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An Anonymous Story Prompt

Frank is a large, hulking muscle bound cop who doesn’t care much for ‘woke’ policies and diversity hiring, though he gets along with his Asian partner Channa well enough. But after signing a strange contract with his chief, he feels as if something is changing about his life. Was his ass always that big? Surely his hair isn’t supposed to be this long? And why is he suddenly saying ‘Gracias’ instead of thanks?

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“I need you to sign this contract.”

Frank frowned at Police Chief Kassidy. She was a hard woman with strong African heritage and an intimidating figure. She’d pushed her way to the upper ranks through sheer will, facing off against racism and yada yada, at least that was the speech she often gave. For what it was worth, Frank just found her hard to look in the eyes.

“Sure thing Chief,” he said, “as soon as you tell me what it’s about.”

She shrugged casually. “It’s a diversity thing. Once again the department has hired too many damn white fellas like yourself, and now the city is claiming we’re not being diverse and open enough, which is a damn correct assessment in my book.”

Frank went to give a sarcastic sigh, then thought better of it. As far as he was concerned, it was all political correctness gone mad, an attempt to take away the heart and soul of policing and replace it with diversity quotas. Why should he have to feel guilty just because he was a mid-thirties white guy walking a beat or responding to a call?

“I can see you don’t like it already, Frank.”

There was no evading the chief, so answered honestly.

“It’s just, I’ve already got Channa as my partner, she’s Vietnamese-”

“Cambodian.”

“Yeah, I meant that. She doesn’t seem to mind being one of the only women at our rank, or being the only Asian: just gets a bit odd about it once every while. Y’know, when it gets brought up. So maybe we shouldn’t bring it up?”

The chief just smiled. “You don’t know the full story about Channa, Frank, but maybe one day she’ll tell you. For now, this is just you signing a petition agreeing to the hiring practice of more diverse officers in the future. That’s all.”

He shrugged. “Fine, if that’s all, I’ll sign it.”

She passed him the pen and he signed the bottom line, barely casting an eye over the petition - though hadn’t she called it a contract before? A few words stuck out, words like ‘racial reorganisation’ and ‘suppressed memory factor until completion’ and ‘reinforcement of femininity’ but it was all just nonsense as far as he was concerned. Legalese better left to the courts than a humble cop like him.

“There,” he said, passing over the pen. “No more mister white guy.”

Chief Kassidy cracked up, issuing forth a great big belly laugh that greatly surprised Frank. She was usually much more taciturn.

“Oh my, Frank, you have no idea how true that is. Go on, get back out on the job.”

“Chief,” he said, rising from his seat and moving to the door.

“Oh, and one more thing, Frank?”

He turned at the door to see the chief’s smile.

“Yes, Chief?”

“Good luck with it all.”

“Uh, sure thing chief.”

***

“She made you sign a contract?” Channa asked as they sped along the highway in their patrol vehicle.

“Yep. Something about diversity.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Explain.”

Channa paused. “You won’t believe . . . it’s nothing. It’s just a stupid contract.”

Frank smiled, and gave her a light punch on her little shoulder. “See? I knew you’d understand, Chan! You never complained of this diversity shit. You don’t bleed black or white or yellow or whatever, you bleed blue like the rest of us. The uniform’s the only colour that matters.”

His partner was silent, but then she often lapsed into periods of quiet thoughtfulness. Frank was more than okay with it. It gave their long patrols a sense of serenity he appreciated.

They were a funny pair when put together, particularly just considering the size difference between them. Whereas Frank was a large, muscled Caucasian male in his thirties with short-cropped hair and a steel gaze, Channa was a short Cambodian woman in her mid-twenties, with shoulder length hair and cute features. She’d been hit on more than once by strangers, and she was strangely quite aggressive when that occurred, often revealing a strength that was surprising for someone so little, but most of the time she was quiet and deferred to Frank’s experience. She didn’t like being called a ‘police woman’ however. Just a ‘police officer.’ It was one of those things, Frank supposed.

“Frank,” Channa said out of nowhere. “If you were to suddenly be a woman, how would you feel?”

“Weird question,” he responded, focusing on the road.

“Just answer it.”

He gave her a smirk. “Chan, does any part of this look like a girl to you?”

He flexed his large bicep in an exaggerated fashion. Channa just rolled her eyes.

“You’re impressed, aren’t you?”

“You forget, I already have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, you’re taken.”

She sighed. “I suppose I am,” she said, in an oddly wistful voice. “How strange.”

Frank just scoffed, used to his partner’s weird eccentricities. Suddenly a call came in for a response to a nearby situation. A violent altercation by the main city park.

“Let’s go crack some heads,” he said, hitting on the lights, “and let’s go do it fast. I’ll show you how a man does it, Channa.”

Another sigh. “Please do, Frank. Please do.”

