Cavity Search Training

The police chief claimed that having scheduled the Whiskey and Cigar Social on the same day as the Cavity Search Training was a complete "accident".

His son suspected otherwise.

Thankfully, the whiskey and cigars helped the men loosen up, particularly the station's newest recruit, Andy, the chief's own son, who was eager and willing to volunteer as the "perp" for the officers eager to brush up on their cavity searching technique. He saw it as a way to bond with his new coworkers. As son of the Chief of Police, Andy had a lot to prove. He wanted to work his way up, and not be handed a cushy office job. He wanted to show he could hack it among the real men.

From his office, Andy's dad called out, "Don't be afraid to really get in there, fellas. Some'a these criminals are experts at hiding things up 'ere."

After a few shots of expensive single malt, a few technically illegal Cuban cigars, procedure was pushed to the wayside; Gloves were tossed out, greasier lube was used. Andy gritted his teeth, groaned, feeling officer after officer rooting around inside of him, pushing his hole wider and deeper. All he could think was wow they're really making me earn my place on the force.

"I ain't findin' nothin' in there," Rick sighed, disappointed. "I gotta get home. Your turn, Big Guy." He gave Andy a playful slap on the ass, leaving a sticky trail of lube down the young man's trembling thigh.

"Nice work, rookie," Rick spat. "Don't let these boys work you too hard now."

"Yessir," Andy gasped, suddenly feeling very empty. "I mean uh nossir. I ... whatever you say, sir."

Bill "Big Guy" Burns stepped up behind him. He was new to the force as well. Big Guy was a local legend given he towered above everyone else who lived in the county. Some men guessed his height at between 9 and 10 feet tall, and his weight at don't ask or he'll stomp you. The dumb giant, a former member of the inmate population, made an effort to put a glove on, but couldn't manage to make it fit over his thick-fingered, catcher's mitt sized hands. The officers still in the room grimaced.

"I bet his wife uses baseballs as anal beads," someone joked. The rest of the men laughed.

"More like basketballs," someone offered.

The men laughed harder.

Andy laughed, too, but received a firm smack to his ass from a hand that felt like a snow shovel.

"Your poor hole," someone muttered. Andy hadn't learned all their names yet, but it was on his to do list, right after Survive the Fisting of a Lifetime.

The enormous man swallowed nervously. He didn't want to hurt the much smaller man, it wasn't in his nature, but being as big as he had, over the years, accidentally done so to more than a handful of partners. He slowly eased a hairy-knuckled, oversized index finger into Andy's winking hole, listening for sounds of pain or protest. Andy moaned in surprise at the girth. He glanced over his shoulder, and for a moment the two rookies locked eyes.

"Holy shit! Go slow, big guy. One finger at a time, man."

It was clear that they both had something to prove here.

"That is one finger, rookie," the giant whispered. "I'll go slow as I can, but Chief said to really search you, so ... I gotta. I can't afford to lose this job. I got bills, kids ..."

Andy's moans filled the small room.

The sensation of working a finger into another man's ass was strange to Bill, but not unpleasant. He wasn't joking when he told his fellow rookie he couldn't afford to lose this job, even if it felt a little strange to be fingering another man. He wondered if it had been a bad idea to start with his ring finger, as the custom wedding ring he'd unable to remove from his fat finger approached Andy's hungry hole. Like a knot on a horsecock, the sight brought to mind the times he'd seen a stallion breeding a mare.

Andy's hole swallowed the ring expertly, and just out of curiosity, Bill slid it out and in a few times, eliciting pained, ecstatic whimpering.

"Fuck yer a hungry little bitch, ain'tcha," Bill leaned forward, and whispered into Andy's ear. "Didn't expect this when I come to work this mornin'. From the Chief's son, no less."

"Please ... don't ... stop ... it ... hurts ... so ... good ..." Andy gasped between thrusts.

"Just like that, officer. Keep up the good work," the Chief called back, quietly closing his office door. The men in his family had always had been short, strong, with remarkably fat asses, and incredibly accommodating holes. He wasn't sure which of the men, going back generations, had first discovered this, but was time for his son to learn this. He pulled up the security camera feed, muted the audio. He loosened his tie, untucked his uniform shirt, and unzipped, simultaneously horrified, turned on, envious and proud of the events unfolding on his monitor.

"Good boy," he whispered to himself. "Welcome to the force. Make yer daddy proud."

On the screen Big Guy was working a second thick digit into Andy's hole. Andy shook his head, but his instincts took over and he spread his legs, pushed back, steadied himself.

Then he nodded his head, his mouth opening wide as his ass spread to accept a second massive finger.

Chief spit into his fist and reached into his pants, gripped his shaft. The thick plug he wore every day twitched reflexively, stimulating him, providing a soundtrack to the muted security camera feed.

"Make yer family proud, boy."

The End