In Chat Now:

Author Topic: Shapeshifter  (Read 1599 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Trill

  • Resident Gender-Bender
  • Inner Wanktum
  • Posts: 722
  • Rep: 51
  • Gender: Female
Shapeshifter
« on: May 14, 2017, 11:49:58 AM »
"Shapeshifter"
Fandom: The Bill
Pairings: Beth Green/Criminal, Jo Masters/Criminal, Beth Green/Jo Masters
Rating: R
Author: Trill

Disclaimer: "The Bill" and all characters, concepts and other indicia are the property of ITV UK.

PC Beth Green trotted past the front desk of Sun Hill Police Station and let herself into the secure area beyond. It was early in the morning, just before most shops opened, and she'd overslept and missed breakfast. Fortunately the police cafeteria was kept open 24/7 for that reason – to cater to all uniform shifts and CID folk who wanted to burn the midnight oil. She emerged from the cafeteria five mintues later, coffee and croissant in hand. She was on her way to the locker room when a familiar ample figure blocked her path.

"Beth." Inspector Gina Gold's dolorous eyes regarded the young constable from her bulldog-like visage. "Just the person I wanted to see. You won't be on regular duty today, you're needed elsewhere."
"Where, mum?"
"Grab your things and head upstairs to CID. DC Masters wants a word."
"Mum." Beth nodded in acknowledgement and a while later was knocking on the door of the superintendant's office.
"Enter."
Beth nervously opened the door to find not only the superintendant, but two of the most respected members of the Sun Hill Police Criminal Investigative Division – DCI Meadowes, a tall, balding and rather intimidating man, and DC Jo Masters, a soft-spoken redheaded woman whose gentle countenance belied her iron will and passionate nature.
"Ah, PC Green." The superintendant gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
Beth sat.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"No, sir."
"Several days ago you arrested a young man by the name of Thomas Child. Remember him?"
Beth nodded. Child had been a friend of her cousin's and the arrest had strained her relationship with her cousin as a result. Still, Child had been pushing heroin, and his arrest and questioning had proved to be a boon for CID's current drugs investigation regarding heroin supplies coming in from abroad.

The superintendant leaned forward and steepled his fingertips, leaning his elbows on the desk. Beth could smell the mousse in his perfectly-coiffed hair. "Thomas Child gave up the name of his supplier. We've linked that local supply chain through the West End Massive to a Belgian gang operating out of a warehouse on the metropolitan waterfront. CID needs you, Beth, to go undercover, make contacts leading you to that gang and find out when the next shipment of heroin will be arriving in London."
Beth's eyed widened. An undercover job?
"Sir, I'm just a uniform, I don't know if... I mean, I've never really been trained for anything like this..."
"That's where we come in," Meadowes interrupted. "Jo's going to take you through the basics of undercover operations, how to establish an identity and so on. I'll be your handler for the entire operation, which means all your contact with Sun Hill will be through me, except in certain circumstances, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
The superintendant nodded. "Good. Go with DC Masters and we'll get you kitted out with a new identity, details of the operation, that sort of thing."

THREE DAYS LATER

Masters unlocked the door to the flat and Meadowes struggled through with a box of supplies, followed by Beth whose arms were similarly laden. Unpacking and storing everything didn't take long.
Meadowes handed Beth a mobile phone. "This has my number programmed into it so you can call me to give updates and so forth. Don't forget, if anyone asks, I'm your uncle."
Beth couldn't help but smile at the thought of referring to him as her uncle. "I won't forget."
"Alright. When are you scheduled to meet Child's dealer again?"
Beth checked her watch. "Quarter past three. I have to be there in an hour or so, so I'd better get going."
"Got plenty of cash?" Masters asked.
Beth nodded. "Few hundred quid ought to do it. I can just tell him I'm a first-time user. I mean, not my first time first time, but my first time after I got a hit from my cousin."
Meadowes waggled a finger at her. "Make sure you explain that to him, you don't want him getting suspicious."
Beth nodded and the two CID inspectors left.

"Think Beth's going to be all right on this one?" Master asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
"It's not her I'm worried about," Meadowes told her wryly.