***

A few days later, Frank was getting ready for work. He was always proud of his uniform; crisp, clean, and most of all, large enough to fit his impressively muscled body. But something had happened; it must have expanded in the wash. That could happen, right? Because it no longer fit him; it was baggy around his shoulders and arms, and a little too long around the legs. He tried it on several times, but it was no use. It must have grown. He felt a little overtired that morning, and almost considered calling in sick, but he was a man, and he wasn’t going to show weakness. He put on the uniform anyway, got his gear ready, and fixed his hair in the mirror. It was darker than it normally was; he was a natural blond, but the figure in the reflection looked a bit more like a brunette.

“Huh, weird,” he said. He felt he should be more curious, but a strange fuzziness came over his mind, and when he looked at the mirror again, he decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.

“I’ll figure it out later,” he said. “It’s time to get to work.”

***

“Get on the damn ground! Get on the ground!”

The man was being noncompliant, continuing to hurl obscenities at the pair of officers and continuing to throw objects in the direction of the house they had attempted to force entry to. The man was clearly high on something, likely meth, and Frank knew exactly how to handle that.

“One last time, get on the ground or I will put you there!” he yelled.

“Fuck you, copper!”

He looked to Channa, who simply shrugged. She was too small to take him, but she had her taser at the ready. She’d gotten damn good at it, though she sometimes lamented that she ‘used to be stronger.’ It made Frank a little amused; how strong could she have possibly been, given her little frame?

“Very well,” Frank said. He moved quickly to the man grabbing him in body hold and forcing him to the ground. He had a weight class advantage against the violent man, and was practised in taking down violent criminals who were off their rockers like this guy. It would be a cakewalk.

Except it wasn’t. Frank grunted in surprise as the man put up an incredibly good fight. There was no artistry to it, no use of proper holds or slips, the man simply must have had muscles that Frank didn’t realise, or Frank himself hadn’t been hitting the gym frequently enough. To his great annoyance, he ended up having to twist the man’s arm, which he didn’t like to do, and Channa had to get in and help him into the van once the man was cuffed.

“Fuck, he was tought,” Frank said, rubbing his shoulder. “I could have sworn I should have been able to take him down easy.”

Channa regarded him a little oddly, looking him over.

“See something you like?” he said.

She scoffed. “Pig.”

Frank just chuckled and ruffled her hair a little, much to her annoyance. “Shorty.”

“Just you wait,” she said.

It was another one of those weird comments Channa had been making lately, but he just shrugged it off. She seemed to be in a bit of malaise, but then she often was. Maybe it was just a Cambodian thing, or just her. He wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just a weird chica.

***

On his day off, Frank went to purchase some new clothes. He had been slimming down as of late, and obviously he must have purchased clothes that were a few sizes too large anyway; why else were they not fitting him so obviously? Everything was baggy and too long, and the only explanation that made sense was that he had been wearing overly large clothing and everyone had been too polite to tell him.

“And I’ll need some good jeans,” he said. “These ones are too snug.”

The clothing store employee walked around him, and when she returned, she had a bit of a surprised face. “Yes, uh, yes! I can see that. They’re a bit too snug around your, well, your rear.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “My ass? Really?”

He looked around, and it did seem like his ass was bigger. Rounded. It formed an almost peachy shape against his stressed jeans. But . . . hadn’t it always been like that? There was a brief moment of dizziness that passed over him as he grappled with this thought. He leaned against the counter.

“Sir? Sir, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “Just need some more water, I guess. Anything you have in my . . . size, would be good.”

The woman nodded, and began looking. As she did so, he cupped his ass with both hands, checking that no one was watching. Yes, it was indeed a little bouncy. But then, he was near-certain it always been like that. He checked himself out in the mirror, and found nothing too strange to complain about.

“Damn, need a haircut,” he said to himself. The man in the reflection had dark brown curls, bordering on black, that had become somewhat of a mop upon his head.

***

“Nice ass, Frank!” Leroy shouted from his desk as Frank passed with a perp.

“Up yours, Leroy!” he responded, “at least it’s just my ass that’s fat, instead of my belly!”

The two of them chuckled; it was just work banter, and Frank was well-acquainted with the fact that cops were hardasses who gave each other shit over the smallest of reasons. Still, for some reason the comment rankled at him as he processed the perp and got him to his cell. It was a simple handoff, a night in the tank for public drunkenness and inability to drive home. But when he emerged he turned to Channa, who was filing some paperwork.

“Hey, Chan, you got a sec?”

She turned her almond eyes to him. For just a flicker of a second, he could have sworn they had once been blue, but then that made no sense.

“Sure partner,” she said in her slightly accented voice, “how can I help?”

He lowered his voice. “Chan, be honest with me here, do I have a big ass?”

“Spin,” she said.

“Spin? Like a fucking model?”

“Go on, then.”

He groaned, checked no one else was looking, and turned around.

