Cosplay, Chapters 7 - 9, by Charles Petersunn


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"Follow me," she ordered, as she strode off into the book stacks, hoping that he would indeed follow behind her. He might run, and there would be no way she would chase after him. That would draw much too much attention, and likely real police officers. And, besides, she wasn't too sure her breasts would in fact remain in her blouse, although having them inadvertently pop out would be kind of fun. Imagine the confusion that would provide to the suspect.

He followed, but he considered possibly turning and running. She wasn't a particularly athletic looking cop. In fact, she seemed rather diminutive for a cop. Plus, she was wearing a rather tight dress that went past her knees. How well could she run in that? It did a pretty good job in making her swaying bottom look awfully cute, but in that skirt he could probably out run her. But, he thought about 'Cops' again. It was really amazing how sometimes the guy would have only gotten a ticket for speeding or for having his tail lights out, and then he takes off and the charges escalated dramatically. And, none of them ever got away, although the producers of the show probably didn't show the cases in which the guy did get away.

All of this was rushing through his mind as he followed the officer through the stacks of books and then down the hall to the private study rooms. He now realized how persons in times of crisis can easily make the wrong decision. It was so difficult to decide and he had no time. Every second he delayed running meant one less second to make up his mind. She reached the study room that she had previously selected for this evening and opened the door. "Here, we can talk more privately in here."

He hesitated. If he was going to run, this was the last chance. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

It was small, but it was one of the larger study rooms. The study rooms were available to students who wished even more privacy and quiet than was obtained on the common floor. Madeline had chosen a room for two or more students who were working on a project or studying together. With the door shut one could hear very little in the library, unless of course a major argument developed. The rooms were not entirely soundproof, but they were very effective for students who just didn't seem to know how to whisper.

"Officer, I want to explain." Joseph realized that perhaps the best decision for him was to confess and plead his case. After all, it had all been Bree's idea. Still, he doubted that the police would really believe him about that. How likely is it that a pretty girl will initiate a hand job in the library for a complete stranger, and a nerdy looking one at that? Maybe he better not say anything.

The officer held up her hand to effectively silence him. "I will ask the questions."

Madeline was feeling very good about her choice of victim, or partner, as she preferred to call them. This young man appeared to be especially docile. She knew she could control him, could get him to do just about anything. She explained, "The witness was unable to provide a very clear description of the suspect."

That was good news. In fact, it was really good news. Maybe he would still get away with it?

"She wouldn't be able to recognize you simply by your face, nor did the perp apparently say much of anything."

He couldn't help but think that this cop was not particularly good at interrogation. Why admit to a suspect that he couldn't be identified? Thank goodness he had not instantly blurted out a confession. He again noticed how young, and feminine, she appeared for a cop. He had to struggle to keep his eyes averted from those bulbous bulging boobs. "Well, I want to reassure you, officer, that it wasn't me." He wondered how effectively cops can tell when you're lying. He wondered if he was in fact a very good liar.

"Yes, well," she said as she pulled the baton from her belt with her right hand and repeatedly tapped it into the palm of her left, looking quite stern. "You'll excuse me if I don't just take your word for it."

"No, ma'am. Of course not. Absolutely. What do you want to know? When did it happen? Where did it happen?"

"Son, I am asking the questions here."

"Sorry, yes, yes, yes sir, I mean, yes, ma'am. Sorry." He knew that there was no way he should question her authority. He did have some experience with policemen, and he had seen a lot of them on 'Cops.' He knew that one thing they didn't like was you questioning them.

"No, she didn't get a good look at his face, but she did see something else."

"Did he have a tattoo?" He hoped it was that, as he didn't have any.

She just glared at him.

"Sorry," he said more softly. Stupid idiot. He said very emphatically to himself, 'Just keep your fucking mouth shut and do what she says!' She was such a petite woman, yet he felt so thoroughly cowed.

"No, he did not have a tattoo." Her impatience with him was quite evident in the tone of her voice. "What she did see was something quite personal, not surprisingly."

"Oh," he said quietly. He knew what she was referring to. That girl had been staring at his cock when he was shooting off.

"She described a quite specific feature of his male organ."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You need to take off your clothes."

He again hesitated, quite understandably so.

"All of them? Here?"

These were reasonable questions, but he was again asking questions. Would he ever learn?

"Look, I'm through arguing with you. Let's just take this downtown." She reached into her belt and pulled out the cuffs.

"No wait."

She ignored him. "I will need to cuff you. I didn't want to do it before, cuff you in front of other students, but I'm not about to take the chance that you will bolt as we proceed to the squad car. Turn around and cross your wrists."

"No wait, wait," he pleaded, proceeding to unbutton his shirt. "I'll do it. I'm sorry." There was no way he was going to be led out of the library in handcuffs and, even worse, taken down to the police station, where he would still have to strip, and probably in front of obnoxious, denigrating, burly men.

"Well, hurry it up then," she replied, putting the cuffs back into her belt, and standing back to enjoy the sight of the young man stripping off his clothes in the library. Her eyes widened with pleasure, her heart racing in anticipation.

Joseph didn't even hesitate when he got to his slacks. He just quickly unbuttoned, unzipped, and stripped them down, tossing them aside, leaving him left with just his white jockey briefs. He did though hesitate then, glancing at the door. The doors to the study rooms could not be locked. Someone could just open up the door and see him there, currently only in his socks and briefs. He looked to the policewoman. Couldn't he just stick his penis out of the flap? Actually, why did he have to take off his shirt? "Can I just pull it out?"

She replied tersely, fingering the cuffs, "Turn around. I'll take you this way if you wish. In fact, let's have your penis sticking out of your tidy whities as I lead you out of the library, if that's what you want."

He pulled down his briefs, tossed them onto his slacks, and stood before her, entirely naked. Well, except for his socks.

Madeline smiled. She just had to smile. He looked so cute, so vulnerable, standing there only in his socks, his limp penis sitting up on his balls like a little peanut. And, at this point, it really wasn't out of character to smile.

Joseph didn't appreciate that she was smiling. He glanced down at himself. He was awfully small. He was glad that he was at least circumcised. It would look even sillier if it was all bundled up in foreskin. But, still, it was so awfully puny right now.