An hour later, a car pulled up outside a housing estate across town. A short dark-haired woman could be seen getting out and climbing the stairs to the third floor.
Beth wore her disguise well: a stylish leather jacket, light purple babydoll top with a  knee-length leather skirt, with black calf-length boots. Her face was lightly made-up, but less conservative than usual. Her hair was no longer it's regulation updo, but was draped around her shoulders in artful disarray.
She meandered along the top corridor, ignoring the sounds of car alarms, blaring music and screaming children. Eventually she reached the correct flat and knocked.
A full twenty seconds passed until the door cracked open as far as the chain would allow. A suspicious eye glared out at her. "Watchu wan'?"
"I'm here to see Jimmy," Beth told him, putting on her best 'god-I-need-a-fix' act.
"One secon'," she was told before the door was closed. Half a minute later, it opened all the way to admit her into the gloom of the apartment.
The place was surprisingly clean, save for the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke. Thin curtains were closed across all the windows, only letting a limited amount of daylight to filter through.
"You got anovver customer, Jimbo." The butler apparent showed Beth in, then disappeared. Sounds of a video game resumed in another room.
Beth tried being her usual friendly self. "Hi, I'm Katie," she said, carefully remembering her alter ego.
"I'm Jimmy," the dealer said. "Have a seat."
Beth sank into the armchair next to the couch the dealer occupied.
"My cousin told me you got some good gear," Beth began.
Jimmy nodded, allowing himself a slight grin. "Word of mouth, always the best advertising." He unlocked two metal boxes. One contained small packets of powder, the other cash.

"How much are you after?" His tone was pleasant, unlike that of his assistant.
"Just one bag, I suppose. I don't use much."
He raised an eyebrow. "Haven't been using long, have you?"
Beth shook her head. "No! Only got my first hit last week and Lara said to see you if I wanted more."
Jimmy tossed a packet of powder in front of her. "That's £300."
Beth immediately fished the money out of her purse. As she counted the bills, she asked him "Where do you get this stuff from?"
"Who's asking?"
"Just curious."
He eyed her for a brief moment, then answered her question. "It's Vietnamese. Russian bloke gets it, ships it here every three months. It's a big supply, but the price is kept high so the supply don't run out early. Small fry like me get the powder though contacts in the West End Massive."

He leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm going to try and meet the Russians m'self though, see if I can't cut out the middle man, yeah?"
Beth smiled. "You'll pass the savings on to the consumers then, I hope?"
Jimmy smiled back. "Yeah, I guess. Nuthin' like a little undercuttin' to shake things up a bit."

After the transaction was completed, Beth returned to her new flat and called Meadowes.
"The superintendant was right," she told him. "Jimmy's getting his gear from West End. Jimmy wants to cut them out, though. He wants someone to set him up with the Russians, presumably to undercut the West End Massive."
"How much did you buy from him to start off?" Meadowes asked.
"Three hundred quid, but I told him it'd last me a while. He seemed a bit suss but I got away with it."
"Was there anyone else around when you made the deal?"
"Another bloke I'd never seen before. I'm pretty sure he's just Jimmy's lackey."
"Good work, Beth. All right, Jo's got some other leads to chase up, but in the meantime I want you to try and build up a working relationship with Jimmy. Pretend you've got addicted and visit him as often as you can. I'll make sure you've got enough in the kicker to buy his stuff."
"Understood. I'll call again when I have any developments."
"All right. Talk to you soon. Bye."


It was some time after midnight. Warm air steamed out of the drains and a train roared overhead. A tall skinhead clad entirely in leather leaned casually against the dirty brick wall, waiting patiently. Soon enough, Jimmy appeared out of the mist.
"Wotcher."
"Nice night for a resupply."
The skinhead nodded. "Heard you got a new client."
"Yeah, some real posh bitch. I ain't complainin' though, she'll buy me out of that housing estate pretty quick."
The skinhead frowned. "Don't let her buy all your stash, though. Sergei made it clear he don't ship early."

"Listen," Jimmy began, "speakin' of Sergei, when am I gunna meet him?"
"You ain't. You deal wif me. An' if you ever go tryin ter undercut me, I'll fuckin' do you, mate."
"Who said I was gunna undercut anyone? I only said I wanted to meet Sergei 'cause I wanted to make sure he was legit, 'cause I think you're just bullshittin' me."
"Too bad. Want your gear or not?"
Jimmy sighed. "Fine. But I'll need a bit extra for the posh bitch."
"Done."


