Interactive: Pikesburg PD, ch. 11 (Patreon)

“I have to be honest, it’s an odd request.  Don’t get many policemen in here doing research, especially not on the South side.”  

Greg smiled at Professor Miller as the older man set up the research station.  When he said he was working a missing persons case he’d been given access to one of the private study rooms, complete with its own computer linked to the library database.  With it he could dig through old newspapers and articles going all the way back to the town’s founding while Tank searched the stacks for relevant books relating to the medallion.  

“All part of the job,” the young ginger shrugged.  “Never knooouuuuunnnnhhhhh…” Greg broke off in a cracking moan, spasming in place as he came without warning.  He hated how frighteningly normal it was all becoming - the sudden, obvious swelling in his pants, the groaning, the liquid warmth spreading like he’d wet himself, all followed by condescending looks of pity.  “Never know where the job’ll take us,” he continued as if nothing happened, watching the professor’s eyes linger on his softening bulge. “I’ll start with this and see where it goes.”

“Of course,” the older man said, blushing when he was caught staring. “I’ll come back by in a bit and check on you.”

Greg sighed and slumped against the door when the professor left, grateful for the room’s frosted windows.  He pulled the sopping pad out of his briefs and replaced it with a fresh one in a quick, practiced motion, already having the humiliating process down to a science.  

“Alright...let’s see what we’ve got…” he muttered, bringing up the newspaper database.  He started with the early ‘70s since that was the date Maria had given him, working his way all the way back to the ‘50s without finding anything useful.  There was the random report of a missing person, and plenty of standard criminal activity, but nothing odd or unusual that would point to the medallion and their current circumstances.  

“Of course it wouldn’t,” Greg spat, shaking his head after a fruitless hour of scanning countless articles.  “It all becomes normal...there’d be nothing to report…fuck!” he muttered, falling back in his chair.  “Okay...let’s start at the other end.  Used to be a lot of mob activituuuuhhhhnnnn….!”  he clutched the table, nearly jerking out of the chair.  

The powerful release serving as a reminder of what he was up against, the determined young officer attacked the database with renewed purpose, starting with the early teens.  He made it through several years, learning that the South side had always been considered a cesspool.  Since the town’s founding, it seemed to draw the less savory aspects of city living to it like a magnet.  The mentally ill, the criminally inclined and outsiders of all kinds flocked there like they’d been called.  It was interesting, but it wasn’t until he reached the early twenties thathe found a solid lead.  

Starting in 1922, a series of murders rocked the South side.  The area had always been full of random violence and the collateral damage that crime brought with it.  Police thought it was related to the outbreak of bootlegging that plagued the area, but it quickly became apparent that they were dealing with something else.  The bodies they found weren’t the usual victims of gangland retaliation or personal vendettas.  They’d be drained of blood and missing organs, or in many cases only partial bodies were ever found, looking like they’d been torn to pieces.  

Greg started to see a name mentioned repeatedly, an “importer” by the name of Vinny Ruggiero.  It seemed that Vinny was on his way to being a prime suspect before his own sudden disappearance in ‘26.  Prior to that, he was always mentioned in the company of oddly dressed strangers and people that were only ever described as “too tall” and “too pale.”  Regardless of his possible extracurricular activities Vinny was at least partially legitimate, being known to import bizarre relics and religious artifacts for high paying clientele.  He even started to be known around the South side as a religious figure in his own right, performing supposed “miracles” for people in the neighborhood.  

Greg had seen it all before.  Respected, well-to-do citizens who were secretly anything but weren’t exactly rare in his line of work.  Still, Vinny was an odd case.  The mention of tall, pale strangers, importing relics from far off lands, “miracles”, murders that had all the markings of sacrifices or offerings; it all pointed in the right direction.  

He pulled the medallion from beneath his shirt and turned it over in his hand.  “What were you up to, Vinny...” he muttered.  

“I prefer Vincent.”  Greg shot up out of the chair at the unexpected voice, looking around the room before remembering it was only in his head.  “You actually found something.  I’m impressed.”  

“Sleep well?”  Greg sat back down to keep his legs from trembling.  

“Quite.”  The lean officer could hear the amusement dripping from the voice in his head.  

“So your name is Vincent?  Or should I call you Mr. Ruggiero?”  

“Please, I think we’re close enough to skip the formalities at this point.  Tell me...what did you learn?”    

