"Davidson!," Pig declared, recognizing the first figure in the door. "Am I ever glad to see you guys!" Stepping into the light of the room, the first man was tall and trim, his impeccable, tight fitting blue uniform accentuated his muscularity. He reached over and pulled his nightstick from its ring. His biceps bulged, straining at the short sleeve shirt, a tattoo of a bulldog just visible on the right at the edge of the fabric. The square jaw and dark eyes were set off by a close cropped "high and tight" brown flat top. Pig had seen him around the station and had even talked to him a few times in passing. Always meticulous in manner and appearance, Pig wasn't surprised to learn he was an ex-marine DI. An enigmatic figure, Officer Davidson's off duty time was a complete mystery to his co-workers. Never fraternizing off the job, it was as if he didn't exist out of uniform. But he was a damned good cop, and if you ever needed backup in a hot situation, he was the one everybody wanted at their side.
Davidson strode purposefully the short distance to the middle of the room, leaving the second figure in the shadowy darkness of the entryway. He approached Stud and the bound Pig, who continued with enthusiastic menace, "Look at what these fuckers have done to me! But now that it's three to three, maybe we can even the score. First thing I want to do is . . ." Pig's sentence was clipped short as the nightstick thrust into his belly, knocking the wind out of him.
"First thing you want to do," said the ex-marine in a low, quiet tone, "is shut the fuck up, maggot." Then, looking over at the exposed lieutenant, a hint of a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. "Still cornholing the animals, huh, Stud?"
Indifferent to his salacious condition, Stud's smile lit up his face. "You know me, Bear. Simple pleasures are still the best."
Recovering from the blow to his stomach, Pig's mind registered the appellation. So, the Bear that Wolf had called wasn't some dirty biker, but another of the group with animal nicknames. Pig couldn't have known that Wolf had given him the handle while he was still in the Corps. Bear had taken a lot of good natured kidding from the zoomies about his drill instructor headgear, but he had that leatherneck pride and accepted the nickname as a badge of honor. Appropriately enough, it still fit now that he was a patrolman. He couldn't change it anyway.
By this time Bull and Wolf had stood from the couch and walked over. "What's with this 'everybody freeze' bit?" Wolf grinned extending his hand to Bear's. "You really get off on saying that, doncha?"
Bear grinned broadly for the first time, slapping Bull on the back. "Well a guy's gotta have some fun in his job, now don't he? How're you doin', Bull? You been sick?" he joshed. "You're nothing but skin and bones."
Bull doubled his fists, feigning a series of playful jabs at Bear's tight stomach. "I'll give ya skin and bones, jarhead."
Stud had replaced his ample meat back inside his trousers and was buttoning the fly. "That's Officer Jarhead, Bull. Careful how you talk to the police. They're our friends, you know."
Bear looked over at the shaved, bound, collared man with the shield pinned to his chest. "Yeah, they are," he said, "with one naked, glaring exception." A cloud darkened the expression on Bear's face. "But then, it takes a damned site more than a badge to make a man a cop, doesn't it?"
Pig's mind was a mass of confusion. Things just weren't adding up. "Davidson, what the hell's going on? You fucking KNOW these bastards?" Fear began gnawing vaguely again at his gut.
"I know a lot of people, maggot," Bear spat. "And I know a lot of THINGS. Like, for instance, what's been going on with you and the rookies." The corners of Bear's mouth drew downward, his brow darkening above his eyes. "But there's one rookie in particular for which you're gonna pay. You see, he's my buddy. More than that, he's my lover." Bear looked over at the open doorway, and Pig's gaze followed to see the second figure which had, by now, moved into the light of the room.
"Fellas," Bear glanced briefly back at the three Air Force officers, "I don't think you've met Officer Manny Cubrelli. Best thing that's ever happened to me." Bear introduced his partner to Wolf, and Bull, then Stud. "And, of course, you've already met this human garbage." Bear nodded toward Pig.
Manny was barrel chested, his wide shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. The broad shoulders and chest gave the illusion that he was shorter than his five foot, ten inches; and this was only reinforced as the taller Bear moved over to put his arm around his buddy's shoulders. The blue serge uniform hugged tightly at the smaller cop's muscular thighs and heavy crotch. His classic italian features were set off by his thick mustache and bluish shadow of beard that refused to remain shaven.
"Yeah," Manny said, looking at Pig. "We've met, haven't we, Officer?" His face was expressionless, though his hands were clenched into tight fists, whitening the knuckles.
"Well, Manny," Wolf began, "it's a pleasure to meet ya, but we're gonna have to get you a nickname. Let's see," he grinned, "you're a rookie cop, and a partner of Bear's. Hell, why don't we just shorten your last name and call you 'Cub'?"
Bear nodded, "Well, he's certainly furry enough, I can vouch for that!" He laughed aloud, clapping Manny on the back.
A smile curled at the edges of the newly nicknamed rookie's mouth, softening the harshness of the features. "Thanks, guys. I guess this means I'm in, huh?"
