Looking around, you see the intense stares directed at you. This is not a comfortable position, your precinct is under quarantine, and it's duty officers who weren't there when it went into effect have been scattered to the surrounding ones. An desk jammed into a corner is all that Jack has to process the John. Who's looking sheepish, and terrified in the cage as he waits to be processed. Just another horny bloke caught up by his hormones and frustration.
A sad smile quirks your beautiful face. It's hardly high crimes, but it does add to the oppressive atmosphere on the street. Your own brief experience in this skin making you see men differently. Gene therapies, giving women younger, perkier bodies, firmer, flasher physiques. Something more to be saved for, the expensive holiday or the visit for DNA rejuve....
The charge sheet lays out his offences, as you sit back pressing against an immense pipe. The desk jammed, and incapable of moving, Jack's chair just as tightly squeezed into the space. Rolling your shoulders, you try and ease the muscles tightening as the weight of your bust reminds you once again how 'gifted' Candy is, how tempting. The girls rolls heavily in their tight confines. That shrugging roll drawing eager eyes. Your every move watched by the surrounding officers.
Blushing you realise they don't recognise you as one of them. This skin is specialist equipment, your assignment a precinct wide secret. They think you are... You check the charge sheet again: Candice Conchita Maria Sanchez (Candy). A name you picked for yourself as much a joke as anything. But it doesn't feel quite as amusing at the moment.
Shifting your weight from one hip to another, you realise you're rolling that juiciest of asses, in the seat before you can stop yourself.
It's just too easy to forget how much attention just wearing this skin brings. Those eyes... (some you suspect never looked away) snapped back to watch the too wide hips jammed into the seat.
Needing to just stretch your legs, you look at the mug... it's empty. Taking up the empty mug you wander to get a refill. Sighing as you get up, it feels like you're climbing out of a low sports car. Just a gaudy ornament for the driver to be seen with...
Your hips move with a natural sway as you navigate towards the coffee machine.
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