As the wall opposite was battered by another volley of gunfire, PC Thompson flinched, pressing himself as close as he was able into the wall beside the doorway. It was no exaggeration to say that he was in life-threatening danger.
The old buildings in the disused office complex had long been used as on-off drug dens, though by now the police sweeps of the buildings were so widely known that it was rare to find more than half a dozen addicts in whenever conducting one, and most sweeps would turn up none at all. Given that they were rarely capable of controlling their limbs to stand, let alone fight, the sweeps had been dropped to just a single officer who would call in medical assistance in the rare case there were any users in the buildings.
PC Thompson had barely entered the building when strange moans had met his ears from higher up. The users were rarely lucid when officers found them, and it was not uncommon for them to be noisy in their drug-induced stupor, though these moans sounded different. Cautiously ascending the stairs he had come into a large empty room and followed the sounds to a long dark corridor only to be rained with unexpected gunfire.
The shooters were holed up further down the corridor, pressed into open doorways and framed by the light shafting from the rooms beyond, and he had dived aside to avoid their fire. As the rounds tore at the concrete of the opposite wall, he did not notice the splashes of pink liquid they left behind. Instead, he scrambled for his radio, only for his hands to come up empty.
‘Shit,’ he said. The sweeps were consistently uneventful and he had long since taken to leaving his radio in his cruiser; if he needed it he would simply return and get it as it was not like the addicts would be going anywhere fast. If he was to call this in he would have to make it out back to his cruiser. Down the stairs. On the opposite side of the room.
On the other side of the gunfire.
Hopping up into a crouching position, he prepared to run. Occasionally the gunfire would pick up again, as though to warn him against making a move, but he knew if he timed it just after a spray he would have the best chance of success, and once in the stairwell he would be a whole lot safer. Waiting for the volley to stop, he surged up and sprinted.
The round struck him in the neck and the force of it threw him off balance so that no sooner had he began to run than he stumbled and hit the floor. Without him realising, the shooters had made their way down the corridor, and they had been barely feet away as he had sprinted by. He hit the deck hard and the shock of the impact briefly washed away the knowledge that he had been shot. When he regained his bearings his hand went instinctively to his neck. To his confusion, the liquid he felt was cold rather than hot, and when he pulled his hand away he saw that his fingers and palm were coated in an iridescent pink liquid. In seconds it had seeped into his skin and he could see the blood vessels beneath his skin flush pink as it infiltrated them.
‘What… what the…?’ His voice was suddenly higher, and his body was shaking uncontrollably. Rolling onto his back he found he was acutely breathless, and though the room itself was distinctly cold his body was suddenly scorching hot. Unable to muster the strength to move, PC Thompson lay there, bewildered and fearful as he felt his body begin to change.
His flesh tingled relentlessly, as though every hair on his body were standing on end. Glancing up he watched as the changes worked up his body. First his shoes felt suddenly huge, dwarfing his feet and quickly falling off as he began to writhe in barely contained pleasure. The material of his trousers fell baggy around his shins while at the same time tightening around his thighs, his skin compressed by the restrictive attire. He gasped with a mixture of shock and pleasure as his hips cracked, his ass swelled and an explosion of euphoria more intense than the strongest orgasm he had ever experienced ruptured across his groin. Once it had subsided his boxers felt entirely more empty, yet his body felt more complete than ever, as though all his life he had been missing something that at last he had. Sweeping up to his chest, his eyes bulged and newly slender, manicured fingers caressed his head, groped his thighs as his uniform strained against two mounds rising from his chest. The feeling was so erotic he wondered how he did not cum, and though his new breasts were far from colossal, he knew immediately that he would never want to live without them again. The transformation of his face went unseen to his own eye, but by the time his lips were painted with lipstick, his short-cropped hair had tumbled down in sleek, silky curtains and his eyes were swimming with lust there was nothing much left of PC Thompson anymore. The cellular agent within the liquid had infiltrated his mind mere seconds after absorption, and as his body had twisted into something new, so had his consciousness.
The new woman was a horny mess, groping herself incessantly and moaning desperately. She was desperate to fill herself with something, something big. She needed it as much as she needed air to breathe. Her fingers alone would not be enough and as her motor functions returned in full she snatched the leather gloves from her belt and slid them on.
Before she could tear down her trousers, however, a better option materialised. Cued to enter by her moaning, the shooters filtered into the room dressed head to toe in tactical assault gear, a tanned man with dark hair at their head. Unlike them he was dressed in a shirt and formal blue trousers. Her new mind analysed every man in an instant and she pounced on the tanned man, determining his dick would be the quickest to get to.