Beth entered Jimmy's flat a week later to find him in a bad mood, but he still tried to be nice to her. She was his best customer, after all. In less than a week, her 'habit' had begun to exceed £800.
"Who shoved a bug up your arse?" she asked as he accepted her money.
He sighed. "Fucking Massives. I'm not allowed to meet Sergei. Fucking Rob practically accused me of tryin' to undercut him."
"Weren't you going to do that anyway? And who's Sergei?"
He rolled his eyes at her naiveté. "That's not the point! I don't want to feel like some bloody bottom feeder for the rest of my life. Sergei's the bloke in charge of the Russians' Vietnamese outfit. He organizes the shipping details; it was his idea to limit the shipments and keep them small, to keep it under the radar so the coppers never twig. The Massive keeps the price up so their supply lasts longer and they get rich off it."

"Why don't you try hanging around them? You might pick up some clues as to how to find Sergei."
Jimmy stared at Beth. "Spy on the Massives? Fucking hell, Katie, I think you need to go easy on the gear. If I get caught spying on Rob and Nicky, you'll have to find another supplier, 'cause I'll be busy spilling my brains into the gutter."
"I'll make you a deal," Beth said confidently. "If I can find out where Sergei is, can I have a discount?"
"How are you going to find that out?"
Beth thought fast. "My uncle's a private investigator. I'll hire him to do the legwork."
Jimmy grinned. "Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. Alright! 10% discount if you find Sergei, 15 if you get him to deal directly with me."
Beth was grinning as well. Her persuasive nature was saving the day. "I'm going to need some details, though."
"OK."
"First, tell me about this Rob fellow..."


"All right, I find out what I can. Nice work, Beth. Cheers." Meadowes hung up the phone and headed for the superintendant's office.
"So she thinks spying on this Rob Hilson fellow will lead us to the Russian man in chage of the operation, is that it?" Heaton asked, his brow furrowing in skeptical concern.
"Jimmy Mathers wants to undercut the West End Massive, but Rob Hilson seems to have that base covered. Beth's managed to gain his confidence fairly quickly, considering how suspicious low-level dealers can be."
Heaton nodded. "All right then. Let me know what you find about this Sergei Beth's looking for."
"Gov." Meadowes exited the office and went to look for Jo Masters.


The strip club was like most places of it's kind: dimly lit, seedy and full of anonymous businessmen in suits and casually dressed yuppies practically throwing money at the girls strutting and gyrating on stage.
DI Neil Manson threaded his way thorugh the crowded tables until he found the person he was looking for: a dark-haired stripper with large pert breasts and a curvy figure, winding herself around a pole. He took a seat closest to where she was dancing and smiled at her. She turned her head enough to see him and gave him a half-smile back, then unwound herself from the pole and slinkily made her way over to him.
"I haven't seen you here in a while," she purred in a thick Russian accent.
"Good to see you're back working." Manson waved £50 at her. "Can we have a chat while you give me a lap dance?"
She jerked her chin up at his proffered money. "For double that we can talk in private."


Kalindra paused, hesitantly.
"If you're talking about who I think you're talking about... then you're talking about one of the cleverest drug exporters in the Eastern Euopean market."
She and Manson sat on the floor together in one of the private rooms, the music turned up so no-one would think to interrupt their 'private dance'. The stripper had put her underwear back on and a shirt over it.
"His name is Sergei Ilyanavich Romanov. I don't know if he's the man you're looking for or not, but I do know he does a lot of business in Vietnam concerning heroin."
"Do you know if he distributes his drugs through local gangs, say for example the West End Massive?"
"No, I don't know anything about how he sells it, just how he gets it into the United Kingdom."
"Can you set up a meeting? I'm trying to help out some of my colleagues in CID. They're handling a uniform undercover, and the uniform's hit a snag."
She bit her lip, doubful. "From what I've heard from Boris, Sergei is a very secretive man. Very... what is the word? He does things exactly so."
"Meticulous?" Manson supplied.
"Yes, he is very meticulous." She patted his knee. "But for you, I talk to Boris. I tell him you want to buy directly from Sergei and you won't take no for an answer."
Manson smiled at her. "That's my girl. Thank you. You don't know how much this means."
She giggled. "You don't have to turn on the charm, but I like it anyway! Now how about dance, hmmm?"
"Fire away."
Kalindra switched to another track on the CD and slowly peeled off her shirt.


