let your old Sarge do the thinking."
"I -- I guess. I just don't like it."
"Like it or not, just don't go doing anything stupid like talking to Internal
Affairs about it. If it comes down to it, it's your word against mine, the word
of a rookie against a man with seventeen years on the force." He paused for
emphasis. "And a lot of friends among his brother officers."
Rob shivered. He'd heard stories about the Sarge. Rumor had it, both in the
Department and on the street, that Pollatti was not a man to cross. He began to
wonder how he could justify putting in for a transfer. "I understand, Sarge.
Don't worry."
"Relax, Rob. You're new. It takes time to learn the Code; just never, never rat
out a Brother in Blue."
"How about a Sister in Blue?"
The two men turned at the voice. It was a woman they'd never seen before. 'New
to the Precinct,' Jim thought. He gave her an admiring glance. She was tall,
five-ten, maybe in the low heels worn by female officers. Her uniform was
standard for a street cop, slacks instead of a skirt, but the cut was feminine,
and she filled it better than most. Her hair was a silvered blonde, cut short as
per regulations. Her voice was a low contralto, a good cop's voice, steady and
firm, commanding or friendly, as she wanted.
"Same for anybody in blue," Jim said smiling. She was a definite improvement to
the Precinct. "And you are?"
"Tracy Flynn, out of the one-two downtown. They figured it wouldn't hurt to have
some women up here with all the trouble at the Park and the big deal that the
media's making out of it." She walked over and poured herself a coffee. It was a
nice walk for a man to watch.
"Yeah, the papers were full of it today." Rob said.
"The papers are always full of it." Jim smiled, watching her reaction to his
joke.
"They're not the only ones who are full of it, Sergeant. I heard you two talking
when I came in."
"And?"
"And, in a way, I agree with you. We have to take care of our own."
"Damn straight. Folks don't know half the crap we gotta put up with keeping
their precious city safe for them."
"Yes, but the worst crap is when one of our own goes bad and decides who does
and who doesn't deserve to be protected."
"Now wait a minute."
"Isn't that what it says on the side of our cars, Jimmy? 'Serve and Protect'? I
don't remember anything about being self-serving about who we protect."
"I think this conversation is getting a little out of line." Jim looked at her
badge. "If you have something to say to me, _Patrolwoman_ Flynn, then say it.
Otherwise, shut up."
"Now that's hardly a nice thing to say to a 'Sister in Blue', Jimmy."
"I don't need to stay here and listen to this." He walked over to the Squad Room
door. The knob refused to turn, even when he tried forcing it. "Hey, what the
hell's the matter with this door?"
"Nothing," the woman said. "I just don't want to be interrupted for a while."
"This is crazy. You're crazy." Jim tried to let go of the doorknob. He couldn't.
It was as if his hands had melded into the door. "What the hell?"
"He can't hurt you now, Rob." She walked over to the young man. "Nor will he be
able to ever do so again. Now, tell me what happened yesterday in the Park."
Rob looked over at the door. The Sarge was still holding onto the doorknob. He
seemed to be trying to say something, but he could only seem to mumble.
Rob's mouth was dry. He swallowed a little spit and began talking. "Me and Sarge
was on foot duty near the South Entrance. That's where some of the attacks were.
We saw this blonde, late twenties I'd guess, run past in a purple jogging outfit
- one of those skintight lycra things with matching shorts. Sarge said something
about those two sweet juicy 'grapes' on her chest as she ran past, and she
called him a 'pig'."
"A couple minutes later, we heard a scream. We ran to where the yell came from.
She was down on the ground. A dozen guys, maybe more, was on top of her, ripping
off her clothes. She screamed again. I started forward, but Sarge put a hand on
my shoulder and stopped me. When I tried to argue, he ordered me to go to the
call box and send for backup."
"And you were a good little rookie and obeyed orders." Se spoke through clenched
teeth, her eyes narrowed in anger.
"Y-Yes, ma'am." Rob didn't know why he was saying all this. He was ashamed at
what he'd done and terrified that it would ruin his career.
"A pity you weren't as worried about that poor girl, as ye were aboot yer
career." Somehow a strong Irish lilt had crept into her voice. "Well, I can
shoorly be fixing that." She made a strange gesture towards Rob.