She slipped the point of her baton just beneath the tip of his penis and bounced it up and down. Joseph didn't care much for that. She didn't really have to do that. It was really quite demeaning. But, cops tend to enjoy their authority, their power over you, don't they. All you could do was to just stand there and take it.

She smiled cruelly. "Quite a contrast, don't you think?"

Yes, there was indeed quite a contrast between her baton and his penis. So, the lady cop has a bigger penis than him. Did she want him to admit it? "I'm nervous, and the library air conditioning is cool. They keep it cool. It's good for studying."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it," she said sarcastically. She reached out with her left hand and grasped the tip of his penis with her index finger and thumb.

Joseph naturally flinched but he didn't resist. It's never good to try to escape a police officer, particularly when she has a hold on your penis. 'Just get this over with,' he thought.

She turned his penis this way and that, like a doctor or nurse looking for signs of herpes or something.

"It's hard to tell," she said, and removed her cap and got down on her knees in front of him to get a closer look.

He looked down at her, appreciating once again how attractive she was. He was looking right down into that tremendous cleavage, those two really very large breasts that so much wanted to escape her tight, half-unbuttoned blouse. No police officer ever looked like this before, and that sweet scent of her lovely perfume drifted up to him as she continued to inspect closely, very, very closely, his penis. He could even feel her breath on the sensitive head. "Please,' he said to himself, or more accurately, to his penis, 'please don't get hard.' What could be worse than that?

He had, of course, often been nervous about getting hard when a pretty nurse checked him out, down there. It would have been awfully bad to have gotten erect in front of a nurse, although a nurse must have experienced that at least a few times before. Wouldn't she? But, certainly no cop would have experienced that, and certainly a cop would hardly be sympathetic about it, and certainly not this cop. Imagine how embarrassing it would be to develop an erection while being stripped searched. Well, at least all of this anxious rumination was helping to keep him from getting hard.

"I can't tell this way," she said. "You'll need to make it hard."


She looked up at him, his limp penis less than an inch from her lips. "Provide me with an erection. The description was in reference to an appearance when erect. You will need to make it hard." Her voice was so commanding. It reminded of him "Seven of Nine" from Voyager (full name, 'Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One').

"In here?" Oops, he did it again, asking a question.

"You are capable of getting erections, aren't you?"

Man, he heard that female cops tend to be man-eating bitches, but he figured that was some sort of unfair stereotype. Well, perhaps it wasn't. "Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Well, start slapping your monkey, Joseph."

He wanted to glare. He sure felt like glaring, but he restrained himself. When you're with a cop, you just have to shut up and take it. He reached down and grasped hold of his limp dick and started to stroke, squeeze and pull it. This was so humiliating, and so difficult. How easy is it really to jerk off on command, standing up, in a stark empty study room, where it's uncomfortably cool, and for a cop who is being really quite denigrating. He couldn't do it. He kept trying but nothing would happen. He looked down into that tremendous cleavage, breathed in deeply her perfume, and tried to imagine those lovely pink lips so close to his dick sucking him up inside. He even imagined it was in fact "Seven of Nine," for whom it would be really quite nice to jerk off for. She wore such a tight uniform, thrusting her breasts out as she stood before you, her hands clasped behind her taut bottom. And, this cop did sound and look an awful lot like her, with the only exceptions being hair color and height. But, it wouldn't work.

"Do you have this problem often?"

"No, ma'am," he replied, his frustration so evident in his tone and expression..

"Well, we can't stay here forever." She stood back up, looked him straight in the eye, and began to unbutton her blouse.

His eyes lit up. What the heck was this cop doing?

"You clearly need some inspiration. Perhaps some visual stimulation will help?" She looked into his eyes as she undid her blouse. She always enjoyed this moment so very much, revealing her breasts to a young man, and the pleasure was magnified by the fact that he was so obviously, terribly shocked and surprised by the sight of a policewoman doing it for him.

Joseph's eyes did widen dramatically as he watched the attractive policewoman slowly unbutton her blouse, one button at a time, all the time keeping her eyes fixed on his, and even finally presenting a more friendly, even flirtatious, expression on her face. Yes, he would have to admit, this would certainly help indeed. This was even better than imagining seven-of-nine undoing her uniform. Well, it's hard to imagine anything better than that, but this was at least for real.

She did not have many buttons to undo, as the first three were already undone, but her breasts nevertheless seemed to literally pop out of her uniform when released from their tight prison cell. They were still partly confined by her equally tight, plunging brassiere, but the big round balls were so shockingly wonderful. The lacy red brassiere actually contributed to their appeal, providing a prominent thrusting fullness, a lovely round shape, and very titillating seductiveness. Yes, their appearance helped a great deal and Joseph's cock quickly and appropriately responded.

He gawked with lustful desire at her half-naked boobs, and felt with considerable joy, and pride, as his cock rapidly grew to its full stiffness. He felt much better. He even seemed to forget that he was being interrogated for a crime, for a very shameful crime. But, he always felt good when he had an erection.

He was not though particularly big. Madeline shifted the baton to her left hand and reached out to grasp his stiff cock with her right. "Hmmmmm," she said as she studied his erection. "She did say he wasn't very big."

He didn't like hearing that, for two obvious reasons.

She laid the baton down on the shelf beside her, and got back down on her knees in front of him. She looked up at him and said, "If you touch that baton, I'll bite it off."

"Yes sir, ma'am, I mean, ma'am." The threat did threaten his erection, but the nearness of her lips, and the loveliness of her lacy red boobs, more than compensated.

She studied it closely, this time though more delicately, more tenderly. She was even sliding her finger tips up and down the shaft. He could feel her breaths on his skin. Her lips were so close. For a moment he imagined suddenly shooting off. That would be terribly erotic, shooting your load into the face of a pretty police officer. Although, that would probably get him into some rather serious trouble. Not too many police officers will appreciate that, even the female ones. He wasn't so sure whether the thought, the fantasy, of doing so made him feel more excited or more anxious, or both.

