Bad Cop Worse Cop

I hope this story is totally fictional. It involves some pretty weird themes, but everything mostly turns out okay. Sort of.

Mostly.

It was fun to write. As always, you can easily enjoy this whether or not you've read any of the rest of my stories. I've posted it here as an entry in Lit's Halloween contest, so please check out all the other entries and vote on your favorites.

* * *

Crack whores are useful.

That's what Old Larry had always taught me, anyway. He'd laughed about it, about how you could do, almost literally, anything you wanted to them. I pictured him suddenly as he'd been back then, before the shooting, splitting pistachios with his thumb as we sat in the cruiser in the middle of the night waiting for something, anything, to happen. I'd been a rookie that year.

"Yeah," he'd said breezily, "just one of the perks of this job, Mikey-boy. As long as you find them some rock, you can do anything and they'll never breathe a goddamn word." He'd laugh. "I swear, when they give you the badge and gun they might as well also give you some Astroglide and a box of heavy-duty condoms. Am I right?"

Yes, actually. Quite right. He'd have been proud to see me now, I reflected, in the back of my brother's body shop with my cock in Lexi's narrow ass. She'd been bitching and moaning at first, when I'd put it in, but eventually I'd remembered the lube and she'd figured out how I wanted her to move, and now it was all just slippery fun. For me, anyway.

"I should have tried this awhile ago," I reflected, considering. Anal. My girlfriend wouldn't do it, so why not Lexi? "It's like I've got my dick inside a steam pipe."

"That's not what it feels like to me, Mike," she replied dully. "Feels more like I'm taking a shit, but it's going the wrong way."

"Aw, relax," I chuckled, enjoying the sound of my thighs slapping against hers; she'd put on a little more meat lately, which was fine. Lexi always had been too skinny. I smacked her lightly on the back of the head. "Remember, it's 'Officer Mike' to you, you fucking crackhead. Or sir."

Her eye-roll was so extreme I felt like I could see it through her greasy head. "Of course,

Officer

Mike." I loved this. Her sister and I had gone to high school together, but that was a lifetime ago. The sister, I recalled, had been a better lay. "You almost finished back there?" She sounded like she was in some pain, but probably not too much, I decided.

"Just about," I replied absently. I'd better be; I was on lunch. They'd be expecting my ass back on patrol in a few minutes, driving around on traffic duty with my hand still in the brace. It was healing up just fine, though, I reflected as I used it to grip harder on Lexi's bony hip. Just about fully functional; another week or so and I'd be back on full duty, busting up dealers and firmly on the path to getting a promotion to Detective. "Move your butt more."

She obeyed dutifully, hiking herself up higher against the trunk of the Buick and twisting her body side to side. I marveled, as I always did; no matter how much of a junky a woman was, no matter how many times you banged them, watching their bodies move was fucking mesmerizing. Lexi's was still muscular beneath faded skin, her spine sharp and snaky where it disappeared into her bunched tanktop and her wrecked bra. Shit, but it excited me to watch my cock enter her clutching little asshole. I had her cheeks pried wide apart, ignoring the dusty little stains down in there; personal hygiene is not a high priority for crack whores, but that never mattered to me as long as they still had holes. Speaking of which, her anus gripped at me as I pulled it out, the flesh red and tortured. She hissed in pain, but took it like a champ; I resolved to give her a little extra rock at the end of this. Bitch was earning it.

"Fuck yeah," I groaned, my balls feeling the pressure now as I drove harder into her. "You haven't felt this good in months, Lex. I could almost try your pussy again." I laughed nastily, but it was a bad joke. This woman's vag was stretched like a train tunnel; she wouldn't be any good at all much longer, once her ass went the same way. Which probably wouldn't take long, with a dick like mine.

I'd have to start looking for a replacement.

"Hold on," I grated, my voice sounding strained and husky even to me; I took a tighter grip of her flesh as I started to lose my cool, breathing hard, sweating like a marathon runner. Long ago I'd learned to take my vest off before these little adventures, but it was very hot for October. "I'm about to cum."

"I can tell." She didn't sound enthusiastic. "Sir."

I was curious about whether it would feel any different, cumming in a woman's ass instead of her cunt. I'd always kind of wondered about that, actually, and now I was about to find out. I jammed into her viciously, cruelly, pummeling her against the rusty metal of the car, and with every thrust her shitter gripped me harder and harder until, with a strangled and desperate cry, I lost it completely.

