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  #1  
Old 12-25-2015, 10:39 PM
kernelkink kernelkink is offline
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Default Trade for Time

I've been posting these on the ASN board, but I thought you all might enjoy also. The story should be finished before too long, in the meantime let me know what you think!
Sheriff Stephanie Morales jumped out of her car and began taking in the situation. Gentle Elms Mental Hospital had an escaped patient, who had somehow gotten a hold of a knife and taken several doctors and nurses hostage. As soon as she heard, Stephanie had hopped in her cruiser and sped off the hospital. With her training and experience, this kind of thing would be hazardous, but not a problem. As long as she had a good, trustworthy SWAT team, they'd be in and out minus no doctors, no nurses.

The problem was, Stephanie had no trustworthy SWAT team. She didn't have trustworthy cops, period. She'd recently transferred from Los Angeles to Lakewood, Kentucky, in hopes of a safer and less stressful lifestyle. She got it, alright. Lakewood was a special kind of bumfuck nowhere, with a police department of 5 and records still kept on Rolodexes and onionskin. Stephanie never thought she'd miss LA, but when your town's best nightspot is a combination bowling alley/bingo hall, life moves pretty slow.

More importantly, her hostage situation was a complete powder keg thanks to her extremely naïve colleagues. Her best man was Robert Briggs, a young guy with a GED who sometimes approached the level of “almost competent”. He was standing near the door to the hospital, radio in hand. Billy McLaughlin and Ray Stevens were a couple of buffoon slackers, currently cowering in fear behind their cruiser despite no guns being involved. It was a good thing, too, in more ways than one. Stephanie was thinking about her... biological problem with bulletproof vests. As in, they fit poorly over her giant rack. Stephanie hated the hot-blooded Latina stereotype, but she had to admit she fit it physically with nature granting her some mighty FF cups and a hefty butt to match.

Apart from the three guys and Stephanie, there was poor, poor Amy Bower...but Stephanie couldn't think about Amy (or her own boobs) right now. She had a hostage crisis, and while her team were good people, they were about as capable as a baby holding a shotgun. Stephanie ran over to Robert and asked, “Is he ready to negotiate?”. Robert wobbled his head back and forth.

“I guess so, Captain. Pardon me for bein' a little unprofessional, but he's a complete shit-for-brains wacko. I dunno if we're gonna be able to keep him happy,” Robert replied.

“Well, we only have to stall for an hour or so. I called Lexington on the way over, they're sending a SWAT team out. In the meantime, I'm going in, but I'll need someone to have my back.”

Robert slapped his badge proudly. “I'm your guy.”

For a second, Stephanie felt just a little proud of the loyalty she'd inspired. “Thanks, but no thanks, Briggs. I need someone capable taking care of things on the outside. I'll have to take Abbott and Costello over there.” Stephanie pointed toward Billy and Ray, or at least their white eyes popping over the hood of the cruiser. As soon as she did, they yelped and dived back down. Stephanie winced. She couldn't pry them into the hospital with a crowbar.

“Alright, well, it'll have to be Amy then,” Stephanie sighed, scanning the area for the teenager. “Where is she anyway?”

“I think she's where you left her,” Robert said sheepishly. He nodded toward Stephanie's cruiser, which had an open passenger door. Stephanie sighed ever louder as she walked over. Amy was leaning out of the door, holding her hat in her hand, dry heaving.

“Amy? Amy, I know you're nervous, sweetheart, but I need you in there with me,” Stephanie pleaded. Amy's eyes shot up, their shiny blue surface contrasting with her milky pale face and golden blonde hair.

“Yes- urp- sheriff! I just nee- hurk- a minute to pull toge- hic- together my police lady toughness,” Amy burbled. For all her faults, Stephanie had to admit Amy was a go-getter. But she wasn't a cop, not really. When Stephanie saw that the police in Lakewood were all male, she immediately pressed secretary Amy into her new female officer recruitment program. But Amy was easy to scare, physically dainty, shy, and used to being pushed around. She desperately wanted to please Stephanie and become a full officer, but lacked basically any of the skills to get there. And yet she was still better than Billy and Ray.

“No time, Bower,” Stephanie chided, taking a hold of Amy's collar. “You can pull it together on the scene.” As the two women walked up to the door, Amy tried her best to stand up straight.

“Don't, um, don't I need a bulletproof vest?” Amy whimpered. Stephanie glanced down at Amy's chest. Pretty girl though she was, she would have no problem fitting into a vest.

“For the last time, he doesn't have a gun!” Stephanie barked. As they came close to Robert, Stephanie turned on her Bluetooth earpiece. “Call me through this with any updates, so he doesn't hear you. I'll do my best to keep you clued in too. If I need you to storm the building, I'll use the phrase 'There's no skylights in here.' Got it?” Robert nodded, and Stephanie dragged Amy inside.
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  #2  
Old 12-26-2015, 04:54 PM
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Default Chapter 2

Well, I guess I didn't know how this board worked, but all is well and the other chapters should be up in the next few minutes. Sorry about that!

“Why would he need to storm the building?” Amy squeaked. Stephanie elbowed her in the side.

“Quiet!” she hissed, “Be a tough policewoman, okay? Be tough.” Amy shut up, but still looked terrified. Stephanie felt bad- she was supposed to be empowering Amy, training her. She thought for a second. “Something that always helps me when I'm nervous is to take account of all the equipment I have. Everything that can intimidate the bad guys. Like my gun,” Stephanie said, patting her holster. “And my tazer. And my uniform.” She patted the tazer, and her belt line. “And my b-”

Stephanie stopped short and closed her eyes in annoyance. She had placed her hands over her chest without realizing it, and had almost said boobs. But it was true. Secretly, deep down inside her stern, Catholic heart, Stephanie was aware and proud of the way her body projected sexual power. The way men tripped over her words when they first met her made that clear enough. And in some weird way, her body helped Stephanie feel regal and intimidating in the most dangerous of situations. But she couldn't tell that to Amy, that would be humiliating. “My badge..” Stephanie said at last, shifting her hands slightly north.

“You count your uniform and your badge separately?” Amy mused.

“Yes, Amy. Your badge is your symbol of authority, or it will be, when you get one.”

“You think I will, Steffy?” Amy said gleefully. Stephanie groaned. She hated that nickname. But Amy kept forgetting that, over and over, so Stephanie just stopped protesting at some point. Amy seemed better, too, so Stephanie said nothing and kept walking toward the location of the hostages. They were all kept in the central lobby, just a short hallway ahead.

As Stephanie entered the lobby, she quickly scanned the exits. Apart from the way they'd came, there was a little alcove with bathrooms, and a wide hall on the other side, heading toward all the patient rooms. There was also a stairwell and an elevator on the opposite side of the bathrooms. But all of that quickly faded away in light of the appearance of the hostage taker. He was an ugly bastard of about 65, with a balding scalp, a scraggly beard, and a lazy eye. His gray sweats had a few flecks of blood on them, and in his hairy right hand he held a long kitchen knife. “Don't move another foot, pigs! Or all these squares are gonna get it! And get your hands up!”

Stephanie and Amy froze, hands in the air, but visibly confused by the man's dated slang. A voice echoed from the floor: “He's an ex-hippie by the name of Bruce,” the voice explained, “took too much acid and it's all up in his spinal fluid.” Stephanie took a tiny step and leaned to the left to see the source of the voice, a older man who was presumably a doctor. He was on the floor, and beside him were three women, who by appearance Stephanie guessed to be a doctor and two nurses.

“You're just mad we won the culture war,” Bruce spat as his lazy eye rolled. “So what the hell do you want?” he said as he turned back to Stephanie and Amy.

“We're negotiating, Bruce,” Stephanie said, “Remember? My deputy talked to you about this.”

“Oh yeah, that's right,” Bruce mused, looking genuinely forgetful. Stephanie exchanged a look with Amy. “Well, I'm gonna want Timothy Leary freed,” Bruce started.

“Done,” Stephanie nodded. When Amy turned to her, shocked, she hissed to her: “Look it up on Wikipedia later. He's been free for decades! And also dead for decades!”

“Third, I want a police cruiser with $1000 in cash in the backseat,” Bruce said, forgetting his place.

“It might take a little while, but we can do it,” Stephanie replied. Easy enough to fake or even do for real if they had to. This might be easier than she thought! Maybe they wouldn't even need a SWAT team.

“And finally, I want to meet my favorite celebrity,” Bruce crowed, “Kermit the Frog!” Stephanie's heart dropped into her stomach. So much for the easy way.

“Bruce, I don't know if we can do that. I mean...Kermit isn't even real,” Stephanie said. That was the wrong move. Bruce's eyes darkened and he sn*tched a nurse off the floor. Both the nurse and Amy screamed.

“How dare you say that! Man, you really have me pissed off now!” Bruce howled as he pressed his knife against the nurse's throat. “I think I'm gonna kill one of these little squares!”

“No, Bruce, no!” Stephanie yelled. “We'll...we'll bring Kermit. But he lives in Hollywood, it'll take a few hours for his jet to get here.”

Amy turned to her, eyes wide. “Do you really know Kermit the Frog?” she breathed.

“I know your FBI tricks, pig!” Bruce scoffed. “That's way too long to take you at your word.” His grip on the nurse tightened, and a drop of blood ran down her neck as she yelped. Stephanie's mind raced. How could she stop this? Finally, a desperate idea came.

“We'll trade for time!” Stephanie blurted out, “For every hour you wait, we'll bring you another thousand dollars!”

