Highway policeman Martin Kane Not all lawmen are just. --- Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- Alex was somewhere between Idaho and Missouri when she caught sight of the strobe of blue lights in her mirror. She looked to see the cop bike just as the siren gave a few whirls and a gloved hand gestured over to the side with a harsh, leather jerk. She checked her speedometer, swore to herself and slowed the car, pulling over to the dust bar siding. Except for the two of them, the world was empty as far as all four horizons, two of which were perfectly bisected by the light haze of highway. Wastelands of hardpan surrounded them, a sea of broken and wasted looking dessert flora. She couldn't believe she was getting pulled over. Didn't the cops have anything better to do? Alex stopped the car, switched off the engine and took a breath. She was hot and irritable, not to mention tired for having been on the road for hours already. The last thing she should do was give the cop attitude, that would only make the situation worse. The huge police bike, still with lights streaming, had pulled up in front of her. It rocked over to one side, balancing at an arrogant tilt, and the cop eased himself apart from it. He was dressed in what looked like a khaki take on standard cop greys and blues. The dust of his beat shrouded both him and the bike, like some animal that smothers its colours to disguise itself within its natural environment. He approached with that lazy swagger all highway cops have mastered, reaching her window. The traditional glasses and helmet obscured his face. "Officer?" she smiled as sweetly as she could, given her current mood. "Ma'am," he said flatly. "Could I see your licence and registration please." "Sure." She reached across the seat for her bag and began rooting through it. The bag was large with a thousand compartments, the licence had somehow hidden itself inside one of them. The cop huffed and waited impatiently. It occurred to her that if she had a gun in the purse, the cop wouldn't know a thing until she spat a bullet through those expensive mirror shades. However, she didn't have a gun, and, however pissed she might get at times like this, she didn't believe in them. She had to admit though, had she a gun, right at this moment she would be sorely tempted. "Sorry about this," she murmured, looking up at him and offering a conciliatory smile. "I swear it's in here somewhere." At times like this Alex resented her sister. She was a speed freak and was regularly pulled over. She'd never been given a ticket however, always having been let off with a warning. It was on one occasion when Alex was with her that she learned precisely how she managed this. As the cop approached the car, her sister had flicked open a couple of buttons on her blouse. She had adjusted her bra, sticking her tits out like two ripe fruit, just begging to be plucked. The cop had come over, seen her staggering cleavage and all pretence of cool had dropped. He'd stammered, clearly overwhelmed and completely distracted. Throughout the lengthy lecture, he didn't take his eyes from her breasts once. Eventually he let them go. She smiled sweetly and drove off, buttoning her blouse, putting them away again, ready for next time. "I can't believe you just did that," Alex said to her. She just smiled. "I was blessed with a bosom that possesses certain qualities, hypnotic ones at that. T'would be a crime to waste such a talent." "Whatever." "Besides, because of these babies, shopping for underwear is a nightmare; swimming at the municipal pool is a pain in the ass; jogging is near impossible. I may as well get whatever practical benefits they have to offer. It evens out, seeing as I can pull just about any guy without even trying and I never have to pay for traffic violations. "Seriously Sis, are you telling me that if your boobs were as big as your biceps, you wouldn't swing them about a bit on occasion, just to get off a speeding fine every now and again." "Well they're not, so I guess we'll never know." In truth, Alex could never imagine using her body in such a way. She was very conscious of people looking at her. The idea of deliberately focusing attention upon herself in that manner shocked and appalled her. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her body, quite the contrary in fact, but that didn't stop her from being self-conscious. At last she found the licence, nestled within a pocket she was sure she'd searched a dozen times already, and pulled it free with a flourish. She handed it to the cop who was truly bored by this point. He glanced at it indifferently, then handed it back. "Would you step out of the vehicle please Ma'am." "What's wrong Officer?" "Please, just step out of the vehicle." He pronounced it with three syllables, like all cops seem to. 