PART ONE

"Rogers, your transfer came through."

"Yes, sir!"

"Report to Captain Thompson, Vice."

"Yes, sir."

I turned and left the room. The other patrolmen wouldn't meet my eyes.

As I walked through the station I thought about my situation.

I was 24, youngest guy on the squad. And I was also the shortest. And because I trained for triathalons I was the skinniest. And no one wanted to partner with me because they didn't feel I could hold my own.

In a firefight I wasn't strong enough to tote a buddy off the field. If a couple of gang bangers decided to wrestle, I wasn't going to be strong enough to do the job.

It didn't matter that I had devoted my life to being a cop, and it didn't matter that I was trained in hand to hand, 8 years of some very brutal karate, they didn't perceive me as big and strong, and perception is everything.

So I had volunteered for vice. I would have to wear greasy clothes and smoke dope to do my job.

Sheee-it!

But at least. I wouldn't be looked down or even avoided.

I arrived at vice and walked in.

"Yo?" asked a guy who looked like he hadn't shaved in a month, and whose hair was down to his shoulders.

"Captain Thompson?"

He looked up at me. "New guy, eh? Tommy's across the hall. She's waiting for you so just go on in."

"Hey..."

He stopped his paperwork and looked up at me.

"What's it like working here?"

He smiled. "Best fuckin' job in the universe...if you can handle it."

"Oh, thanks."

I turned, crossed the hall, gave a knock on a frosted window and entered a small room.

"Captain Thompson, Tommy, was a damned knock out. She wore long, auburn hair, definitely not regulation. Her uniform was pressed to a crease, her breasts stretched it. Made up like a movie star, but better looking. Blue eyes, long hair, and killer, red lips. You know the kind I mean, that sensuous curve that makes her look like she loves you every time she smiles.

"Sam Rodgers, ma'am." I saluted.

She laughed, pointed at a chair. "Sit."

I sat. At attention.

She shook her head, gave me one of her killer smiles. "We don't stand on a lot of formality here. If you see me in uniform outside this office you should salute. I'll chew your ass out if you don't.

"In here, behind doors, or if you see me dressed like a slut, I'm Tommy. It helps keep everybody in persona."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, Tommy," she pointed those blues at me and I knew there was a bite behind the smile.

"Yes, Tommy."

She smiled. Whew.

"Okay, I've read your record, and the watch commander and the captain...they're full of shit."

"Ma-" I caught myself, "Tommy?"

"They don't really see people as they are, they look for the big frames, the ability to rassle some dirt bag to the ground, that sort of thing. All things that real police should never do. You want to get in a wrestling match with some 300 pound asshole on crack?"

"Not really."

"Good. Did you study jointlocks and takedowns when you learned Karate?"

"Yes."

"That's what we want. If you ever have to use your shit then we want it clean and smooth. Not a lot of bruises, and in condition to see a judge without worrying about charges of police brutality.

"Yes." It felt so weird to not say 'ma'am.'

"How do you feel about sucking cock."

That was a blinker.

"I've...uh...never..."

"Well, don't worry. You probably won't. But if you do, then just remember it's just a piece of flesh. Like a finger or a toe. You do it, you swallow, if you're that good, and you don't compromise your cover. Got it?"

"I understand."

"You think you can suck cock if you have to?"

"I...I guess I'll have to try."

She smiled.

"We're going to make you into a tranny."

"A..." my jaw just sort of hung there, showing my tongue and fillings.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll like it. Every guy does.

"Now, we're infiltrating a gang called the Cyclops. The one eye they wish to be known for is on the end of their dicks. Don't underestimate any of them, they are bad ass. They like to keep a few women around, and they especially like to keep a couple of trannies around.

"Are you ready to put on your new identity?"

"Yes...Tommy."

She stood up, and blew me away. Sitting down her posture didn't present her tits, sort of covered them. Standing up I could see she was one of the most well endowed women I had ever seen. And she wasn't so big to be too big. She was just right, plus a cup size or two.

"Come on, girlfriend, time to teach you the tricks of the trade."

She walked down the hall and keyed into a room. She locked the door.

A long table stood against one wall. On the wall above it was a mirror, above the mirror were a row of bright, round light bulbs. On the table were trays of potions and lotions, creams and brushes and lipstick and...everything.

Along the other side of the room was a rack filled with clothes. On a shelf over the rack a row of wigs stood on little stands.

