Falling Down - BBW, Feeding, Drama, WG

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samster

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~BBW, Feeing, Drama, ~~WG - This story is completely different to what I've written in the past. Its very dark and inspired by Elroy Cohen's The Lancaster Twins. It also trys to have a plot line beyond fat chicks and feeding - so there is alot of non chubby chick text here. The first two chapters start slow but the focus builds as the plot develops. I'm posting the first two chapters now and will post 3 & 4 over the weekend with the final two next week.

Hope you all enjoy it and stick with it!!

Falling Down
By Samster

Chapter 1

Davenport, Iowa and winter was closing in. Part of the Quad Cities area in the upper mid west of America and you got extremes; hot summers and freezing cold winters. Located on the great Mississippi river, smack dab in the middle of the continental divide and Davenport sat between America’s west and north east. Located one hundred and seventy mile west of Chicago on I-80, the Quad Cities also attracted the kind of shitbird operation that Jasmine was watching. City planners tried to market the Quad Cities as the best distribution point out there.

The city planners had some success. WalMart had a major distribution point as did Kroger, Tyson Foods and Home Depot. Along the way the city had also attracted plenty of smaller enterprises. Most were legitimate but the ageing warehouse of Mid West Transit & Haulage stunk of bad boy money. Located off the 290 exit it was west of town, part of a sprawling distribution point that claimed to be ‘The Worlds Biggest Truck Stop’. Jasmine didn’t know if it was true but it sure as hell worked if you wanted to get lost in a mass of big rigs, warehouse units and people of the move. It was the perfect location for anybody looking to distribute drugs out of Chicago and into the boondocks of Iowa. Less than a days drive to Iowa City, Cedar Rapids, Des Moines, Omaha and Sioux Falls. A hardly major market but there was good money to be made for a Chicago group looking to “cross sell” a little product.

Jasmine had learned that if you wanted to distribute out into Iowa you went through Mid West Transit & Haulage. Sat opposite the warehouse Jasmine figured she’d found the spot. For the past two days she’d watched a steady stream of big rigs roll into the yard. Most were, she guessed, legitimate business. They had logo’s from meat packing companies or farming contractors or small time manufacturers and got transferred on for the next leg of there journey. East to Chicago or out west into the wide open space of America’s heartland.

Mixed in with that was a large number of cars, pick-ups and SUV’s coming and going. All had that “well driven” look like they’d just packed on some serious highway miles. They all pulled into the yard and stopped next to the office, a beefy white boy got out and then they drove over to a unit on the far edge of the lot. Jasmine didn’t know what got loaded because they drove into the unit and closed the door. What she did know was that ten minutes later the same beefy white boy emerged in a different vehicle. This part of the distribution deal wasn’t legitimate.

With a smile she watched as an ageing white Ford SUV pulled out of the unit, drove slowly across the lot and stopped at the gate. Two security guys got out of their porter cabin, opened the gates and the SUV pulled out onto the road. Jasmine turned the ignition key and followed on. Now it was time to move the plan onto phase two. Pulling her cell phone out of the glove compartment she dialled a number from memory.

“I’m following a white late 90’s Expedition with Iowa tags ISH812. He’s loaded up on some shit and headin’ home. I’ll follow him to 290 and you pick him up.”

“Gotcha.”

“Keep a lose tail and take what opportunity you get.”

“Gotcha.”

Replacing the cell phone back into the glove compartment. Mike wasn’t a man of many words. He was the kind of guy who just blended in. 5ft8, mid thirties, white and skinny he was the “man who wasn’t there”. Stand Mike in a crowd and nobody picked him out. Throw in a God given skill to break into any building or vehicle and he was a perfect partner for Jasmine.

Following several car lengths back Jasmine watched the SUV pull right onto I-80 west. She stopped and waited. Moments later she saw an ageing Honda sedan follow on. Mike had the tag. Pulling over into a McDonalds lot Jasmine ordered herself an espresso from the drive thru waited ten minutes and then followed on. Experience told her to stay close to her team. Mike was a pro but when you’re following a drug runners ride its best to play safe. Guys driving cocaine, meth and heroine in the trunk tend to pay more attention to their rear view mirror than your average driver.

Up ahead and Mike was settling into a steady cruise. The interstate speed limit was seventy five miles per hour and the guy at the wheel of the SUV had cruise control set dead on seventy five. Last thing he wanted was getting pulled over for speeding. That was fine with Mike. His rust bucket Honda was well past its prime and struggled to go much over seventy five anyways. Mid day and traffic was light. He passed a few big rigs heading west. The empty, pancake flat prairies rolled ahead. Sixty miles west and they hit Iowa City. Traffic busied up some as they looped round the town and Mike closed in a little. Clearing the mass of fast food and retail outlets that ran alongside the interstate the Expedition slowed and took exit 239, turned right and pulled onto I-380 north.