'Ver-her-cal.' His tone was boredom crossed with authoritarian. It made Alex all the more pissed. She didn't rise to it however, instead, biting her tongue and stepping calmly out of the 'ver-her-cal.' She stood there feeling incredibly self-conscious. She had on a loose cotton blouse. It was a deep yellow and flapped lightly in the soft breeze. It covered her for which she was grateful. The cop was shorter than her by a few inches but bulky, in a weighty kind of way. She still felt intimidated, albeit by his authority and callousness rather than his physical power. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself gently, trying not to slouch down to hide her height. It was a habit she'd formed as a child, being picked on for being a tall girl. It occasionally recurred at times of stress or uncertainty. "Ma'am," the cop droned. "Turn and place your hands on the hood of the car." "What have I done?" she insisted, not moving a muscle. "I have to search you" "Please, just tell me what this is all about." "Turn and place your hands on the hood of the car." "What am I accused of," she demanded, getting more frustrated and more agitated by the moment. "I'm not going to ask you again. Turn around now." Alex bit down her rising bile and turned, placing her hands palm down on the car. She felt his meaty hands giving her a pat down. She'd never been frisked before and found it highly unnerving. Though there was nothing illicit on her person, she still felt guilty, instinctively wanting to shy away from his prying hands. He slid his hands down her arms. She cringed at his touch. If he noticed the unnatural thickness or solid hardness of her arms, he made no comment. Instead he explored her torso, unabashedly checking her ribs up to her armpits, her broad back, her flat stomach. His finger skirted her breasts, not appearing to linger, though his touch still made her shudder. Then he moved to her jeans, the second skin of tight denim. He stroked the cheeks of her butt, now taking salacious pleasure in his task. His hand worked between her thighs, feeling the muscles on her legs. Then a little higher. Alex stood, shocked, making to turn around. The cop pressed her back down against the car, a meaty palm hard on her back. He snapped a cuff around one wrist and before she'd even realised, he pulled her arm backwards off the car, making her fall down onto it. He had the position and weight, the element of surprise. Not to mention the cop training. Before she'd clocked to what he was doing, he'd yanked the other arm back too, clicking the other cuff into place around her other wrist. He pushed her down, her face clanging against the car, hands cuffed behind her. "What?" was all she could think to say. His hand was between her shoulders, holding her down against the hot metal of her car. "Ma'am, stop struggling please," he insisted, his tone not having changed. She wasn't struggling however, the shock of the moment having robbed her of any thought toward action. The authority of this cop confusing her shocked mind. She wasn't used to the adrenaline serge of fight or flight; no previous experience in her life had prepared her for this situation. Then the cop pressed up against her and she felt his hard-on pressing against the seat of her jeans. His hands were on her shoulders, pressing her down against the car. She felt his breath, hot and greasy against her neck. His heavy breathing sounding in her ear. "Don't make this any worse than it has to be," he told her. Her shock distilled into anger, pure rage blinding through to her core. Now he'd pushed over the line, her doubt evaporated and gave in to her natural sense of self-righteous indignation. It also made matters so much simpler. If he wanted to physically assault her, then she could quite happily physically defend herself by any mean necessary. Alex jerked her head back, hard. She was rewarded by the sharp crack of his nose disintegrating. She turned to see him staggering back, his hand at his face, filling with blood. The cop looked up, saw Alex, standing there, still in a state of shock. "Fucking bitch," he screamed and drew out his nightstick. Alex backed away, coming up against the car. The cop closed on her, snarling like an animal. He drew it up, ready to batter her with it. She screamed, winced away from it, twisting her head down and away. It struck her shoulder. Pain exploded through her torso, her shoulder feeling deadened. She fell forward with the blow, collapsing face first onto the dirt ground. Pain exploded in her rips as he kicked. Hard workboots sinking into her side again and again. He was screaming as he kicked her, hollering abuse and violence. She squirmed, trying to