"You've found him? That was quick, sir." Beth raised her eyebrows at the news.
"You can thank DI Manson's connections for this," Meadowes told her. "Sergei Romanov operates out of the old iceworks in the south docks. Manson's going to set up a meeting for Jimmy, so he'll be able to meet Sergei directly. Once contact is established and a trade agreement is finalized, we can work on tracking and intercepting shipments of heroin."
"When's the meeting?"
"In a few days. I'll ring and let you know. In the meantime, you can goive Jimmy the good news, I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
"Understood, gov." Beth hung up.


"You're serious?" Jimmy couldn't believe his ears.
"It'll take a few days, since Sergei's out of town at the moment. But apparently the West End Massive have been giving him grief, and he wants new suppliers. He'll even help you steer clear of the Massives if they try anything."
"Brilliant." Jimmy was grinning from ear to ear.

FOUR DAYS LATER
Jimmy and Beth walked side by side towards the old iceworks. In the glow of the streetlamps, it looked hollow and scary.
Jimmy reached a side door spraypainted with a skull stencil and banged on it. A face appeared at the window, scrutinized tham for a moment, then the door cracked open.
"Who de fuck are you?"
"Jimmy Mathers. Sergei's expecting to see me."
The door was thrust open and a tough wiry blond man hand out his hand for Jimmy to shake. "I am Sergei. Who is dis?" he asked, indicating Beth.
"This is Katie, a friend of mine and also one of my best customers."
Sergei nodded. "She wait outside. You come in." He led Jimmy inside and slammed the door, leaving Beth out in the cold.

Beth waited in Jimmy's car for what seemed like an eternity before she saw a figure approaching the car. Thinking it was Jimmy, she buckled her seatbelt.
To her surprise, the figure came around her side and tapped on the window. It was Sergei. Beth wound down the window.
"Come inside," he said. "My friend he want to talk to you."
Beth wound up the window, got out of the car and walked towards the side entrance, Sergei following behind her.
It was dim inside, a single naked light bulb illuminating the room. There didn't seem to be any drugs around. Jimmy and two other Russians were standing there, arms akimbo.
"So, what's going on?" Beth asked innocently.
"We are happy to have Jimmy as a dealer," one of the Russians said pleasantly. "We feel he will be more reliable as a dealer..."
"...than those bolshy gangs!" Sergei exploded behind Beth. "Is better to have individuals that gangs to do de dirty work, da? Groups of men get greedy."
"Er... right." Beth replied nervously.
"But we have something to get out of de way first, Katie. Come over here, I show you something." Sergei led her to the far workbench where a brown terrycloth bundle lay.
"Beth stared at the bundle. "What's this?"
"Go on, unwrap it," Jimmy said with a grin.
"A present? Oh!" As Beth unwrapped the bundle, she didn't see one of Sergei's associates hand him an evil-smelling cloth.
Beth stood there, frozen. Inside the cloth bundle lay her police photo ID. PC Beth Green, Sun Hill. Unmistakable.
"I...I...I...uh..." she stammered. Before she could say anymore, Sergei wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed the chloroform-impregnated cloth firmly against her nose and mouth. Beth let out a muffled scream and started thrashing around, but Sergei kept a death grip on her as the chemical took effect.
"Sorry, Katie," Jimmy shrugged apologetically as she began to black out. "Or should I say Beth? Or would you like me to call you PC Green?"