Mike followed on and pulled out his cell phone.

“We’re on three eighty north headin’ for Cedar Rapids.”

“He seen you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The line went dead and Mike followed. Another twenty miles rolled by. They passed Eastern Iowa Airport and ten miles later the city of Cedar Rapids popped up on the horizon. It was a typical mid sized, upper mid west city with sprawling suburbs around the interstate, an industrial complex to the west of town and an ageing, red brick downtown. No big time sky scrapers like Minneapolis or Chicago or St Paul. Just one decent sized, twenty storey hotel building with the ‘Sheraton’ logo on top. Maybe once it had been a thriving place but in 2011 it had the look of city with its best days behind. Passed over for the big cities and existing in relative isolation somewhere out on the prairies. The kind of place most folks just fly over.

Ahead the Expedition slowed and took the downtown exit. Mike smiled and followed on; Cedar Rapids was the destination. It could have been a lot worse. Setting off from Davenport he’d figured on maybe a days drive over to Omaha or up to Sioux Falls. Instead he’d enjoyed a nice three hours trip along the interstate. He wasn’t even hungry or had a thought about pissing in the bottle he kept for long distance surveillance. If all went to plan he could steal the SUV, get what he wanted and grab a spot of lunch. Maybe the Sheraton had a decent restaurant?

Downtown Cedar Rapids was built around a grid system and Mike easily kept pace with the SUV. The driver was careful and stopped early at all red lights. With his illicit load a fender bender or a traffic stop would be bad. They drove past the Sheraton hotel and took a right onto Oakland Road. The Expedition turned into a five storey parking garage. Mike stopped opposite and waited. Experience taught him to wait. He knew what the guy was going to do. He’d park the SUV, leave the key under the wheel arch and then walk to whatever other parking garage they used and pick up the second vehicle. Then he’d drive back to Davenport. That vehicle would contain whatever money the local boys were paying for their supply.

Sure enough, five minutes later, he watched the SUV driver step out from the garage, stroll across the street and walk back along Oakland. Mike waited for him to disappear and then pulled across into the lot. He stopped at the barrier, pressed the green button for a ticket, took it, the barrier raised and he drove into the lot. Mid day and it was three quarters full. He made it to the top floor when his eyes rested on the white Expedition. He stopped, parked across the lot in the far north east corner and walked over to the Expedition.

It was cold; three hours in a heated car and he was re-adjusting. Shivering slightly he stopped by the drivers side wheel arch and reached for the key. Sure enough it was there. He pressed the key fob, opened the door and stepped up into the SUV. He carefully drove the old SUV back down through the garage, pushed his ticket into the machine, paid his two dollar parking charge and headed out into the downtown street. It was all done in less than five minutes.

Pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket he made the call.

“I’ve got the SUV.”

“Good.”

“I’m headed for that big ass industrial shit west of town. I’ll call ya when I need to pick-up.”

“Okay.”

This was the part Mike got nervous. He was driving a drug runner’s vehicle across town. There was the risk from the police but more worryingly there were the local boys buying the shit. They’d know to look for a white 1998 Expedition with Iowa tags ISH812. A chance encounter now would be very bad. Very bad indeed.


Driving along the raised highway heading away from downtown and Mike was rolling well under the speed limit. He clocked the police cruiser but paid it no attention. You could call it a mistake or maybe just a risk of his business? Whatever, the cop behind the wheel was making a call.

“What?” said a deep, male mid western voice.

“I just clocked your Expedition headin’ out of town.”

“Bullshit” replied the man “we gotta a call sayin’ it’s at the Sheraton lot.”

“Clear as fuckin’ day it’s in front of me.”

“What’s the tags?”

“ISH120.”

“Fuck!”

There was a long silence. The cop waited for instructions. Eventually the voice said:

“Follow the fucker but do nothin’”

“You got it.”

“No stupid shit, right?”

“Yes sir!”

Across town in a small office above Jackpots Strip Club a huge man rested back in his office chair. He tapped thick fingers on the office desk and thought. At first glance he had the look of big, dumb muscle. Weighing in at 350lbs with a mix of corn fed mid western beef and gym pumped muscles he looked like a bodyguard or club bouncer. However, Jake “Jackpot” Carlson was far more than that. Before turning to a life of crime he’d had a successful college football career at Iowa State and then played four seasons as a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. A knee injury ended his NFL career and, after spending the money, he’d headed back home to Iowa and gotten a job as a strip club bouncer.