Bull grasped Cub's shoulder in a beefy hand. "Any friend of Bear's is a friend of ours. And from the sound of things, you're more than just any friend. You ever need anything, we're all here for ya."
Wolf grinned, "What Bull says is true, I can attest to that. We're a close knit family, and I feel like we just got a little brother." Wolf's smile faded slowly as he became more somber. "Listen, Bear's told me a little about what happened with you and our friend, Pig, here. I can relate, believe me. I've almost completed my retribution. Just one more thing and then he's all yours." Wolf looked over at Bear, "You got the stuff?"
"Ten-four," Bear winked, "in the trunk of the vehicle." He then turned to his shorter partner, "Bring in the package, would ya, Cub?"
*****
When Pig first saw Officer Cubrelli in the doorway, he realized his rescue was not to be forthcoming. Pig's eye had been on the short, stocky italian since his first day at the force, and he knew that his time would come. As one of the Field Training Officers, Pig had only to bide his time and wait for the inevitable rotation. All of the rookies would ride with each of the three FTO's for a month at a time. At the end of the third month, provided all three training officers approved, the rookie received his full certification.
As it turned out, Pig was to be the Italian rookie's second FTO. During the first month, Pig would see him in the station from time to time, and each encounter stiffened his dick. It was a chance meeting in the locker room, however, that had convinced him that he would have Officer Cubrelli, one way or another. Pig was just changing from his civvies in preparation for his night shift when Manny came in.
"How's it going, Rookie," Pig asked, staring as the younger cop stripped off his uniform shirt, his chest straining at the white cotton t-shirt.
Manny gave a friendly, innocent smile, "Doing real good. That Officer Brown's a great FTO." Pulling the undershirt over his head, he revealed a dense mat of black fur covering his chest and tapering down his rippled abdomen. "You can only learn so much from the Academy. That's why I'm really enjoying this." Manny took off his utility belt and started to open the fly of his uniform trousers.
You're not the only one that's enjoying this, Pig thought silently to himself. His cock was aching in its confinement, and he shifted slightly to allow the meat more room to play.
Manny was apparently oblivious to the effect he was having on Pig, and continued on, "I understand that you'll be my next FTO." He sat to untie and remove his shoes and socks. "I'm looking forward to riding with you." As he stood again, Manny pushed his striped trousers down his muscular thighs and pulled them off. Now wearing just his white jockey shorts, he reached into his locker and pulled out a towel, his firm asscheeks straining at the thin material as he did so.
Pig licked at his lips which had suddenly become dry. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to that, too. I think I'll be able to teach you a few things."
Manny unabashedly pulled off his undershorts and tossed them into the locker. Pulling his shaving kit off the top shelf, he slammed the locker shut and held out his right hand to Pig, "I'm sure you will, Sir. Pleasure talking with you. I'll see you in a couple weeks."
Pig almost gasped as he watched the rookie's meat flop into view. He automatically reached out to shake the man's extended hand, and muttered, "Yeah, I'll be waiting," as the rookie headed into the showers, his dick slapping from side to side with each step.
Looking down at his own bulging crotch, Pig saw a dark blue stain of precum on the left thigh of his uniform. "Shit," he whispered, rubbing absently at the spot, then looked toward the sound of the running shower. "SHIT!," he repeated.
* * * * *
The first few days of the rotation together went uneventfully, with Pig subtly trying to discern just what the beefy rookie was into. Each time he approached the subject, however, Manny skirted the issue of his private life. One way or another, though, Pig was going to get a piece of this action; and if it wasn't going to be consensual, well then, that was fine, too. Several times while they were patrolling the streets, Pig would throw the topic of mansex into the conversation, and Manny would congenially laugh it off.
By the end of the third week, Pig was barely able to maintain his professionalism. The smell of the rookie, the way he talked, and that goddamned hairy body, rippling under the blue serge with each movement, all conspired with Pig's lechery to drive him close to insanity. Throughout the weekend, it gnawed at his gut and consumed his mind. Each time the image of the hirsute, naked rookie formed in his mind, Pig's dick would drip precum in some perverse Pavlovian response.
So it was that, by the following Friday, when an unsuspecting Manny lithely slid into the vehicle beside Pig, his fate was determined.
"Morning, Sir," Manny grinned, his dark eyes sparkling above his black mustache and white teeth as he started the engine of the patrol car. "How'd your evening go?"
Pig's adrenalin was pumping, sweat stains formed in the armpits of his uniform shirt. "It was so-so," he responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "Listen, I need to stop by the house for a few minutes. It's over on Robinson Avenue."
"No sweat," Manny replied, looking in the rearview mirror as he backed the vehicle out of the parking space. As he did so, Pig took the opportunity to scrutinize the rookie's brawny body, his arms bulging as he maneuvered to steering wheel. Yeah, Pig thought, his cock stiffening in his pants, this stud was going to be his, no question about it.
A few minutes later the patrol car pulled into the driveway of Pig's house.