Beth awoke much later in a place she didn't recognize. She was in the same clothers she wore to the meeting, minus her jacket and shoes, laying on a bed in a small room. The next thing she noticed was that her hands were tied to the steel bars at the head of the bed with strips of cloth, and there was a cloth gag in her mouth.
"Mmmnnnggg," she called out, hoping someone could hear her. "MMMMMMFFFFF!"
Some time passed. Beth squirmed as pressure on her bladder began to increase.
The door opened and one of Sergei's lackeys entered the room. He pulled the gag out of her mouth.
"Please, I have to wee," she pleaded.
"Fuck you," he snarled. "Who's your fucking handler?"
"I can't tell you."
SLAP! A red handprint took a moment to develop on Beth's left cheek.
"Who were you after... Sergei?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"WHAT DE FUCK DO DE FUCKING COPPERS WANT WITH SERGEI!?"
Beth started crying. "They... they w-want to know when the next shipment of heroin is coming in. Please don't hurt me! Let me go and I-I won't tell anyone about th-this!"
He laughed. "You won't be telling anyone anything, except me how much you like your first taste."
"T-taste of what?"
The gangster held up a needle with a small amount of liquid in it. "Liquid fucking pleasure, baby. Liquid fucking pleasure."

Beth turned pale. He was going to inject her with heroin? "No. No no no no NO!" she screamed, struggling wildly against her binds. The gangster calmly grabbed her arm and held it still, searching for a vein in her yet unpolluted flesh.
"NOOOO! HELP! HELP ME!" Beth screamed, thrashing wildly and making the bed creak. The gangster found a vein and pressed the tip of the needle to her smooth porcelain skin, oblivious to her pleas. "No, don't, please, don't put that stuff in me, no, don't do this to AHHHH!"
The needle pierced her skin and the plunger was pushed down, injecting Beth with her first dose of smack. The needle was then withdrawn and placed on a nearby dresser.
Beth felt a wet warmth spreading around the crotch and thighs as her bladder let go, but she rapidly became oblivious to anything around her as the drug took effect, swarming the receptors in her brain. The resulting wash of endorphins flooded her brain with a good dose of 'I don't care'. Beth stopped screaming and struggling and relaxed, closing her eyes. A dopey smile spread across her face.
"Baby blue hit gets 'em every time," the gangster commented. He kissed her mouth and left the room.

Beth later woke from her drug-induced stupor to find Sergei and the gangster who drugged her tugging at her clothes. Her shirt and bra had been cut off and lay in rags on the floor. Her skirt was pulled off and the urine soaked knickers soon followed.
"No," Beth mumbled. "Sergei... please don't..."
"Give her some more, Andrei, shut her up," Sergei instructed. Andrei picked up a smack-filled syringe from the dresser and gave Beth another dose.
"Why are you doing this?" Beth whimpered. "You're only going to make things worse."
Sergei leaned in close. "Listen to me, little girl. You are no longer a copper, understand? You are our whore. You will fuck who we want and when we want and you will take your dope and you will thank us for it like whores do. Your copper friends will never see you again because we are taking you back to Russia to fuck for money."

Beth let out a sob.
"Andrei and I will teach you to fuck like a whore. Open your legs."
She didn't.
SLAP
"Open your fucking legs, whore!"
Beth burst into full-blown tears as she reluctantly complied. Her terrified sobs went unheeded as Sergei clambered naked on top of her and stroked himself at the sight of her petite, nubile body. Andrei positioned himself near her mouth. "Open, or I hurt you."
Beth slowly opened her mouth and Andrei fed her his limp cock. "Use your tongue on it."
Beth, not knowing quite what to do, ran her tongue from side to side along the sensitive underside of his glans, then draw it back and swirled it around the head. It wasn't the best of blowjobs, but it was enough to get him hard. Sergei, meanwhile, had stroked himself to his full eight inches and lowered himself onto Beth, pushing himself between her legs and carefully penetrating her soft entrance. His eyes widened as her twat contracted around his thick member, providing the extra tightness a cock really needed for optimal stimulation.
"Boje moi, this bitch is tight!" he exclaimed.
"Not a bad mouth, either," Andrei declared. "Nice and warm and soft, aren't you, baby?"