It was there that he found his calling. Football had always frustrated Jake. There were rules and ethics and a line you couldn’t cross. That was bullshit to Jackpot Jake. It was about winning and doing whatever it took. Ideally kicking the other guys ass along the way. As a bouncer he moved into the underworld of Cedar Rapids. Starting out kicking the shit out of losers with gambling debts he’d begun to build up an empire. Before long he’d gotten into drugs. Not as a user; Jake injected as much steroids as any 350lbs meat head you’ll meat at a gym but never the product. He began selling it round the downtown bars and clubs and over time hired low level dealers all around town. Now he owned drug sales in Cedar Rapids and had a dealer network into the surrounding small towns.

“Who was that babes?” asked the fat blonde sat across from him.

The blonde was called LaTasha. She hadn’t been christened LaTasha but a whole sequence of bad life decisions had made her into LaTasha. A former beauty queen she’d once had the world at her feet. But with a bad girl side that couldn’t be tamed she’d drifted to the wrong side of the tracks and was now as close to Jake got to a girlfriend. With a spectacular blonde hair do, oversized breast implants and pouting collagen stuffed lips she looked like a Playboy Playmate who’d fallen into a silo of ice cream and eaten her way out. Over the years she’d become Jake’s fantasy creation.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just asking” she pouted.

“Eat your fuckin’ M&M’s LaTasha and don’t ask questions.”

“Whatever.”

Rising from his chair Jake walked across his office, ignoring LaTasha, and out into the club. Mid day and it was empty. Just the club manager and two of his boys sat at the bar. He stepped out of the club. Blinking he adjusted from the dark interior to the bright mid day sun. It was cold but the sky was a clear electric blue. He watched the traffic roll past and figured out what to do.

“Shit” he grunted to himself.

Long ago he’d learned not to rush a decision. His business was full of hot headed assholes who watched too many movies, TV cop series and video games. Jake saw his work more like a business with out laws. Always think out a move. After five minutes he pulled out his cell phone and clicked a number from speed dial.

“Hey boss” said Duke.

“Where are you?”

“Burger King.”

“You got the SUV from the lot?”

“No, next job.”

“Forget that job and get your ass back to the club.”

“Can I finish my burger?”

“Yeah.”

Hanging up he re-dialled the cop’s number.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Stopped off industrial road fourteen” replied the cop.

“Can you see him?”

“No, stopped behind some unit.”

“Stay there an’ I’m sendin’ some of my guys over.”

“You know I can’t be seen with them!”

“Drive off soon as you see em.”

Jake hung up and walked back into the club. This was fucked up. If it was cops they’d be sat in the lot waiting for Duke to pick up the SUV and then they’d bust him. Or worse follow him back to Jake’s stash. But this guy was driving away from the garage across town to the industrial zone. Was the dumb fucker stealing his shit?

“Hey!!” shouted Jake as he stepped into the bar “getcha asses into gear we’ve got a job to do!!”


After some searching Mike found the blocks of white powder; cocaine. They were stashed in a hidden compartment underneath the spare tire. Not the most creative hide away he’d seen but then he figured it would get the driver past any traffic stop. Out in the boondocks he figured there was no FBI or big narcotics units. Just good ol boy cops trying to keep the peace and maybe make a little on the side? Whatever, he guessed this stash had a street value close on three hundred thousand dollars. A nice little earner when they got back home to Boston.

Satisfied he was about to call up Jasmine when he heard the roar of a powerful V8 engine, a skid of tires before a black quad cab Dodge Ram pick-up truck appeared. The truck had a jacked up suspension and huge tires that crunched on the asphalt. There were three figures inside. The figures all had thick necks and huge shoulders. The truck nosed slowly into the side street and then, once it was straight, the driver gunned the gas.

Instinctively Mike looked left and right for a way out. There was none. He’d picked the access road running between two disused industrial units because it was closed in. Nobody could see him searching the SUV. Now it was working against him. There was only one way out and the pick-up was blocking it. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed his cell phone, opened it up and crushed the sim. No way could these guys find out who he really was.

The pick up stopped fifteen feet in front of the Expedition. Three big white guys jumped down.

“Oh hell” groaned Mike.

They were huge. In the cold they were wearing faded blue jeans and thick coats which made them look even bigger than they were. The front two were early twenties and muscled up like they spent half their life pumping iron. Maybe ex football linebackers? Didn’t quite make the NFL and were now making money kicking ass? Wide shoulders, thick necks, biceps bulged out under the sleeves of their coats and tree trunk legs. Both were carrying baseball bats. Another step back was an equally big guy, older in his mid thirties, dressed the same and he was carrying a two headed wrench.

The three guys formed up shoulder to shoulder and headed towards Mike. Instinctively Mike took a step back and stumbled into the Expeditions front fender. The three guys stopped five feet in front of him and stood there. Side by side, their weapons in their hands, nine hundred pounds of beef, all flushed and sweating in the chill.

“What the fuck you doing?” shouted the older of the guys.