"Come on in for a few minutes, let me show you around." Pig still tried to sound casual, even though lust was taking over control of his body. He stepped out of the vehicle and watched as Manny exited the driver's side, studying the rookie's sinewy movements.
Pig walked to the house with Manny close behind. Unlocking the door, he opened it wide and motioned for Manny to enter. Pig then followed him in and, after surreptitiously glancing around the neighborhood to be sure no one was watching, swung the door shut.
"Nice place you've got here, Sir," Manny stated. "I'd like to have a place like this someday."
"Thanks. It serves my purposes," Pig replied, sweating slightly with anticipation. "You can just put your weapon and gunbelt on the table there."
A quizzical look passed briefly across the rookie's face. It seemed a bit odd that a fellow officer would ask him to remove his firearm, but in deference to his host's wishes, he did as requested.
Pig inwardly smiled at how easy this was going to be. That was your first mistake, rookie, he thought. "Come with me, I want to show you something," Pig motioned to Manny, opening a door that led to the basement.
Manny's fledgling cop instincts told him that something was just not quite right here, but he trusted his fellow officer and dismissed his gut feelings as the product of an overactive imagination. Passing by Pig and heading down the stairs, Manny turned, "Sir, I don't think we should be off patrol for too long."
"Don't worry, boy. I won't tie you up any longer than necessary." Pig tried to smile, but it came off as more of a leer, the glassy eyes hidden from Manny by the dim light in the stairway.
Manny descended the stairs, fighting his intuition, his heart rate increasing slightly. On reaching the bottom of the steps, he was able to see into the murky cellar. His heart thudded dully in his ears, and his mouth dropped open as he took in the sight of a medieval dungeon. A small, barred cell was in one corner, and shackles hung from chains embedded in the stone wall. What appeared to be a large wooden 'x' was in the center of the room, illuminated by a single incandescent bulb overhead. A workbench holding various unfamiliar implements lined one wall.
Manny turned to look at Pig on the stairs, "What . . . ?" Suddenly, fear gripped his stomach, his eyes widening in the gloom. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. Pig was standing at the top of the stairway holding the rookie's empty holster in his left hand. In the right hand he held the drawn Glock, the muzzle pointed directly at the younger cop's head.
"What's the matter," Pig grinned, a demonic expression on his face, "don't you like the decor?" His laughter echoed dully off the stone walls.
Manny stood frozen, the blackness of the gun barrel focused his attention. "I don't understand. What are you doing? Is this some sort of a test?"
Pig laughed again, its menace enhanced by the surroundings. "Oh, yeah. It's a test," he chuckled. "And I think you know what I want. You've seen me watching you, and you've been flaunting it in my face for the past three weeks. Well, the marker's due, boy, and I'm here to collect. Now, move over by that cross under the light ."
Manny's mind was reeling. What was happening here? What had he been flaunting? And just what was there to collect? Beads of sweat were forming on the handsome Italian's forehead as he moved to the wooden cross in the center of the room. Under the circumstances, he felt it was best to go along with the scenario.
Pig descended to the bottom of the stairs, the Glock still pointed at the young cop. "That's a good boy," he said, smelling the thick scent of fear. "I gave you every opportunity to do this the easy way. But you're just a prick tease, aren't you, rookie?"
"What are you talking about? Opportunity for what? What have I done?" It was as if the air had become thin. Manny was having a hard time taking a deep breath, and the dryness of his mouth made it difficult to talk.
"I've had my eye on you since your first day at the station. That little show you put on for me in the locker room convinced me your body was going to be mine. One way or another. Now, strip." The smile had faded from Pig's face. "Let's see that body again."
Manny's hands trembled slightly as he reached up to take off his tie and unbutton his uniform shirt. He understood too late that his intuition was correct. This was not a field test. The FTO was psychotic, and there was nothing he could do about it now. Dropping the blue shirt to the floor, Manny slid the white t-shirt over his head revealing the thick black fur on his chest and abdomen, the hair of his armpits matted with sweat.
Pig licked his lips, his nostrils flaring as his eyes narrowed. "That's real nice. Just like I remembered. Now, keep going!"
Manny's heart was racing as he bent over to untie his shoes, his broad back coming into view and the corded muscles in his arms rippling as he undid the laces and removed the shoes and socks. Silently he looked at Pig as he arose again, muted by the mixture of fear and anger. How could this be happening? Why was he forced to strip by a fellow officer he had come to trust and respect? He slowly unbuckled his braided uniform belt and opened the fly of the uniform trousers; then, pushing them down, kicked them off as they settled around his ankles. He stood now, facing his FTO. Dressed only in his white briefs, Manny tried hard not to show the fear gripping his guts.
Pig tossed the empty gun holster he was holding in his left hand aside and pointed to the rookie's undershorts. "Take those off, too! You didn't seem to have any hesitation flopping that dick at me in the locker room."
Manny swallowed hard although his mouth refused to supply the saliva necessary to complete the action. Shucking off this last item of clothing, his humiliation caused him to cover both hands over his manhood, the fear driving his testicles high in the scrotum.