“I don't need cash!” Bruce replied. But the idea had struck him in some way. He thought for a second. “But I do need a disguise to get out of here if things go bad. So for each hour we wait, pigs, you give me a piece of your uniform.”

Stephanie's immediate reaction was to refuse, but she repressed it. It couldn't take more than two hours for the SWAT team to arrive. That would be her shirt and shoes, and she was wearing a tank top over her bra. She wouldn't even have to drop her holster. Still, it seemed so dirty and wrong to give in...but it would save the hostages. Stephanie nodded slowly. “Okay. It's a deal.”

She slowly leaned down to unlace her black boots, sliding them off to reveal crisp white socks. Stephanie clenched her toes, nervous. Socks weren't particularly scandalous, no, but her boots gave her an extra inch or two. It bothered Stephanie to lose any aspect of her intimidating posture. As she slid them over to Bruce, he nodded eagerly. “Good, good. Now Blondie, you go,” he said, gesturing to Amy with his knife hand.

“Me?! Why?” Amy yelped. Apparently she was surprised to be included in the situation for the first time, but Stephanie had to admit she didn't get it either.

“Backup uniform!” Bruce spat, “In case I lose any pieces on the road.” Amy turned to Stephanie, who tilted her head urgently. Amy, trembling, bent over and popped off her white-and-pink Sketchers, awkwardly tossing them towards Bruce. He immediately dropped the nurse and hungrily gathered up the shoes. “Perfect! Now bring on the frog!”

Stephanie held down a button on her earpiece to reach Robert. “You heard the man,” she muttered sardonically, “make the call to Kermit's people.” She let go, slowly sinking to the floor where Amy already sat. “Amy, sweetheart... it's gonna be a long night.”
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  #3  
Old 12-26-2015, 04:55 PM
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Default Chapter 3

Stephanie checked the clock on the wall. In 10 minutes, 2 hours would have passed since she and Amy gave up their shoes. They had made it past the first hour when Stephanie realized that their hats could count as a piece of the uniform. If they had to wait another 10 minutes, though, real clothes would have to come off. Stephanie glanced over toward the hostages, who Amy was checking on, and gritted her teeth. The SWAT team just had to be outside by now! Right? She held down her earpiece and cleared her throat. Then she quietly spoke: “Briggs. Briggs!”

“I'm here, Sheriff Morales, what's goin' on?” Robert whispered back after a moment.

“Hasn't anyone shown up by now? Even Lexington's worst response time shouldn't be more than two hours!” Stephanie hissed.

“No, not a sign of anyone. For all I know they could be lost over at Wood Lake by now,” Robert chuckled.

Stephanie's blood froze. “Say again, Briggs. There's a town in Kentucky called Wood Lake?”

“Yep. Clear other side of the state! People end up here by mistake all the time, it would just do to have the opposite happen for once.”

Stephanie screamed internally. If she had misspoken, or someone on the other end had misheard, and it seemed they had, her rescue was speeding in the wrong direction. “Briggs, I need to you to get a hold of Lexington and confirm the SWAT team is inbound! We don't have a whole lot of time here!”

There was a short, embarrassed pause. “Sheriff, I don't know the security clearance.”

“Then send Billy and Ray to the station to look it up! If this paranoid f*cker hears me calling out codes and numbers he's likely to cut my head off! And keep me updated!”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Robert said, and there was a click. Stephanie blew an anxious puff of air from her lips. She had no idea how far away Wood Lake was. It seemed very likely that Stephanie would eventually be exposing her underwear, though, a though that didn't sit well with her. A sour look came over her face just as Amy approached.

“Well, a couple of them have scratches- no wait, they're called lah-sir-ay-shuns, right?- but there's no bleeding, no real pain, they're perfectly okay! Looks like we're gonna get out of here just fine!” Amy babbled cheerily. Stephanie almost didn't have the heart to tell her.

“Actually, Amy, the SWAT team might be lost,” Stephanie mumbled. Amy's face sprung back into its normal worried position. “And while I'm dropping bad news, it's 4 minutes 'til we gotta take our shirts off.” At this, Amy swooned slightly and her eyelids fluttered. Stephanie grabbed a hold of her shoulders and gently slapped her cheeks to bring her back. “Hey, sweetheart, hey, it's gonna be okay! Are you not wearing anything over your bra?”

“Right,” Amy breathed, eyes wide open and staring into space, “my braaaaaa.”

The way Amy dragged out the word confused Stephanie. “Yeah. Bra. Your bra. You've heard of 'em, right?” Amy's eyes came back to space to look into Stephanie's. They were more afraid than Stephanie had ever seen them. “Are...are you not wearing a bra, Amy?” Stephanie asked incredulously. It seemed unthinkable that this shy and jumpy girl would be going topless under her uniform.

“Oh, no, no no no no no, Steffy! God no!” Amy babbled. “I've got something under here. It's just, well...ahem.” Amy cleared her throat as her entire body began to flush bright red. “When God was passing out his gifts, my mama always said, he gave me plenty of 'em but my...” Amy hesitated before finishing. “...bosoms... were just not one of 'em. I ain't really ever needed a bra.” Stephanie was so put off by Amy's dainty euphemism that she felt severe secondhand embarrassment. But she choked down that thought and offered words of encouragement instead.

“Amy, women come in all different shapes and sizes. Who cares if you don't need a bra? It doesn't make you any less beautiful.” (Amy blushed even darker at this.) “I'm gonna take my shirt off with you, it'll happen real fast, no big deal, right?”

Amy nodded slowly as her blush faded. “No big deal.” Just in time, Bruce clapped his hands and stood up.

“I don't see any respected show business figures in here,” he growled, “So you better get a strippin' before I get a stabbin'!” Stephanie quickly reached for her collar and started unbuttoning her shirt. The less she looked down, the less focused she would be on it and the faster it would be over.

Instead, she decided to focus on Amy. “No big deal, Amy,” she said, and then glanced over to look at her partner. She had to do a double take that ended in a stare. Amy had undone exactly one button and was standing there, stock still, limp as a rag and white as a ghost. Something akin to the sound of squeaking leather came out of her mouth, and then she bolted into the women's bathroom behind her.

Stephanie, terrified Bruce would be angry, spun to look at him, but he seemed pretty nonplussed. “Eh, well, two uniforms would be pretty hot to wear anyway,” he said, gesturing at Stephanie. “You'll have to do.” It took a second for Stephanie to process what had happened, and when she did she flooded with red-hot anger. How could Amy do this?! She was supposed to be her loyal trainee, the girl she was helping to mold into an independent woman! And she just f*cked off when Stephanie needed her most! Stephanie's anger was such that she barely even noticed when she slung her uniform shirt off her shoulders and onto the floor. Bruce shrugged, and all went back to waiting.

40 or 50 minutes later, Stephanie had calmed down enough to return to reality. Amy showed no signs of returning, and that bathroom door had stayed unmoving since she left. Bruce was attempting to clip his nails with the knife, which was disgusting. And Stephanie's boobs were considerably more visible.

Even with the opaque white tank top, when Stephanie looked down she could see she was showing off quite an impressive bit of cleavage. That she didn't mind so much. It was actually making her feel more in charge, like she was an action hero ready to take command, and maybe...even...turning her on just a little tiny bit? What she didn't like was that the the scalloped edges of her bra cups were every so slightly visible. Stephanie kept picking at the top of her tank top, but she could never fully move them out of sight.

Suddenly, Bruce clapped again, and Stephanie spun to look at the clock. Had an hour passed already? She couldn't believe it! That meant she was going to have to take off her pants, and, well, show the room just what kind of panties Stephanie's Secrets stocked.

“Alright, same song and dance, same price,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. “You know, it would be a lot easier to pass the time if we could just drop a couple sheets of acid.” Stephanie wasn't too amused. Slowly she stood, fingers subtly sliding up her legs to see if she could feel what kind of underwear she had on today. Nope. The pants were too thick. The gears in her head turned, and her hands jumped up to her belt. She quickly unbuckled it as well as her holster, and slid both over to Bruce, but only after removing her gun's clip and tucking it into her bra.

“There. You've got a key piece of my uniform. We're set for another hour,” Stephanie grumbled as she went to sit back down. But it was Bruce's turn to be unamused. He brandished the knife with a scowl on his face and his good eye turned toward the male doctor.

“Not quite good enough, pig,” he said as he began walking toward the doctor. The man gasped and scrambled away on his back, pleading to Stephanie with his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop!” Stephanie shouted, and she quickly unbuttoned her pants. The zipper followed quickly, and she felt the weight of the pants threaten to drop as she gripped them with her fingers. She loosened them for a milisecond, and then instinctively tightened them again. She'd seen a flash- just a flash- of many bright colors, dominated by pink, and finally knew what panties she'd put on today. “Oh no,” Stephanie moaned quietly, “Not those.”

Her pants hung there on her slightly squatted body for what seemed like hours as she worked up the nerve to drop trou. Finally, she thought, “I can do this. I'm a proud, powerful Latina with incredible boobs, and I'm a hell of a lot stronger than that b*tch Amy.” A second passed. Then Stephanie stood, and her pants fell.

Her full-size tank top, stretched as it was by her breasts, left only a little sliver of skin visible at her stomach. But it was enough to see every inch of her panties, Stephanie realized, as she stared down at them glumly. They were a pair of little hot pink cotton boyshorts, stretched tight along her trembling butt and wide thighs. They were decorated in yellow and green stylized flowers, made of geometric shapes in sort of a weird 60s-style design, complemented by wavy lines and starbursts in lighter pink. As if that wasn't enough, the thin white waistband running along the top was in that cheap scallop cut and stamped over and over with the branding: Fruit of the Loom.