Madeline admired the young man's hard penis. There were in fact very few penises she did not admire. They always looked so masculine, so strong, so powerful. Even the littler ones. She enjoyed teasing the little ones, but their stiffness, their hardness, their cockiness, was still so arousing for her. "I can't really tell for sure. Perhaps if the skin was moist."

His eyes widened with shock as he watched her open her lips and take his cock into her mouth.

'Oh my gosh!' he exclaimed, to himself, as he felt her lips wrap around his shaft and her tongue begin to explore, fondle, and lick his cock.

"Hmmmm," she groaned in deep satisfaction. She so much enjoyed giving a guy head, and it was all the more pleasurable to do it in different contexts, different settings, different roles. She must imagine that this boy is so completely shocked, and thrilled, by the fact that he was now being sucked by a policewoman. She swallowed his entire length into her mouth.

She reached up with her left hand to softly tickle his balls as she made love to his dick with her mouth and tongue. Yes, it was not a big cock, but it was still a very hard, stiff, manly cock, that tasted so lovely and felt so wonderful in her mouth. She stroked her fist up and down the shaft as she gave him little, short, rapid tickle licks on the sensitive underside, just beneath his crown.

Joseph gasped. This felt so, so good. He could feel his balls pulling in tight against him, getting prepared, getting ready to shoot their load, getting cocked to shoot their wet, sticky bullets into the policewoman's mouth.

She pulled her mouth from his cock. He sighed with disappointment; she sighed with lust. His hard, throbbing cock was now glistening in the harsh light of the small room.

"Yes," she said, a little breathlessly, "it's sufficiently wet now. Let me see." She again studied it closely, although this time gently fondling his balls as well and occasionally giving him little licks here and there, ostensibly for the purpose of providing a bit more moisture for her inspection, but more for the pleasure of licking this lovely stiff maleness.

A part of him wanted to ask her what precisely she was looking for. He was certainly curious. But, he knew better at this point not to ask any further questions. Besides, he just wanted to enjoy her inquiring, her investigating licks. They were just as good as any tender, affectionate licks.

She got up off her knees, her breasts wiggling in their tight but comfy cups. "Inconclusive," she said.

Panic again swept through him. "Please don't take me downtown," he pleaded.

"Well, she also said there was something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes," she said, her hand on his shaft; softly, reassuringly, stroking him. She considered jerking him, letting him cum on her policewoman's skirt. He would probably like that, as would she.

He was waiting for her to tell him what that something else would be, but he was also simply enjoying her tender stroking. Not too often do you have a pretty cop stroking your cock, with her big red brassiere, her giant jugs, jutting out from her body, her uniform.

"She did say that his orgasm was rather distinctive." She smiled at him, albeit it wasn't clear if it was a flirtatious or a knowing smile.

Joseph was confused. Distinctive? In what way? It was certainly true that the girl had come upon him during his ejaculation (see "Five steps to Delta Nu"). But, he could not recall anything distinctive about how he came. Maybe this was indeed someone else they were seeking? Could he be that lucky?

Still, did this police officer actually want him to jerk off in front of her? She really couldn't mean that. Could she?

She said, "I suppose you will also need some assistance with that."

He actually wasn't expecting any, but he certainly wouldn't turn it down. "Yea, well, if you wouldn't mind."

She said in a rather resigned, complaining tone, "I tell you, what a cop has to do sometimes." She started to stroke him more forcefully. "Have you ever been fucked by the police before?"

"Excuse me?" That sentence would usually have just one particular meaning, but in the current context it did seem a bit ambiguous.

"I think you heard me." Her impatient, authoritative voice contrasted sharply with her soft, gentle, tender stroking and her equally soft, full breasts, that were now pressed against his body.

He had indeed, but he hadn't really expected to hear a police officer say 'fucked.' Although, when you think about it, they must be a pretty tough lot. They probably cursed and swore like pirates quite a bit, just not too often in public. Well, he was not about to admit that he had, a couple of times, felt like he had been 'fucked' by the police. "No, not really."




She squeezed his cock, both to arouse him and to assert herself. "'No, not really 'what? 'No,' you didn't hear me or 'no' you've never been fucked?"

Why can't cops be more pleasant to talk to? Why did they have to always act so intimidating and sarcastic? Still, he hardly felt he was in any position to complain about this one, particularly as she was again using the fingers of her left hand to lightly tickle his balls as she stroked him with her right. Her face was just inches from his, here full soft breasts pressing into him, the tops of her breasts bulging up even higher out of her brassiere. Despite her demeanor, her stroking and fondling felt so really very good. In fact, he might like climaxing right now, squirting his load all over her cop skirt. "I meant 'no,'" he gasped, "I've never been treated unfairly or anything."


He didn't reply. There is no way he could really be honest about this, could he?

"Not even over a ticket?" She removed her fingers from his balls to lightly tickle, caress, the tip of his crown, working his pre-cum into his soft, sensitive skin.

He was having difficulty keeping his balance, his composure. Yes, certainly he had at times felt 'fucked' when he got a ticket. There was this one time this policeman had been a real jerk. Yes, he hadn't come to a complete stop, but it was 7:30 Sunday morning. There was absolutely no traffic on campus at that time of day, not even pedestrians. One hardly needed to come to a complete stop to notice the presence of nothing. Not on Sundays. Yet, he was still pulled over and ticketed.

He shook his head.

"You're lying, young man. I can tell when a boy is lying."

Is she reading his mind through his cock, like some sort of lie detector thing? Maybe he gave off some sort of tell with his cock? A guy does often think with his cock. Perhaps it was not a bad way to tell what he is thinking.

"You know that lying to a police officer is itself a crime, and a pretty damn serious one."

Is it really? Before he could ask, or even think about it, she gave him a hard squeeze, like you do when you're trying to stop from cumming, circling her finger and thumb around the shaft, just below the crown, and squeezing hard. He grimaced and bent over, pushing against her body, her breasts. He knew that police officers were not allowed to beat or torture a suspect. He wondered if this applied as well to squeezing your cock. Perhaps she was pretty good at interrogation after all. "Wait, wait, I'll tell you."

"That's better. It does always feel better once you tell the truth doesn't it, son."