“FBI!” shouted Mike in desperation, reaching into his jacket pocket and flashing his badge. It was fake and bought from a fancy dress store back home in Boston. Maybe it would buy him some time? The two younger, dumber, guys glanced at the older guy. He smiled coldly.

“Bullshit” said the older guy “your one stupid ass son a bitch. What the fuck you thinkin’ stealin’ my product?”

Mike couldn’t answer.

“You still got the shit?”

Mike nodded.

“Then you’re a lucky man.”

At that exact moment Mike didn’t feel lucky. He was stood alone, between two deserted industrial units staring down nine hundred pounds of seriously pissed off mid western beef. Nine hundred pounds of muscle, two baseball bats and a two headed wrench vs the one hundred eighty pounds that was Mike. He had no gun, no knife and no baseball bat. He was fucked.

“How come?” stammered Mike.

“Cos if you’d got rid of our shit we’d have killed ya” said the older guy “now we’re just gonna send a message.”

“What message?”

“This.”

The older guy with the wrench moved first. He dumped his weight on his right foot and started a long, looping backswing that bounced off pumped, tense muscles after forty degrees and then snapped forward again through a low horizontal arc, aiming to break Mike’s left arm between his shoulder and elbow. It was a good first swing.

Mike not have been strong but he was quick. He put his weight on his left foot and dodged sideways. The wrench missed his arm but slammed into the side of his chest. Mike howled loudly and tried to control himself. Then one of the baseball bats slammed hard across his other arm. Then another hit. Then the guy with the wrench swung again and this time connected. Mike groaned and began falling forward. Another baseball bat slammed into him before he hit the floor.

With Mike on the ground the older guy with the wrench stepped forward. Jake “Jackpot” Carlson looked down on the thief. Both his arms were at angles they just shouldn’t be, blood was pouring out of his nose and his eyes unfocused. In the decent world of TV’s and movies it was time to show some chivalry and restraint. Jake didn’t live in that world. The cocksucker was trying to steal his product so he needed taking down. Jake waited until he’d rolled over before delivering the final kick to Mike’s face. There was a degree of mercy in it. It was a hard kick; enough to smash his teeth and jaw but not enough for out and out brain damage.

“Load him into the truck” said Jake.

“What we gonna do with him?”

“Dump the fucker at Memorial Hospital” replied Jake.

“You think he’s ever gonna walk again?”

“Not anytime soon.”

One of the guys scooped the dead weight of Mike up in a fireman’s lift and dumped him across the back seat of the pick-up. Jake stepped towards the Expedition. The passenger door was open and he could see his cocaine on the seat. That was a damn relief. Three hundred grand was a lot of cash to him. Now he needed to safely get the coke back to his lock up and find out who the hell was trying to steal from him.

“Brett, take this back to the Sheraton garage and park up.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Wait there and we’ll sort a car swap out. Then watch this fuckin’ thing.”

For a moment Brett looked disappointed. A night freezing his ass off in a parking garage didn’t exactly sit well with him. Much more fun to be in the club surrounded by girls. But he’d learned never to argue with Jackpot Jake. Nobody had ever done well out of that argument.

“Gotcha.”

“Let’s haul ass!” shouted Jake as he walked back to the pick-up.

Hauling himself up into the passenger seat of the pick-up Jake looked back. The skinny guy was still out cold. Smiling ruefully Jake shook his head and thought. Who the fuck would try and steal from him? Was somebody trying to muscle in on his turf? Biker Dan from Dubuque? That made no sense. Some dumb asses looking for a quick score? That made more sense. If that was the case the dumb ass on the back seat could be working alone? Jake checked him out again; that guy hadn’t lasted ten seconds on his own. There had to be somebody else around. So he needed to be careful.

Several hours passed and Jasmine hadn’t heard form Mike. Anxiously she’d driven round the industrial zone and found nothing. She called his cell phone several times but it rang out. Something had gone wrong. In a risky business that was to be expected. Now she needed to work out what to do. Easy solution was to hit the road and get the hell out of Dodge. It was a big country and she’d be gone before anyone even knew she was there.

Problem with that was she didn’t know what happened to Mike. Dead and she was okay; dead men don’t give up secrets. If he was alive he would be talking eventually. Not straight off but eventually Mike would break. It could be days but one way or the other he would spill the beans. She didn’t much worry about the dealers out in Cedar Rapids; they couldn’t do much out of town. But they would tell their supplier. That would lead back to the guy who distributed the drugs, then back to the gang in Chicago and that could lead back to Boston.

Jasmine needed to know what had happened.