Stephanie bit her lip- knowing what she'd seen on sale at the local Walmart, it could have been worse, and she would prefer this to wearing a thong, and people tend not to care so much about these things in a hostage situation, but... she was still utterly, incredibly embarrassed. She was supposed to be a big, tough, undefeatable cop, and she had lost all her uniform to expose cute little pink pantie-wanties. It was- “Wait a second,” Stephanie thought. “I've lost all my uniform. I have nothing left to trade him. In an hour, I have no idea how I can keep these people alive!”

She was interrupted from her reverie by Bruce's words: “Nice,” he said with a mild expression. “But if you're done showing off, maybe let me have the pants, pig?” Stephanie looked around to realize she had been standing there, thinking to herself, without ever stepping out of her pants. Turning red, she slipped them off her ankles and tossed them over to Bruce. Stephanie looked to the hostages to see them all staring at her, red-faced. They all suddenly became very interested in the ground, except one nurse who was biting her finger hard in a vain attempt to keep from giggling. “One more hour,” Bruce chuckled, folding Stephanie's pants end over end.
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  #4  
Old 12-26-2015, 04:57 PM
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Default Chapter 4

Stephanie pushed down on her Bluetooth earpiece as she tried to make herself small in the corner. As the phone rang, she realized that curling up her body was making her boyshorts ride up her thighs, and quickly stretched out both her legs and panties as much as possible. Finally, she heard a click. “Sheriff? You and Amy okay?” Robert asked.

“Yeah, Briggs, I guess so,” Stephanie grunted, “But I don't know if I can stall more than an hour from now. Where is the SWAT team?”

“Well Sheriff, Billy and Ray looked all around the station and couldn't find the clearance information. So, I remembered that internet thing you keep showing us on your laptop, and how you find out all sorts of things on it for us, so they broke into your house to use your computing device, ma'am.”

“What?” Stephanie shouted despite herself. The hostages glanced over worried, so she flashed them a smile and a thumbs up.

“Well, I apologize, but we need to call Lexington, right? I'm expectin' to hear from them any minute. I know you can figure somethin' out, Sheriff Morales, you're a smart lady. If you need me in there, though, I'm right outside.”

Stephanie thought about this, but then glanced down at the flowers and starbursts popping out at her from her panties. “Keep your current course, Deputy. We'll get through this.” She hung up, and buried her face in her hands, thinking furiously about what to do.

Meanwhile, Amy was clamped to the bathroom sink by her long, purple-colored nails. “I'm such a bad police lady,” she moaned to herself. “Hell, I'm such a bad friend!” For maybe the fourth or fifth time since she escaped to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her white, clammy face. “ I know I ain't as brave as Steffy, but that was just gosh-darn yellow! I can't believe I left her all alone.” Amy eyed the exit to the bathroom, marched over, grabbed the handle...and stood there. Just stood there, looking down at her flat chest and almost fully buttoned shirt. And then she let go and grabbed the sink again as fresh sweat ran down her forehead.

“You just gotta show your undies, off, Amy. That's all. They're just clothes. Just private, humiliatin', childish clothes that ain't nobody supposed to see you wear! You just gotta parade your panties in public!” Amy continued, chuckling nervously. “You'll be a hero, you'll prove you can be brave, you'll keep those poor folks alive!” Amy swallowed hard, and after focusing her gaze on the ceiling, unbuttoned two more buttons in quick succession. Then she made the mistake of looking down, and yelped. She clenched her shirt closed. “Maybe just another 20 minutes. Just to gather your n-urp-nerve,” Amy hiccuped.

But another hour passed, and Stephanie was still facing Bruce alone. She looked up at the clock, sure he would clap again any minute. At least she had an idea, but as unpredictable as Bruce was, she didn't know if he would go for it. Even if he did, Stephanie wasn't sure she would be able to carry through with it. It was a humiliating plan...but it was the only one she had. She stood up (casually trying to pull down her tank top's hem and the legs of her boyshorts) and waved in Bruce's direction.

“Hey, Bruce. Don't get excited, alright, I know another hour's up. I'm ready to talk about it,” Stephanie said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Bruce, trying to smoke a rolled-up piece of stationary, jumped up and squinted at Stephanie.

“Uh, yeah, you're damn right that another hour's up! Where's my next thousand dollars, man?” he shouted before breaking into a string of coughs. Stephanie's heart skipped a beat.

“Thousand...dollars?” she asked, eyebrows raising. She looked at the hostages, who all shrugged in response.

“Yeah, and none of your games, pig! I want that money in here within 10 minutes or the doc here gets it!” Bruce replied, gesturing with the knife. Stephanie sighed in relief. She wouldn't have to propose her plan after all! She could just get Robert to send in some money.

“We're on it,” Stephanie said as she pressed her earpiece, “I'll be able to show you in 10.” Suddenly, though, the bathroom door burst open with a loud bang. Everyone jumped and turned to see Amy in the doorway, sweating and shaking.

“Hang on, Steffy, I've got your back!” Amy shouted, keeping her eyes locked on Bruce. Quickly, messily, with trembling hands, Amy unbuttoned the rest of her shirt. A bit of gray came into sight, followed by a...cartoon character's face? Stephanie slapped a hand over her mouth. If she wasn't so horrified, she would be rolling on the floor laughing. “I'm your partner, I'm a good, strong police lady, and if I have to show my undies to prove it, I'll bring 'em out in the open!”

In seconds, Amy's shirt hit the floor, followed by her belt and her pants. She kicked the clothes over to Bruce and slicked back her sweaty blonde hair before planting her hands on her hips. Everyone had a completely unobstructed view of Amy's underwear, which definitely could be called humiliating and childish. Above the waist, Amy was wearing a little gray camisole that came down to just above her belly button. On it was Batgirl, heroically uppercutting the Joker and smiling from under her mask. The cami was made of cotton and fairly loose, proving there was no need for Amy to have any bust support.

Starting at Amy's waist were a pair of purple cotton bikini panties with a black waistband. Stamped right on the crotch was the Bat Symbol in gold and black, shining proudly. This goofy though weirdly matching set contrasted with her pink socks, one of which was rolled up her calf and the other of which clung loosely to her ankle with broken elastic. “Go ahead,” Amy crowed, “Look at it! I don't care! I'll put on a fashion show!” Amy turned around, revealing that the back of the cami was stamped with the words “Girl Power!” in gold. It also showed off a less humiliating trait, Amy's surprisingly large and firm rear.

Amy turned back around and finally starting looking at the faces around her. Stephanie goggled in horror, Bruce clung to his smoldering stationary with an open mouth on his face. The doctors were red-faced and tears brimmed at their eyes, while both the nurses were biting their hands and shaking silently. Finally, one of them couldn't help it any more. “BAHAHAHAHA!” she burst out, causing the other nurse to crack up too, and even the male doctor blasted out a single “Ha!” before clamping his hand over his face. Amy's composure immediately shattered into a million pieces. She swung one arm over her chest and a hand over her crotch as her knees turned inward.

“Oh God, Oh Jesus, Oh God, Oh Jesus! I'm showin' off my panties to a buncha strangers!” Amy drawled. He eyes swung back in her head and she threatened to faint until Stephanie ran up to her and shook her back into awareness.

Stephanie wanted to be furious, but she was, somehow, despite herself, impressed and touched by Amy's actions. Besides, she needed to stay on top of the situation as she had no idea how Bruce would react to this. “It's okay, sweetheart, you did great,” she said to Amy, patting her on the back as she turned to Bruce. He continued to stand there, squinting, mouth open for a moment. Then he dropped his ball of ash, smiled gently, and slapped a hand over his forehead.

“Oh, duh, thank you! I totally forgot we were doing the uniform thing, and now, I have two great uniforms, and so that's all taken care of. But Kermit's still not here, so I guess it's time to start killin' people!” Bruce enthused with a smile. He picked up the knife and grabbed a nurse by the neck.

“No, wait, no, wait, Bruce!” Stephanie called, her heart dropping. She would have to put her plan into action after all. “You're still missing a part of the uniform only I can give you.”

Bruce didn't let go of the nurse but he did raise an eyebrow. “What's that?” he asked.

Stephanie looked at the ground and took in a deep breath. She puffed it out as she turned her eyes back to Bruce. “This tank top,” she said, grabbing a strap between her fingers. “Those shirts won't fit you, so there'll be space visible between or over the buttons. If a cop sees your bare chest that's a dead giveaway you stole the shirt. You'll need the official police undershirt to get away with it.” Stephanie couldn't help but cringe a tiny bit. This was such a bad lie. If she wasn't facing someone as nutty as Bruce, she knew she would never get away with it.

Bruce stared without speaking for a very long moment. Then he nodded slowly, clearly impressed. “Damn,” he said, “you got me there. So alright, hand it over and you got another hour.”

Here comes the hard part. Stephanie closed her eyes and put her hands on her face as a blush built in her cheeks. Without her tank top she would be standing here in just her bra and panties. A police officer, a trusted sheriff, facing down a maniac in her girly underthings. Amy looked at Stephanie with wide eyes, though she still hadn't moved her hands. “That isn't true, is it Steffy?” Amy whispered to her. Stephanie slightly shook her head without moving her hands. “Wow, you are so smart to come up with that!” Amy gushed.