“Yep, you’ve got a big ass. Bigger than mine.”

“Well, women are supposed to have bigger asses Chan. And frankly, yours looks pretty damn good.”

She shot him a look. “I got a boyfriend, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m just being silly, Chan.”

“Well, your flirting won’t matter soon anyway. Say, have you got a rash on your chest recently?”

Frank was astonished. “Yeah, I do. How do you know?”

“You’ve just been scratching your nipples a lot like one of those sex pests we had to pay a visit the other day.”

“Jesus, is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as your ass, partner,” Channa said. “Looks like you’ve been spending some time in the sun too. Your skin will be near as brown as mine soon.”

Channa indeed did have a gorgeous bronze tone to her skin due to her South-East Asian heritage. Frank looked at his own forearms, and was a little surprised to see she was right. He did indeed have an olive hue in his complexion. He’d noticed it the other day, but it seemed right, somehow. It was summer, didn’t skin always go a bit more tan in summer?

“Well, we better get back on patrol now that this guy is covered.”

“Good notion,” she said, finishing her coffee. She paused as they moved to the garage, regarding him in that odd way she often did.

“What is it?” he said.

“I can help you with clothing, you know. And hair products. When you need them.”

“Thanks Chan, but just because I’m between hotties doesn’t mean I need any help.”

She shrugged, and moved to the car. Now, Frank respected his partner, quite liked her in fact. But he was still a red-blooded male in every aspect, which meant that he also occasionally liked to peek at her cute, slim figure in uniform, the way her officer’s belt hung around her little waist and over her womanly hips. She wasn’t the most shapely woman; while he’d never exactly seen her unclothed in any respect, it was obvious she had a modest chest, B-cups at most. But she was certainly attractive, even if she was cagey about having a boyfriend and occasionally a little odd in her manner.

Which was what made it so strange that when she walked ahead, and Frank therefore had a great opportunity to sneak a glance at her ass and hips, he didn’t see them as attractive in any way whatsoever.

In fact, the first thought that came into his head was, ‘I bet my ass is even bigger.’

***

“Chief, something feels a little wrong with me,” Frank said. “I think I might be sick or something. I don’t quite understand it, but it’s like I’m missing something. Like my brain is in fucking fog or something. All I know is I don’t feel right.”

Chief Kassidy regarded Frank with her usual hard stare. It was not without some sympathy however. She folded her hands on the desk.

“Can you explain what makes you think this, Officer Frank?”

He brushed his black curls behind his ear. He knew he should get a haircut at some point, but the shoulder length look was kind of working for him, and he was reluctant to do away with it.

“I just feel like I’m a little out of place. Like, I know I’ve always been a little on the slim side, but I feel really weak lately. And my uniform feels too big for me, but I got it changed last week! And it’s getting, um . . .”

“You can tell me Frank.”

He blushed a little. He was grateful that his olive skin disguised the red in his cheeks. “It’s just that it’s getting a little tight around the chest.”

The Chief was oddly understanding. She took down a few private notes, and organised for him to have a week of paid leave.

“I’ll be able to organise it as leave related to health and trauma,” she said, winking. “After all that’s what this sounds like: you need a break from your regular work as you adjust to your new self.”

It was odd wording, but it sounded good.

“That would be great, Chief.”

“Are you right to finish your shift before you take your leave?”

He nodded. “I can. Gracias.”

He didn’t even realise what he’d just said, but the Chief had an odd, lingering smile. Maybe she just didn’t like his Latin accent. It was quite thick, after all.

***

Over the next week, Frank relaxed. The Chief was right, it was good to take a break from work and just be at one with his own self. He spent the time watching Youtube videos of fashion, making authentic Ecuadorian dishes, and watching some silly Spanish telenovelas. It was rather freeing, though he did notice that occasionally that his body was a little out of sorts.

“Must be eating too much,” he said to himself, his voice cracking a little higher once more, raising another octave. He didn't notice: his focus was upon his chest, which had puffed up considerably, and now looked increasingly like a pair of breasts. A-cups at least. This was despite the fact that he was eating less than he used to lately.

“Or maybe I’m just losing fat in the wrong places,” he said. After all, his waist and stomach were positively slim now. His face had lost its wide, square shape and had become soft. He sometimes joked to himself that he looked like a girl, but then he’d always looked like that. His legs were slimmer, as were his arms, but he couldn’t help but notice that his thighs had swelled. He kind of liked that, though.

“It’s just these fucking nipples,” he complained, checking himself over in front of the mirror. “They’re so damn sensitive. They look like I’m growing a pair of tetas. Too bad I have such a little penis or it wouldn’t be so embarrassing.”

It stirred that thought again. That feeling that things weren’t quite right. Like he was supposed to be something else. Someone else.