Driving south out of town she headed for Eastern Iowa Airport. She needed to dump her car in the long stay lot and change her look. Stopping at the Westdale Mall she headed into a JC Penny’s and bought a new wardrobe. Jasmine was about to become a mid level travelling sales exec. She bought three pant suits, make-up, a pair of heels and a carry on suit case. After paying for them she headed back into the fitting rooms and changed. At the airport she sat in the Starbucks waiting for a flight to arrive. Twenty minutes later the American Eagle flight from Chicago landed and passengers started filtering out through arrivals. Jasmine joined the crowd and headed over to the Hertz lot. There she rented, using a fake California drivers license and credit card, a red Toyota Camry.

Ten minutes later she was driving back towards Cedar Rapids.
 

samster

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Chapter 2

Doing as instructed Brett parked the Expedition up on the top floor of the Sheraton garage and waited. Five minutes later the boss’s right hand man, Duke, had arrived. Brett had loaded up into Duke’s pick-up and parked across the lot. With a clear view of the Expedition the two sat and watched. They watched as the cities office workers began to appear from the elevators, load themselves into their cars and drive home. By six o’clock the garage was mostly empty.

“You think anything’s gonna happen?” asked Brett.

“The boss’s hopein’ some dumb fuck checks on the car.”

“Why would they do that? We got the guy? Believe me with fucked that guy up big time.”

“Boss figures our guy has a partner. With us bustin’ that pencil necked prick the partners gonna be wonderin’ where the shitbird screwed up. Only solid thing they gotta go on is this garage so if their gonna stick around they gotta be here.”

“An’ we kick their ass if they get here?”

“We call the boss first.”

“Sure” nodded Brett.

“Could be cops.”

“What if you can’t get the boss?” asked Brett.

“I make an executive decision” replied Duke.

“Which is?”

“We kick their ass. Fuckin’ hate cops!”

“Yeah man.”

They sat in silence for another hour. The temperature was approaching freezing. Stoically Duke looked ahead whilst Brett shivered. Tall, wiry and naturally strong Duke put the fear of God into anybody who messed with Jackpot Jake’s interests. With crooked teeth, long hair and a sunk complexion he looked every bit the bad ass he was. Not bad in the dumb muscle that was Brett; but bad in ways most people couldn’t quite work out. Mostly he worked alone but he wanted Brett around for this one. If the other guys showed this was a public take down. No shooting or anything; it was just about getting the guy in the truck as quick as they could with no noise. You needed two guys for that.

“Fuck me I’m hungry” complained Brett.

“Quit bitchin’”

“I haven’t eaten for like five hours, man.”

Duke thought about a smart ass comeback. Sporting a growing gut he figured Brett could do with going another five hours without eating. But that would cause an argument and they needed to work together when the mark arrived; best to keep the peace. For a guy who made a living being anything but peaceful Duke was surprisingly good at it when he tried. Problem was he didn’t much like it. If Duke hadn’t been a violent man he figured he could have made good money as a rancher, a salesman or some such shit. Problem was Duke loved his work.

“I’ll call the club and somebody can bring you take out” said Duke.

“I’ll call for a Domino’s take out” said Brett.

“How fuckin’ stupid are you?”

“What?”

“You wanna get a pizza delivered to two guys sat watchin’ a parkin’ lot waitin’ to kick the shit outta some guy?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Dumb ass” snapped Duke.

“There’s a Taco Bell across the street, I’ll go get some shit” suggested Brett.

“No, you wait here. We need two when the asshole gets here.”

Brett laughed.

“You afraid you’ll getcha ass kicked on your own?”

A thin smile crossed Duke’s lips but he didn’t answer. Brett had never seen Duke in action. If he had he would have kept his big mouth shut. Someday soon Duke would make that clear to him. At that exact moment it was better to keep the peace. Instead of firing back he dialed a number into his cell phone and called the club.

“We need a KFC delivery here…”


Whilst Duke and Brett sat waiting Jasmine had checked into the Sheraton. She’d parked the Camry on the road opposite the Sheraton and was sat in her mini suite. The room was a mini suite not because Jasmine was into luxury or needed the space but because it was on floor twelve and had the best view of the parking garage. Ordering a steak and fries through room service Jasmine sat and watched. It didn’t take a genius to figure the bad guys would stake out the Expedition.

With her view it didn’t take Jasmine long to get the picture. Early evening and the lot was mostly empty; just six cars on the whole top floor. The white Expedition was parking in the middle. At the far north east corner she could make out the rusty old Honda that Mike had used for the chase up to Cedar Rapids. It was sat empty, battered and abandoned. Jasmine figured it would sit there for another few weeks before somebody called the city police and they towed it. At the opposite end in the south west corner was a black, jacked up Dodge Ram pick-up truck. Two guys were sat in it watching the Expedition.

Slowly eating her steak and fries she tried to plan. First she needed to find something out about the bad guys. Her way in had been through a gang of Russian dealers in Chicago and on to the distributor in Davenport. That the delivery had been to Cedar Rapids was pure chance. She could have been dealing with a bunch of dealers in any town the Davenport guy distributed to. Net result was she had nothing to work with. Nothing but the two guys over in the parking lot.