Stephanie's heart swelled a little bit at the praise. The speaker may have been dumb as a brick shithouse, but she trusted Stephanie completely and was 100% behind her. Whatever else, she couldn't let Amy down. Stephanie lowered her hands and opened her eyes, but kept them trained on the ceiling. Her face turned fiercely red and she bit her lip hard as she put her hands around the tank top's hem. Slowly, never looking down, never blinking, Stephanie raised the shirt over her head, peeled it off her right arm, and tossed it to Bruce.

As if on cue, a cold breeze passed over Stephanie's chest, giving her evidence of her new exposure. She placed her hands on her belly. Yep, just bare brown skin there. She slid her hands up, meeting the bumpy feel of lace. Yeah, that's my bra. My 36FF bra, just hanging out in the open, the only thing between the world and my nipples. Finally, Stephanie had to look down and just acknowledge it had happened with her eyes.

Look, once you get past D cup, your choice of bras gets pretty restrictive. When you're a cop trying to adhere to safety standards, that limits it even more. No underwire, for one, so the entire structure has to be rock solid. So when Stephanie looked down and saw something more akin to a bulletproof vest than lingerie, you have to be understanding. Her bra was a gargantuan thing of bright white cotton and lace, held together by reinforced seams and two-inch-wide straps. There was a tiny little white satin bow between the cups, and four sturdy metal fasteners in the back. If you look up “matronly” in the dictionary, it has a picture of this bra.

As was evident before, the cups were scalloped, but the weight they were holding up was never more clear than now. A full 70% of Stephanie's boobs sat there, trembling, chilly, silky smooth and caramel brown, for all the room to see. Amy couldn't take her amazed eyes off of them. “Wow,” she mouthed without a sound. Bruce was even more taken. He stood there, transfixed, stammering in search of words. Even his lazy eye was focused on Stephanie's jiggling rack. As for the hostages, the female doctor whistled softly in astonishment, and the two nurses gawked while slowly crossing their arms over their own chests. The male doctor was staring at the ceiling much as Stephanie had, hands tightly crossed over his lap.

Stephanie wanted to cry. Stephanie wanted to collapse. Stephanie wanted to wrap her arms over this frivolous, flowery underwear and run through the wall, Wile E. Coyote style. But she couldn't do any of that. She had to protect these people and somehow, despite her unmentionable being entirely mentionable, remain commanding and inspiring. “Bruce,” Stephanie sharply commanded, “That's another hour and a half. I didn't need to tell you about my official police undershirt; you owe me.”

Bruce, to Stephanie's curiosity, briefly averted his glance to the floor. “Uh, yeah, yeah, okay,” he said in a soft voice. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Back to your places, folks!” he barked, regaining his composure. Stephanie sank to the floor, holding her chest out and staring down Bruce as she did. Amy gently squatted down beside her.

“Wow, okay, so we have 90 more minutes. What are we gonna do if the SWAT team ain't here by then?” Amy whispered in awe.

“I just don't know, Amy. You gotta be prepared for anything,” Stephanie said. That wasn't entirely true. She already had an idea of what she would try. But it was too horrible to think about. She turned to look at Amy, whose face was filled with worry. Then Stephanie noticed her young partner's nervousness had extended to another part of her body. Right in the middle of Batgirl and Joker's faces, two small, inch-long protrusions sharply projected from under the cami.

Stephanie's face twitched, holding back her laughter. “What's the matter?” Amy asked. Stephanie blinked hard and bit her finger as her shoulders started to shake. She had just noticed Batgirl was winking.

“Nothing,” Stephanie gasped, “I'm just a little tired.” But then Stephanie noticed that her massive breasts were obscenely jiggling with every suppressed giggle and clapped her arms over her chest. That wasn't as funny.
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Old 01-10-2016, 06:36 PM
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Suddenly, Stephanie noticed a faint trilling in her right ear and realized Robert was trying to call her. She quickly tapped her earpiece, squeezing her boobs close with her spare arm. “Talk to me, Briggs,” Stephanie whispered.

“Jesus, Sheriff, I was just about to burst in there if you didn't say somethin'! I've been tryin' to reach you for the last four minutes. I got good news; the SWAT team is on the way,” Robert replied.

Stephanie's eyes widened. “10-4, Briggs. Good news for sure. What's the ETA?”

“They're sayin' two hours, Sheriff. I know that's a lot considerin' how long you've been in there, but it took me a while to convince them that the other team was goin' in the wrong direction.”

Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in frustration. Unless Bruce had another big blank-out, she had no chance of a smooth rescue from the SWAT Team. She had to figure out a way to stall for one more hour. “Understood, Briggs. Thank you.”

“By the way, Sheriff, how have you been stalling for time? You haven't asked me to bring in money or anythin'. I know the guy's a kook and all, but I'm curious.”

Stephanie glanced down at her only clothes; her tight heaving bra, her little pink panties, her white socks over her scrunched-up toes. Everything else she had worn was gone, traded away in the dumbest hostage crisis of all time. “A good cop uses her natural resources,” she finally said to Robert. “Stay frosty, Briggs. Keep in touch,” Stephanie finished before hanging up.

Amy sidled over and looked at Stephanie eagerly. “What is it, Steffy?” she asked.

“SWAT team is inbound in two hours, Amy,” Stephanie whispered.

Amy's face showed joy, but that quickly faded to worry. “That means we have to keep stallin' more, right? What are we gonna do?” Amy asked.

“I was hoping you had an idea,” Stephanie murmured, though she didn't really expect that kind of adaptability from Amy. Sure enough, the younger woman shook her head vigorously, causing a cami strap to slip partway over her shoulder. Amy gasped and quickly pulled it back up before wrapping her arms over her chest in a tight hug. All this brought Amy's underwear to Stephanie's attention anew. Why was she wearing this? Even if she didn't need a bra, there had to be a decent selection of more adult-appropriate camisoles out there. It was a goddamn mystery comparable to Bruce's brain. But Stephanie couldn't ask...could she?

“Fuck it,” Stephanie whispered. “Amy,” she said a little louder, “this is gonna seem strange, but could I ask you a question about...your underwear?” One of Amy's hands instinctively shot to her crotch and her face glowed bright red. But as a silent second passed, Amy's face relaxed into something more resigned.

“Aw, heck,” Amy moped, lowering her arms, “Y'all have seen everything already.” She sighed exaggeratedly, making Batgirl's face bob slightly. “I guess you can so long as I can...” Amy paused, turning even redder. “Ask you...about yours,” she finally finished.

It was Stephanie's turn to blush, albeit much more invisibly. “Fine,” she said, subconsciously adjusting her bra straps. “So why Batgirl? I mean, do you like superheroes or something?”

Amy's blush replenished itself, but she did smile. “Yeahhhh,” Amy drawled, “especially Batgirl. Ever since I was a little girl, I was stuck to the TV whenever she came on the cartoons. I just liked how she was smart and tough and everybody listened to her even though she was pretty and girly too. Not a lot of that happenin' where I grew up, just a whole lot of 'Don't you look adorable in that little dress, Amy?'” Stephanie put a hand over her heart, which she swore was melting just a little bit.

“So when you asked me to train with y'all to be a police lady, I almost said no. I been such a scaredy-cat all my life and too worried about breakin' a nail to exercise much. But I thought of Batgirl and how brave she was, and how she ain't never one to back down. So I said yes,” Amy finished, nodding. “Oh,” she gasped, “I s'pose I didn't really answer your question. I wear these undies every time you take me somewhere scary and new. Makes me feel brave to know I got these on.” Amy gently tugged at the front of her cami. “Didn't think the whole world would get to know I had 'em on today.”

Stephanie smiled broadly. “You know, Amy, that makes a lotta sense to me,” she said, “In the weirdest way, but it makes sense.” Amy blushed yet again, but her smile came back in a big way too.

“Alright, you got to hear all 'bout my panties, so now I get to ask you somethin',” Amy said, looking down at Stephanie's chest. “What size is that bra of yours?” she whispered.

Stephanie chuckled despite herself, holding her chest to keep it from bouncing this time. “36FF, Amy,” she replied.

Amy goggled and did a double take from Stephanie's face to her chest. “Holy smokes, Steffy, they make letters bigger than D?” Stephanie nodded and giggled good-naturedly. “I guess it makes sense, though, since you're carryin' around the peaks of the Appalachians there. My goodness, what're they feedin' you California girls? Even Bruce is scared of 'em.” Amy smiled and Stephanie outright laughed thrice. Once for the jokes, once for Amy's corn-fed innocence, and a third time when she realized her deputy-in-training was actually pretty funny.

In the middle of the third laugh, she looked down at herself and was caught off guard. Stephanie had dropped her arms and her chest was jigging freely, offering a wide-open view of her assets. It was almost hypnotic now that she really looked, Stephanie thought. Her boobs were jutting right out into the room, huge and dominant, and their motion just called attention to their size. Her cleavage was a long, darkening line that plunged right between her boobs, terminating in that dainty little bow.

Stephanie felt a surge of pride and bravery, and then she felt something warm between her legs. She gasped, and had to fight to keep herself from slapping a hand over her crotch. She was getting that...well, that damp feeling inside, and it would just be the icing on this shit-cake of a night to get a wet spot on her panties. Why was she feeling like this, though? How stupid! What was she going to do, leak all over Bruce? She had to stay focused. “No more talking for a while,” Stephanie gently chided Amy, right before she started to think very hard about soccer.

It was a very fast hour that passed. Stephanie's heart was pulsing like the wings of a hummingbird as she watched the minute hand of the clock. In just one more rotation, that little hand would herald the beginning of wild desperation. The “official police undershirt” lie might have been bad, but it was foolproof compared to the next two she had thought of.