Tackling him to the ground she was promptly on top of him, and her frantic mind ignored the nervous flinch of the shooters as she dragged down their leader. Wrenching his dick free from the restrictive confines of his trousers, she pumped it with her gloved hands. Her new mind was full of desires and needs she had never previously experienced, and as his manhood engorged in her hands she began to salivate at the thought of his taste.
A self-satisfied grin on his face, as though he had just done something he shouldn’t have done and gotten away with it, the man turned to the shooters. ‘Well, I think we can confirm it doesn’t just work on sedate subjects. Even the adrenaline of being shot at couldn’t save this one.’ He nodded down the corridor to where the moaning PC Thompson had heard could was audible once more. It drifted from darkened rooms which had recently held a handful of addicts high on a variety of substances: easy prey and unwitting test subjects for the man’s needs. Nobody was going to miss a few homeless junkies, after all. ‘Go. Get them into the vans and out of here. We can auction them off tomorrow.’
Nodding, the armed men retreated and they could be heard dragging the horny women from their bleak den. The woman who had been PC Thompson was far too occupied to notice. The man was fully erect and she was too thirsty to wait any longer; tying her hair into a tight bob to keep it out of her way she enveloped his boner in her hot, wet mouth.
The taste was intoxicating. Salty and sharp, it filled her mouth and mind. His meat was thick and hard, pressing up against her palate as she began to take him deeper. It was hot, too, and she could already taste his pre-cum, driving her to suck him harder in the hope of drinking his full load. As she did so, she realised that her change had not been completed. Her personality had been fragmented and now it rapidly slotted together. An addiction to the man was solidified, a craving for his hard dick and firm hand. The memories of her former life remained, yet they seemed to belong to somebody else and were easily dismissed. She wanted him to herself for the rest of her life; she wanted to obey and serve him, to be his personal slut; she wanted him to use her however he so desired, as a trophy wife or an abused cumdump she didn’t care. All she knew was that she was his now, and no force on earth could change that.
Somehow, though it was her first time, she was better than any other stupid whore the gangster had ever face-fucked before. Ordinarily he would have been using her mouth rough, slamming his dick in and out until her face was covered in his cum and she was coughing on the ground having taken his load hard to the back of the throat. Yet the swirl of her tongue around his shaft rendered him motionless, the soft stroking sensation of her lips as she slid them up and down filled the room with his grunts and moans, and the tight squeeze of her gloved fingers pumping him all the while as she took him deeper set him gasping.
She could sense his mounting orgasm, and responded accordingly: taking him down her throat all the way to the base and gagging on his meat with slutty, erotic moans. He came hard, spilling his seed down her throat and groping her ass to make her moan all the louder. Pulling away, she turned to face him with her chin soaked in cum.
‘Holy shit, how can you even live as a man?’ she asked, her lip curling in disgust and genuine confusion in her eyes. ‘Being a slut is like, so perfect. I can’t imagine being a dude.’ She shivered.
Sitting up, the man grinned. ‘Well, it is difficult, but having a slut like you as my own certainly makes the pain bearable.’ He stroked her face and she giggled girlishly. ‘I think I’ll call you Tammy. I think you’re going to be very useful indeed.’
‘I am?’ she was giddy with excitement.
‘Oh yes, little girl. You see up in that pretty little head of yours you have a lot of memories I can make use of. Radio frequencies, police contacts, police database log-in details and lots more I’m sure. It might take us a little time to get them out of you, but we’ll get there I’m sure, my little slut. Master wants everything you can remember, and you do want to give master what he wants, don’t you?’
‘Yes master, of course I do. I’ll do anything for you, I promise. I would even let your other guys fuck me if you wanted master, though nothing will beat your dick. Your dick is my favourite.’
‘No, no, you’re mine now, little girl.’ Standing up, he zipped up his fly and dragged the pretty lady to her feet and held her close to him. ‘Come on now, we’re going to go home and you can settle in to your new place as my whore.’
That night, Tammy worked her drippy pussy up and down her master’s dick. He had bought her some nice new stockings that afternoon that she wore proudly, and the red lace thong he had given her dangled from her thigh: she had been too eager for his dick to remove it fully. He sighed contentedly as she served him, and the addition of PC Thompson’s police issue hat only served to arouse him more. Tammy had been eager to wear it when he had asked, and the fact that she barely remembered wearing it before, her male persona so completely lost to her, threatened to make him cum early.
Fortunately PC Thompson’s memories were in there somewhere, and he knew the woman was all too willing to have turned informant, even if everything before the change was a little fuzzy. They would just take a little coaxing out. Leaning back he locked eyes with her. As if in response she thrust against him faster, his head repeatedly striking her G-spot and sending her eyes rolling back. ‘So, little girl, tell me what you remember about your team. I want everything…’
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