Opening up Microsoft Word on her laptop she addressed the action points:

• Who are the bad guys?
• What happened to Mike?
• Do they know who I am?
• How pissed off are they?

Eyes still focused on the parking lot Jasmine reflected on the final point. It was crucial. Odds were good that these guys had Mike and they also had their drugs. That made sense. Mike wouldn’t have done anything with it and would have no reason to destroy it. Probably it was his only bargaining chip. Therefore these guys were pissed that somebody had tried to steal from them but not mad as hell. They still had their product. The downside was they probably hadn’t killed Mike.

Thinking again she wrote down what she thought the bad guys were thinking:

• Is this an organization or some maverick dumb asses trying to steal from us?
• Are the cops involved?
• Who else is out there?

The two guys sat watching was a precaution. An insurance policy against more action. It was a defensive play; not offensive. They were going to sit tight and see what happened. If something happened they’d deal with it. If all was quiet they’d move on.

Her steak finished Jasmine took a sip of mineral water and thought.

Reflecting on how to turn a defeat into some form of victory she continued to watch the lot. Nothing happened for ten minutes. Then two bright headlights moved up the parking ramp and up onto the top floor lot. A large black SUV drove over towards the black pick-up truck and stopped. She watched as what looked to be a bag full of fast food was handed over. Jasmine was too far away and the light to bad to make out any more details. Acting on instinct she stood up and raced out of the door, into the elevator and out onto the sidewalk. There was only one exit to the garage and Jasmine would be there to see that.

One way in and one way out. No escape.



Just off a rural two lane highway, sixty miles north east of Cedar Rapids and Jake was stood with his boss, Jacob Carter. It was an unplanned meeting. After the days events they’d headed out of town. The two could never be seen together. Nobody in the whole world knew their alliance. They were stood just off an unpaved rural route with miles of wide open, pitch black prairie all around them. Jake’s black Ford F150 Raptor pick up and Carters more understated Lincoln Town Car stood idling. In the freezing cold and without another living sole within ten miles they figured it was best to keep the heating running rather than worry about a stolen car. Jake said:

“We’ve gotta find out who’d doin’ this and stop em hard and fast.”

Carter said, “Agreed but it could be random action. We can’t control what we can’t control. This may be a simple issue of containment.”

“I’m askin’ questions round town and nobody knows nothin’ about nothin’”

“You need a conversation with our friends from Chicago.”

“I’m onto that.”

“Good. Beyond that you control the situation.”

“I’ve got two guys watchin’ the Sheraton garage.”

“You think there’s more than one?” asked Carter as he lit his cigar.

“Gotta be, too much shit goin’ on for one guy.”

“Where is the guy you caught?”

“Memorial hospital. I figured you guys could watch him there? Tell us if anybody shows to visit.”

“Yes we can do that.”

There was a moments silence. Carter took a drag of his cigar and Jake shuffled in the cold.

“You think about the expansion plan?” asked Jake.

“I’m still thinking it through” replied Carter “I take your point there’s a lot of action down in Iowa City and the dominant player has run into all kinds of trouble but it concerns me. Here we have control; down there we encounter many unknown elements.”

“We have freaky stuff happen here. Like these idiots stealin’ our product.”

“As I said you can’t control what you can’t control. But here there are certain key elements we can control. We’ll always have mavericks but the key points we control.”

“I guess.”

“It requires further reflection.”

“Sure.”
“You keep these idiot thieves under control and talk to the Russian. Brief me when you have news.”

“Gotcha.”

Carter turned on his heels and walked back to the Lincoln. Jake strode back to his Ford. Hauling himself up into the warm cab he pulled out his cell phone. In his line of business everything went through the cell phone. He scrolled through the text messages. Nothing yet from Duke. Moving onto contacts his finger hovered over LaTasha. He pressed the green button and waited for her to pick up.

“Hey Jake”

“What’s up?”

“Just dropped food off for Duke and Brett.”

“You dropped fuckin’ food off?”

“Yeah, they got hungry.”

“This is business not a take out service.”

“Cool it Jake honey, I’m runnin’ one of the girls out to the Ramada at the airport sooooooooo I just called at KFC and dropped it off.”

“Get some yourself.”

“I’m kinda full” protested LaTasha.

“It’s not a question. Drop the bitch off at the Ramada, head over to KFC and I’ll meet you in the Menards lot. Order a bargain bucket and start eatin’.”

Jake hung up and accelerated back out onto the highway. He was a feeder. Three years back LaTasha had been a model. Blonde, tanned, oversized boob job and with a tight hourglass figure and Jake had moved in. Years later she’d blown up into the hottest fat chick Jake had ever gotten his hands on.