That last minute passed even faster than the 70 preceding it. Bruce glanced at the clock, breathed in, and breathed out with the exasperated nicker of a horse. “Well, I'm gonna be honest, I was expecting to be done with this hostage thing like three or four hours ago, and I'm super bored.” He stood up and brandished the knife once more. “I need a really good reason to not just do some stabbin' because that would at least be interesting.”

“Well,” Stephanie quickly interjected, “I've been keeping a tight lid on some other official police clothing you'll need to get out of here. That's pretty damn interesting, right, Bruce?” Stephanie stood and nodded at Amy to follow her example. Amy anxiously nodded back and stood up straight, although she flinched when an isolated giggle floated over from the hostages. “Namely, you're going to need our official police socks. Can't have those ankles showing.” Stephanie squatted slightly and raised her foot up, peeling the sock off. Amy followed her sheriff's example, though she bounced and wobbled trying to keep her balance. After a minute, both women were in bare feet and tossing over their balled-up socks.

“I thought you might say that,” Bruce smirked, and stepped out from behind the visitor desk to reveal he had on Stephanie's pants and boots. “These fit great, I look fantastic, and there's not an ankle to be seen!” he scoffed. Stephanie's heart sank deep into her stomach. Bruce wasn't lying on any count.

“Then,” said Stephanie, wringing her hands. “Then,” she began again. But she couldn't bear to continue. How could she? All Stephanie Morales had left to offer was her most intimate apparel, the last line between her decency and indecency. This was insane, the idea of baring either her boobs or her pussy to a roomful of hostages and a homicidal maniac. She thought she might have to turn herself in for examination after this. But then, how could she not offer her underwear, if it would save a life?

“Then,” Stephanie repeated in a tremoring voice, “you'll need something to disguise yourself as me. As I'm sure you've noticed, I have...” Stephanie's voice cracked like a little 13-year-old asking a boy if he liked her. This was humiliating. “I have extremely large bosoms and you would never be mistaken as me if you can't emulate them,” she said very quickly. Stephanie winced. She couldn't believe she just used the word “bosoms”. Amy's subsequent squeak kicked off a very long quiet. The doctors and nurses were muttering incredulously. Amy was burning red and nervously jangling her bracelet. And Bruce had raised an eyebrow as he gradually cracked a smile.

Then he laughed. Hard. Between tears and cackles, he spat out word after word: “What!? AH HA HA! You got- HA! Be kidding me! If I want- HEE HEE HEE- ed to look like- GASP- you, I would, I would, I would HA HA HA! Ask you if you had a jar of shoe polish! AH HA HA HA!” Amy seethed, at the racist joke, at the abject humiliation, at the fact that she had no more ideas to save the hostages. She was prepared to wrestle Bruce for the knife right then and there.

But then she remembered something Amy had said. She said that “even Bruce was scared” of her boobs. And it was true. She had been able to take real control of the situation when she had first exposed her bra. In a way she had never dreamed of, Stephanie's boobs did grant her power. And she had to use that power more explicitly than ever.
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Old 01-10-2016, 06:37 PM
kernelkink kernelkink is offline
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Stephanie's eyes hardened and met Bruce's unflinchingly. “Bruce!” she shouted, standing as straight as she could and sticking out her chest as far as it could go. Bruce's laughing slowed as he looked at her and eventually stopped. But his expression was still more defiant than nervous. “Think what you want, but you are going to need my bra to get out of here alive,” Stephanie continued, taking a step toward Bruce.

Bruce scoffed again, a bit less confidently. “Take it off if you want, pig! Time is up for good!” He slowly raised his hand with the knife.

“I think you're bluffing, Bruce,” Stephanie said, taking two more steps toward Bruce. Slap. Slap. Her bare feet smacked the tile in perfect coordination with the gentle jiggle of her boobs. Stephanie took a deep breath, and, without moving her eyes, reached her arms back to the fasteners of her bra. She felt her nipples begin to stiffen, almost anticipating their upcoming exposure.

“You'll see what a bluff looks like when there's blood all over the floor!” Bruce retorted, but it was his turn for his voice to crack. It wasn't entirely convincing. And that was enough for Stephanie to know she was right. She undid the first of the four fasteners, feeling her bra straps loosen and her chest drop slightly.

“What's more,” Stephanie said, ignoring Bruce's words completely, “I think you want me to take this off.” She hesitated a moment, and then undid the second fastener. “Mental quirks aside, you seem like a red-blooded American boy. And well, what red-blooded American boy wouldn't want to see what the sheriff is packing?”

Stephanie couldn't see Amy, but if she could, she would witness a face torn halfway between the worlds of admiration and embarrassment. Who she could see was Bruce, jaw slack and searching for words. “I, I, um...uh,” was all the maniac could say. Stephanie undid the third fastener. By now, her straps were slack and floppy, and had slid partway down her shoulders. The bottom of the bra strained considerably and sunk into her skin. Her boobs felt halfway free, and wobbled quite a bit with each of her continuing steps.

Stephanie couldn't see this, but she could feel it, and it was making her focus slip. She thought of her mother, a sweet but stern Catholic nurse 3500 miles away. When she had bought Stephanie her first bra, she sat her daughter down and explained that she was to nevermore take her shirt off in front of anyone but her mama and her personal doctor. A boy was absolutely forbidden. Sinful even. And yet here Stephanie was, one tiny metal hook from showing the entire room her tetas. Was it really worth it? To trade the shred of dignity she'd preserved for 12 years for a single hour?

But then she saw Bruce's knife hand start to slack. Just a tiny bit. But enough to know that she could get that knife and end this all. “Bruce,” Stephanie whispered, “drop the knife.” Bruce shook his head, but only very slightly. “Bruce,” Stephanie repeated with force, “drop the knife.” She took three more steps forward. There was now little more than a foot of space between her chest and Bruce's. Stephanie flexed her fingers one more time, and the final fastener came undone. Somewhere in this room, the hostages had four gaping mouths and one raging boner between them.

Any tension left in the straps disappeared, and Stephanie's bra almost removed itself of its own accord. Her boobs sunk with gravity, and a small portion of them even slid out from under the cups. Her gun clip, which she had almost forgotten about hiding there, hit the floor with a loud clatter. Stephanie felt her nipples pressing against the cotton, and knew that they, and the tips of her clavicle, were basically the only thing holding her bra up. She gathered a deep breath and spat it out as words: “Drop it!” Bruce dropped the knife with a flinch. The whole room was breathless.

Stephanie flicked her eyes away for the first time, to gauge where the knife was. Then they went right back to Bruce as she slowly began to squat. Stephanie's heart skipped a beat or two as she felt her bra straps begin to slide away. The weight of the fasteners gently dragged against her back. But somehow, the undergarment held onto her boobs enough to keep them decent. “That's right,” Stephanie said to her bra as much as Bruce, “stay right there.”

Finally, she had sunk onto her knees, and reached out her left arm to grope around for the knife on the floor. Immediately, her left cup sank, and Stephanie felt the soft skin of her areola beginning to hit the open air. She stopped, pulling the arm back. Cold sweat began to collect in her armpits and under her boobs. “I have to act now,” Stephanie thought, and went out with her right arm. The right cup slipped down too, but less quickly, and Stephanie felt her fingers touch the edge of cold steel just as the edge of her right areola hit fresh air. A smile flickered across Stephanie's face, and she begin to stand back up.

Her rising spirits crashed with a thud. Bruce was looking down at her with a strange look on his face. And not the right kind of strange. Furthermore, gravity had finally overcome the tackiness of human skin. If Stephanie stood anymore, her bra was going to slide right off her arms. Even now, her areolas were more out than in, and Stephanie felt the full weight of her boobs hang free. She thought of her mother again, one Halloween, when she had rejected Stephanie's somewhat cleavage-baring costume. “You want to be hot?” her mom had said, in a thick Latin accent. “Modest is hottest, Stephanie. Girls who show off their tetas are just big sl*ts.”

“Well, mama,” Stephanie thought, “I might not want to be a sl*t. But I have to be a cop.” And then Stephanie stood up all at once, her bra sliding off her arms and dangling loosely on the tip of the knife. It stayed there just a second, and then it fell with a soft thump. Stephanie followed it with her eyes, and stared at it as it just lay on the floor. And then it all clicked. Stephanie's eyes raced upward, from her toes, to her soft brown thighs, to her bright pink panties, to her belly button, to her completely and utterly bare breasts.

There they hung, swaying very slightly with Stephanie's breathing. What had once sat at her shoulders was almost down to the bottom of her chest. Saggy would be unkind and inaccurate, but they had a healthy natural droop to them. Right in the middle of each breast was a large and wide areola. Forget comparisons of coinage, they were at least 2 inches across; even while crinkled and puckered in nervous excitement. Their color was a deep mahogany brown that contrasted greatly with Stephanie's caramel chest, and they were centered around two short but very noticeably erect nipples.

Stephanie stopped herself from screaming, but a little moan did come out. She was totally topless in public and on the job, and everyone knew just how much it was getting to her. She was so practically naked that Stephanie almost felt like taking off her panties just to complete the sensation. But she didn't. Instead, she closed her mouth, swallowed, and felt the cold knife in her hand. She had it. It was finally over.

Her heart soared, and she spun around to face Amy. “Yeah!” Stephanie said, pumping the knife skyward, and Amy squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Stephanie grinned broadly, not even caring she had just sent her bare boobs swinging wildly. But she cared when she heard a metallic click, and she turned around to see Bruce holding a revolver. “Oh, come ON!” Stephanie howled, dropping the knife and putting her hands up. “Who the F*CK brought a gun to a mental hospital?” The male doctor raised his hand sheepishly.

