Betty Boots had just finishing re-applying her lipstick after Mr. Largeski's training session when she heard a crash from the back of the Fantasy Factory warehouse.
"Golly!" Betty leapt to her feet, spilling her fashion magazines over the floor. There was another thunk and then Betty was sure she heard voices. She gulped and tugged her little white t-shirt straight. The big black letters SECURITY stretched across her large breasts. She was slender, except for those darn breasts! Betty had asked Mr. Largeski if there were any larger sizes in uniforms but had gotten extra training for her impertinence.
She pushed her cap over her long red hair, straightened her gun belt around her broad hips and dashed down the hall wall, thumping her chunky black boots.
On her first night as a security guard, Betty had heard a strange cry, like a woman in pain, and then the sound of something shaking fiercely. She panicked and pressed the alarm button immediately. The police and Mr. Largeski, in his bathrobe, arrived ten minutes later. She had been so embarrassed when it turned out to be a box of vibrators going off under a novelty 'orgasm in a box'.
"Largeski," laughed one of the officers as they got back into their patrol car. "What is she doing guarding your warehouse? She should be in one of your stores!"
"She was," growled Mr. Largeski, one of his signature cigars clenched between his teeth. He was a powerful man, in his fifties, with close-cropped steel gray hair and a dark mustache that reminded Betty of Groucho Marx when it tickled her.
"Well," said Mr. Largeski, once the officers had driven off. "Since I'm here we might as well have a training session." He ushered her into the back room, loosening the belt on his bathrobe.
Betty sighed. She had worked at one of the Fantasy Factory stores but one of the customers had tricked her. A very earnest young man had insisted it was her job to make sure the customer was always satisfied. It sounded like what Mr. Largeski had told her, so...
When Mr. Largeski arrived at the store a couple of hours later, Betty was completely naked and covered in the white sticky stuff of at least thirty satisfied customers. What made Mr. Largeski upset was that she hadn't made a single sale. It was off to the warehouse for her.
He had been very kind to Betty, despite her screw-ups. Again and again, he took time to train her to be a security guard. Betty worried that she was infringing on his time with Mrs. Largeski.
"No," said Mr. Largeski, getting Betty to kneel in front of him. "Deborah is busy training the pool boy and the gardener. That's why I hired them."
Betty was happy to hear this. Mr. Largeski sure was a training enthusiast!
But tonight was different. When he left, Mr. Largeski had told her that she wasn't to disturb him. His niece was in town and he wanted to show her the sights. Betty wasn't sure what tourist attractions would be open in the middle of the night, but she bit her tongue. Mr. Largeski was very smart and very stern.
Betty skidded to a stop. From around the corner she could hear voices and see the glints of flashlights. Her heart was thumping but she was determined to protect the Fantasy Factory's sex toys. Who knows what would happen if the extra long dildos and the naughty nurse videos got into the wrong hands! She drew her gun and then slowly reached around the corner to the light switch. Hopefully she wouldn't break a nail when she clicked it on. She hated it when that happened.
"Freeze, you naughty criminals!" she cried, swinging round the corner as the lights blazed on. Betty was actually surprised to see she was right. There were two men wearing black sweats and ski masks, their arms loaded with boxes labeled VIBRATORS. She was so startled that she just stood there, both hands on the gun straight out in front of her. A full minute passed before she realized they were waiting for her to do something.
"Hands up!" she said, trying not to sound too girly.
They just stood there. They were big men, much taller than Betty's five foot six. She could see their bulging muscles under the soft fabric of the sweats.
"Hands up!" she repeated. What was she going to do if they didn't obey? She could never shoot anyone.
"We can't," said the taller man on the right.
"What?" asked Betty. The shorter guy wobbled the boxes in his arms. "Oh! Put down the boxes and then put up your hands." To her relief, the men obeyed, but Betty didn't know what to do next.
"You're under arrest," Betty said, stalling for time.
"Who are you?" asked the taller guy.
"I'm Officer Betty Boobs! I mean - Boots. Betty Boots!"
The shorter thief snickered, eyeing Betty's knockers and her long bare legs. Betty ran a hand nervously over her tight black shorts. This was going terribly!
"You're doing fine," said the taller man in a deep, gentle voice, seemingly reading Betty's mind. He slowly pulled off his ski mask, revealing a clean-shaven, craggy face of a man about Betty's age, in his late twenties, with short brown hair and deep hazel eyes. The smaller man also removed his mask. He was older with jet-black hair and a small mustache. The taller man continued to talk in a soft voice. "I'm Mr. Jones and this is Mr. Smith. Don't worry you're doing a terrific job so far."
"Thank you, Mr. Jones," said Betty. "I'm awful nervous, this is the first time I've ever erected - I mean - arrested anyone." Those sweat pants showed everything!
"Well, you're doing great," said Mr. Jones. Betty was happy to see they kept their hands up. She blushed slightly. They were sure muscular. "Isn't Betty doing well, Mr. Smith?" Mr. Smith didn't answer immediately. Mr. Jones kicked him.
"Oh! Yes, Mr. Jones. Officer Boobs is doing a terrific job." Mr. Smith exchanged a glance with Mr. Jones before adding. "Are you going to search us now?"
"Hey, Mr. Smith," said Mr. Jones quickly. "I'm sure Officer Betty is well aware that she's supposed to search us."
"Umm...yeah!" said Betty. "Put your hands against the wall and spread 'em!" She had heard that on a television show. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith were very obedient, so Betty holstered her gun and patted them down.
Mr. Jones smelled wonderful! Betty couldn't help but smell his neck for his aftershave as she ran her hand down his bulging arms and over his back and waist. She tried to be very conscientious and check each leg and even poked her fingers into both of their boots to feel for knives. Mr. Smith had a very nice ass, and after years of having her own bottom squeezed, she couldn't help but give his an extra going over. She straightened up and was about to declare them disarmed when she heard Mr. Smith whisper to Mr. Jones.
"She didn't check our--" He broke off, realizing Betty was listening.
"It's no use Mr. Smith. Officer Boobs--I mean--Boots is too smart. She saved searching our crotches for last," said Mr. Jones, shaking his head.
"You're darn tooting!" said Betty, relieved that Mr. Jones was on her side.
She walked up behind Mr. Jones and gingerly reached her hand around him. The front of his pants sure had something in them!
"Don't be shy Officer Betty," whispered Mr. Jones, so Mr. Smith wouldn't hear. "I realize you are only doing this as an officer of the law. I feel totally safe in your capable hands." Betty's chest swelled with pride. Mr. Jones was right--she was Officer Boots! She pressed herself against Mr. Jones and began running her hand up and down the suspiciously long pole in his pants.
"Oh! Officer Boobs!" said Mr. Jones. "You sure know how to search a suspect." Betty found the bottom end of the shaft, underneath were a couple of balls. She squeezed them, hard. Mr. Jones moaned. Betty grinned; this suspect was all hers! She fiddled with the balls and the shaft, completely engrossed in her search. After a little while Mr. Smith coughed politely.
"Uh, are you going to search me too, officer?" Betty blushed; she had totally forgotten about her other suspect, but she covered it with officious bluster.