(continued in chapter 6 of this thread)
 

TheOwl

Not so wise
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Nov 16, 2005
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Nice start to the story and looking forward to the rest.

But where is Michael Douglas cracking up and exacting vengeance on the world.
 

elroycohen

Steampunk Psycho
Joined
Feb 23, 2007
Messages
464
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I've told you before I think this is a great story. Awesome stuff. Glad to see it up here.

It does make me smile a little bit that something I wrote helped inspire a story with a plot line and detailed characters;)
 

samster

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Thanks everyone for the comments. In response to Elroy Cohen's comments your Lancaster Twins story was an inspiration because it was a fun, interesting and sexy read but there was no good guys. All my stories before this one had a good guy - you kind of proved you can go all in on the bad guys and still have it work.

Anyways, here's chapter 3:


Chapter 3

Back in downtown Cedar Rapids and Jasmine was sat in her Camry waiting. The exit barrier lifted and a black GMC Yukon drove out. The side windows were blacked out but she could make out a mesh of blonde hair behind the wheel and another blonde in the passenger seat. Turning the engine on Jasmine gunned the gas, pulled a U turn and followed on. She stayed a car length or two back as she followed through the downtown streets. It was now freezing outside. Jasmine turned up the heating and kept pace with the Yukon. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel she tried to form a plan.

It was impossible to make a definite plan. The situation was fluid. Largely it depended on where the Yukon went. Worst case Jasmine would follow on to their base and best case she’d take an opportunity if it presented.

Staying back a safe distance she followed the Yukon onto I-380 south. Now well into the evening and traffic was light. Hanging well back Jasmine watched as the tail lights ahead took the Eastern Iowa Airport exit. Gunning the gas Jasmine caught up as the mark turned right towards the airport. Ahead the airport rose like a beacon of neon light out of the prairie; a parking lot, terminal building and a mass of runway lights. Before the airport was an Exxon gas station, Subway, McDonalds and a cluster of three motels; Ramada, Best Western and Holiday Inn.

She followed the Yukon into the Ramada lot and watched. The Ramada was an old school motel with a reception and then a long row of rooms with doors facing out onto the parking lot. Late evening and the lot was mostly full. Ahead the Yukon was slowly driving past the doors. It stopped outside room fifty five. The passenger door opened and a slender blonde wearing a skimpy party dress stepped down and walked over to room fifty five. She knocked on the door. Moments later and she disappeared inside. The Yukon accelerated back out of the lot, onto the highway and then back north on the interstate.

Jasmine smiled. These guys weren’t just selling drugs but they also had an escort agency on the go. Big time crooks out in the boondocks.

Quickly the miles north rolled by. The Yukon took the first Cedar Rapids exit and pulled right onto a long a raised city highway and down onto the access road. Running alongside the highway the access road had a vast array of retailers and fast food outlets. They drove past a WalMart, Target, Lowe’s, Menards, Kroger, McDonalds, Taco Bell, IHOP and more. Eventually the Yukon pulled into the KFC and then towards the drive thru. Jasmine stopped in the Menards parking lot that ran alongside the KFC. Killing the motor and the lights she watched and waited. This could be the opportunity.

At the wheel of the Yukon, LaTasha ordered her bargain bucket meal, peeled of a twenty dollar bill from the roll in the center console and paid. Taking the massive fast food order she placed the drinks in the cup holders and put the bucket across on the passenger seat. Greedily she grabbed a boneless chicken strip as she drove out of the drive thru and across into the deserted Menards lot. She had a good idea what Jake would want to do so she headed for the far corner and waited.

Reaching across she took a slurp of Coca Cola and then grabbed another piece of chicken. Dunking it in the barbecue sauce LaTasha gulped it down in two bites and then fished around in the bucket for another. Three years around Jake and LaTasha was programmed to be hungry. Gulping down chicken the porked up pin-up didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her SUV, or notice the slim, slender figure of Jasmine until it was way too late.

Outside Jasmine figured a new high end SUV like that would have some locking system. The blonde had the engine running so she guessed the doors were locked. If she banged on the window the bitch would just gun the gas and call up the guys from the garage. So she swung back with the butt of her police issue taser and slammed it against the passenger window. She hadn’t factored in the blacked out windows. They were some kind of reinforced glass. There was a loud thud as the blunt object bounced.

Inside the SUV LaTasha’s eyes popped open and she almost chocked on her latest chicken wing. For a long moment she looked confused at the figure of Jasmine outside before acting on instinct, pushing the gear lever into drive and gunning the gas. Thick tires skidded on the asphalt as LaTasha lurched forward and away from the would be car jacker. The KFC bargain bucket toppled over and an array of chicken pieces, spicy wings and boneless strips scattered over the passenger seat and foot well. Recovering her composure the surprised LaTasha brushed an errant, half eaten, chicken wing from her thighs and skidded to a stop half way across the lot.

