Paula My Little Scottish Playmate Chapter Three
- 4 years ago
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Incredible ChangesChapter 304: Paula Play Date free porn video
Time to see Paula’s progress.
Following my parent’s wishes, as part of my being on “house arrest” until after my birthday, I hopped on the newly updated version of my messenger bike. There was a note from the factory thanking me for beating the hell out of their previous models so that they could improve their bike designs.
Hmm. I guess one downside with this much muscle is that the companies designed bikes for smaller and leaner riders.
Before I got my license, I would never have thought about biking over to Paula’s house. Getting to Trudy’s before the tornado hit would have killed me if not of the place in my head juicing my muscles. Now I didn’t even think about getting a ride-share or asking someone to drive me over. I pulled on a pair of biking shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, the shoes made to clip into the pedals, and my pack with clothes to change into, plus my laptop.
Who would have thought me riding my bike would cause so much trouble?
The first sign of any problems were the problems driving around waiting for something to do to ease their boredom, or they were just naturally assholes. I was cooking along the road as I rode almost on the white line when a carload of assholes came up behind me. They had plenty of room to go around. Instead, they got right up to where they were almost touching my rear wheel. If they were a bit more experienced, they could have nudged my back wheel easily. I don’t know what their car had started out being, but now it was a convertible with carbon fiber panels and a muffler that made it sound like a cat hacking up a furball each time they hit the gas. When they tired of being on my ass, they came up beside me to try to push me off onto the side of the road.
I finally had enough, so I reached over to get a hold on the passenger door handle, got my feet loose from the clips, and then kicked my legs back out behind me as I used my hand on the car and one on my bike to swing my body upwards. A quick twist had me sitting in the lap of the passenger, who was about to throw a fast food cup full of something he wasn’t about to drink. Whatever was in it was now all over the back three passengers. It wasn’t that hard since I had slowed to ten miles an hour to get them just to pass me and go away. Still holding my bike in my right hand, I reached down to pull the car out of second gear and jam it into reverse.
Grinding gears and an engine banging to a halt is such a lovely sound.
I grabbed ahold of the punk driving and asked, “Man, what the fuck is your problem, besides this piece of shit car you want everyone to think is a rice patty racer by putting a loud muffler on it? Screw the law saying you give bikes three feet of space between them and you. There is no reason to be a dick.”
“Dude! You just fucked up my car. I’m going to kill you,” he yelled as he reached for a gun he had between the driver’s seat and console.
“You know what, you are too stupid for your own good,” I said, as I used the implant to alert the cops around me to an armed assault on a bicyclist, then I punched him.
His hand was holding the grips on what looked to be a large caliber handgun made in a machine shop by blind albino chimps, or possibly just chumps. He was out cold. I got out of the car and onto my bike as the cops began getting close, I just held onto the side. With guns drawn, they approached the clown car. The police ordered me away from the car and off my bike. I was soon on my knees with my fingers interlaced behind my head.
Oh damn! I didn’t even notice the dip shit in the rear passenger seat holding up is phone taking a video.
From the implant, I got a ping that the video started right after I got in the front passenger seat but slamming the car into reverse made him drop his phone, so it had no video of me being in the car. It did capture all the footage of us talking and then the guy reaching to pull his gun. My punch was so fast that the video only showed a blur, not enough to know if I was in the car or not. Magically it seems his phone didn’t have a pin on it and couldn’t lock the screen at all. At least not anymore.
The yelling of orders by police woke up dipshit, causing him to put his hands up reflexively. Unfortunately for him, he still had a grip on the gun, so it came up as well. Things got interesting after that. Once all four of them were in cuffs in separate cruisers, the cops came to interview me.
The mustn’t have handcuffs that will fit me, or I would be in cuffs too.
Since none of the responding cops knew who I am, and my ID was in a “secret” pocket in my backpack. I think it would have mattered anyway.
“Care to explain to me how it is we found you were holding onto the side of a car with four armed men?” an officer, with two backups holding guns in me, asked.
I kept my hands behind my head as I looked up at him to say, “I was asking them why they were assholes. They tried to bump my back tire and then were trying to push me off the road. I didn’t know all four of them had guns. When the driver reached down to grab a gun, I hit him to knock him out. You arrived right after.”
“Your story is that you hit the driver after he reached for a gun,” he asked with full suspicion after going off to talk with the other cops. “They say you jumped into the car and hit the driver for no reason at all.”
“Hey. I may only be about to turn seventeen, but I can already see where this is going from your accusations. You already dumped my backpack on the ground and didn’t find my ID. If you will, please pull on the black loop at the top of the laptop section to get out my wallet? I heard you call in for info on the other four. I’m fine going the whole lawyer route if you like, but I have a young lady waiting for me to see how her continued recovery is doing after a bad accident last year. You have no reason to trust my side of the story against four illegally armed assailants in a piece of shit car. Please at least trust me when I say you don’t want the shit storm that will rain down on all the officers here and your careers by not at least calling in my ID. I prefer the easy way, but this is your investigation,” I told him.
I know you will ignore the guy telling you that he is pretty sure I am because you’re an arrogant prick.