escape his blows but she was in a hopeless position. It was impossible to react while being beaten so savagely. She hunched herself as best she could in her tied state, waiting, hoping, for it to be over. He paused for breath, sweating like a pig, his lungs sounding old and rusty. Then he lifted the nightstick. "Bitch, I'm gonna shove this up your fucking ass." Alex was close to passing out, her insides felt liquefied. But fury had her now. She rolled onto her knees and thrust her body at the cop, her meaty shoulder taking him in his pudgy gut. It threw him backward, smashing him to the ground. She staggered back, regaining her feet. With her arms bound like this, she was helpless. She tested them for strength. The cop looked up at the woman, winded, from his heap on the floor. He saw the most unbelievable sight he'd ever witnessed in all his years on the force. The woman had leaned forward a little, drawn her arms up behind her. The blouse she wore was loose, flowing about her body, but he could swear in those final moments before the snap, the sleeves filled out completely, her muscles swelling to accept the challenge lain before them. With a furious roar of animal rage, she ripped her arms apart, splitting the cuffs and wrenching her arms out to the sides. In a moment of pure adrenaline, she threw her arms forward, flexing her body to its full capability, thrusting her fists together before her stomach. Her blouse exploded from her body, muscles ripping free of the restraint of the cotton. It tumbled from her torso, a shredded rag, leaving her modesty protected by a sports bra, (elasticated.) The cop watched this feat with his jaw dropping. He saw her muscles, a hard mass of powerful bulk and rippling brawn. He realised for the first time that, woman or not, he wasn't going to win this fight. He stood and held the batten before him, trying to ward her off with it. He swung it at her as she approached. She caught it easily and ripped it from his grasp. She tossed it aside. She grabbed him by his uniform, lifting him up until his face matched her greater height. "What were you going to do to me?" she demanded. "I'm sorry, I wasn't going to do anything." Leaving him dangling by one hand, she drew the other. There was a punch-bag at her local gym, she was well used to pounding out her aggressions and stresses with her fists. The difference here was that his pudgy body put up much less resistance. She sank a fist into his stomach, feeling something rip inside. His eyes glazed after that first blow. When she released him, he crumpled slowly to the dirt ground. Her wrath was still far from spent however, lifting him again to lay another killing blow into his soft body. She realised now that this was going to be murder. You can't do that to a cop, however justified, and get away with it scot-free. And she also realised, that if she was going to extingish this pathetic little life, she wanted him to be awake when she did it. She wanted to see his eyes. No, that wasn't it - she wanted him to see hers. She dropped him again, leaning down to pick up his ankle. "Wakey, wakey," she hissed, wrapping her powerful hand around the bony joint. She squeezed and he began screaming, fully alert. That didn't stop her squeezing however, crunching her fingers through his pain, pulverising his bones into a splinted, wet mess. Alex went and retrieved the nightstick. She climbed over his broken form, sitting herself astride his chest. She showed him the nightstick. "What where you going to do with this?" she asked him, tapping it lightly on his forehead. "Please, no," he shuddered. "You can't." "Don't worry, I've no desire to see your ugly ass," she told him. "So I'll settle for frontal penetration." She placed the tip of the nightstick on his chest, dead centre between his nipples. The nightstick was a thick batten, an inch in diameter. It was next to impossible to stab someone through the chest with one. That was, unless you were a severely pissed off bodybuilder with murder on the mind. Alex lent her body into the task, shoving all her considerable weight into the action. The cop began screaming but she paid him no mind, thrusting the stick into him. There was a pop and a crush, then a geezer of blood shot up, lubricating the wound, allowing her so slip the pole in easier. There was softer resistance next and she rammed the stick down, tearing through whatever hindered it. Then something tough once more. With a final burst of effort, the stick ripped through his back, completely piercing his body. "How's that feel?" she asked him. "Bitch," he managed to gurgle. It took him a long time to die, much longer than she would have suspected. She didn't stay to watch, considering that to be morbid. Instead she went and retrieved