“Very clever, pig,” Bruce giggled. “Using your CIA tricks to get inside my brain. But it's over. It's all over.” Bruce waved the gun forward. “Back up. And you get your hands up too, Blondie.” Stephanie flushed all over with hot embarrassment and rage, but she did as Bruce said. In a moment she stood beside a white-faced Amy, who had her hands up too. “I'm gonna tell you what's gonna happen now. We're gonna get all the secrets on the table. First, get that top off, Blondie. Big and loose enough to hide a submachine gun under there.”

Stephanie didn't want to make any sudden moves, but she had to dive to keep Amy from collapsing onto the floor. Her young partner was in a flop sweat and barely conscious as she got her back on her feet. “We don't have any choice, sweetheart,” Stephanie pleaded. Amy said nothing at first, but as her dizziness lessened she turned her big blue eyes to Stephanie.

“But Steffy, mine don't even compare to yours,” Amy whined. “If you've got the Appalachians, I've got a couple'a sad little anthills.” She gently pressed on her chest and frowned deeply. “They won't stare at mine, they'll just laugh at 'em.”

Stephanie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, the boys at my school used to walk behind me on my way home with footballs stuffed in their shirts. The girls never left gym class without snapping my bra. They all called me “bouncy boobs”! People'll find some stupid shit to make fun of no matter what you're shaped like. It doesn't make you any less beautiful.” Amy looked shocked for a second, but then she nodded. Fast, and repeatedly, with quick short breaths between them. Then she broke into a primal scream that didn't cease as she did the following: grabbed the bottom of her cami, squeezed it, and ripped the top over her head. She threw it to the floor, and the scream finally stopped.

For a second. Then Amy looked down at herself and screamed all anew; a fearful and embarrassed scream. Her pale, curveless chest was completely exposed to the room. Her breasts, had they been fitted for a bra, would have been AA cups, like the battery. And not much bigger than batteries they were, sitting completely still despite Amy's full-chested scream. Her little quarter-sized areolas were just about as pink as humanly possible, and the inch-long nipples that stood out from them were only a tiny bit browner.

Then the scream stopped again, this time cut off by a fainting spell that even Stephanie couldn't stop. Bruce shrugged and clicked his tongue. “Nothing after all, but we gotta be safe. Toss that thing over here, and gimme that earpiece while you're at it,” Bruce continued to Stephanie.

Stephanie's heart jumped from her stomach to her throat, threatening to make her vomit. “What did you say?” she stalled.

“Yeah, yeah, don't play dumb, pig!” Bruce growled. “Take it off, toss it to me, and if you try to say anything else you're gonna get a bullet or two! And I mean, you got two pretty easy bullseyes out there for me,” he said, gesturing towards her areolas.

Stephanie's hand trembled as she took her earpiece out of her ear. “God help us both, Robert,” she thought as she clenched it in one hand and picked up Amy's cami with the other. She tossed both to Bruce, who finally set the gun on the visitor desk and picked up his prizes.

“Just cuz you played so nice, I'm gonna give you 30 more minutes. But when that's up, if there's no Kermit, there ain't gonna be any more blabbin'. Just six big bangs!” Robert cackled. He sat down at the desk and began pulling on the rest of the police uniform, looking up at Stephanie every so often.

Stephanie didn't know how things had gotten out of hand so fast. One minute she was more in charge they she had ever been, and in the next things couldn't get any worse. “At least,” she thought, “Amy is waking up.” Stephanie bent down to lift her partner's head and slap her cheeks lightly. Amy's eye's fluttered, and she came about with a strange mix of happiness and sadness. Then her eyes fixed on something below Stephanie's waist and they shot wide open.

“Steffy,” Amy hissed, clearly horrified. Her white face was rapidly turning the reddest it had ever been, and she buried her face in her hands. She started to mumble something incomprehensible.

“What is it, Amy? What's wrong?” Stephanie asked.

“Steffy...” Amy stammered, “You, uh, well, like, um, kinda have, just a little, just, um, like, a tiny bit of, uh, er, h-h-happy juice on your, um, panties.”

Stephanie was confused for a second, and then she looked down to see that sometime in the past confrontation, she had gotten so excited that her worst nightmare had come true. A little dark wet spot had appeared on the front of her boyshorts. Slowly, without a word, Stephanie curled up in a ball and stared at the wall. She would figure out how to save everyone in 10 minutes or so. She just needed a little break to put her shattered brain back together first.
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Old 01-29-2016, 02:22 AM
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Default Chapter 7

After she'd composed herself a little more, Stephanie tried to think things through. She was miserable, though; every possible future seemed to result in disaster. The loss of her earpiece made her feel more naked than anything else had. Well, okay, that might be an exaggeration; having her boobs swinging around made her feel pretty damn naked. But to the point: with her earpiece gone she had no way to communicate with Robert or the outside world. She didn't know if the SWAT team was here, what their plan was, if they would even act quickly enough without word from her. Basically, she was just another hostage; a sad little Latina with no power whatsoever.

She looked around at her fellow hostages. Amy looked as pathetic as Stephanie felt, pale and shivering in her Batgirl panties. The doctors and nurses all looked as frightened as they ever had since Stephanie and Amy came in. One nurse was crying, the female doctor trying to comfort her. Everyone was truly scared that they might get hurt. Stephanie shook her head sadly. She felt like crying herself. Her job was to make people feel safe and protected. She had failed so badly already, and Bruce still had six bullets to use.

“Use your natural resources,” Stephanie had said to Robert. So she decided to make a thorough inventory of what she and Amy had to use. “(1) One pair unfortunately damp boyshorts, color: pink. (2) One pair bikini panties, color: purple, special traits: Bat symbol. (3),” Stephanie continued, stroking her silky blue-black ponytail, “ One rubber hair tie, color: black.” She considered letting her hair down, but it wouldn't be long enough to really cover her boobs at all. It was just a little more than shoulder length. So it would only be a distraction.

“And (4),” Stephanie finished, giving Amy's arms a once-over, “One wrist bracelet, material: silver. Inventory complete.” It was just about as sad as she'd figured. But then Stephanie had a thought. The doctors and nurses, the true hostages, were fully dressed and potentially had something to offer her. If she could go over and talk to them, she could potentially figure out something to do. Even if they had nothing, it would be useful to plan with them and, in the worst case scenario, plot how to overpower Bruce.

Stephanie wrapped an arm around her boobs, shivering slightly as she brushed against her soft areolas and stiff nipples. She stood up slowly, wobbling with both nervousness and imbalance. Bruce immediately trained the revolver on her, squinting suspiciously. “What's the idea, pig?” he said slowly.

“I'm just going to check on the hostages again,” Stephanie replied, glancing down to see if her areolas were fully covered. Of course they weren't. “It's been a while, there's been a lot of chaos, and I want to see how they are.”

“Nah, I don't think so,” Bruce said with a smug grin. He polished Stephanie's badge, currently pinned to his chest, with his grimy fingers. Stephanie hated that. It somehow made her feel like he had ripped the clothes off her back, instead of her giving them willingly. “Take it as a compliment! I've been underestimatin' you two quite a bit. Women's lib is truly here, I have to admit it. So I ain't takin' any more chances.” He stood up, focusing the gun more purposefully. “You're gonna stay in that corner, and they're gonna stay in theirs.”

Stephanie bit her lip and shot daggers at Bruce best she could. She'd faced down a loaded gun before, but it was never easy. Especially when the memory of showing the gunman you had been soaking your panties was so very, very fresh. “We're all okay,” the female doctor called out, breaking the silence. “We're okay, thank you.” She nodded as warmly as she could, the other hostages murmuring agreement.

“Well, at least there's that,” Stephanie thought. She had been a little worried that something bad was developing over there, but they seemed more put-together than she had suspected. It was cold comfort though, as there were less than 20 minutes left and she still had no idea what she could do to save everyone. If she had to, she really would rush Bruce, but that was practically suicide and she didn't really doubt Bruce would fire on her.

Stephanie turned her gaze to Amy, who had settled on a position where her knees were pressed up against her chest and her arms were wrapped around her knees. Stephanie wondered if she could find inspiration in Amy. The teenager had tended to be most helpful or at least thought-provoking when she had been baited into giving a gut reaction, so Stephanie decided to lay that bait. “Amy,” Stephanie whispered quickly, getting the younger girl's attention. “If you had to get us out of here right now, what would you do? Tell me in 3, 2, 1-”

“Prob'ly shit myself!” hissed Amy, with a horrified expression. Aghast, she put a finger over her lips. “Oh, shoot, pardon my language, Steffy!” Amy quickly glanced at the ceiling. “You too, God.” Stephanie glared dourly at her partner. She was nothing if not painfully honest. “Now, Batgirl,” Amy continued, “she would have a good idea. But she would probably not be sitting here in her panties right now either.”

A big part of Stephanie thought this last comment was not only dumb but a waste of time. But another, desperate part of her thought there just might be a point to exploring it. “But if she was, Amy!” Stephanie insisted. “If Batgirl was sitting here in her panties, no costume and no utility belt, how would she help all these people?”