Pig laughed at this futile attempt, "Since you can't seem to keep your hands away from your dick, why don't you make them useful?" Then, in response to the rookie's questioning look, added, "Pump your cock, asshole. Stroke it for me, show me how you do it at home."
"Please," Manny began, "don't . . ."
Pig aimed the weapon down at the man's hairy groin. "You either start beating that meat, or I'll fix it so that you won't ever have to worry about beating it again!"
Even in its flaccid state, the Italian's meat was a handful, and Manny stroked it slowly. Though inhibited by fear, his cock began to rise to the familiar caress.
"That's a good boy," Pig taunted. "Make it hard for me. Yeah, man, I knew that fucker'd be impressive. Use that other hand on your tits. Make 'em stand up at attention!" Pig was obviously enjoying the reluctant show before him. He moved his left hand to fondle the bulge extending down his right thigh, a dark stain of precum spreading across the fabric.
Manny stroked harder at his meat while twisting and pulling at his nipples through their cover of black fur, his ministrations becoming automatic after years of practice. He tried to suppress the fear, hoping that once he drained his balls this nightmare would end. His right hand pumped faster on his rod, while the left ran through the pelt on his chest and abs. He could feel the cum churning for release from his balls, his breath now rapid and shallow.
Pig's eyes were glazed with lust, the stain of precum growing larger as he absently grabbed at the throbbing cock imprisoned in his uniform. "Oh yeah, man, I knew you'd get into this once you got started. Shoot your load for me, you fuckin' hot Wop!"
Manny's head was thrown back, his eyes wide, his mouth forming a gaping 'o'. The precum from his piss slit lubricated his pistoning fist as it glided over the head of his dick. His abdomen was rock hard as his hips bucked in prelude to orgasm. "Uhh, uhhh, uhhhhhhhhhh . . . ," he panted. "Oh, god! I'm gonna . . . UHHHhhhhhh!" Suddenly, a white geyser shot forth from the hunky muscleman's thick cock, and splattered in small puddles on the concrete floor. Drawing several deep breaths, Manny's humiliation and embarrassment returned. He hung his head in shame as his dick hung semi-turgid over his ample ballsack, a thin drop of cum dangling from the tip.
"Bravo!," Pig cheered enthusiastically, "that was some performance, rookie. Much better than that little preview you gave in the locker room. But just look at that mess you made all over my basement floor." Suddenly his voice became menacing, "Clean it up, asshole!"
Manny looked around him for a towel or rag with which to wipe up the manjuice seeping into the concrete floor. Finding none, he grabbed his discarded t-shirt from his pile of clothing.
"Not with that, you fuck-off," Pig growled. A sneer formed across his face. "Lick it up!"
Manny's stomach turned over, but the business end of his revolver pointed at his groin was enough incentive for the hairy bodybuilder to kneel. Then, down on all fours, he stuck out his tongue and licked hesitantly at one of the slimy globs. Forcibly restraining himself from vomiting, he sluggishly lapped up the remaining semen, the grit and dirt grinding between his teeth as he clenched his jaws.
"That's a good boy," jeered Pig. "You did such a good job, I may just have you do the whole basement." A look of revulsion and dread shrouded the handsome rookie's face. Pig saw this and laughed, "Well, not right now. I've got other plans for you." A cold, maniacal look settled in his eyes, "Get up and fasten your ankles in the restraints."
The naked rookie stood, his stomach still attempting to heave up the filth from the basement floor. He hesitated momentarily, glancing at Pig with a look of the betrayed.
Tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows, Pig cocked the hammer of the firearm aimed at the Italian's genitals. "Do it," he growled with a quiet menace.
Manny's mind was racing. Should he attempt to rush the psychotic cop and risk being castrated by his own weapon? Or worse. Pig had obviously thought this through. Using the rookie's weapon instead of his own gave him an alibi in the event he had to use it. Dump the body in some alleyway with the polished weapon and wait for the ten-sixty call. Officer down. Shot by some hood with his own Glock. He was just a rookie, after all. Hey, these things happen.
No! It wasn't going to happen! Not to him, and not like this! A bitter anger welled up in Manny's chest, but he realized his best course of action was to do as he was told. With his back to the wooden 'x', he leaned forward and closed the shackles around each ankle.
Pig licked his lips, his lust on full boil. The sticky stain of precum continued to grow as he watched his hairy victim secure himself to the cross. "Now the right wrist, asshole."
Manny reached his right hand high over his head, using his left hand to attach the restraints to the wrist. Pig nodded as if to an obedient child. "That's a good boy. Now, put your left hand behind your head."
The hunky rookie did as instructed, his heartbeat thudding louder in his ears. Pig moved behind the cross and held the gun to Manny's temple. With his left hand, he attached Manny's left wrist to the remaining restraint, leaving him securely spread eagled to the wooden cross.