At the end of the room was a bathroom.

A man was sitting at the far end. He was wearing a dress and running a pencil under his eyes. He glanced at us. "Hey, Tommy. New guy?"

"Hi, Jackson. Yeah. Meet T-Rex."

Jackson turned and inspected me. He nodded approval. Great name. Tranny?"

"The biggest and the best."

He laughed and went back to his eyes.

"Here's where we do our magic. Strip."

"What?"

"Take off your clothes, all of them."

I did, and was a little embarrassed by my hard on.

She laughed. "Hey, Jackson, he hasn't even started and he's growing."

Jackson laughed, then began putting on lipstick.

I turned red.

"Don't worry, lover. You're going to get that shit all the time."

"And you'll love it." Jackson quipped.

"Yep. You'll love it. Now, put this all over your body." She handed me a bottle of Nair.

Dutifully, I slathered the goo on my body. I wasn't a hairy sort, anyway, but I would have no hair after this.

"Get your balls better."

I did, my erection wasn't going away. Tommy didn't seem to care.

"Okay, just stand there, tell me when it burns." She sat down in a chair. "Your non-gang name is Johnny Rogers."

"That's close enough to your real name you won't have trouble remembering it. You have the same birthdate, the same town you grew up in, but you went to Standish High, not Gregson High.

"We try to give you a cover that's easy to remember, but don't worry. All your records will be changed, your history will be altered, by this time next week your history will be changed all the way back to the day you were born.

"Wow."

Jackson stood up, put on a wig, and sauntered past us. He winked at Tommy. "Put me in, coach, I'm ready to play-ay-ay-ay." Huey Lewis and the News.

Tommy slapped his ass and told him to have a good life.

She never told anybody to be careful, because, I was to find out, you didn't succeed if you were careful. Your cover got blown and at best you would be beaten until all your bones were broken. At worse...you don't want to know worst.

"It's burning."

"Take a shower. And jack off while you're in there."

"Jack...are you serious?"

"We've got to get your monster down if we're going to do this. Later I can get you some pills, if it's a problem. It usually is. Men who dress like women tend to get the biggest boners. Go on."

I walked down to the bathroom, feeling really weird, my skin heating up.

In the shower I watched as my hairs went circling down the drain. Heysoos Xristo. What the heck I had I sign up for? I mean, I had volunteered, everybody told me my height wouldn't work against me in vice, might even work for me, but...Heysoos!

I stepped out, dried myself off with a towel that was on a rack and looked fresh, and returned to where Tommy was working on her nails.

"I sure wish they'd invent a nail that wouldn't break." She held her hands up and inspected her work. She turned to me. "Sit there and give me your hand."

"I'm going to...okay."

I sat, and watched as she painted my nails. She noticed my erection standing up in my lap. She shook her head. "Couldn't do it, eh?"

"I...sorry. It's just too weird."

"With me in the same room? Don't my big tits excite you?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it, and she laughed.

"I told you, get over your shit. You can't be blushing and all embarrassed if you're going to be T-rex. You have to be a mean ass tranny, ready to fight."

"Ready to fight?"

"I'll tell you a secret. If you're ready to fight, you won't have to. If you're not ready, you're going to be fighting. A lot. Other hand."

I put my other hand on the table and looked at the one she had just done.

She had repaired my male nails, given me fake nails that were sharp and pointed, and painted them blood red.

"Fuck," I blurted.

She laughed as she worked on my other hand. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

A few minutes later, I was always amazed at how fast she worked, both hands were done.

"Hard shell finish, baby, but they can break. Try to take care of them. Now put these on." She handed me a thong.

I inspected the thong. It was like a triangular band aid with a couple of strings. I stepped into the thong. My boner, of course, pushed the material out and made wearing it impossible.

"I...uh..."

"Told you. When I say to jack, then you jack. Stand here."

I stood in front of her. My eyes opened when she reached forward and touched my cock. My cock bounced, hard, and she grabbed it with her whole hand."

"Oh," I blurted, my knees growing weak.

She stroked me, and with her other hand trailed her nails around my head.

"Uh..."

"Now pay attention. If you have to do this it's best to get the subject off as quick as you can. Saves on the make up, and if you have an aversion it helps to get it over with."

She then grabbed my testicles, squeezed them, and began sucking on the head. Her red lips were bright against my skin, and I watched in fascination as her head bobbed back and forth. Her mouth was moist and I shortly felt the urge growing.