Beth wanted to die as the two gangsters callously raped her and made lewd comments about her body. Sergei played with her tits, kneading kissing and sucking the soft mounds, rolling and pinching the nipples. Beth closed her eyes and tried to think of men she admired: many of the CID blokes were handsome. She thought of Manson, his deep voice and piercing eyes. She tried to take her mind off the painful ravaging of her dry pussy by imaging Manson cradling her in his arms.
"Don't worry, Beth," he said in her mind. "I'll make sure no-one ever hurts you. You're a beautiful girl whon deserves the best."
Beth concentrated on the image, smelling the trace amounts of his sharp cologne, the smell of his jacket fabric, his natural manly smell. She felt the soft jacket fabric and his strong arms underneath protectively encircling her...
"Neil..." Beth mumbled through the foreign penis in her mouth.
"He-hey! She getting fucking wet!" Sergei crowed. "She likes it, huh?"
Andrei laughed and replied with something in Russian. Beth was jarred out of her mental safe haven by this and fought her way through the dope haze, struggling and kicking weakly. Andrei pulled out and balled his hand into a fist, punching her in the jaw. Beth mewled in pain.
"Your clients aren't going to like that."
She lay still and shut her eyes as Andrei pushed back into her mouth. Sergei pounded her harder, making the bed creak as he recklessly pleasured himself with her body, approaching an orgasm.
"Yahhhh!" he groaned as he came, filling her up with slimy spunk. He pulled out and sat at the foot of the bed, watchinig as Andrei climbed up, straddling Beth's face and forced her to deep-throat him. Beth gurgled as he raped her throat, triggering her gag reflex. Andrei pulled out and wanked himself furiously as Beth turned her head to the side and vomited onto the pillow. Andrei came on the side of her face and it trickled down into her eye, making her whine as it stung her right eye.

"Tomorrow, I teach you how to give good throat pussy so you don't puke," Andrei told her as both men got up and left.
Beth lay there, stained with piss and cum, her pillow and part of the sheet stinking of vomit. The helplessness of the situation sank in and she began to bawl. 


Beth awoke some time later to find herself still naked, but cleaned up. The pillow and sheets had been changed, and the cloth binds had been replaced with a single chain secured around her neck with a padlock and her hands cuffed behind her back. She looked around the room for her things, but apart from the bed and dresser, the room was bare. Beth swiveled around and got to her feet just as the door opened and Andrei came in.
"Sit," he ordered. Beth hesitated, but sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm not going to Russia," she told him firmly. "My colleagues are going to know I'm missing and it won't take them long to find me."
Andrei smirked. "Are you willing to bet your life on that?"
Silence. Andrei harrumphed. "I didn't think so. Now open your mouth, I have food." He produced a mug of what looked like soup and a spoon. Beth sat and allowed him to feed her. She had to admit the soup was good, but she felt horrible, being naked, chained and spoon-fed by someone who had only raped her a few hours ago.

After the last spoonful was finished, Andrei made her lay on her stomach and open her legs, and raped her again from behind. Beth turned her head to the side and tried to shut it out, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her face. A whimper escaped her lips as Andrei came and got off her.
"Andrei, please... do what you want to me, but please don't let me get pregnant."
He grunted in response as he zipped up his trousers.
"Why do you hate me? I was only doing my job."
"I don't hate you, Beth. But I don't care about you either."
He left, closing and locking the door behind him.


"Enter," Heaton called out.
Meadowes burst into the superintendant's office. "Sir, we've got a problem. Beth hasn't checked in in the last forty-eight hours. She was supposed to give me a full report on how the deal went with the Russian bloke."
"She's not answering her mobile?"
"No. Jo just went round to her flat and there's no sign of her. Sir... I'd like permission to send another undercover agent to the warehouse."
Heaton looked doubtful. "Could Beth have gone native?"
Meadowes looked pained. "She's not the type, sir. Zain Nadir was one thing, but I know Beth Green. She's a copper through and through."
The super thought for a moment. "All right, send someone round, but make it reconnaisance only, Terry. Don't let them do anything that might blow Beth's cover. It's possible that she could just be biding her time."
"Understood, sir."

