Officer Hot Body
One of the first stories I wrote, which I posted on Flickr as a series of photo captions - the story reads a lot better as a single post, so here it is.
In return for a generous donation to the benevolent association, I requested an after-shift visit from a certain beat cop, Vinnie, who had only recently started patrolling my neighborhood. Right on time, Vinnie knocked at my door. I let him in, and invited him to sit to talk over drinks. “A beer would be great,” he said, so I fetched one from the refrigerator, and sat down across from him. We chatted for a bit, and after a while he casually mentioned he noticed me looking at him for some time; it didn’t take much to put it all together - why him.
He said he was flattered, it didn’t bother him at all. Relaxed and loosened by the beer, he gladly struck some poses for me.
I mentioned that I performed magic tricks as a hobby, and asked if could help me try out a new one that had been delivered the other day.
“Why not,” Vinnie said, “it’s all for a good cause!”
I brought out a black box that slid open on one side, with a neck-sized opening on the bottom, and a soft, padded interior lining. I placed the box over his head and on his shoulders, adjusting it so his head rested comfortably against the pillow-like lining.
“So you’re gonna make my head disappear? That’s pretty cool, I always wondered how that trick works,” he said.
“Usually we don’t reveal the secrets behind our tricks, but since today you’re my assistant, I think we can bend the rules,” I replied.
I slid the panel down, closing the box. I asked him to hold it steady, and his hands reached up and held the box at the sides. As I positioned the accompany magic dagger in a slot at the top of the box, Vinnie’s muffled voice said, “It’s pretty comfy in here, it’s like my head resting on a fluffy…”
Before he could finish his sentence, I slid the dagger down. It glided down with hardly any resistance, and when the dagger was down to the hilt, Vinnie went silent. His hands still kept their grip on the box. I gently tried to tilt the box back on forth, but Vinnie’s strong hands and arms kept steady resistance.
I slid the panel open, and inside was just the dagger blade - not a trace of Vinnie’s head. I ran a finger along the length of his beefy right forearm, and the tickling prompted it to wave my hand away, but the box became unsteady and his hand quickly returned to keep it upright.
I slid the cover panel back down and was about to pull out the dagger before an idea popped into my head.
“You can put your arms down now,” I said, and Vinnie’s arms obliged, coming to rest on his thighs.
About to venture into uncharted territory, I silently counted to 3 and slowly lifted the box up and away from his shoulders …
In place of a head, Vinnie now sported a neck stump, completely covered in skin like it had always been that way. Where his throat would have been now was an opening that open and closed much like lips.
I put the box down on a side table and returned back to my chair opposite this headless cop, and I took a few moments to watch how he - or it? - would behave. The chest rose and fell regularly, as if nothing happened. In a sign that it was more comfortable being around me, or just didn’t care, Vinnie’s hand reached and scratched his groin.
“Vinnie, can you hear me?” Without a mouth or tongue, it occurred to me that of course he couldn’t respond in the usual way, so I rephrased my question into a instruction - “If you can hear me, raise your right hand.” Just like it would during morning roll call, his right hand went up, then back down to his lap.
Seeing that Vinnie’s body was both active, responsive and compliant, I decided to get a little bolder and test how much.
“Stand up,” I commanded. Bracing its arms on his knees, Vinnie’s chest leaned forward and in a natural movement the body rose to full standing position.
“Come over and stand right in front of me.” The body stepped off, and in confident swagger walked over and stopped just a foot away from my chair. Legs shoulder-width apart, arms hanging away from the sides because of the muscles and the cut of his uniform shirt, he was an impressive sight.
I instructed Vinnie’s body to return to its seat, which it promptly did. But this time, I noticed how it sat, knees apart and hands resting on them - a very much authoritative, masculine posture. “Take it easy a bit,” I instructed this headless cop, “lay back a little. Like we are on more - familiar terms.” Vinnie’s body visibly relaxed. It slid its butt a little forward on the chair and leaned into the back of the chair. The final touch was to cross its booted left ankle on its right knee.
I asked Vinnie’s body to show me the poses he had done earlier, and with perfect recall it repeated the same sequence. This time without a head to distract and feel self-conscious about, his body held my focus completely.
Seeing how willingly Vinnie’s body was going along, I prodded it further. “I know you can do much better than that.”
At that, it uncrossed its legs, and half-turned to the left. With a lazy plop, it put its booted right foot on the nearby couch, then re-crossed its left foot over the right. Its hands laid on each side of its crotch, and as final touch the left hand readjusted the crotch’s contents, scratched some more, then closed its fingers into a relaxed, curled position.
From this position, I could appreciate how, even relaxed, its biceps and triceps strained the short-sleeved uniform’s cuffs. The uniform was obviously tailored for good effect.
I walked over to Vinnie’s body began to massage its neck. I could feel its muscles relax, and saw the chest breath slower and deeper as my fingers worked his broad shoulders.
I then slid my hands down over his chest, and my left bumped into his badge. Vinnie’s body must have been eager for things to develop as its hands reached up to unbutton and remove its shirt to accommodate me.
Seeing his tank-top made me want to see the complete set of undergarments beneath the uniform. “Take off the belt, boots and pants,” I instructed, which Vinnie’s body promptly did. When it was about to sit back on the chair, I said “Stop. No, sit down on the couch and prop your legs on the chair.”
I knelt beside his legs and began to massage them. Having walked his beat, Vinnie must have been on his feet all day, and the tenseness in his legs gradually melted as a kneaded and caressed his thighs, calves and ankles. When I started working on his socked feet, Vinnie’s body let out an audible sigh through its neck, and its arms uncrossed and limply relaxed on the couch.
Vinnie’s body was a powerful figure, even in its skivvies. I told it to stand up and demonstrate a formal resting position. Its pleasure and enjoyment of my massage was made evident by a more prominent bulge in the compression shorts than I remembered. A tuck-to-the-left man, I noticed.
I admired the legs that I had just massaged, relaxed at that moment but now strong and primed.
I told Vinnie’s body to tense its buttocks muscles, and the form-fitting elastic material stretched to conform with the now-rock solid cheeks. I fought the urge to peel them down, not wanting to cross a line on how far I would take advantage of its cooperation.
Time was running out, and soon I would have to return Vinnie’s head and send him on his way back home. Vinnie’s body had dressed back into his trousers, belt and boots, and was about to put on its shirt when took its hands, put the shirt down on the couch, and pulled on its tank top. Vinnie’s arms raised up to help when I pulled it up and over.
Half-dressed in his uniform, I told it to flex is back muscles, showing its beautiful mass and development.
I looked at the clock and had only a few more minutes to spare with it. On an impulse I stepped behind it and leaned my chest against its back and wrapped my arms around its midsection, hands softly pressed against its pecs. I placed my cheek against the back of its neck stump, and closed my eyes. Our breaths became synchronized. I replayed the evening’s events in my head, and wondered if I would ever get another moment like this.
As if in answer to my unspoken question, Vinnie’s right arm curled upwards, and after a moment, came to rest on mine, its palm caressed the back of my hand, then intertwined its fingers with mine.
Perhaps there will be, I thought with smile.
Omg! i love this history ❤