The load went rocketing into her ass with punishing force, and it backed up immediately; I almost felt my own cum pushing me out of her just for a moment before I added more, then more again, my breath blubbering out as I gasped into the fetid, solvent-smelling air. There was an overwhelming impression of fullness, as if her rectum was packed far too tightly to accept my dick anymore, like a huge strong hand was gripping every part of my shaft and squeezing tight.

Holy shit.

Vaguely I was aware of Lexi whining and pewling below me, twisting her body to try to get away from me, but of course that was impossible: between my solid thighs and the solid Buick, she was wedged in as if a mallet had driven her there. "Jesus, Mike!" she wailed. "Did you have to cum so much?" She must be feeling like a water balloon had just gotten blown up inside her ass and then burst. No way could that be comfortable.

"Take it as a compliment," I muttered, still shuddering down from the white-noise mental blast of my orgasm. "If you weren't such a hot piece of ass, I wouldn't have cum like that." It was a lie, obviously; the only time the word "hot" could ever be associated with Alexis Vigliotta was when she had a lighter going for her crack pipe. "Jesus, Lexi," I sputtered. "That's one hell of a lunch break." I stayed put, puffing hard, letting my sagging dick marinate for another few moments in the hot, slick cave of her ass. "Kind of like dessert, you know?" I'd absolutely wolfed down the three tacos from Carlito's Tortilla Shack on my way over here, with Lexi sulking in the backseat of my cruiser, and from the acrid smell around me I gathered I must have farted as I came.

"What the fuck ever. Can you get out of me now?" she asked plaintively, her voice all phlegmy. "I need to go to the bathroom."

I gave her scrawny buttcheeks a not-too-gentle slap. "Just a second, Lex. Let's see..." In my mind I was figuring it up; I'd seized about 10 grams of crack from Scuzzy Ken that morning, enough for around five hits or so for most users. Of course, knowing Lexi, it was more like two. "How's eight g's sound? That's a good couple of hits for you."

"Look." Her voice sounded muffled and pitiful against the dull metal, her hair fanned out like a pile of twigs. "I need to get to the fucking bathroom, Mike. I don't give a shit how many g's you have in mind. Just get out of there."

I snickered. "Well, actually, you do give a shit. Or you will in a few seconds." I used my deflating prick to give her rectum another stab, gently, just to stir things up and remind her who was in charge. She groaned. "Sound good?" I pressed. "Or should we make it seven g's? I'm starting to be concerned about your health, Lexi."

"Motherfucker," she spat.

"It's Officer Mike," I replied patiently, "or sir." I pondered. "No, eight is fine," I announced grandly, like a duke at a ball, and then I made sure I was watching as I backed out. She was spasming around me by then, and my cock came slithering out with a little burp of semen, dripping frothy shit and lube; it was among the most repulsive things I'd ever seen, and I was fascinated. For a moment I debated making her suck it all off, but I'm a gentleman: I backed up a few steps, the pants around my ankles trying to trip me up, and watched narrowly as she straightened her pained and bruised back, her hands cupped desperately over her asscrack as she stood there breathing hard.

"Where's the bathroom?" she demanded. They were wild and defeated, her eyes, tangled with hatred and confusion and, above all, discomfort. Her frayed bra, which I'd pulled up off her skimpy tits, was slipping off one shoulder, and her lime-green panties stood out like a supernova against her faded jeans, both of them looped around just one ankle. Wordlessly, I jerked my head toward the office area; she'd peed here before, but obviously she wasn't thinking straight. She headed off toward the maze of rooms my brother had drywalled off from the shop floor, trailing spatters of shit and cum. I almost spoke up; the bathroom was buried behind another room, and it wasn't easy to find in a hurry.

She'd figure it out once she got there.

* * *

Chief Brandino had told me to get into his office promptly at two, so I had very little time to screw around after lunch. I was used to the usual police light-duty routine of setting up a speed trap at the edge of town, ticketing the kids coming in from Seaborne while I dozed off and/or fucked some chick. But Brandino's summons had interrupted that, and as I drove through the city I couldn't help but wonder why he'd bothered.