Beth bit her lip and whined as the needle pierced her skin and her fifteenth dose of heroin in five days was injected.
"Stop fucking whining and take your dope." Aleksandr, Sergei's other lackey, was in charge of breaking Beth in today, and the daily routine started with a dose of smack. He wasn't as nice as Andrei, and often took pride in how horribly he abused her. He sometimes neglected to give her food, and the injections of heroin were given without care, leaving track marks and heavy bruises where the injection sites had become infected and contusioned.
Alex punched Beth in the lower back, making her yelp. He then lay down on his side on the bed and pulled her towards him, so they appeared to be spooning. He lifted her leg up and curled it back over his, and callously pushed his cock into her tight dry rosebud. Beth screamed in agony and struggled as he bloody-mindedly pumped in and out of her anus. Driven frantic by the pain, Beth jerked her head back and connected with his throat. Alex coughed and nearly fell off the bed. He withdrew from her and stood up, glowering at her in fury.
"You fucking bitch," he spluttered. "YOU CUNT! I'm going to make sure you don't do that again!"
With that, he hauled off and punched her as hard as he could in the kidneys. Over and over and over. "Are you thinking properly now, cunt? Are you going to be good little girl whore? ARE YOU GOING TO BE FUCKED LIKE A BITCH WHORE?"
"I'm sorry!" Beth cried. "I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorrypleasestopithurtsiwanttogohome IT HURTS IT HURTS!"
Her babbling finally gave way to agonized screaming as Alex relentlessly brutalized her. By the time he had expended his anger, her back was a roadmap of bruises and her brain's self-defence mechanism had sent her into blissful unconsciousness. Alex got back into position and resumed anally raping Beth until he was satisfied.

Masters cracked open the door to Beth's flat. "Beth?"
No response. Masters wandered through the small domicile. "Beth? Where are you?"
She phoned Meadowes. "No sign of her. Flat's clean, no indication of any foul play."
"I'm going to check with her dealer. Something's wrong."


Knock knock knock.
The door to Jimmy Mathers' flat cracked open and his assistant peeked out. "Whatchu wan'?"
""I'm lookin' fer Jimmy." Meadowes put on his most stern look.
The lackey let him in. Jimmy was on the couch, counting money.
"I'm looking for my niece," Meadowes told him. "Her name's Katie, I was told she was buyin' drugs off you."
Jimmy looked up and froze. "Ain't never seen her."
"You're lying. I know she was with you a couple of days ago."
Jimmy's lip curled. "What, are you a copper or something?"
Meadowes's expression turned ugly and he pulled out his warrant card. "As a matter of fact, I am. You're under arrest."

"We know that you and PC Green were scheduled to meet Sergei Romanov two days ago. What happened at that meeting?" Manson asked.
Jimmy sat and scowled, arms akimbo. "No comment."
Masters leaned forward. "If anything happens to her, you can forget about your little smack empire. You're going to go down for a very long time, Jimmy. If Romanov's done anything to Beth, you need to tell us now."

Jimmy leaned in until he was almost nose to nose with Masters. "I said no comment! Get me my brief."
"You think some West End brief is going to get you out of this?" Manson asked laconically. "You're in deep enough as it is without having some uniform on your conscience."

Beth shut her eyes tightly as a stream of hot, reeking piss cascaded over her chest, splashing onto her face and shoulders.
The fat, hairy Neanderthal who had paid for an hour with her pushed her legs open and inserted his thick purplish meat into her battered twat. He grunted and groaned as he laboured over the naked, chained and enslaved police officer stretched out before him.

A week had passed since Beth had been captured, and the drugging and raping had progressed to the point where her body had become dependent on heroin and her mind had resigned itself to passively accepting the physical and sexual abuse. She was still clinging to hope: CID were damn good at their jobs, but her constant brutal treatment was taking it's toll. Masters and Meadowes had to follow her trail of contacts and find her here.... if here was still in the warehouse.

The fat man came, his spooge filing her and spilling out of her spasming hole and forming a thick sticky pool between her ass cheeks. He got off her and left. She grabbed a wet towel to clean herself off with and waited patiently for her next rape.
Then something happened that killed all hope of rescue.
The door swung open and a naked Jo Masters stumbled in. Her mouth was covered with a strip of black tape. Her arms were crossed and wrapped up with tape, which was wound around her upper body and under her breasts.
Beth screamed in shock at the horrifying sight of her CID superior captured, made helpless, like she was.
"Shut up, bitch!" Andrei snapped as he threw Jo onto the bed. Then he glared. "More fucking coppers. Oh well, more bitch whore meat for us, huh?"
He wore only a T-shirt; he was naked form the waist down. Beth saw white fluid leaking from Jo's pussy and realized he must already have raped her.
Andrei pointed at Beth. "Get on your knees and lick that cunt clean."
Masters's eyes were wide in shock. She struggled, protesting behind the tape gag. Beth docilely dropped down beside the bed and held her colleague's thighs still, lowering her head to forcibly perform in front of the Russian gangster. Andrei smiled and began to stroke himself as Beth ate Jo out. Jo tried, but she couldn't keep out the sensations and soon became aroused, nectar trickling from her nethers as the younger brunette lapped away at her.
Jo moaned and whimpered behind the gag as Beth slowly brought her to a climax. Andrei jerkily moved in close and brought himself off against Jo's tits, splraying his salty semen over her nipples and down her generous mounds.