Greg’s heart was a jackhammer in his chest, the small room suddenly feeling like a cage.  “You can’t just read my mind?”  

“If you insist, but you never know what might get knocked out of place.”  Greg didn’t have a chance to respond before the vertigo sent him reeling.  His ears filled with a rushing sensation like he was falling or hurtling forward at rapid speed.  “I expected you to spend more time poking around the neighborhood.  Smart thinking coming here instead.”  

“Glad...you approve,” Greg panted, shaking his head.  “What did you do?”  

“Just now?  You’ll have to find out.”  

“No...before, when you were, what?  Sacrificing those people?”  Greg tried not to think about whatever destruction Vincent had just caused in his head.  He felt normal, but he knew how little that meant.  

“Power like this doesn’t come without a price.  I served my masters well and this was my reward.”  

“Stuck in a piece of jewelry?  Doesn’t seem like much of a prize.”  

Vincent laughed, the sound growing in volume until Greg felt like his eardrums would burst.  “Immortality?  The ability to change the world?  You’re just as short sighted as the rest.”  

“But why?  What are you trying to…” 

Greg was interrupted when Professor Miller knocked and opened the door, oblivious to the danger he was in.  “Just wanted to check and see how things were going.”  

Vincent purred, the medallion going red hot against Greg’s chest.  “Just in time for breakfast.”  

“Excuse me,” the professor said, shaking his head.  The older man swayed on his feet and leaned against the closed door for support.  “I feel dizzy all of a sudd…” 

Time lurched to a stop, the professor’s image sharpening in hyper focus as the rest of the room went blurry.  Greg’s hijacked eyes pored over every detail, sizing up the unsuspecting man in predatory fashion.  He hadn’t paid much attention to the professor’s appearance at first, but now he zeroed in on the thinning silver hair, the wrinkles lining the older man’s weathered face, and the dark-rimmed glasses that sat on his beakish nose.  Professor Miller’s strong jaw and broad shoulders suggested an athletic build in his younger days, and he still had a set of large arms filling out his gingham shirt.  A paunchy spare tire spread around his midsection, making his thin legs appear all the more spindly.  For someone who looked to be in their early sixties he was still plenty attractive, even with the extra weight that came with age, but his fit, youthful days were a thing of the past.  

Or at least they had been.  In the rapid space between heartbeats Vincent had already made up his mind and started working his magic.  The older man’s silver hair darkened to a golden yellow, spilling outwards from its short cropped style until it was a shaggy mop that fell past his ears.  The deep, etched wrinkles on his face smoothed and vanished entirely, taking the glasses with them.  In the space of a few seconds Greg watched the professor’s face go from elderly, to middle aged, to that of a twenty-something, before finally settling as a doe eyed young man.  

The rest of his body followed suit.  The sleeves of the gingham dress shirt pulled upwards, revealing arms that shrunk in size but grew in definition.  The buttoned neck melted away and down, the pattern on the fabric fading until all that remained was a baggy, light-blue tank top.  The exposed torso underneath was firm and toned, the scrubby hair vanishing with the extra weight as the skin drew tight and took on a glowing tan.  A set of modest pecs matched the athletic arms, and as Greg watched the spare tire vanished, Professor Miller’s waist drawing inwards.  The weight seemed to flow down, plumping out the cheeks that formed a perky bubble in the red gym shorts that the khakis had turned into.  The shiny bottoms hung loose on the professor’s now-trim hips, exposing the top band of his plaid boxers and outlining the thick cock that was twitching against them.  

“Wha...what…” the now-younger man stammered in a lighter voice as he stared at his altered body in shock.  In a matter of moments Professor Miller had gone from over sixty to barely nineteen.  

“Professor?  Are you...okay?”  

The athletic blonde looked up from the flip-flops that replaced his loafers with a confused grin.  “Professor?  Nah, bro, it’s Corey.”  He shook his head and ran his hands through his thickened, shaggy hair.  “Professor...fuuuuuuck that, dude,” he laughed, grabbing his twitching pole through his shorts.  “I’m just here to get laid, man.”  

“Not bad, right?”  The voice in Greg’s head was full of satisfaction.  “Look how happy he seems.”

“Seems,” Greg thought back.  “Does he know?”  

“My, my, you ARE catching on.  Of course he knows.  He’s just too dumb to do anything about it now.  Look at him.”  On cue, Corey scratched absently at his smooth pecs and flashed a dull smile.  “The good professor is still in there, he’s just buried under an overwhelming adolescent libido and working with about a third of the brain power.”  