Stepping around front, Pig gaped at the magnificent view of the bound, hairy, muscleman before him. Sweat ran in small rivulets from Manny's armpits and glistened in the hairs of his chest and belly. "Oh, baby! You ARE a hot piece of work," Pig chuckled. Suddenly, Pig sank his face into the rookies right armpit, licking hungrily at the sweat, then moved to the left.
Manny was startled by the unexpected move and gasped at the feel of a man's tongue on his body. The pleasurable sensation caused him to swallow, tasting the semen and dirt he had licked from the floor.
Pig ran his tongue though the forest of chest hair until he found the rookie's left nipple and began to suck. As he sucked and licked, Manny moaned softly, the nipple becoming hard, and protruding a quarter inch from the base. Taking it between his teeth, Pig bit down hard, eliciting a scream from the young cop. Pig let out an evil laugh as he moved to the right nipple and gripped it between his teeth, pulling it from the man's chest.
"Oh, please! Stop," Manny lamented, "Why are you doing this to me?"
Pig ran his hand through the fur on the man's chest, down his belly and fondled the cock and balls nestled in the thick crotch hair. His face was inches from the blue-jowled captive's. "You made me do this, asshole. By looking the way you do. By moving and acting the way you do." There was a coldness in the eyes that Manny had never seen before in the man he had come to trust as his FTO and fellow officer. "And I know you want it too. You've been taunting me since you arrived. Well, your taunting's over and my fun's begun." Pig grasped Manny's jaw in his left hand and stuck the gunbarrel in the rookie's mouth. "Show me how good you are at sucking, Wop-cop."
Adrenaline surged into the naked man's bloodstream as panic gripped his chest. He closed his lips over the cold steel, tasting metal and bitter oil on his tongue. Squeezing his eyes shut, in terror of having the weapon discharge, he felt the barrel slide slowly in and out of his mouth.
Pig smiled evilly. "Oh, yeah. You're good at that," and continued to ram the gunbarrel into the frightened rookie's throat. After a few minutes, he tired of this and withdrew the weapon. Manny exhaled a ragged breath of relief and opened his eyes to see Pig holding the pistol in front of his face. Without taking his eyes off Manny's, a slight smile on his face, Pig placed the barrel into his own mouth and licked off the saliva that coated it. Then, removing it from his mouth, he ran his tongue over his lips and laid the weapon on the workbench along the wall.
Taking a two inch leather ball stretcher from a jar of water in which it had been soaking, he approached the spread-eagled hirsute captive. "You're going to like this," he sneered, fixing the leather tightly around the base of the ballsack, forcing the nuts to the bottom, stretching the remaining skin, and then locked it into place with a small padlock. "An interesting fact about leather is that it tends to shrink as it dries. I like to think of it as a lover's embrace." Again, Pig emitted a maniacal laugh and gripped the rookie's cock in his hand. Bending forward at the waist, Pig took the Italian's meat into his mouth and sucked, his tongue brushing lightly at the sensitive base of the cockhead.
Despite his terror, Manny's dick began to again harden in response to the warm, moist caress. "That's the way," Pig slurped at the cockhead, his hand working the base of the shaft. "I need it good and hard for my next trick."
"Oh, damn," Manny moaned. What was this psycho-pervert up to now? He watched as Pig released his cock, and went back to the workbench. Sorting through the equipment, he selected a simple box with a crank on the side and two thumb screws on the top. Picking up a leather bag, he brought the items in front of the rookie. Opening the bag, he withdrew two metal rods, each with a length of plastic coated wire soldered to the end. One was about eight inches long with a gradual flare that sharply tapered at the base where the wire was attached. The second one was simply a thin, rounded rod about an eighth of an inch in diameter and twelve inches in length.
Pig talked as he went about attaching the loose ends of wire to the thumb screws on the top of the box. "You ever hear of the Tucker telephone, Wop-cop? Handy little device. Actually little more than a simple crank generator." Taking the flared rod, he spit on it and spread the lubricant over the tip. Then, reaching between the furry, spread legs of the young cop, inserted it into the asshole with a firm shove until the sphincter muscle closed over the tapered neck, holding it in place. Manny gasped at this violent intrusion, his eyes wide. The cold metallic dildo pressed on his prostate causing his cock to harden still more and forcing a clear drop of precum from the opening.
Pig saw this and grinned. "That's good. You're gonna need that lube for this next step." With the thin rod in his right hand, Pig grasped Manny's jutting dick in his left. Then, slowly, he inserted the rod into the piss-slit through the precum, leaving a quarter inch extending from the tip.
Manny clenched his teeth as the foreign object entered his manhood and continued through the urethra into his prostate. Scared as hell, he had never had anything inside his penis before, and didn't particularly want it now.
"This is great," Pig leered, his eyes shining coldly, "you're gonna get a charge out of this!" He giggled at his own joke as he picked up the box and grasped the handle on the side. He locked his gaze on the wide, dark eyes of his victim. "You ready?"
Manny started to speak and shake his head no, when Pig quickly turned the crank on the box. Immediately, fire seared the rookie's groin as the generated electricity flowed through his prostate between the two electrodes. A shriek of fear and agony exploded from his lungs, a look of surprised anguish on his face.