her ripped blouse, using it to wipe the blood from her hands. She kept checking back on him to see if he'd died yet. He shuddered quite a bit and his body occasionally went into spasm. Alex got her phone from her bag and prayed she'd get a signal, calling her sister. "Hey Sis, what's up?" "I need your help." Alex put the cop into the boot of her car, carried the bike out of sight of the highway, wiped it down for her prints. She drove to a small town, found a phone-box and called her sister again, this time from a landline and not a cellphone. "OK, what's next?" she asked cheerfully. "Are you OK?" her sister asked, concerned. "Me? Yeah. I think it's just shock but I feel great." It took her sister an hour to get there. Alex opened the boot to show her the problem. "Oh shit. And you criticise me for using my tits to get off traffic fines." "Seriously, what do you think?" "Seriously? You ever heard of excessive force? I think you better hope to Christ you get away with this because if you don't they're gonna throw away the key." "You're not helping." "Right, there's nothing we can do about the bike, that's a lost cause. No prints?" "No prints. I only touched it to carry it off the road." "Was you able to carry it very far." Alex just raised an eyebrow. "OK, stupid question. I take it he didn't call in when he stopped you." "Yeah, he said, 'I'm just gonna rape this chick then I'll grab a coffee.'" "Just covering all bases. We'll get rid of the body, I know a guy about two hours from here who'll do it for a favour. We'll leave your car here for now and take the rental, it can't be traced to me." "You have such great friends." "Speaking of which, I've got another friend doing a little background on this guy, the IAD are onto him for all sorts of shit. They're just going think a deal went sour. He certainly had it coming." "IAD?" "Internal Affairs." "And how do you access records like that?" Her sister winked. "Tits get you through all kinds of doors if you know how to use them properly." They were half hour down the road when Alex asked her sister to pull over. "What's up Sis?" "I think that state of shock just moved to the next phase," she hissed before her body was wracked by another attack of the shakes. She collapsed out of the door, throwing up violently. It took her twenty minutes to settle again but she was still pale as the car continued its journey. They were almost out of the woods when they saw the roadblock, stopping all cars but only searching some of them. "Don't worry, this may not even be anything to do with us." "Don't worry?" Alex asked, near hysteria. "We've got a dead cop in the boot. Why the fuck should I panic?" "Deal with it," her sister hissed. "Or we really are dead." She flicked a few buttons undone and thrust her substantial chest forward. "Is that a good idea?" Alex asked, making an effort to regain her composure. "Isn't it just going to make them suspicious?" "Men always trust tits." A cop appeared at the driver's window. He glanced at the displayed cleavage, then focused on the innocent smile above it. "Ma'am, can I ask where you're headed?" He seemed quite deliberately unimpressed by the blatant flourishing of flesh. Then he saw Alex. More specifically he saw Alex's T-shirt, the tight red one she'd put on to replace the destroyed blouse. Even more specifically, he saw the powerful and sizeable biceps that the T-shirt completely failed to conceal. His eyes grew large a moment, his demeanour changing ever so slightly. He apologised for hesitating. "Sorry Ma'am, couldn't help but notice that you work out. Are you going to be in the state for long?" "Just today, visiting friends," Alex mumbled, embarrassed. The cop seemed to notice her slight unease and softened to it. "That's a shame. It's just that my brother owns a chain of gyms here." He chatted amiable for a few minutes, putting both women at their ease. Alex reached up, running her hand into her hair, hooking a lock back behind her ear. The cop look like he was ready to faint, eyes fixed on the massive flex and motion of her biceps this created. He was so overcome with lust his hand was actually shuddering as he brought it up to touch his cap and bid them a good day. He waved them through the roadblock, the dead cop in the truck no closer to being discovered. They'd got a mile down the road before Alex turned to her sister, seeing the look she was giving her. "What?" Alex insisted. "Oh, right, you were just scratching your head?" "Just an itch," Alex replied, grinning. "Yeah, I think you gave that cop an itch." Alex stretched out, making herself comfortable, flexing her awesome muscles as she settled into the seat. "I don't know what you mean," she insisted. "You should do your buttons up girl, you'll catch a chill."