“You gonna look at me all day or are we gonna do this,” Corey asked as Greg stared, unaware of the other man’s internal struggle.  He tugged down the front of his shorts and fished out a rapidly hardening club, teasing Greg with his washboard abs in the process.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry,” Greg stammered, confused why the sight of the young stud’s large pole had him fumbling to open his pants.  Without knowing why, the lean ginger had his pants and briefs around his thighs and was turning to bend forward against the table.  

“I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I?  When I was poking around earlier I took the liberty of removing your ability to turn a man down.  Just think about all the fun you’ll have,” Vincent chuckled.  

Greg didn’t have time to process what he heard before the young man’s eager beast slid inside.  “GGGUUUHHHHH…” 

Corey clapped a hand over Greg’s mouth as he pushed in deeper.  “Bro! Keep it down, dude.  You want us to get caught?” he laughed.  

“Mmmpff...mmmmmmmuuuuffffffmmm…” Greg could only grunt against Corey’s hand, eyes wide and chest heaving as the younger man picked up speed.  The sensation was pure electric bliss, a sharp contrast to the dread he felt at the thought of how often he’d find himself in this situation from now on.  Not only would he cum helplessly in his pants, he’d cum helplessly at the end of strange dick after strange dick.  

He looked back over his shoulder and searched Corey’s face for any sign of the old man but only found an arrogant smirk and dim, half-closed eyes.  If Professor Miller was still in there, he was buried deep indeed.  Greg just hoped he was buried deep enough to be oblivious to his new life.  He thought back to Nicky, and while Corey’s brain didn’t seem quite that diminished, Greg doubted the professor was happy about being stuck as a horny teenager.  He tried not to think about whether or not the professor had a family, and all that he may have lost in addition to his age.  

“Oh fuck dude...oh fuck...I’m gonna cum bro...I’m gggoouuuuuunnnn!”  Corey gave a deep plunge and sprayed, filling Greg’s guts to capacity with the copious release.  The young hunk kept pumping as he softened, working out every last drop.  Greg blushed when he heard Corey laugh and realized he’d started sucking vigorously on the fingers that had been clamped over his mouth.  “Bet you’re just as good with that mouth,” Corey said, reaching around to start pumping on Greg’s aching cock.  The panting redhead could only stand in place, sucking away on the younger man’s fingers while Corey finished jerking him off.  “Thanks for the public service, officer,” the blonde young man grinned, pulling his fingers from Greg’s mouth.  

Greg turned an even deeper shade of red when Corey gave his firm, hairy cheeks a swat, the whole experience leaving him feeling helpless and out of control.  “Just...doing my job,” he said with a forced laugh.  

“Ever feel like doing it again, you know where I am,” Corey winked, stuffing his dangling banana  back in his shorts and slipping out the door.  

Greg stood in stunned silence for several minutes before remembering he was still naked from the waist down.  He pulled his pants back up, going pale at the breeze he felt on his exposed backside.  “No, no no no,” he pleaded, looking down at his now ass-less pants.  Even his briefs had turned into a jockstrap, the pouch still stuffed full of the absorbent pads.  “You can’t do this,” he cried, horrified at the thought of walking around with his firm bubble hanging out.  

“I think I’ve proven that I can,” Vincent laughed.  “I could just take you over again, and I might, but that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.  After so many years of borrowing other bodies they all start to blend together.  Here’s how things are going to work from now on, Greg.  You know who I am, or at least who I was, and you know what I was after.  Power isn’t good or bad, it just needs to be used.  So I can either continue to change you, or you can find me others.”  

Greg couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “What?  No!  Look what you did to me!  Look what you did to Tank and Johnny!”

“They don’t have to be your friends and associates.  You’re a police officer...think of the justice you could provide by feeding me criminals instead.”  

“I think having your entire self and life altered is a stiff sentence for stealing a car,” Greg spat.  

“Is it?  Would the victim feel that way?”  

“That’s why they don’t get to decide!  There are rules for a reason...we’re not judge, jury and executioner.”  Greg could feel the necklace cooling as Vincent’s presence started to withdraw.  

“I’ll give you some time to think about it.  Don’t take too long to decide.”  

********** I feel like we're reaching a good cut off point with this one.  We could keep going and going, changing people with the necklace forever, but it seems like we've built a good foundation that we could revisit later.  How should things wrap up? **********