Rob felt a tingle, like a mild electric shock, race through his body. "Wha--"
The words caught in his throat. He couldn't move his legs.
The room seemed to spin, and then it seemed to be growing. No, somehow he knew
that he was shrinking. In a few moments, his six foot two frame had shrunken to
five foot six, around the minimum for an officer. He was thinner, too, even for
his new size, yet, strangely, his uniform had shrunk so that it still fit him.
He looked at his hands. They seemed smaller. But his fingers were longer and
slimmer. His nails grew out slightly, and then stopped. Somehow, a pale pink
tint appeared on the nails.
Rob felt a tickle against his neck. He reached up to investigate and felt silky
hair grown down to his shoulders. He pulled a lock of it in between his fingers,
his hair was still blonde, but it was thicker now and more of a strawberry
blonde.
Though he couldn't see it, his face was slimmer and his features more delicate.
His bushy eyebrows narrowed to a pair of thin lines. His lips grew fuller, and a
pale pink gloss appeared on them. He vaguely tasted the gloss, a sweetness on
his tongue.
Now Rob felt a pulling at his chest. He looked down to see his uniform shirt
push outward, as breasts grew swelled out from his chest. He felt his T-shirt
moving underneath the uniform. The weight was suddenly relieved as the T-shirt
completed its change into a nylon sports bra, encircling his 36-B breasts.
By now, Rob had realized what was happening. Somehow, he was changing into a
girl. He felt his uniform grow loose at the waist and tight at the hips as his
figure developed a set of feminine curves. It seemed that his pants would rip,
and then the fabric seemed to alter to the tailoring of a woman's uniform.
He reached down in fear. His hand closed around a penis. It was still there,
erect, no less, but it seemed smaller than he remembered. He felt it shrink in
his hand, growing smaller until there seemed to be nothing left. He ran his
fingers against his crotch and shivered, as he felt his - no, felt _her_ new
pussy lips and the narrow slot between them. He felt his undershorts moving,
too, and Rob guessed that they were transforming from boxers into a pair of
panties.
"Please change me back." He could talk again, although his voice was now alto,
rather than its previous baritone. "I'll never be able to explain this to
anybody."
"Oh, but you won't be having to." Tracy smiled a satisfied grin. "Your packet
down in personnel says 'Robyn Boyle', not 'Robert'. Only the three of us
remember that ye weren't born a pretty wee girl all those years ago. You can't
be telling anyone, neither can Jimmy over there, and I'll not be aroond t'be
asked." She put a finger to her lips. "Now, Shht, whilst I be taking care of
yoor Sarge."
Rob - Robyn tried to speak. She could neither speak nor move.
The woman walked over to Jim. "Wull, now, Jimmy boyo. You tried to ruin that
young lad's career, didn't you? Well, he still has it, but _she'll_ be a lot
more interested in women's issues than she used to be, don't you know."
She stopped and looked the Sergeant up and down. He managed to let out a whimper
and tried vainly to get his hands free. "You, on the other hand, would be
needing a mooch stronger lesson. What was it ye said? That they was asking for
it? They wasn't, you knew, ah, but there are women who do." She made a more
complicated gesture at the man, and then stepped back to watch.
Jim shivered as the tingling ran through his body. He saw the room grow as his
body shrank down to five foot three. Somehow, his uniform shrank to fit him as
Rob's had. Jim looked down at his hands and arms. They were much thinner. His
hands were smaller with long, slender fingers; fingers with violet painted nails
manicured and almost an inch long.
He shook his head in disbelief. There was a weight pulling on his head. His
thin, graying hair was now a thick coif of lustrous black curls. They framed
what was now a delicate heart-shaped face with full pouty lips and high
cheekbones. He wore a bright red-violet lipstick with matching eyeshadow. The
few wrinkles on his face smoothed out, the crow's feet, too, so that he looked
no more than twenty. His complexion lightened from ruddy to a glowing peaches
and cream. All of Jim's skin lightened, even as most of his body hair - except
for the patch at his groin -- faded away.
Jim's uniform shirt seemed to grow tight and there was a tickling on his chest.
He looked down and gasped. Something was growing there, getting bigger with each
breath he took, as it swelled out into a pair of 40-D breasts that strained
against the shirt, popping a couple of buttons in the process.