What did he choose? You guessed it, the hard way.
“Dispatch I have a sixteen-year-old white male, about two-forty...” he said as he described me into his radio. “He doesn’t have any ID on him.”
I knew this was going to get very interesting, very quickly, when the dickhead said I didn’t give him my name. While correct, he never asked. Then he added that I still had two officers covering me, one with a taser and the other a gun. They didn’t have any cuffs to fit me, and he was sure I could break loose from the zip cuffs.
One of the officers was off in his car, having the guns checked out while I was at the dickhead cop’s mercy. As these things go, it continued to drag on. My implant pinged me to tell me the guns came back as stolen. Surprise! Two of the guns matched multiple hits on their ballistics’ database as tied to crimes.
I didn’t know that our state requires ballistics for every gun purchased or registered.
That information triggered alerts to the state police and local detectives. The detectives arrived while the dickhead cop was waiting on dispatch to contact him back, which wasn’t going to happen now that the detectives were involved. Videos on the front and rear passenger’s cell phones were under review by the detectives. The officers had body cam video of the two getting their Miranda rights and then giving permission for the cops to check their cell phones. Both saw their mistakes when the detectives didn’t need them to unlock their phones.
I was still off away from the scene as I was the suspected assailant. These detectives were interested in the guns, not the assault. When the state police arrived, the detectives received orders to hand things off to the state police. One of them got curious about what was up with two cops keeping their weapons on me, so he came over to hear my side of things. He talked to the dickhead cop back behind me.
“Any ID? Did he give you his name,” the detective asked.
The cop told him I gave some story about my ID being in my laptop bag, but they didn’t find it, only some clothes and my electronics. Dickhead theorized that I had stolen the laptop bag, and my clothes were those I used when taking it. Thieves don’t carry ID on them on the off chance they might drop it at the scene of a crime. More cops had arrived at some point.
A lieutenant walked over and around the cops to ask me some questions. When he saw who I was, what he asked weren’t those questions that he planned to ask at first.
“You need to see if you can get your beat-up Camry back from whoever you swapped it with for that piece of crap David,” the lieutenant commented, and dickhead told him I was the one on the bike. “Well, that is a bit different. I’m glad to see your taste in cars wasn’t bad enough to get this piece of junk. Officer dickhead says you didn’t give him any ID or your name. That doesn’t sound like you.”
I kept my hands behind my head as I answered, “My ID is in my laptop bag. It has one of the hidden wallet compartments. I told them to pull on the strap at the top of the laptop compartment. No one has asked me my name. Officer dickhead called me in without asking me. If you check their body cams, you will see that I told them the same thing. I did try to warn him that it was best to call in my ID after getting it from my backpack.”
“Stand down officers. I will personally vouch for David as not being a problem. Should he want to cause you any trouble, you would find yourselves handcuffed and sitting on the ground, or possibly cuffed to the steering wheels in your patrol cars. You can see he looks like a linebacker, but he is fast and very agile. I won’t tell you why I’m pretty sure a Taser won’t work on him,” the lieutenant told the cops around me.
Dickhead wasn’t going to take the detectives word for anything. As I started to stand, he pulled out his stun wand and pushed it against me as he told me to get back on the ground. The lieutenant showed his shock at the action, though he gave me a slight nod permitting me to deal with Officer Dickhead myself. The other officers had holstered their weapons and moved back.
“Man, you get off on being a dick cop, don’t you,” I asked as he pulled the stun wand back and then went for my arm with it. “Well, you taught me that you aren’t incompetent, just arrogant and stupid. How about you put your toy away before I take it away from you?”
He saw his stun stick didn’t faze me, so he moved back out of my reach, pulled his taser, and fired it at me. The first shot seemed not to be working, even as his taser indicated that it was working correctly, had him fire a second one, this time at my head. After taking a side step so the darts would miss me, I pulled the barbs of his first shot out of my arm. That made him pull his gun.
Dumbass.
“Get down on the ground! Now,” he yelled at me.
I looked him in the eyes as I said, “Put your gun away and chill out before I show you exactly why the lieutenant told you that I was only complying because I wanted to.”
I saw his thumb move to the laser activator as his trigger finger moved from trigger guard toward the trigger as he yelled again to get down or he was going to shoot.
He shot alright. Three quick shots, in the ground, before I grabbed the slide as it ejected the third spent casing because I hit the button to drop the magazine before it could chamber the next round. I hit the slide release, let the slide close, pushed it back a tiny bit, and hit the slide release again. I put the slide in one of his pants pockets, picked up the magazine, and put it in a different one, all in a smooth, flowing motion. Continuing the momentum, I moved past dickhead to get out a pair of his cuffs. I used his side to spin him around for me to face his back as I pulled one behind him. I reached to pull his other arm back, with the remainder of his gun still in his hand, to put the cuffs on him. A tap of my foot on his legs put him on his knees, with arms cuffed behind him. I put my hand on his shoulder to put pressure on a spot, though not a pressure point, that temporarily paralyzed his legs.
“SHIT!” I head the two cops that had covered me yell at the same time.