"Didn't I tell you it'd be great?" Pig whooped, again cranking the handle on the box.
Manny's body convulsed as the shock entered his body. He felt as if he had to shit and piss, but the electrodes prevented him from doing either. "Please! No more. Please!"
Pig's face darkened as a scowl formed below his brows, "Maybe from now on you'll be a little more careful about who you go flopping that dick at, asshole." He turned the crank again, causing the rookie's body to spasm. "If you're gonna play the game, you gotta pay the price!"
Manny's breath was coming in short gasps. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry. I didn't know. . . Ahhhhhhrrrggh!" he clenched his teeth, biting his tongue as another jolt crossed the embedded electrodes.
"Well, you're just not getting into the spirit of this at all," chided Pig, setting the box down. "But, I've got something that'll take care of that." Reaching between the man's thighs, he grabbed the end of the buttplug and pulled it out, eliciting an "Unnnnhhhhhh" from the Italian captive cop. Taking the still throbbing cock in his hand, Pig then extracted the thin electrode from the man's urethra. Grabbing the rookie's shiny, extended ballsack, he reached up with his other hand to smack lightly at Manny's cheek. "Now don't you go anywhere. I'll be right back." Releasing the nuts after a quick squeeze, Pig turned and stomped up the stairs.
Manny, exhausted, wondered what could be next. What did he mean that he had something? And when was this torment going to end?
Moments later Manny looked up at the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs. Pig came down still dressed in full uniform, his cock bulging obscenely down his thigh. Walking up to Manny, he held up what looked like a wax bullet. "I hope you appreciate this," he began. "These things are damned expensive. Have to have them smuggled in from Europe." The sneer was back on his face. "But the effects are worth it. Ya see, this contains a drug that works as one fucking powerful aphrodisiac. Once absorbed into the body, the brain gives way to five or six hours of mindless lust. Nothing else matters, but getting off. Of course, in larger doses, it eventually leads to a loss of consciousness." He opened his palm to reveal two more of the wax ovals. "That's why I brought you three of 'em." He smirked, as Manny looked at him with questioning eyes. "Oh, they work. Believe me. They've come in very handy." Pig chuckled to himself. "You're going to thank me for this," he reached around to spread the rookies hairy asscheeks and inserted the first suppository. Manny tried to clamp his ass shut, but it was a futile attempt as Pig inserted another of the suppositories. His brain started to cloud vaguely as he felt a tingling sensation in his groin. Looking down, Manny saw his cock jutting out above his stretched ballsack, the head swollen and purplish, clear precum dripping to the floor. "Unnnrrrr," he grunted, as the tingling spread through his groin and belly. There was no resistance as Pig inserted the third suppository into his asshole.
Suddenly, Manny's whole purpose in life was to cum. He wanted . . . no, he NEEDED to grab his dick and beat it until it spewed hot seed from his tethered balls. Lust burned in his eyes as he pulled at the restraints holding his wrists, a thin line of drool trickled down from the left side of his mouth. The tingling in his groin became a pulsating current demanding release. A look of pleading came over his face as he pulled at the wrist restraints.
Pig watched, amused. "Oh, yeah. You're gonna have a GOOD time!" and laughed as he undid the restraints at the rookie's ankles. Then he stood and undid Manny's right wrist from it's bonds. Immediately, the rookie grabbed his cock and began furiously pumping. As Pig released his left wrist, Manny used that hand, too, to minister to his throbbing meat.
With all his consciousness focused on his cock, Manny barely realized being led to the cell in the corner of the basement where he stood stroking violently on his dick. The muscles of his arms and chest bulged in stark relief, as his collared balls slapped painfully from side to side. The cell door swung shut with a metallic screech and Pig put a padlock in place and closed the hasp.
"I gotta get back on patrol," he called to the busy captive, "I'll be back after shift. But don't worry, I'll cover for you." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he climbed the stairs and closed the door.
Pig returned that evening to find Officer Cubrelli slumped in the far corner of the cell. His hand still gripped at his limp, red dick. Dried and drying cum matted the hair on his chest, belly and arms, as well as spotting the floor of the small cell in testament to the effects of the aphrodisiac he had been administered. His balls were bluish purple below the constricting, dried leather ball stretcher. The leather was covered with scratches where the now unconscious officer had apparently tried to remove it as it squeezed down on his tortured testicles.
Reaching into a cabinet beside the cell, Pig pushed a button and removed a videocassette, grinning at the motionless, hairy hulk in the cell. "Well, this should prove to be entertaining, if what you look like now is any indication."
Going to the rookie's discarded uniform heaped in a pile by the wooden 'x', Pig pulled out the wallet. Taking out the driver's license, he looked at the address and returned it to the wallet, which he then replaced in the uniform trousers. Reaching into a front pocket he took the rookie's keyring, putting it into his own pocket. Whistling cheerfully, he gathered up the pile and carried it to the door connecting to the garage. Opening the trunk of his cruiser, he tossed the policeman's uniform and equipment in and slammed it shut. He then opened the back door of the vehicle, and, leaving it wide, stepped back into the basement dungeon.
