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This time, I wanted to try a bit of forced lesbianism.
This adventure with Fianna starts with an introductory chapter to set the scenario.
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Fallon O'Shaughnessy felt very hopeful - after only a couple of years on the police force working the beat as a rookie cop, she was already on her way up the ladder of command.
Thanks in part to the mentor of Captain Margaret 'Peggy' Moyers, Fallon had landed a sweet position as a parole officer, checking on the status of lower-level female criminals who had only committed what were now considered minor offenses and were being released more quickly from jail thanks to the policies of a particular progressive district attorney.
And now, opening up her laptop to reveal the screen, she was gratified to know that she didn't even have to go to the police station to check on her parolees. She could check on them from the comfort of her own home, sitting on a stool in front of her kitchen counter and eating a dinner salad, which is exactly what she was doing this evening.
"Now, let's see who I've got on my list today. I'll bet it's someone I really need to keep a close eye on," Fallon hoped. "It's always a good feeling keeping these criminals in line so they don't re-offend. I really do feel like I'm protecting society from a menace."
"Ah, here we go," she continued. There was a dossier on the screen with the name of Doreen 'Daisy' Powell.
"I remember this woman. Armed robbery, possession of an illegal weapon, assault on an officer. Unusual for a female criminal, she was the leader of a stickup gang. I can't believe this is someone the judge thought was eligible for parole so soon. She did seem like a powderkeg about ready to go off, and it took two of my colleagues on the force to hold her down for cuffing."
"It's too bad she was so uncooperative, though. I remember when those guys brought her into the station, and she was rather interesting. A couple of arm tattoos, of course, but she had that compact, tight body with a cute little chest, packed into that flannel shirt and ripped jeans."
"Daisy's build was impressive, to be sure, since it looked like she'd been working out regularly," recalled Fallon, "But what was most appealing was her face. Sure, she had that punky short hair with the sides of her head shaved. She looked masculine and thuggish since she needed to appear tough as the head of her gang."
"But I do remember her face belying that intention - big wide eyes, full plump lips, and a cocksure attitude, all common indicators of a sexually active woman. Quite attractive, really. And when the arrest report also noted that she had a string of associates who were her boyfriends, who were part of the gang...."
"...oh well," she trailed off. "Sometimes the hot straight ones are just the worst. Better sign on to the conference call in a minute or so."
It was almost time for her weekly Zoom call to Powell. Fallon had been suspicious of the idea of checking up on her clients over the Internet, since there were certain clues to their activities you could only pick up by visiting their domiciles, indicating drugs had been used, weapons had been left out, plans were being made for crimes. Most of these low-level thugs were sloppy and not very smart - it wasn't like monitoring a super-criminal where you had to be alert every second due to their powers and complex schemes.
But in the weeks she'd been using the Zoom program, there had been no incidents of recidivism, and she was getting used to the convenience of checking on them from home. So it was with an initial sense of ease that she viewed the blue "Join Call" button which would give her a glimpse of what was going on inside Daisy's rundown apartment.
Fallon double-checked her appearance to make sure she was appearing professional on the call. After all, she couldn't lean into the alluring presence that she put forth when she was enforcing justice in her alter ego. She needed to be careful and restrained, and ensure that she maintained an analytical, businesslike demeanor, focused solely on police procedure.
Long hair pulled back into a prim, tight bun? Check. Face clean and simple, with very little makeup? Check. Nerdy glasses, which she didn't need to use, but that would help disguise any similarity to her other identity? Check. A striped blouse which was unremarkable to look at, and kept the attention focused on her face and what she was saying to her client? Check.
- Parole officer Fallon O'Shaughnessy on zoom call.jpg (48.08 KiB) Viewed 836 times
But what she didn't expect was what she found upon clicking the blue button and bringing up Daisy's own computer camera. The paroled convict, in fact, was nowhere to be seen in the living room of her bare apartment, which had what looked like one gray couch up against the far wall. But she could be easily heard.
"No! No! Daisy! Aaaah!" Fallon could hear a disembodied scream coming from the bedroom, to which only the open door was visible. It sounded like a man shrieking in pain. "That hurts! Please!"
"Good, I'm glad it does!" she recognized Daisy's voice, but could not see her on the screen. WHACK! WHACK! She had fought enough furious battles to recognize the sounds of brutal punches being delivered to traumatized flesh. "You deserve it! I saw you with that bitch at the bar. Getting touchy-feely, playing kissy face!"
"No! Agh! We were just..."
"Ain't no just about it! She was all over you like a cheap suit, and you was enjoying every minute of it!" Fallon could hear Daisy shouting. "My house ain't no free country. You're mine! I own you when you're in my gang. Ain't nobody else gonna enjoy you, unless on my say-so. And I'm gonna teach you a lesson you ain't never gonna forget!"
Fallon was shocked as she heard SMACK! SMACK! and the unidentified man's screams subsiding into soft sobbing which could barely reach the microphone of the prison-owned laptop, which was required to be left on by law for the duration of the parole. Daisy had probably no idea that her abuse of what sounded her current boyfriend could be heard, if not seen. She was definitely trying to conceal the crime, and she was also definitely far from reformed.
The rookie officer grew incensed, processing what she was hearing from the screen with increasing rage at the obvious harm Daisy was inflicting on her partner. She could hardly believe that a man would take such abuse, but then again, Daisy was a tough one, muscular and streetwise.
This could not stand! She tightly gripped the corner of her marble kitchen counter, and CRACK! it broke free and crumbled off in her hands.
Oh, damn! Another incident of damage to her kitchen, just like when she blasted a hole in the wall plaster the very first time she was testing out her force blasts (Episode 5).As the anger against witnessing the abuse on the screen rose with her, she was already increasing in body temperature and muscle strength, her physique straining against her conscious will to initiate the superhuman change.
But it wasn't time for that - not here, and not quite yet. She tamped down her roiling metabolism, calming herself with steady breaths. Inhale, exhale, she repeated methodically, and the fire within her blood subsided. But she still faced a very irksome situation.
"Dammit! What a way to start the evening. Domestic abuse that could result in serious injury or even death. This Daisy is a real piece of work! No time to call this in - it's evening and they're on a shift change at the station. The cops might not get there for an hour, but with my increased running speed, I can be there in under five minutes. Time to show this cowardly criminal what real power and domination looks like, and I have a good idea about how to drive the point home!"
She strode out of her apartment, and slammed the door behind her quite abruptly. She couldn't see it happening, but inside, the doorknob was jarred so violently that it fell off the door and onto the floor with a loud CLANG!
Getting into her city-issued undercover police vehicle, Parole Officer Fallon Shaughnessy sped to Daisy Powell's apartment at 50 miles an hour, not putting on a siren but still zooming through every red light that she possibly could. Would she get there in time to save the man's life?