It was so odd for her to call him 'son.' She really didn't look that much older than him. At least, her face made her look awfully young, plus she was so short. But, she certainly had the tits of a woman, along with the badge and equipment of a cop. He nodded his head.

She smiled sweetly at him, let go of his cock, stepped back, and reached behind her body to unclasp her brassiere. "I suspect you deserve a little reward for that confession."

He had heard of good cop, bad cop. Or one cop alternating between a carrot and a stick. He had just gotten the stick, now he was apparently going to get a pretty fantastic carrot. Her breasts thrust out even further as she reached behind for the clasp of her brassiere. He would so love to grasp hold of these boobs, but imagine getting arrested for sexually assaulting a police officer.

Out popped two of the loveliest breasts he had ever seen, although he hadn't seen many at all. Well, he had seen a lot of pictures of naked boobs, and from that considerable research he could certainly say that these were pretty darned outstanding jugs.

They were full and prominent. She really didn't need that brassiere. She looked pretty darn good in it, but it was hardly necessary, although cops do probably have to wear bras. Plus, without a brassiere they would probably fly and bounce around a lot when she chased someone. He smiled to himself as he imagined that picture.

In any case, these were the boobs of his fantasy world, the ones he would expect on a beauty queen. Actually, beauty queens wouldn't be this big. These were the boobs of a Playboy bunny, a playboy centerfold, even bigger, yet here they were on a cop. It seemed like kind of a waste. He wondered if he could touch them. Would she let him touch them? But, what cop would let you do that?

She thrust out her chest proudly, and smiled. "Do you want to touch them?"

Cops apparently can read your mind. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed hold of each one and gave them a squeeze. He never felt anything so wonderful. Well, actually, Bree Olson's tits were pretty darn wonderful as well. But, these were so much bigger and fuller. His hands could barely get a grip on them. He could not imagine ever seeing, ever feeling, boobs as great as these again.

Madeline knew she had really good tits. Her early, rapid, and large development probably contributed to some extent to her costume fetish, as she enjoyed so much exploring different outfits that would show them off, and she certainly enjoyed the delight in the eyes of the young men, or older men, when they first saw them, when they first held them. Boys liked to show off their muscles. Madeline enjoyed showing off her tits. It was only natural. When you have them, flaunt them.

"Now, let me ask again, have you ever been fucked by a cop?"

Yes, he had not given her adequate credit. She was indeed very good at interrogation. One does tend to feel more comfortable in talking about things with a girl when you have your hands on her naked tits, even when she is a cop.

He told her about his DUI, driving under the influence. He had been real pissed about that. Yes, he had been drinking. He was out with his friends, celebrating the fact that one of them had been accepted to law school, and they had stayed until the bar was closed. His friends took off, three of them driving home. He tried to convince them that they shouldn't drive after drinking so much. Nobody was like dead drunk or anything. He just knew that they might be over the limit. They laughed at him, and even offered to drive him home if he was such a chicken shit. He considered it. He didn't really think his friends were so drunk as to be dangerous. But, he couldn't do that. It would be too hypocritical. He declined and got into his own car, not to drive home but to just sleep it off. He had no plans for the next day. He would wait until the morning. Better safe than sorry.

As he continued the story, he continued to feel and fondle the policewoman's big naked boobs. He might have been quite willing to provide more admissions, for as long as he was talking she was letting him grope her tits while she stroked and fondled his stiff cock.

It had been a chilly night and he couldn't fall asleep in the car. So, he turned on the engine to get warm and then a cop car's lights went off, and he was pulled from his own car. He passed the field sobriety test, but failed the breathalyzer. Not by much, but enough. He just couldn't figure out why it would be driving under the influence when he wasn't even driving. He hadn't even intended to drive. He was in fact sitting, sleeping, in a parking lot. But, it didn't matter.

It was really costly, and embarrassing. His parents were so angry, and ashamed.

She continued to draw her hand up and down his dick as he confessed, drawing out from him his past criminal history, occasionally tickling the soft crown with her fingers as he admitted to having felt being maltreated by a policeman.

His balls were beginning to draw tight against his body, churning and yearning for relief

When he finished she let go of his cock. "So, you do feel that you have been fucked by the police."

She didn't look too pleased, or sympathetic. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so honest. Playing with naked tits while your dick gets stroked does loosen the tongue, perhaps too much. Yes, she was indeed a very good cop, at least at interrogation. "Well, I just think he should have at least just given me a warning."

She taped her finger on the tip of his cock, like one would do against a suspect's chest. "His job is to enforce the law. Would you rather policemen choose themselves which laws to enforce?"

"No, ma'am." Yes, it was a mistake to have told her the story. He was getting the paternalistic lecture that so many cops enjoyed providing, and all he could do was to swallow his pride, bend over, and take it.

"Your job is to obey the law," she said, now giving his cock little smacks, delighting in how it swung left and right, like a crane in a storm.

"Yes, ma'am."

"If you don't like the law, your job as a citizen is to get the law changed." She bobbed the head up and down with her finger.

"Yes ma'am."

She took a firm grip on it again and said, "Well, would you like to fuck one back?"

He did not at first say anything. "Excuse me?"

She repeated herself. "Would you like to fuck one back?"

That was obviously one tricky question. Was she asking him to set some cop up? Was she some kind of renegade cop, or some internal affairs division cop, or whatever they call it? Or, was she trying to extract another confession, something that could get him into bigger trouble?

She didn't wait for an answer. She knew the answer. "Well, you will need to do something for me first. You can't hardly expect me to take your dick without getting me ready."

What? Did she mean 'fuck' literally?

She let go of his cock and began to pull up her skirt, which wasn't so easy as it was quite tight and down past her knees. Joseph's eyes bugged out and his dick swelled and twitched as he watched the cop's big jugs jiggling with the wiggling of her hips as she worked the skirt up her legs, past the thigh high nylons, and past her white, soft thighs. She stopped when she got to her red silk lace bikini panties.

"Have you ever seen a cop's panties before?"