The lieutenant responded, “Damn David. I heard you were fast. I just didn’t think you were that fast. One second you were standing there as I saw him getting ready to shoot and then heard three rapid shots. Next, I saw he was down on his knees with his arms cuffed behind him. Where is his service weapon?”
“Still in his hand. Well, most of it is. He has the magazine in one pocket and slide in another,” I replied, doing my best no to sound cocky or arrogant.
Dickhead looked ready to cry, but the lieutenant wanted to continue this learning opportunity, so he asked me to uncuff officer dickhead without using the keys or dislocating anything. Using the place in my head as I flash heated the chain links between the cuffs, pulled his wrists apart, and immediately took all the heat energy out of the links to make them cold again. I stripped out the teeth on the locking bar to forced that one open. On the other cuff, I push in, like I was tightening them, but stopped right before it clicked into place before letting go. I did this quickly to wear the teeth down a bit and weaken the spring enough that I could start to tighten them and then pull hard to loosen one or more notches on the cuffs. It only took some seconds to get the second cuff off.
“As I said, he would only allow anyone to restrain him if he so decided,” the lieutenant said.
To me, he asked, “How is Paula doing these days? It so amazing that she is even alive, much less able to start relearning everything.”
“That was who I was going to see when those four tried to run me over and push me off the road. I was very courteous to ride as close to the white line as possible instead of taking up the whole lane. I asked him what the fuck was his problem, and he started to pull a gun, so I took the fastest route to ensure my safety and those of the others around me. I’m pretty sure I at least screwed up his transmission when I threw it into reverse to stop the car,” I told him.
The detectives stayed near me until he was sure they wouldn’t have to arrest me. Once they looked at the videos that the two in the backseat took, including the entire time they were driving behind me and when pulling up next to me, they said I could leave.
As I was getting my laptop bag repacked, I heard the lieutenant tell dickhead that I was the same kid that beat the cop in the races out at the failed mega-mall complex. There were many hints that the detective would be having some discussions with dickhead’s previous police force about his training and past job performance. He was lucky that I preferred to give a hands-on lesson versus filing complaints, press charges, or file lawsuits.
Those guys were the only ones who were assholes during my ride, but not the only cars who pulled up beside me.
“Hey, big guy, you can throw your bike in the trunk, and you can come see what it is like to be with a woman that has a car, and her friends,” said one carload of high school girls from our rival high school.
I got many of those sorts of comments and a few asking if I would pull my dick out since it looked big in my biking shorts.
I knew girls and women could be crude like guys, but isn’t there some line they don’t cross?
I guess not.
It was a relief to pull up to Steve’s house and enter my code to open his gate. Inside I found Paula in her gym with three naked guys around our age and two dressed female trainers. Paula was as naked as the boys. One of the trainers I had seen at the physical therapy hospital. She waved me over to watch.
“That girl can focus on what she wants,” the trainer told me. “There is no question she is very aroused, as are the boys, but even with their cocks poised to enter her to giver her some relief, she moves away. Those guys have been trying to tell her that various sexual positions will help her build up her muscles. Her father confirmed for us that none of those boys could get inside her vagina, or anus, no matter how strong her arousal. So far, you are the only one she wants to have sex with her, at least since she wore out her hot stoner boyfriend. She gave very explicit details of her sex life with you. Not sure how much is real or imagined.”
The other female trainer pipped up to say, “Who cares? Those three are arrogant assholes who said they could get her interested in working her ass off in exchange for them giving her some cock. They haven’t shown any skill bedding her, much less having her work on anything other than keeping them from screwing her. I’m going to go tell them we found another guy to do what they couldn’t. It is clear your carrot is a much better encouragement to work harder.”
I knew what was coming, and I went ahead and stripped. When the therapist called me over, I didn’t let Paula see me. She only knew there was now another boy to work her out. Yet another guy that she needed to keep from screwing her. She kept her eyes closed, for some reason, as I helped her stretch out. My dick liked seeing her pussy spread open as I worked to be sure Paula was able to take the fucking she was going to get. When helping her stretch out her legs, with them parted and her knees on her tits, my heat-seeking meat missile found the silo doors open, and I was ready to load. My dick sank to the hilt as the three guys stared with wide eyes.
“Finally. Someone with a man’s dick instead of a little man dick. Now I’m ready to work out,” she told us.
Work out we did, too. Paula already worked her muscles back into shape. She still couldn’t run more than a quarter of a mile before she tired out, but she was able to fuck me with a lot more energy. We went through a lot of positions where the female therapist, from the rehab hospital, attached weights to Paula’s arms and legs. When Paula said she wanted to be on top, what looked like a lead apron from my dentist’s office went over her shoulders and then secured around her chest. I found that it was a weighted workout blanket. The design kept the weighted beads equally distributed in pockets inside. Paula had to work to get me to cum inside her. When she collapsed on my chest, she didn’t have any energy left for her putty muscles to contract around my dick as she came after I fired the third shot of creamy shot into her. The therapist, Jackie, helped me get Paula into some sort of contraption that helped do something with her muscles to keep her from being so sore later. Paula fell asleep before even strapped in.
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