He suddenly leaned against the counter of the bathroom, swaying a little. The dizziness, the wave of headaches washed over him once more. When they ended, he lifted his head, trying to remember what he’d just been thinking about. He adjusted his chest, trying to figure out what top would fit him today.

“I think I’ll need to get a bra,” he said.

It seemed like the most obvious, least crazy thing in the world to him.

***

Elena’s week of rest was nearly up. It had been strange and tiring, and she was itching to get back to work, crack some heads and arrest some perps. She was a copper down to the blood, and just because she was a pretty good looking chica didn’t mean she was some fragile senorita either. She was readying her work outfit for the day. It was much too baggy, and was oddly really quite tight around her enormous peach of a backside and her wide hips. It was also tight around her chest. Sure, she sometimes got catcalled as a result of them, but she was rather proud of her big Double-D jugs. The uniform didn’t exactly show them off, at least it wasn’t meant to. But they were good boyfriend catchers.

“Just need to find a good boyfriend,” she mused in her Ecuadorian accent.

She was trying to deal with the excessive baggyness of her uniform that made her look a bit ridiculous when her doorbell chimed. Elena adjusted her long dark ponytail one last time before moving to the door and opening it.

On the other side was her partner Channa, who looked simultaneously nervous, pale, and shocked.

“F-Frank?” she spluttered.

“Who the hell is Frank?” Elena laughed. “Dios mio Chan, you look pale! What’s up, partner? I thought I’d see you at the station.”

Channa stepped inside, still staring over Elena’s body in a way that made the latina feel a little self-conscious. Chan had a boyfriend, one she’d been in a relationship with for several months now, though she’d only met the guy twice. And yet the way the Asian cop looked at her on patrol - and at that moment - almost seemed like she was checking Elena out.

“Chan? What’s going on?”

Her partner recomposed herself, though she still looked a little pale.

“Elena, do you remember who you were a week ago?”

Elena folded her arms, a little confused.

“A lot more stressed, but otherwise the same.”

“Does the name Frank mean anything to you?”

She went to shake her head, but there was something in the back of her mind ringing alarms. Very big alarms.

“I - I think so. Maybe. Should it?”

She had never seen Chan so serious. “Oh yes, it absolutely should. Elena, I need you to listen to what I’m about to say. You weren’t always a latina. You used to be a big white man. Just a few weeks ago, in fact.”

“That’s loco!”

“It’s not! I need you to focus on all the weird shit that’s been happening to your body, to your clothing, the last few days. The magic makes your photos and evidence of your identity change, but it doesn’t change clothes for whatever reason.”

Elena wanted to say she was crazy, but again she felt the tug of that string. It was strange how nothing fit her. She’d had to do a lot of expensive bra shopping over the past week. And why the constant change of uniforms.

“I - Chan, this doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you remember the Chief getting you to sign a contract? It’s a magical contract, Chan. It comes from some university professor or something, supposedly, though I don’t know anymore than that. It changed me. I used to be Terry, your partner. I was bigger than even you. I was a white guy in my forties, your senior partner. Now I’m a little Asian cop who is attracted to men, and has a boyfriend!”

Elena leaned further into the thoughts, and suddenly they came flooding to her. To him. To her and him. It was true. She had signed a contract, but she’d been a man then, hadn’t she? She’d been Frank! Holy shit!”

“Oh God, what the fuck!” she gasped. “Shit, Channa. Terry, whatever! I’ve got breasts. I don’t have a dick anymore: I’ve got a fucking pussy! Oh crap, and look at these hips, and my voice! This is loco!”

Chan nodded. “It happened to me, I know what you mean. It’s why I was looking at you funny, because I recognised the signs but couldn’t say anything: you’d think I was mad. It’s all to fulfil diversity quotas, and - and - and - SHIT!”

She ran from the room before Elena could ask her what was wrong. Moments later, her little partner was puking in the bathroom several times over. Elena took the time to examine her gorgeous olive body. It was crazy; she had all of Frank’s memories, but she still thought of men as attractive when she tried to imagine who she was meant to be attracted to. Hell, she still thought of herself as female despite not wanting to. And when she looked at her big Double-Ds, she was equally repulsed to have a big pair of tits as she was proud to have them.

Chan returned in the middle of this internal conflict, pale once again.

“What’s happening to us?” Elena asked her, tears in her eyes.

“What’s happening? We’re being forced to live the lives of female cops. You used to be a man, Elena. A white man. Just like I used to be one too. And now you’re a hot latina cop and I’m a little Asian female cop with a fucking boyfriend.”

Chan wiped a tear from her eye and gave a little chuckle.

“Only I did one better than you, Elena. I’ve been feeling nauseous the last few days each morning, and my boobs have gotten a little bigger. I think - I think I went and accidentally got pregnant.”

Elena/Frank stared at her partner, trying to come to grips with everything.

“Dios mio,” she said automatically.

To Be Continued . . .