"No," he said, not realizing that an answer wasn't really necessary. His eyes, his mind, were fixed on her panties. Their sexiness, their feminine vulnerability, were such a contrast to her otherwise very masculine uniform. Her soft feminine mound was so seductively molded by the soft red silk. Templeton had regulation panties, apparently police officers did not.

"Take them off."

"Yes, ma'am."

He dropped to his knees before her, his stiff dick bobbing with the sudden movement. He reached out and gripped the waistband of her panties. The last time he felt such anticipatory pleasure was when he was a little boy at Christmas, about to open the box that held his BB gun. At that point in time he could never imagine getting a better present. His BB gun was about to be topped, ten-fold. Well, actually, Bree was a pretty darn good present too, as was Emily (see "There must be something wrong with me"). Christmas had definitely come early at Templeton.

He pulled her panties down to her thighs. His dick felt like it was going to burst through its skin. His eyes widened in shock. She was bald. Her pussy was bald, shaved fully bald. He didn't know why he was so surprised though. Perhaps all policewomen shaved their pussies. Policemen always had very short hair, and many of them appeared to shave their heads. He always felt that maybe they did it to make themselves look tougher, meaner, more intimidating. Maybe girl cops did the same. They wouldn't shave their heads, but maybe they might shave their pussies.

Well, that couldn't be true. It's not like it made her look tougher. Frankly, it made her look sweeter, younger, more innocent and vulnerable, and incredibly hot, like she wasn't even a cop at all. His cock was yearning to embrace, to plunge into, this soft, sweet, white, feminine slit.

Madeline smiled as the boy gawked at her cunt. This must be a boy who has not seen very many pussies, and hers moistened and swelled at the sight of his intense interest, his admiration, his adulation. "Quit your dawdling son. We can't be in here all night."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and quickly pulled her panties all the way down to her ankles, and then over her Bates women's durashocks.

He handed the panties to the police officer.

She smiled at him as she took her panties from his hand. She then reached out, grasped his head softly but firmly with her hands and said, "You better do a pretty darn good job or I'll haul your ass downtown."

The first time a guy pleasures a girl this way, his mouth on her cunt, it is usually accompanied by considerable pressure. Clearly he wants to do a good job. No, in fact, he wants to do a great job. He so much wants to please her, to impress her. What is more important to a guy than being good at getting girls excited? A girl has got to really like you if you're the best she's ever experienced, down there. Well, now imagine that she's an experienced, older woman who is telling you that if you don't do a good job she'll have you arrested. He could feel his dick wilting under the pressure as she pulled his face into her cunt.

His lips were crushed against hers, and Madeline released a guttural moan as she felt the boy's lips capture her lips. She so much enjoyed being pleasured this way. It felt so intimate, so personal, so obscene.

Joseph had no idea what to do. So he did just about anything and everything he could think of, hoping one of his assaults would stick. He was licking, kissing, lapping, sucking, pressing, and rubbing; just about anything he could think of.

Madeline smiled at his obvious inexperience. Through her games she had many different men, of many different ages, pleasure her down there. She preferred the older men. With experience does come skill. But, youthful enthusiasm also has its rewards, its special qualities. Plus, she could sense, feel, the boy's desperation, his intense desire to satisfy her. That was itself very pleasing, very enjoyable. Her legs, her thighs, trembled.

But, rather than compliment him, she smiled and asked, "Do you have any idea what you are doing?"

It was cruel. She knew that. But, she just couldn't resist at least one little tease. She then gasped as he went after her with even more vigor and intensity. "Oh my gosh," she whispered. It felt like he was trying to burrow his way with his lips and tongue into her body through her cunt.

She held his head firmly in her hands and ground her hips, her lips, against him, circling her pelvis around and around like she was fucking his mouth, while his tongue was trying to work its way into her hole, lapping and licking up juices that were spilling out onto his lips, into his mouth and onto his face.

"Joseph," she sighed, "That's nice, that's very nice."

He was so relieved. He became even more emboldened and grabbed her by the buttocks to pulled her down more tightly against his mouth, if that was at all possible. He dove in, licking and lapping all over her cunt, exploring her folds, her flaps, her crevices, her slit, with his tongue. With the obvious pleasure he was providing her, his dick swelled further, with pride and excitement.

"My clit. Get my clit," she gasped, shifting her pelvis to help him find the target.

He appreciated the help. He doubted that he would have found it readily on his own, and he applied himself fully to her erect nub, rubbing his lips around and around, licking and sucking it like a starved puppy at his mother's teat.

"That's good, that's good, that's great," she gasped. She so much enjoyed cosplay. You meet so many nice new people.

Joseph was equally pleased. You got to feel good about yourself, your oral skills, when you can make a tough cop get all excited with your tongue.

"Wait, wait," she gasped. She was just about ready to cum, but she wanted to do that with him inside her. "Do it now. Fuck the cop now."

She pushed him away, turned around, bent over the small desk table attached to the wall, and arched up her butt to give him a clear target. "Fuck me, Joseph, fuck me like you've been fucked." She reached back, between her legs, and spread open her cunt with her fingers, making his target even clearer. "Fuck me real hard."

Joseph got up behind her, his cock never feeling so big and hard as it did now. It was now a weapon, a truncheon, his own baton, and he did not hesitate a second. He lodged it in her open, gaping wet, hot cunt hole and plunged it down inside, deep down inside as far as it would go, all the way up to the hilt, jamming it well down deep into her wet, tight, hot holster.

He was doing it. He was actually doing it. He was fucking a girl for the first time, and it wasn't even a girl. It was a woman. And, it wasn't even a woman. It was a cop. He was actually fucking a woman cop. And, it wasn't some ugly dyke cop. It was a really, really pretty one with a such a cute little butt that he was now staring at, that was now humping him back. He could even see her butt hole as he plunged his cock in and out of her hot, wet cunt. This felt so good. So very, very good. Frankly, it might even be better than Bree Olson's or Emily Kay's mouths, and that was saying quite a lot. Her cunt though was so tighter, so much more thoroughly enveloping his cock in such intense, soft, squishy, gripping wetness.