Returning to the cell, he unlocked the door, opened it and stepped in. He kicked lightly at the ribs of the young cop, getting no response. Grinning an evil smile, he began whistling again as he bent and, with a little effort, hoisted the muscular rookie's limp body over his shoulders and carried it to the garage. Laying Manny on the back seat, he closed the cardoor, still whistling brightly.
He spent the next hour and a half editing the videotape onto a fresh cassette which he then slipped into its jacket. Stopping at the desk to write a short note on a yellow post-it pad, he tore off the sheet and stuck it to the cassette box.
Standing on his doorstep with the cassette in his hand, he closed and locked his front door, then stared up at the now dark and star filled sky. He began whistling again as he went down the steps, opened the garage door, and got into his patrol car, tossing the cassette on the empty passenger seat. He turned around as he backed the car out of the driveway, glimpsing down briefly at the sprawled, naked form of Officer Cubrelli in the back seat, and began chuckling to himself. Putting words to the tune he had been whistling, Pig sang softly to himself, a grin on his face, "I fought the law, and the law won . . ."
Driving to the address he had memorized from the license, Pig parked the car, turned off the lights and engine, and exited. Going the few feet to the front door, he rang the doorbell of the darkened house, assuring himself there was no one else home when the chimes went unanswered. Taking the rookie's keyring from his pocket, he found the housekey, inserted it in the lock, and opened the door. Then, returning to the cruiser, he opened the back door, and lifted the naked officer over his shoulders. Carrying Manny into the bedroom, he tossed him onto the kingsize bed and looked around. Something struck him as not quite right. His cheery mood evaporated and his eyes narrowed as he realized what it was. The pair of police issue sweats hanging from the doorknob were several sizes too large for the short Italian he had just unloaded. Moving to the bureau, he picked up a framed picture of two men with their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling at the camera. "Davidson!" Pig whispered in amazement, then turned to the body on the bed and grinned. "You little devil. No wonder you were always so evasive about your personal life." Looking back at the picture, then at the sweats, he continued, "This also clears up a lot of the mystery about that fucking high and mighty ex-grunt." Going to the closet, Pig opened it revealing several sets of regulation police uniforms, one short and the other long. "Oh, yeah. This clears up a helluva lot."
Pig went out to the car, opened the trunk and gathered the pile of clothing and equipment into his arms. Closing the lid as quietly as possible, he stopped to retrieve the videotape from the front seat. Carrying his load back into the house, he dumped it on the floor at the foot of the bed, placing the cassette on top with the yellow post-it note in plain view.
Standing in front of the dresser mirror, Pig adjusted his uniform and patted a few errant hairs back into place. "You know what," he grinned at his reflection in the mirror, "I'm in the mood for some fun, how 'bout you?" The image in the mirror nodded back at him. "Yeah, I thought so." Then, he turned, walked out of the house, locked the front door, got into the patrol car and headed for his favorite stretch of deserted, dark country road. "Maybe we'll get lucky and catch that fucking zoomie tonite. Yep, we just might."
Manny heard his name being called, and tried to rise but couldn't lift his head. It was as if a large weight had been clamped to his temples, holding his head against the ground. He attempted to open his eyes, and was blinded by a great ocean of light. Still, he heard his name being called over and over. Slowly he was able to swim to the surface of the light, his head throbbing in a vice like grip. He opened his eyes and looked directly into the moist brown eyes of his lover.
Bear had come home from night shift to find Manny curled on the bed, cum matting the hair on his body, his dick swollen and red, and his testicles bound in the constricting leather ball stretcher. He'd had to get his bolt cutters from the cruiser to remove the padlock that held it in place.
His initial panic had faded when he checked Manny's carotid and found a pulse. He tried slapping his lover's cheeks lightly to revive him, calling his name, tears welling up in his eyes. He cradled Manny's head on his large bicep, stroking his hair with the other hand. "Manny," he repeated over and over as if the mantra itself would revive his fallen comrade.
"Bear . . .?" Manny's eyes began to focus. The ocean of light was the morning sun shining brightly through the bedroom window. "Bear?" he repeated.
"I'm here, Manny. I'm here. It's okay, buddy." His voice was choked, tears welled up and ran down his cheeks as he held the rookie's head to his chest.
Manny wrapped his muscled arms around Bear's waist like a drowning man grasping at a log. They stayed like this for the next ten to fifteen minutes, as, slowly, Manny regained his bearings. Gently, Manny eventually pulled away from Bear and turned his head in shame and humiliation. His head was throbbing as he watched the curtains billow gently in the breeze from the window.
"Manny, what . . .?" Bear began.