He felt his pants begin to slide down as his waist narrowed. Then they stopped
as his hips and tush swelled out into rich feminine curves. His legs were more
slender now beneath the pants with a delightful curve to them as well.
Jim felt a throbbing, like an intense erection, in his groin. The feeling lasted
for only a moment though, and then it began to change. He felt a warmth and a
wetness gradually replace them. Then, there was a feeling of - well, of
emptiness. He let out a low moan, realizing that he was now a woman.
Now Jim's clothes began to change. Her blue cotton shirt changed to a sheer
white chiffon that was almost transparent. Beneath it, her T-shirt became a
violet bustier that lifted and separated her breast making them seem even
bigger. At the same time, her slacks flowed together into a tube of cloth that
flowed up her legs, stopping just below the swell of her hips and changing to a
tight, white lycra. Her shorts slid up her legs, growing tighter, becoming a
thong in back that crept in between her ass cheeks. The panel in front was
barely wide enough to cover her new genitals.
Thin strips of cloth reached down from the bustier along his legs. His socks
rose up his legs to meet them. The fabric grew sheer, transforming the socks
into a pair of patterned violet on violet stockings. When the strips and
stockings met, well up on Jim's thighs, the strips linked around them to become
a set of garters that held the stockings firmly in place.
Jim felt herself rising. Was she growing? No, she looked down to see the last
bit of transformation as her police oxford changed into violet pumps with a
four-inch heel.
She felt a pinch at his ears. When she shook her head, she felt her new earrings
bump against the side of her head. There was a second pinching sensation at her
wrists, and she looked down to see a woman's watch forming around one wrist,
while a set of thin silver bracelets appeared on the other.
Jim felt a tingling in her throat now. "What the hell--" Her voice was now a
high soprano with a bit of a throaty purr to it. She instinctively clenched at
her throat. Her hands - her hands were free. She turned to face the strange
woman. "What have you done to us?"
"What ye both deserved. The young one, she'll have a foin future as a
policewoman, maybe make lootenant or even captain, if she be wanting to. You.
You on the other hand, are aboot to be starting a new career." She smiled. A
vicious sort of smile. "Even if it be in an _auld_ profession."
The implication of what Tracy Floyd (whoever she was) had said sank in, even as
she made another odd gesture. Jim's body shimmered, then disappeared.
"What, what happened to Jim?" Robyn asked.
"Och, Jamie's doon in the holding cell where she's always been; her and all the
other painted ladies. Their, umm, pimp, will be bailing them out shortly. They
all know her as Jamie Pauls, and she won't be - she can't be -- telling them any
diff'runt. She'll be back on her corner in no time, asking for it, joost like
_he_ said."
"That's terrible. Please change him, change us back."
"It's what ye both be deserving for letting those spauleens do whut they did to
that young lass."
"You can't be from Internal Affairs. Who - what are you?"
"Oh, let's joost say that you don't belong to the only police force in this
city." She turned and walked out the door.
The hall was deserted for the moment. Tracy looked around for a moment. The
aversion spell wouldn't last long. She smiled and brushed her hair back,
revealing the slender point at the top of one ear. 'Time to go,' she thought, as
she made a final gesture.
The woman's hair darkened to a chestnut brown and grew longer. Her ears lost
their points as her features shifted. Her nose turned up slightly and her lips
thinned. Her green eyes shifted to brown. She shrank about three inches, losing
none of her weight. She was noticeably plumper now, though still attractive. She
also looked about five years older, with a couple of small wrinkles in her face
and a gray hair or two.
Patrolperson Selma Brooks regained the use of her body. As the last vestige of
Tracy left it, she left behind a small payment for its use. Selma would find the
willpower that she had been lacking. She would be successful with the diet she
had started that morning, losing the ten pounds she wanted and five more, and
keeping the weight off for the next five years at least.
*****
Tracy Floyd appeared in the unknown cavern beneath the park. Her commander was
waiting for her. "And were you successful in yuir mission? Were those policemen
punished as they needed to be?"
"Aye, Commander." Her accent was thicker, now that she was back in her own form:
Lady Teressa of Clan Floihd, Lady Knight of the Fey, Patroller of the Park. "The
first part, at least, be done."
The End - for Now
Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000
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Lizbeth
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