It's not as if I was hard to find. All he had to do was get into his own vehicle, the tricked out smoked-glass SUV the taxpayers didn't realize they'd bought him, give me a ring over the radio, and come sit with me. He'd used to do shit like that, back when he was the sergeant in charge of the day shift, seeking every possible opportunity to get away from headquarters; now, though, he seemed to be chained there.

He'd never called me in before.

It had to be about the promotion, I reflected. We'd all taken the detectives' exam last month, and the decision was supposed to be made as soon as the money was appropriated. I already knew I was getting the nod, probably along with Sully and Murcia; the word was that three positions were being created, and Georgie was leaving soon to take some kind of lieutenant's gig with the sheriff's department.

That was the rumor, anyway.

I hoped I didn't smell too much like a crack whore's ass as I trundled into the Chief's office, only to be brought up short as I saw who else was sitting there in one of the cheap institutional chairs in front of the cheap institutional desk. I smiled without warmth. "Hi, Roberta."

"Mike," she replied coldly, barely nodding. Brandino was sitting back in his chair with his feet up, and he nodded at me to take the seat next to Roberta. And I did, not without giving my chair a slight but deliberate sideways nudge with my foot before I sat. I felt like I never could be far enough away from Roberta.

Not a horrible person, Roberta Burke. Conscientious, competent, and in general an okay cop, but nobody liked her. The stench of failure clung to her; years ago she'd been transporting a suspect to the hospital for a drug test. She'd sat him in the waiting room and forgotten to cuff him to a chair before she'd gone to take a shit, and then he'd just gotten up and walked away. He'd spent the next two days getting high and burglarizing businesses before he'd skipped town. There'd been an investigation and some bad paperwork, but she'd been allowed to keep her job on the strength of a letter from her physician claiming she was partially incontinent, with the added implication that her urge to shit that day had outweighed her professional obligation to, you know,

guard the fucking perp

.

They'd made her the School Resource Officer over at East Adams High the following week, old Chief Shea remarking sourly that there were plenty of bathrooms over there, and there she had remained in all the years since. In fairness, it was probably a good job for her. She had a school-age daughter, and the kids apparently got along with her and trusted her.

Whatever. I didn't care. It was well known that she couldn't shoot, and in a world where a resource officer's most important job is to be a speedbump for a school shooter, she was hardly the best choice. But it kept her off the streets and out of the way of us real cops, so that was fine. She came by every now and then to do professional development, collect her paycheck, and leave, but in general she avoided us. We responded by giving her unkind nicknames, like Officer Shitstain.

Okay tits on her, though.

"Hey, Mike. Come on in." Brandino deigned to take his feet down and swing the chair around for business. "The School Resource Officer is here because she's hit a snag in her investigation, and I figured that with you on light duty, you could give her a hand." He raised his eyebrows. "Though not the busted one."

He chuckled at his own pun, but I just glared. In the office for fifteen seconds, and already I was pissed off. I was going to be, what, working with the SRO? Or, infinitely worse, working

for

the SRO? I lowered my head so that I could look up at him through my lashes. "Chief, you know I'm going to be back on full duty really soon."

"Yeah, I know. This won't take but a few days, though. It's a conflict-of-interest thing, and HR wants to have someone else on it."

I blinked. "What is it, Roberta, you investigating your own daughter?" I guffawed, but when I was met with nothing but blank and vaguely hostile stares, I felt my mouth fall open. "Oh, shit. Sorry. You are?"

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "It's not Megan, really. But it's a bunch of kids she hangs out with." She shifted again, and I wondered suddenly whether she was wearing one of those adult diapers. "The other senior cheerleaders," she added, as if that was supposed to explain the whole thing.

I blinked.

Brandino sighed. "Here's the thing. Remember that cyber shit you did last year, the bust with the hookers doing the ads online? You did a good job with that, Mike, and... well, let's just say people like Roberta and I, folks in our age bracket... well, we just don't always know the ins and outs of the computer stuff. You were sharp on that case, though."

I nodded, my mind launching back to the hookers with the online ads. I had, indeed, done a good job there. I'd found a website advertising hookers, used it a few times, and then got it shut down when the whores all turned out to be Ukrainian illegals. Hot Ukrainian illegals, yes, with talented mouths and warm pussies, but illegals nevertheless. Can't be having that. "I busted that one wide open," I agreed. I wasn't talking about the case, either; I was talking about a bitch named Olga, or maybe Tatiana.