Once Joseph had lodged his cock in her cunt, Madeline had shifted her fingers to her clit, at first grinding her fingers around and around her clit as she felt the boy plunge into her cunt, and then shifting to flicking her fingers rapidly back and forth across her button as his cock was rapidly pumping her cunt. "That's it, that's it, Joseph, yes, yes, yes!"

She shuddered as her orgasm swept through her. Her cunt twitched and shivered on his cock, as her body shuddered, quaked, and quivered with her spasmodic climactic waves. She so much enjoyed cosplay.

Joseph groaned in disappointment and delight as he felt his cock jerk with the first gush of gism spurting from his cock. The delight was the intense wave of primordial base pleasure that engulfed him; the disappointment was the fact that he did not last at all very long. He knew he was probably disappointing her, and that she would mock and berate him for his lack of stamina, for his youthful lack of control, but he could not help himself. When it's going to happen, it's going to happen and, in any case, it did feel so good, physically and visually.

He closed his eyes and let himself bask in the pleasure of his climax, as each gush was accompanied by a wave of a basal bliss and gratification that coursed through his body, his brain, his mind. He almost felt like he was going to faint, that he would simply lose control of his body, his legs, and fall against her, on top of that sweet lovely body, that he was now gushing hot, wet sticky loads deep down inside.

When he was done he did lean down onto her, just a bit. He had to catch his breath, regain his strength.

However, she pushed back on him, pushing him off of her. She turned to him, gasping for breath.

"Sit back on that chair," she commanded.

He did as he was told.

She pulled her skirt back down, which was almost as difficult as it had been to pull it up. She fixed her hair, as best she could with no mirror. She picked up her cap and did her best to fix it correctly on her head. She then picked up her baton and lodged it back into the loop on her belt and, lastly, she squeezed her breasts back into her blouse, shifting the brassiere into a pocket on the belt.

"Yes, well, Joseph," she said, trying to recapture her authority, after having been fucked so hard from behind, his cum leaking down her thighs, her leg, all the way down to her ankles. "I think that concludes the investigation. I don't believe you're the young man we were looking for."

Despite what just happened she still commanded considerable authority. He was, after all, sitting naked in a chair, his wet penis now shriveling back down. In any case, he could not have heard better words, that he was cleared, although some sweet pillow talk might have also been nice. He didn't really understand what had just happened, how she had managed to clear him. She had said that the suspect had ejaculated in a distinct way, but how could she have figured that out by him cumming in her was a mystery.




It then dawned on him. She wasn't actually looking for him. She must have been looking for someone else!

"Well," she said, "You take care of yourself, son. And, keep that zipper up."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, but given what life seemed to be like at Templeton, he really wasn't too sure he could make any promises.

She picked up her panties, stuffed them down into her pocket, and strode from the room, cum continuing to drip down her legs.


Dr. Lowenstein felt her heart beating hard. She looked down to see her blouse rising and falling with her breaths. This would indeed be one of her more difficult patients.

She glanced at the clock. There was really very little time left, and she hadn't even offered any insights, any pearls of wisdom, or even practical advice. She had instead just sat there, entranced by the story, by the thought, the fantasy. Madeline was her patient, but at the moment she felt more envious of Madeline than concerned.

She thought back on days in training, on what her mentor might do in this situation.

Madeline was feeling demoralized. "Am I pervert, Dr. Lowenstein?"

"A pervert? Why would you say that?"

"I mean, who else does what I do? I just feel like such the 'odd girl out,' alone in the world with my dirty little shameful game."

Dr. Lowenstein felt that perhaps she did have an insight. "Madeline, you are really not so different."

"Excuse me?"

"Are we not all engaged in a form of cosplay?"

She shook her head. She didn't understand.

"Are we not all wearing a costume? Am I not wearing a uniform? My suit defines my role, my identity. We are all wearing uniforms to say who we are. We are all going through our lives playing different roles to identify, to display, who we are. Right now I am dressed in my role, my costume, as the psychologist, the therapist, but this evening I will discard this costume for another role, another cosplay, the date. In the end, are we really so terribly different from one another, beneath our costumes?"

Madeline took a deep breath, her breasts rising up before, catching the eye of the doctor.

However, it all just sounded like psychobabble to Madeline. Heck, beneath her own clothes she had much bigger tits than Dr. Lowenstein. They certainly weren't all the same beneath their costumes, but she wasn't about to point that out to her.

And, it was now time to stop.

Dr. Lowenstein felt better, at least about herself, as she was able to offer some useful insights at the end of their first session.

But, Madeline left the session confused, and troubled. That stuff about everyone being in a costume was just plain silly. Madeline did at least appreciate one point, and that is that she had not yet cosplayed a psychologist before.

She went to the psychology department to conduct some research.

She did not, however, learn much, at least not at first. She initially spent time studying the clothes of the psychology professors, and she had to admit that maybe Dr. Lowenstein did perhaps have a point. The psychology professors, for the most part, appeared to purposely dress in a rather motley fashion, eschewing formal professional attire. For the men, it was jeans, wrinkled and coffee stained shirts and, if they did wear a sports jacket, it poorly matched their shirts. Some even still wore these silly patches on the elbows, a fashion that should have died many years ago. For the women, few of them even appeared to make any effort to appear attractive, as if doing so somehow demeaned their professorial status. Sex appeal was not their strong suit, to say the least. Madeline was not impressed. There was indeed a costume here, but it was not particularly appealing.

She did, however, have better luck when she explored the laboratory wing of the social sciences building. Here, many of the psychologists could be identified by their white lab coats. There might be some appeal in being a hot, female scientist.

Madeline sat down on a bench, taking careful notes of the various qualities of the scientist uniform.

"Are you here for the study?"

She looked up to see a rather good looking young psychologist, a clipboard in one hand, a large leather brief case in the other. "Excuse me?"

"Are you here for the experiment?"

"The experiment?"

He smiled knowingly, and reassuringly. She looked a little naive, a little lost, a little confused. He did wonder though if this was only his stereotypic, sexist reaction to her appearance, a young lady in the Templeton school girl uniform: the white blouse, black tie, plaid skirt, white socks, and even black Mary Janes. It was endearing, but it was somewhat infantalizing, and this girl even had really large breasts that thrust out her blouse. He knew it was unfair to perceive, to assume, that such a girl would not be particularly bright, but her outfit, her appearance, just seemed to draw from him this reaction. Was it really his fault? Persons are often what they appear to be, their clothes defining them.