Even Amy seemed bewildered to be asked this for a second. “Well, I hope she would at least still have her mask,” she started. “It would be terrible if she lost her secret identity and everyone saw her undies on the same day. What kind of panties do you think Batgirl wears?” Stephanie shook her head in frustration and Amy got the hint. “Right, not the point. Um, well, I don't know! I think she would prob'ly have some gadget hidden somewhere. Like a secret communicator!” Amy lifted her wrist up to her mouth in imitation of some old-fashioned spy watch. “Hello? Batman? I need backup. And some spare jeans.”

Amy giggled at her own joke but Stephanie was too defeated to. She could only wish harder for her own hidden gadget of some kind. But then, synapses fired and strange connections were made. And Stephanie birthed an idea.

Bruce was the worst kind of paranoid. It was the one common factor reigning over all of his unpredictable behavior. He would fear anything, let nothing slide if he thought some powerful secret was being kept from him, and it made him much more malleable to suggestion. He was exactly the kind of person who would really believe Amy's silver bracelet was a secret communication device.

But it couldn't just be used as a bartering chip. Waiting would get them no farther. Stephanie had to bring in Kermit the Frog and end the whole thing herself. If she got Bruce to walk out the front door, even with a gun, the waiting police would stand a better chance than she and the hostages did inside. If the SWAT team was there, as she suspected they were, Bruce wouldn't stand a chance.

After thinking her plan through, Stephanie shared it with Amy. Her younger partner was freaked out, but agreed to stick with Stephanie and give it a try. The two of them waited a couple minutes to give the SWAT team more time to arrive, and then Amy lifted the bracelet to her mouth and shouted, “What's that? K-Kermit's limo just pulled up outside? And he doesn't want to see any guns since they make him n-nervous? That's g-great, we, um, we'll be out there soon!”

“What?” Bruce shouted, springing up with gun in hand. “Kermit's here? But how do you know?” Amy sat there, petrified at being in Bruce's sights, so Stephanie grabbed Amy's wrist and shoved it behind her back. This left Amy's right nipple totally exposed, causing her to squeak and pull her knees up against her chest again.

“It's our secret CIA communicator device, Bruce, but you'll never figure out what it could possibly be...” Stephanie shouted, laying painful emphasis on her words and actions to lead Bruce on. She was doing everything short of whistling nonchalantly to make sure he got the hint.

“God dammit, I'm still hip to what's in front of my eyes, pig!” Bruce growled. “You're obviously hiding it in that little bracelet, so toss it over! And not another word until ya do!” Stephanie made an exaggerated pout, but she knew Bruce would do something like this. It was essential that she let him feel like he had outsmarted them again and defused the threat so he would be off his guard when he walked outside.

Stephanie wrapped one arm around her boobs as best she could, though she knew now, with burning skin and loins both, that hints of her areolas were definitely showing. With her other arm, she slipped the bracelet off Amy's wrist. As she started to stand, she glanced down at her panties, which still, to her chagrin, had a slightly darker patch on the crotch. Stephanie didn't know how visible it would be from far away, but she still slid her hand with the bracelet over her crotch as she got to her feet. She quickly tossed it to Bruce and then planted the hand back where it was.

Bracelet in hand, Bruce smiled and lifted it to his lips. “Fantastic, thank y'all! Tell Mr. the Frog to pull up by the back entrance. I'm taking the hostages out that way, and I'll be lookin' for cops on the way out!” Stephanie felt so sick she had to gag. She had no idea there was a back entrance to this place, and that was totally on her! Thanks to her hastiness, they were all about to walk out into a whole lot of nothing, and when Bruce saw that, he would definitely be angry. “We'll give 'em a couple minutes to pull back around,” Bruce said warmly.
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Old 01-29-2016, 02:23 AM
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Default Chapter 8+9

Stephanie knew now that she would have to attack Bruce at her next chance. If he was distracted looking out a door for police, she might have a chance, but she would have to be able to restrain him effectively, and her cuffs were long gone. She glanced over at the hostages, who looked extremely puzzled and a little worried. The female doctor caught Stephanie's gaze, trying to figure out what was happening. Stephanie supposed that in the walk to the door, she might be able to get something off them, like a coat, but she couldn't count on that. Bruce could easily separate them. Stephanie had to count on what she had in front of her.

And Stephanie only really had one thing in front of her. Her hair tie was too small to fit over two wrists, even Bruce's bony ones. That just left her boyshorts, her panties, her last line of defense between herself and complete, naked shame. Stephanie thought of how her mother had never given her a speech about keeping her panties on in front of others, probably because the idea was completely inconceivable to her. And it was barely conceivable to Stephanie, too. It would be like stripping off skin, just as painful and foreign to her body.

So she tried desperately to convince herself there was another way. Maybe the cotton wouldn't be strong enough to hold. Maybe she wouldn't be able to react fast enough to tie a knot. Maybe her mother would come out of the heavens and chastise her for parading her most intimate parts to strange men. But even all those maybes were more certain than trying to hold Bruce empty-handed.

What Stephanie's thinking had convinced her of was that she would have a far better chance if Amy joined her in this plan. She actually found it entirely possible that this suggestion would give Amy a stroke. But she had underestimated her partner before. She wasn't about to leave her out just to try and save her embarrassment. “Amy,” Stephanie hissed, waving for her to stand up. Amy did so reluctantly, and holding her arms over chest and panties a good deal more effectively than Stephanie. “He's not following the plan.”

“I know he's not, Steffy!” Amy replied. “What are we gonna do?”

Stephanie breathed in deeply, then locked her eyes on Amy. “Amy, I trust you. I believe in you. I really do. So I am going to look you in the eyes to tell you this extremely terrifying plan. We are going to charge Bruce when he looks out the door for police. We are going to get the gun out of his hands. And we are going to bind his hands with our panties. Which means we have to take them off right now.” Amy's right eye twitched as the blood drained from her face.

“No, no no no no no. No. No, Steffy, no. Steffy. No. No no no. No no n-” Stephanie gently closed Amy's mouth to stop the flow of “nos”. She sighed.

“Amy, I don't want to do any of that, either,” Stephanie began. “I'm really scared one of us will get hurt, and besides that, Bruce has seen more of my body than any boy in 4 years. But I need you. I...” Stephanie cringed as she admitted a vulnerable truth she had been coming to realize. “I don't think I could be standing here, boobs out, almost naked, if you hadn't been here with me. It made me feel like I wasn't alone, like I wasn't a complete sl*t and a freak for taking all my clothes off.” Amy's eyes watered and she looked to the floor bashfully as she nodded.

“But more than me, those four people need you!” Stephanie continued. “I know they laughed at you like a bunch of f*cking morons, but they could all be dead without you. You're protecting them. You're their Batgirl. So be brave like Batgirl.” Stephanie shut her mouth and nodded. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was proud that something sensible and brave had finally been able to come out of her mouth for the first time in more than an hour.

Amy was even more affected, tears shining in her big blue eyes and a hardened smile on her trembling lips. Suddenly she threw her arms around Stephanie in a big hug and squeezed her tight. “I will, Steffy! I will, because we're the best damn police ladies of all time!” Reluctantly, Stephanie removed her arms from her body and wrapped them around Amy. As her huge bare boobs pressed against Amy's tiny, perky ones, a host of new sensations and thoughts filled Stephanie's mind. It was tremendously strange, and pleasantly warm and soft. But chiefly, she couldn't stop thinking of the very impolite and bigoted words that would be running through her mother's head right now. So she coughed and gently separated her partner from her body.

Stephanie's fingers then went to the waistband of her panties, where they felt very cold and stiff all of a sudden. They wanted to go any direction but down, and Stephanie had to fight very hard to convince them otherwise. Slowly, her fingertips ran over the scalloped ridges of the waistband, and then slipped between those ridges and the bare skin of her hips. Her cold fingers felt freezing against that skin, which seemed to be very hot in comparison. Stephanie slid them forward, over the edges of her pubic bone, where she felt a few curly hairs and a virtual roaring fire. “Let's not start there,” Stephanie thought, alarm bells blaring in her brain.

Instead, they curved back around her soft, tight butt, pressing hard against the cotton that barely contained it. It too was very warm, but felt less specific, less intimate, less dirty. It was somewhat remotely fathomable to uncover this. So Stephanie, fighting against those stiff fingers, slowly pushed the waistband down, arcing over the curve of her ass. She shuddered, a rattling breath escaping her throat as she felt the open air brush against the skin of her butt. Finally, she stopped. She had felt the elastic at the front of her boyshorts start to slip off of her hips.

Stephanie couldn't help it. She felt very hot and dizzy. Nothing else seemed to exist except her, a thousand pairs of phantom staring eyes, and the little pink panties that separated the two. She looked down at those yellow and green flowers on her boyshorts, bright and girly, pleading to remain and cover the much more intimate flower underneath. Stephanie shook her head and managed to push the front of her panties down just a fraction of an inch. She couldn't help but gasp as she saw a few silky black pubic hairs slide into view.

Stephanie had always had a love-hate relationship with her pubes. The idea of getting rid of them was ridiculous to her, and she kind of liked the way their stark dark color looked against her skin when she was in the shower. But on the other hand, her untamed hair was ferociously wild and very visible, so she was forced to occasionally trim it or never leave the house in less than knee-length pants.

All she was thinking about at that moment, though, was a single blaring refain: “My bush is out in the open, my bush is out in the open!” Stephanie trembled from head to toe and the fire between her legs flamed ever hotter. This had to come to an end. This bit-by-bit nonsense was just making her head swim and her panties damp. She seized her boyshorts tightly and shoved them down without thinking, quickly stepped out of the leg holes, and gathered them up in her hand. Stephanie looked at them sadly. Those brightly colored flowers and starbursts had seemed so silly just 20 minutes ago. Why did they feel so important and protective now?