Busted them both wide open, actually. And the rest of them, too. They'd all been excellent in bed; shame about the deportations. "So, a few weeks ago Roberta discovered something online. Roberta, why don't you fill Mike in?"

She blushed. "There's this thing on their phones, it seems. A new one, where kids can post all kinds of nasty stuff that's linked to their contact list. So there's no way for anyone outside their list to see what they've posted."

I doubted that. "Like Instagram?"

"Uh, sure. A little," Roberta shrugged. Jesus H Christ. She had no idea. She was the mom of a high school cheerleader, a School Resource Officer, and she had no clue what Instagram was. "I guess. It's called Pixboox? I think it's an app, or maybe a program."

I tried not to roll my eyes. I'm not sure I succeeded. "And?"

"Well, I can't get access to the program," Roberta explained. Brandino sat there and nodded sympathetically. Shit. Both these useless morons needed to be dragged out and shot. I wondered whether they both still had rotary telephones. "I brought it up to the Chief here, and he thought you'd be able to help me out."

I blinked. "Um. So, what do you need? I just need to get into the app? Check out what's on there?" I looked at Brandino. "Are we thinking we'll find, what, drugs?"

"Drinking." The Chief steepled his fingers, looking stern. "Brett Bourne, the vice principal, is mostly concerned about drinking. With Halloween coming up next week, he's worried about kids being kids."

I nodded. This might not be so hard, after all. "I just need to find, like, evidence of cheerleader kids drinking?" What the fuck? "Should I also find evidence that the sky is blue? That gravity makes things fall? That water is wet?"

Roberta pursed her lips. Clearly, I was being insensitive. How silly of me. I looked at her evenly as she thought about what I'd said. Face it, Roberta. Your little eighteen-year-old daughter is a drinker. She's probably doing meth, too, and taking it up the ass from senior boys. With a twinge in my pants, I thought about Lexi. The Chief was not smiling. "Of course. I'm sorry, sir. Should take about a week," I guessed, knowing it would take more like an hour. "Should I work from home?" I asked hopefully. "It's where my computers are." This was a wild lie, obviously; this wasn't the nineties, and I could easily do all of this from a laptop or even a tablet. Shit, even my phone.

But it seemed better to let these two dopes assume I had some kind of Batcave set up in my garage. Brandino thought about it. "Sure. But pay attention to the duty roster, Mike. You'll still have to do your traffic details and your patrols, once every three days. Other than that, stay home and crack this."

I had to stop myself from laughing. I'd be cracking things at home, all right. My girlfriend Olivia, for starters. She'd be getting off her period any day now, and the doctor had told me at my last checkup that the ol' vasectomy still seemed to be holding up just fine. Though, as always, he told me it would never quite be 100%. But I always asked, along with the STI panel; paying for that junky Bianca's adoption agency had killed my finances that one time. "Yes sir," I nodded seriously. "Roberta? Should I check in twice a day?"

"Uh, sure." Dumbass. I was certain I'd find pictures of her Megan doing unnatural things, and I could hardly wait until Officer Shitstain's head exploded at that. "Just, you know, save and print out what you find."

Print out. Priceless! "No sweat," I replied crisply.

* * *

Olivia had a freshly made lasagna and a glass of wine all ready for me when I walked in the door. "Hi, sweetie," she purred, laying a kiss on me, her lush body pressing against mine; well. Her period must have ended. I clutched at her, savoring the smell of her hair and thinking about how lucky I was to have found her. "I'm glad I caught you."

Ah. She was in scrubs. She'd been scheduled for the 7-3 shift tomorrow; she must have gotten called in for the 11-7 tonight. The hospital did that a lot, and she was too good a woman to say no. "Motherfucker. You're working a double?"

She shrugged, her lips twisting whimsically. "Sorry, babe. Going to have to take a rain check tonight." She always got hornier after her period. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, Mike. I'll fuck you til your dick is bruised." She breathed that last part into my ear, followed by her tongue, and my legs nearly melted. "I'm going to go pee, and then I'm off. Love you!"

"Love you too," I replied, pulling out my phone. Shit. I'd need to invite Amber over tonight, or maybe Rachel. Though I was hoping for Amber; Rachel was Olivia's sister, which was always a little awkward. Olivia would find out someday, of course, and I was dreading that. It would probably end things with both of them, and they were both excellent fucks.