"Yes, of course. Although, perhaps I am mistaken? I was just assuming that you were here to volunteer for a study. Volunteers often sit here, waiting to be called."

Madeline smiled. This was a wonderful idea! She could gather some useful information regarding a psychological researcher by posing as a research subject. "Yes, yes! That's what I'm doing. I'm volunteering to be in a study," now assuming the role as the experimental subject. She wondered if he might even provide her with a special uniform. That would be nice.

He led her down the hall through a door, identified as the 'Laboratory Wing.' Once they passed through the double door entrance she was confronted with a number of hallways leading to quite a few small rooms, many of which had signs hanging from them indicating, 'Experiment in Progress: Do Not Disturb.' The psychologist led her to one with the sign reading, 'Open.' He opened the door for her and switched the sign to the other side, indicating that they were not to be disturbed.

The room was quite small, even smaller than the room she used, as a nurse, for Timothy's sperm donation. This room didn't even have a sink or counter. There was just a chair, a tall stool, and an empty table. Still, she could imagine a few things she could use this room for, playing a psychologist. She became quite enthusiastic about the potential benefits of role playing a psychologist, but for the moment she would have to play the role as the experimental subject.

He pulled from his brief case a consent form. "Now, actually, I don't know you're name. I guess we should first begin there."

"Madeline Hemming." It felt quite odd to provide her own, real name. Of course she did so many times as a Templeton student, but at the moment she was thinking of this more as a cosplay than as something real.

"Very good. My name is Dr. Venkman, Dr. Peter Venkman."

She held out her hand. "It's very good to meet you, Dr. Venkman." Had she not heard that name before? She smiled brightly for him, though. She did so much want to play the proper role, as a research subject.

He smiled as he shook her hand. He thought it rather unusual for a research subject to be so cheerful and engaging. Usually they are quite bored, some even annoyed. But, that would obviously make the experiment all the more likely a success. This could indeed be a very good subject. "Yes, well, why don't you look over this consent form and I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Madeline, however, immediately signed the form and handed it back. "All set! Let's get started!"

"Well, you are enthusiastic, aren't you."

"Oh yes! I've never been in an experiment before. I think it could be really cool, like I'm actually contributing to science and everything."

He had never had a subject this interested, this cooperative, this willing. "Well, you really should read the consent form quite carefully. You don't know what you're in fact volunteering to do."

"Oh, silly man! I'll do anything! Just tell me what I'm supposed to do. I mean, it's not like you're going to give me electric shocks or something."


"You are?"

Actually, it's quite possible she could get electric shocks in a psychological experiment, but not this one. This one was a bit different. "No, no, of course not. No, on the contrary, you may in fact find the experiment to be quite pleasurable."

"Well, then," she giggled, "Let's get going!"

Yes, he had chosen well. This should be a very good subject indeed, as many of his others, actually most of them, declined once they realized what was involved. "Alright then, if you would, please remove your blouse."

"Excuse me?"

"Your blouse, and actually, well, your brassiere. You need to be disrobed for this study."

She had not expected that. She figured she would be filling out some questionnaires, or responding to some puzzles on some computer screen. Disrobing? "Really? Are you serious?"

"Oh yes, absolutely."

This was something she might pull on some guy. Perhaps make him take his pants off and masturbate to some pictures on a computer screen, perhaps even pictures of her in various poses. She made a mental note. That was perhaps a pretty good idea for her cosplay. She could have guys look at naked pictures of her, perhaps make them masturbate to them, as she stood right next to them, taking measurements. However, would a psychologist really have subjects do something like that? She was suspicious. "You're not just doing this to see my breasts, are you?" She felt bad asking that, questioning the integrity of this psychologist. Perhaps she was being overly suspicious, given her own background and predilection for deception.

Dr. Venkman smiled reassuringly. "Don't be concerned, young lady. I have run many students through this study. I admit that the first couple of times my eyes did widen, and I am embarrassed to admit to that, but it's now really just so clinical. I don't want to sound insulting, but frankly I don't even have any interest in them, outside, of course, with regard to the findings of my study."

Oddly enough, that was a bit disappointing for Madeline. She resisted taking off her blouse because he might just be doing this for his own pleasure, but hearing that he wasn't even interested was almost as bad. Well, minimally at least she would likely get some good ideas for own cosplay. She removed her tie and undid the buttons of her blouse while the psychologist pulled out additional laboratory material from his briefcase.

When all of her buttons were undone she glanced over at Dr. Venkman. As he had indicated, he wasn't paying any attention. This was a first. The removal of her blouse was always a big moment in her cosplays. No boy could resist these huge melons. However, this time it was rather anticlimactic, to say the least.

Before she removed her blouse completely, she looked around the room, wondering if perhaps there was a camera. "There's no camera in here, is there? I mean, like, you're not filming this or anything, are you?" Frankly, she wasn't too sure if she would be happy or disappointed if there was no camera. She was actually feeling rather randy after having told Dr. Lowenstein her three stories.

He didn't look up from his briefcase, answering, "No, no, it's just the two of us, no two-way mirrors, no cameras. No recording devices whatsoever. It's all in the consent form."

"Hmph," she exclaimed, now feeling disappointed. Disrobing for a camera might have been fun. It would have been even more fun if there had been a two-way mirror, maybe with a bunch of male students behind it or something. At least then she could play to them. It would make for a good experimental subject cosplay. She opened up her blouse and removed her arms from its sleeves.

The sound of her removing the blouse did draw some attention from the psychologist, who glanced over at her, his eyes going directly to her breasts

She smiled at that. Well, at least he wasn't dead from the waist down. She did wish though that she was wearing a more engaging brassiere. She hadn't planned on taking off her blouse for a guy today. She was just wearing a brassiere consistent with the Templeton uniform: white cotton, fully form-fitting and uplifting, nothing really provocative. She thrust out her chest, trying to at least compensate for the lack of an appealing undergarment with an appealing pose.