"Please, Bear. I can't. Not right now." He looked with hollow eyes at his partner's face and saw the love and concern in the rigid features, but he couldn't talk about it yet. He had to get it straight within himself first. Then, maybe. Manny rose from the bed, the pounding ache in his head worsening as the room began to spin. Holding on to the bedpost for a few seconds, the vertigo stopped, and he started toward the shower. Manny passed by Bear who was seated on the edge of the bed watching, and reached out to take his head in both hands. He ran his right hand over the ex-marine's flat top, then wiped away a tear from his buddy's cheek with his thumb. "I love you, Bear. That's all you gotta know for now." Bear sat silent as Manny entered the bathroom and turned on the shower spray. "I love you too," Bear said, although no sound escaped his lips.
Although relieved his lover was alive, and apparently without any lasting physical damage, Bear was, nonetheless, gravely concerned. He had never seen Manny like this. They always talked about everything. Bear was the one who convinced Manny to join the force. And they were excited when they found out Bear was to be his final FTO. But, now...
Bear shook his head and stood. He started unbuttoning his uniform when he noticed the pile at the foot of the bed. He bent down and picked up the videocassette carton, reading the attached post-it note: Officer Cubrelli, Congratulations on passing your second month. Thought you'd enjoy this present. We're not through yet. Say the word and a copy goes to the Chief and the Police Commissioner.
Putting the cassette on the dresser top, Bear stooped to pick up the rookie's uniform, removing the brass and pens from the shirt in preparation for the cleaners. Finally, he slipped off the badge and held it tightly in his palm, tears again welling up in his eyes.
The weekend passed and, still, Manny wouldn't talk about what had happened. Everything else had appeared to be returning to normal, and Bear took pains not to bring up the matter of what occurred Friday night.
Late Sunday night, Bear was readying a uniform for the next day when Manny walked into the bedroom. "Manny, you want me to get a uniform set for you?" Bear asked.
"No, thanks. I'll get it," Manny replied, reaching into the closet to pull out one of his uniforms. He put the brass on the collar and the nametag over the right pocket. Then, taking the badge, he hesitated. He held it in his hand staring at it, tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks. "I can't. I can't do it, Bear. It's not right." He looked at Bear. "I'm not fit to be a cop." Bear moved over and hugged the short Italian's head to his chest. "Manny, you're more of a cop than most cops I know. Talk to me, buddy. I want to help, but you've got to talk to me."
For the next thirty minutes, Manny related the story of what had occurred, as far as he could remember, on Friday morning up to the insertion of the suppository, and then everything blacked out. Bear listened quietly as Manny recounted his ordeal, but the blood of anger burned in his cheeks.
"The tape," Manny said hoarsely, "we've got to see what's on the tape."
The video cassette sat untouched on the dresser where Bear had placed it. Removing the tape from its case, Manny slipped it into the VCR and watched as the screen flicked from a flat blue to an image of him stripping off his uniform. The sound had been taken out, and the tape had obviously been edited as it quickly changed to Manny masturbating himself and licking up his cum from the floor. The rest of the tape was edited highlights of his six hours in the cell ecstatically abusing himself, until finally collapsing unconscious to the floor in the corner.
They watched in silence as the image faded and snow appeared on the TV screen. "Bear, that first part I had a weapon drawn on me. The rest of it . . . I don't even remember any of that. I . . ."
"It's okay, buddy. I know. I know." Bear held Manny's head to his chest. "We'll get the fucker. That's a promise."
Finally, the catharsis of getting the story out relieved Manny of a heavy burden. Between the two of them, Manny and Bear could carry the load. Bear looked into his buddy's eyes, "Let's go to bed," he said softly. That night they made deep, passionate, masculine love, and fell asleep in each other's arms.
* * * * *
It was a week later when Bear got the phone call from Bull. At first Bear couldn't make sense out of the raving voice on the other end of the line. He had known Bull for quite a few years, but had never heard him like this. After some gentle questioning, he was able to calm the impulsive muscleman enough to get the gist of what had happened.
"Wolf just told Stud and me last night, Bear," Bull's voice trembled slightly, "It happened a week ago, and he just told me last night. He's been acting so strange lately. I want the cop's ass that did this to him. You gotta help me, buddy." Bull's rate of speech began to speed up again, his voice taking on a slightly frantic edge. "He won't go to the police. Says that it's his word against the bastard's, and he doesn't know who to trust. You're his friend, Bear. Please, can't you help?"
Bear sat stunned after hearing the story of what had happened to Wolf. Holding the phone numbly to his ear, a feeling of deja vu washed over him like a cold ocean wave. "Bull, listen. First, you've got to get control of yourself. I want this fucking slime as bad as you do. Believe me. Get Wolf and Stud together and meet me at the bar tonight after shift. I've got something I have to tell you guys, too. It's important, Bull."
"Plus . . .," he added with an enigmatic tone, "I've got a plan."
And, so, it was a somber group that sat at the corner booth in the quiet neighborhood bar that night as Bear related the account of his lover's ordeal at the hands of the maniac cop. They all agreed that justice wasn't going to be enough for this monster. What was called for here was . . . revenge.