The door opened and a man walked in.

"Hi, Tommy. New guy?"

"Ummm hmmmph," she acknowledge, around a mouthful of my cock.

The man sat down at the other end of the make up table and began applying his own make up. "You think the Dodgers will win this year?"

"Uh mmmuh."

"I take it that's a no."

I let loose. My knees buckled and she placed one clawed hand around one of my buttocks and steadied me. Rope after rope shot down her throat.

"Ahhh....uh...uh..."

The guy down the table ignored the sounds of my release.

"They got a new pitcher. I think they're going to be strong."

Tommy moved her head away, swallowed. Licked her lips and swallowed again. "Yeah, but they don't have any base runners. The Dodgers never win unless they have a good base stealer or two."

"Hmmm. Maybe."

Talk ceased then as Tommy returned her attention to me.

"That was a freebie. Next time you're going to have to do yourself. Pull up your panties."

I did, and found that my package was now secured behind the little triangle of material.

"Okay, here's the tool you need to use."

She held up a small piece of material. It looked like a ribbon. She pulled my panties down and tied it around the head of my dick.

"Don't cut off your circulation, then thread it under the ass up the crack like this."

She pulled the ribbon and my dick went down and between my legs. She then tied the ribbon to the back of my thong.

"Your panties have been selected for strength, so this shouldn't break. But if it does, the worst that will happen is the gang will want to bang you. All of them. So make sure you use new panties often."

Then she put her hands under my balls and...lifted.

"Huh!" I grunted, then they suddenly slipped into my pelvis.

"Your balls are in the pocket they were in before you grew up and they descended. It feels weird now, but you'll grow to like it. A smooth front is a blessing.

She pulled my thong up and told me to go look in a mirror.

I did, and I was amazed. My front was flat, I had no package to speak of.

"Not bad, eh?" she stood next to me and grinned. "You can try out gaffes, tummy shapers, things like that. But whatever you do, make sure you masturbate before you go to work.

I shook my head wonderingly, and admired my now girlish front.

"Okay. Let's pop some titties on you."

She went back to the bathroom and returned with a pair of falsies and a bottle of glue.

She put a bra on me and positioned the falsies. She made little marks with an eyebrow pencil, then took the bra off, rubbed glue into my chest and on the back of one of the falsies, then pressed it onto my chest. As she held it in place she said, "We use strong glue. You don't want to have no stinkin' accidents. You'll have to sleep on these puppies at night, but you'll get used to it.

"Okay," I said.

She did the other one, and when the glue was dry she told me to go look in a mirror.

I couldn't believe it. I had a boy's body, but no groin and a pair of nice sized boobs.

Oh, they looked fake, but Tommy reassured me. "You can blend make up and go low cut if you wish, but I don't recommend that. You're going to have enough to worry about without somebody getting upset because you're not real."

That was food for thought.

The guy at the end of the table suddenly stood up, now a woman, and I realized that these guys worked fast and knew their stuff. He slapped Tommy's ass and left the room.

"Now. Make up."

Expertly she creamed my face, cleansed it, brushed it, sponged it, and did all the things a woman has to do to look beautiful. And she made it look easy.

And she explained everything as she went. Finally, starting to work on my eyes, she said, "Don't worry. In a week you'll be doing this yourself. It's not difficult."

She painted my eyelids a soft charcoal color, then mascara-ed my eyelashes. She hovered over me as she did this, and I was uncomfortably aware of how close her lips were.

Finally, she pulled out lip stain.

"We're going to make you bright red. It's lip stain, and it'll last longer than normal lipstick, and if it fades you can always pop it up with a little lipstick or gloss."

She stood back. "Oh, yeah. Miss Knock Out 2025."

I looked in the make up mirror and didn't recognize myself. She had plumped my lips and they looked larger. She had plucked my eyebrows and they were a delicate arch. She had shadowed my cheeks and artificially redistributed my face fat.

"Fuck," I said.

"Sorry, you're not my type," she laughed, was pleased with her handiwork. "Okay, let's talk clothes."

As I tried on dresses, became familiar with the different styles and how to wear them, my mind was working.

I was a cop. Or was I?

I was a man. Or was I?

Or was I a woman?

Oddly, though it had been kinky and erotic and wild, I felt like it was sort of...normal.

Like putting on make up and wearing beautiful clothes was something I should have been doing before this.

Author's Note

PART ONE