"How did they capture you?" Beth asked some time later as she helped Masters clean up, bundling up the tape that had been pulled off and tossing it into a corner.
"Terry and Neil have been frantic!" Jo exclaimed. "They've had uniforms on the lookout for you for the past week. The superintendant's starting to lose hope. What have they been doing to you?"
Beth told her. Jo could only sit there, horrified.
"You poor thing! You didn't sign up to be a prostitute, you signed up to be a copper! We've got to get out of here before they arrange to get us to Russia, because once they take us there..."
"I know!" Beth exploded. "But what about the dope? I don't want to go through withdrawal."
"We'll get you to St. Hugh's," Jo said soothingly. "They might be able to do something for you. You might have to go on a methadone program to help your body cope."
Seeing her face downcast, Jo pulled the younger woman into a hug, ignoring their nudity and their recent sexual encounter. There's no time for dwelling on that, she told herself firmly. Get yourselves out of there, that's your first priority.
Then Sergei stormed in. "Stop cuddling and get the fuck up," he said, tossing some skimpy bikinis at them. "We're leaving."
The CID car tore through the docklands, Manson and Meadowes inside. Two SO cars followed them, sirens wailing.
"The last thing I heard before the phone cut out was Jo screaming something about them trying to remove her clothing," Meadowes told Manson with concern.
"I know where they've taken her then," Manson said darkly. "Kalindra mentioned Sergei had previous for slave trafficking. If he's dumb enough to use the same safe houses as last time, we're in luck. But we'd better hurry before he ships Beth and Jo off to some faraway brothel."
"Sierra five two from Sierra Oscar," the scanner crackled. "Mobile phone signal traced to Pier Twelve, discontinued five minutes after your departure."
"Understood," Meadowes returned. He turned to Manson. "Step on it, Neil."


Their hands bound behind their backs, Beth and Jo were led aboard a sleek luxury yacht. Jo had tried to disarm the Belgian grunts accompanying Sergei and his men and had only earned a bruised cheek for her troubles.
Suddenly Sergei's mobile rang, and he answered it in Russian. He listened intently, and suddenly his face clouded over. He snapped the phone shut and begin barking orders.
"De fucking coppers are going to be svarming all over de place! Get the bitches on board and cast off!"
"To hell with you!" Jo snarled, and started twisting around like a wildcat. Her handler backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling. Jo clumsily got to her feet and ran full pelt across the dockside. Beth put in a similar effort, but four Belgians bundled her on board just as the cavalry came screaming across the loading apron.
"FUCK!" Sergei roared.
Manson and Meadowes piled out. "Jo!" Manson yelled. "Where's Beth?"
"On board!" Jo yelled as a uniform untied her.
Manson drew his sidearm and ran for the yacht.
That's not quite the Roddenberry vision of the Federation, but I can live with it. - SoftGameHunter
I prefer the On 'Er System = we all get on 'er and have a ride! - Ray
Back pain is such bs and shouldn't be allowed. - Ingenue

Offline mr_hyde

  • Inner Wanktum
  • Posts: 681
  • Rep: 35
  • Gender: Male
  • n00b
    • Filmotheque by Mr.Hyde
Re: Shapeshifter
« Reply #1 on: June 12, 2018, 03:41:44 AM »
My cover

 

Offsite Contact

Email Us Off-Site

Admins

Addie RayPistonprowl

Global Moderators

Ingenue Red Right Hand Smirkin

Moderators

Surrender2U EssenceofRed kittyumbrass the savage darkfantasygirl archon1980