Dr. Venkman wanted to smile. These were by far the largest breasts he had ever seen, and they looked so provocative in their innocent white cotton cups. It was like this young lady had two very, very large cotton basket balls attached to her chest. His dick began to swell in his briefs. He always wore very tight briefs when he did his experiments unless, of course, for some reason he wanted his erection to become noticeable. "Yes, well, very good," he observed. "Now, if you would, the brassiere as well." He tore his eyes away with considerable reluctance. But, he knew that the less interested he appeared, the more comfortable she would be in revealing more.

It was so strange. Madeline wasn't sure if she wanted him to be interested or disinterested. This was not in fact an actual cosplay, but it felt like one, perhaps because she had become so aroused in her session with Dr. Lowenstein. It was so confusing. Cosplay and real life were beginning to shade into one another. Worlds were colliding. She reached behind to unclasp her brassiere. There was no way he was going be indifferent to these breasts when they came into view.

She let the cups from fall her breasts. Her boobs did loose some of their shape. They were now a bit more oblong than round, but they still stood up very well, jutting out from her chest like big white squishy balloons. "I'm ready, doctor," she said in her most flirtatious tone, and even gave them a little wiggle just as he turned his attention to her.

She had never seduced a professor before, at least for real. She had done it many other times, as a cosplay. One time even pretending to be a student, using a pseudonym, Tracy Flick. But, she had never done it under her, within her, real identity.

His eyes did widen, at least a bit. She smiled at her success. He might deny an interest, but eyes don't lie, their reaction is instinctive, and they reveal what his words may deny.

"I hope they're not too big for your study." She cupped her hands beneath each one and lifted them up, holding them like her brassiere would do, and then even squishing them together a bit, providing a very nice deep cleavage.

His eyes widened further but he maintained the composure in his voice. "No, no. Actually, in this study, size is not really an issue. There's no disadvantage, nor advantage, in being large."

Madeline was happy with the way his eyes bugged out, and he had admitted that he noticed she was large. But, she was still disappointed as it was hard to imagine that their size would be to no advantage. What kind of breast study was this, anyway?

The psychologist placed the briefcase next to her on the table and then slid the stool up to her, gesturing for her to spread open her legs to make room.

She did as he instructed, her plaid skirt sliding up higher on her thighs as she did so. She instinctively reached down to push her skirt down in between her thighs to protect her modesty, what modesty she did have with her naked globulous breasts jiggling as she did so.

Dr. Venkman positioned himself on the stool so that his face, and eyes, were at the same level as her breasts, just inches away. Nevertheless, he acted quite professionally, quite dispassionately. "Alright then, what we will begin with is a free association test. I will tweak or pinch a nipple and you will tell me the first word that comes to mind."

Madeline just couldn't help giggling at that, nor could her breasts help wiggling with her giggling. "Doctor, c'mon now. I've heard about free association and all, but really? Nipple tweaking?" This Dr. Venkman really can't be for real. Where had she heard that name before?

"Oh yes, dear, I am serious. Dr. Graves began this line of investigation as far back as 1905, and his work was published in the very prestigious Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, followed by Dr. Sheetz in 1916, in the American Journal of Insanity."

"You're making that up."

"Oh no, no. See?" He picked up the consent form and handed it to her. It was true. There were two citations for the early work: W.W. Graves, 1905, 'Anesthesia associated with hyperalgesia sharply confined to areola nipple area of both breasts; a new and apparently constant stigma in hysteria,' Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, 32, 640-642, and then M.E. Sheetz, 1916, 'The sensibility of the nipple area with reference to mental disease,' American Journal of Insanity, 72, 611-621.

She still didn't believe him. "There's no such thing as the American Journal of Insanity. Who would given a journal that name? That's just silly."

"Oh, but that was the original name of the official journal of the American Psychiatric Association. Here, take a copy of the consent form with you and look up the articles when you get home. They are for real."

She thrust out her chin, as well as her breasts, defiantly. She was quite ambidextrous. "I just might do that."

"Seriously, go right ahead. In fact, I hope you do. So few experimental subjects are actually interested in the study itself. I would love it if you did, and you can then give me a call about it if you have any questions. My phone number is, of course, on the form as well."

Madeline folded the consent form and slid it into her pocket. "Well, okay then," she replied. She vowed to check out these articles at the school library. When she didn't find the article, she would indeed call him, to give him a piece of her mind, and perhaps something else, if he was so inclined. She wondered how she might dress up when she came over to visit him.

"Excellent!" He leaned forward so that his eyes were just inches away from the nipple of her left breast. "Alright then, say the first word that comes to mind," and he then flicked her nipple.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Hmmm," he responded. "Try not to be so conscious. Let yourself just free associate. Okay?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

"Alright then." He again leaned in close and flicked her nipple with the tip of his finger.

"Silly," she replied.

"Very good," he replied. "Much better."

He then continued to flick and at times even tweak or pinch her nipples, sometimes the one on the right, sometimes the one on the left. Madeline appeared to be a very good subject. She started off rather slow, providing rather obvious associations, such as "tickle," "embarrassed," "erect," and "goodness," but then moved on to "tingle," "funny," "fun," "pointy," "stiff," "stiffy," "boner," "suck," and "suckle." Dr. Venkman appeared to be taking very careful notes, at times even pausing to carefully measure a nipple's extension with a tape measure.

At one point he pulled back and grasped each of her nipples at the same time with the index finger and thumb of each hand, and then proceeded to pull and turn them this way and that.

"Doctor," Madeline complained, "Really, must you?"

"This is just part of the experimental manipulation, dear."

He was most definitely experimentally manipulating them in all sorts of ways, but at least not painfully so. She didn't feel that it really hurt her, but it was rather awkward and did seem a bit personal, if not childish. It was like he was using the experiment simply as a means to play with her nipples in any way it seemed to suit him. At times she looked at him with annoyance, at other times she looked away, feeling a little embarrassed as he juggled her titties around by her nips, but toward the end of his play she found herself squirming, trying not to display the fact that a part of her was enjoying this little nipple play.