Then her eyes fell to her body. Stephanie was 100% naked, no more clothes at all. Every bit of skin was exposed. Rich brown eyes gave way to dry red lips, which gave way to a thin warm neck. Which in turn gave way to muscular shoulders and arms, which slid past massive powerful breasts and their stiff, jutting nipples. Below those came a taut stomach that breathed deeply in and out, which gave way to wide hips that became a round and taut butt. That curved around into another pair of dark lips, barely visible but glistening underneath a trim black patch of curly hair. That hair pointed down into wide, smooth thighs, knock-turned knees, and a set of cute, round, tightly curled toes.

Stephanie felt all of these parts at once, connecting with the chilly air and completely open to the entire world. “Look at my big swinging tits and their big, dark areolas!” Stephanie felt like she was shouting. “And don't forget my big hairy bush and cute little panocha!” She hadn't actually said anything more than isolated quiet gasps and moans, but she had taken long enough to remove her panties that the hostages had noticed and were staring at her in horror and confusion. But not just her.

Stephanie turned her gaze to see Amy, white as a sheet, shaking like a leaf with her panties balled up in her hand. “Be brave like Batgirl. Be brave like Batgirl. Be brave like Batgirl,” she kept repeating like a mantra. Her knees were turned inward but it was plainly visible that Amy had a completely natural bush. A curly thatch of light golden brown hair spread upward from her thighs like a fan, shining in even the sallow florescent light.

Finally, Stephanie turned to Bruce, who for once, appeared to be surprised. “Um...” he droned, “What are you doing?” Stephanie's brain wanted badly to scream, but its fighting instincts kicked in hard. She started fanning herself with her panties like an old newspaper.

“We're hot!” she said, nudging Amy. “Real, real hot.” In a way, this was true, Stephanie still felt incredibly hot and dizzy.

“R-r-r-right,” Amy chattered, shakily airing out her panties and fanning herself as well. “Super duper hot!” Bruce stared them down suspiciously for a moment. Then he shrugged, and put Stephanie's hat on his head, completing his police outfit.

“Whatever floats your boat, man,” he chuckled, before clapping his hands. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it's been a pleasure, but it's time for me to hustle on back to Hollywood with America's greatest entertainer. Simon says hostages stand up.” Looking at each other and murmuring, the doctors and nurses slowly stood. “Simon says hostages go stand in that hallway,” Bruce continued, gesturing toward the wide hall behind them.

As the hostages walked over, Stephanie leaned towards Amy. “When the opportunity comes, I'll take him on the right and you go for the left. I believe in you, Amy. Stay frosty,” she whispered. Amy looked at her, saying nothing, but managing a smile between her shivers.

“Okay, pigs come forward!” Bruce grinned. Stephanie began walking toward Bruce, heart pounding, but she realized Amy wasn't following her. Stephanie began to panic. Was Amy freaking out again? Was she going to run away? But Bruce just smiled. “Ah, you won the game, Blondie! If shit gets bad I'll kill you last. Simon says pigs come forward!” Amy dashed to catch up with Stephanie, and flashed her a sheepish grin.

Bruce, manually and with a few scattered commands, organized everyone into a loose block. The four hostages walked in front, their hands up, two on either side of Bruce and about 6 feet ahead of him. Stephanie and Amy followed, but much closer to Bruce, a scant foot away from his pointed gun. As planned, Amy was on his left, Stephanie on his right. Stephanie's heart pounded twice for every step she took, two booms in her chest for every slap of her bare feet and sway of her bare breasts.

Towards the end of the hall, Bruce turned left, and a much smaller hall there terminated in a set of steel double doors. Four chairs sat to the sides of it, seemingly set up for just this purpose. Suddenly, to her thrill, Stephanie heard the slaps stop. The tile floor here had become thin carpet.

“Take a seat, shrinks!” Bruce grinned. “I'm sorry to say our time together is at an end, but I formally declare my quack treatment over.” He then turned slightly toward Stephanie. “Now, Kermit mighta said he didn't want to see any guns,” Bruce mused, “But I'm sure he'll accept a compromise when he hears my story.” He backed toward the door pointing his gun toward the naked officers, then slowly began to open the doors. As he did, he stuck the gun very lightly in Stephanie's holster.

Stephanie wrung her panties between her sweaty fingers, trying to figure out the best grip. She had improvised some strange weapons but this had to take the cake. As Bruce gently turned his head toward the crack he had opened in the door, she took slow, silent steps forward. “You're Stephanie Delgado Morales,” she thought. “You have a loyal ally in Amy Bower. And your boobs are totally amazing.”

“There's no limo out here!” Bruce growled as he reached for his gun. But it was too late. Stephanie had her hand on it at the same time as him. They wrestled for the weapon as Amy howled ferociously and latched onto Bruce's left arm.

“Jesus, God, Jesus, God, Jesus, God, I've got him, Steffy!” she screamed. Stephanie was still struggling to take the gun from Bruce, but noticed that her boobs were shaking wildly in the struggle. She shook her hips back and forth, making their jiggle even more hypnotically exaggerated. And sure enough, Bruce's focus slipped just enough for her to sling the gun out of his grip. It clattered to the floor, where the hostages all rushed to pick it up. “Yeah, good job, Steffy!” Amy crowed.

Stephanie surged with adrenaline and gave Bruce a wicked uppercut to the face. As his lip bled and his eyes spun, Stephanie seized his right shoulder and pushed him to the floor with all her weight. Sheriff, trainee, and maniac slammed to the floor, yelling and whooping and jiggling wildly. Stephanie straddled her legs over Bruce's back and whipped her panties around his hands. “Bruce Whatever-your-crazy-ass-name-is,” Stephanie roared as she tied a knot, “I am formally placing you under arrest!”

Amy handed Stephanie her own panties, and they slid over Bruce's hands in a second layer. He yanked and tugged at his bonds for a second. But they held. It was finally, amazingly, crazily over. Bruce was subdued and captured, and would hurt no one at all.

But when Amy unexpectedly cracked him over the head with the pistol grip and knocked him out cold, Stephanie didn't exactly mind the excessiveness. “That'll teach you to be a gross, crazy weirdo!” Amy cried, before standing up straight and handing the gun to Stephanie.

At the corner of the hall, all the doctors and nurses burst into applause. Their smiles were wide and grateful, and even though Stephanie and Amy stood there boobs-bush-and-ass naked, no one seemed to notice and care for those triumphant few seconds. Maybe this wasn't so embarrassing. “Oh, that's so unprofessional, sweetheart,” Stephanie said as she grabbed Amy in another hug. “You can't do any of that.” But at the same time Stephanie felt pretty sure that she would be presenting Amy with her badge any day now.

As the jubilation faded, Stephanie began to feel very, very naked, not least because she was very much dripping wet and had managed to make her mark on Bruce in more ways than one. “Go back to the lobby and get your clothes, Amy,” Stephanie said, gesturing regally with the revolver. “Then you can help me get my uniform off this bastard and we'll walk everyone out safely.”

Amy saluted her sheriff with a smile. “10-4, Sheriff!” she giggled, and started down the main hallway. As she did, though, everyone began to realize a low rumble had been going on for some time. That rumble amped up into a mighty roar centered around the middle of the main hall, and Amy ran away from the source with a squeak. With a loud and explosive crash, a SWAT tank rammed straight through the wall, dust and bricks flying all about.

From around its edges, officers armed with armor and assault rifles swarmed into the building at the ready. “Get on your knees! Get on your knees!” the team leader shouted. But then he saw Stephanie and Amy in their altogether. “Get on... your... knees,” he continued lamely as he lowered his weapon. The other officers followed suit, even as more of them poured out from the tank itself. All told, 14 SWAT officers entered the room. 14 strangers learned what color Stephanie's areolas were. 14 strangers knew exactly how closely Amy's carpet matched her d****s.

And that wasn't quite it. Robert Briggs, the loyal deputy, rushed into the room, followed closely by a frightened Billy and Ray. “Sheriff Morales, are you okay?” he called, not seeing Stephanie at first. “Sheriff Morales, Amy, where are you?” And then the male officers of Lakewood reunited with their female complement. Robert blushed deeply and put his hat over his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I am so sorry, Sheriff.” Ray and Billy were less polite, high-fiving before making a show of putting their fingers over their eyes (broadly spread enough to see between, of course.)

Stephanie's brain was screaming its most primal urges out in filthy, juvenile Spanish. Translated, they might come out like “Scream! Scream! Cover your c*nt! You might as well start touching yourself since you're dripping all over the place, you filthy sl*t!” But Stephanie was too exhausted, too proud, and too broken for any of that. Slowly, she just smiled, wide and bright and teeth clenched tight. She planted her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest with a forced, haughty chuckle. “Isn't this funny? We had to trade all our clothes for time, you see. But we got him! We got him.”

Torn between her flight and fight instincts, Stephanie's nipples chose this moment to jut back into the open. As did, less obviously, her swollen clit. Somewhere deep in her brain, other words echoed as Stephanie's skin burned: “Mierda! Mierda! Su Coño!”

The SWAT leader just mumbled something and nodded, lost for words. Amy, eyes frozen open and arms slung over boobs and bush, slowly sidled over to her Sheriff. “Steffy,” Amy whined, “I can't believe all these guys are seeing my coochie.”

Stephanie replied without even turning to the side or breaking her smile. “That's your vulva, sweetheart,” she said through clenched teeth and burning skin. “Call it a vulva.”
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