“Oh migawd!”

Looking out across the lot LaTasha focused. The lot was big and wide and empty and floodlit. She could clearly see the figure who’d tried to smash her window stood still in the center of the lot. Slowly an idea formed in her head. She knew somebody was out there causing trouble. Duke and Brett were on stake out and Jake had gone for some big meeting. Elroy and Danny, the organizations other muscle, were guarding the stash. This bitch who’d tried to car jack her was who they were looking for. First thought was to call it and let the boys sort it out. But maybe this was her moment? LaTasha knew her role in the organization was to look after the girls, talk sweet to the punters on the phone and drive them round town. She got to deliver KFC and run all the errands. This was a chance for a promotion, maybe a nice cash bonus? Show she was more than the bimbo Jake liked to feed on the side?

Stood in the center of the lot Jasmine controlled her breathing. That had gone badly but she had a feeling it was about to get a whole load worse. She’d hoped the SUV would speed out of the lot but it hadn’t. It was just stopped. Worst case the fat blonde was calling the two guys sat at the lot. They were maybe a five minute drive away. All the blonde had to two was stay right where she was, keep Jasmine pinned and she was screwed. A wide open, empty lot and she had nowhere to hide. Or the blonde could go for glory. Gun the gas and try to run Jasmine down. That would give Jasmine a chance to get out of the lot. Assuming she didn’t get run down by the SUV. A big hulking thing with a chrome bumper the size of a bathtub it would hurt.

“What you gonna do, bitch?” said Jasmine to herself, eyes fixed on the SUV.

There was a squeal of tires and the SUV hammered forward. Straight at her. Jasmine rapidly sidestepped left towards one of the light poles. She lined it up perfectly. The SUV directly ahead and the light pole directly behind. The Yukon kept on coming. She ran backwards, up on her toes like a ballerina, watching all the way. The SUV kept on coming. Twenty yards away, then ten, then five. Jasmine felt the lighting pole behind her and jerked sideways and flung herself out of the trucks path and rolled away and waited for it to slam on into the lighting pole.

That didn’t happen.

LaTasha braked hard and slewed to a stop with her front fender just touching the lighting pole. Jasmine heard the gearbox smack back into reverse and the SUV backed up and the front wheels skidded forward and the gears changed again. The Yukon came straight at her again, fast and enormous. The tires were big twenty six inch aftermarket fitted rims with giant chrome alloys and savage tread. They crunched hard against the asphalt. The motor was roaring. A big V8. Jasmine feigned right and flung herself left. She rolled away and the Yukon turned tight but missed her. She could smell hot oil and gasoline and exhaust fumes. There was another onslaught of sounds. The SUV slammed into reverse again and came at Jasmine backwards. By that point she was up on her knees, deciding. What next?

No choice really.

Out in and open parking lot and it was suicide. Close up and the SUV was clumsy but she couldn’t dodge and weave forever. Exhaustion would catch up in the end and she’d slow. Then she’d take a devastating hit. Key was to get the blonde out of the Yukon. Then Jasmine had a plan. The truck came after her, driving backwards, narrowing its turning circle. The windows were blacked out but Jasmine guessed the driver was staring back over her shoulder. She guessed the driver wasn’t used to a real fight. She looked like a dumb bimbo who ran errands. The kind of crime gang groupie who was desperate to show she had what it takes. That’s why she’d taken the decision to run Jasmine down instead of waiting for back-up. With another vehicle in the mix and a guy on foot Jasmine couldn’t have lasted.

At the last minute Jasmine feigned a moved to the right. It was deliberately a tenth of a second too slow. She thudded into the side bumper of the SUV and rolled over onto the ground. A sharp jab of pain ran through Jasmine’s body and she lay stationary. Her hand moving inside her jacket and her fingers wrapped around the taser. Now she had to pray that the blonde bitch didn’t go for the kill. The SUV was now directly in front of her. All the driver had to do was gun the gas and crush Jasmine with those giant tires. Jasmine was betting the blonde wouldn’t. It was a hell of a leap from running hookers round town and doing whatever other stuff she did to murdering in cold blood. Jasmine was betting the blonde would step down from the truck and check out her prize.

ILLUSTRATION - LaTasha & Jasmine playing dead
Follow this link:
http://samster2009.deviantart.com/art/Well-Fed-Assassin-1-251853618

Sure enough she heard the driver shift the gearbox into park, open the driver’s door and step down. Jasmine kept one eye half open and watched intently. The blonde was wearing tall heels, a pair of skin tight ripped blue jeans and a pink jacket that looked ready to explode around her thick girth and comically oversized breasts. She also had a pistol in her left hand. She was breathing heavily, looking nervous and alert. A little unsure what to do. Like this wasn’t in her normal job description. The smart move was to call in what had happened but to her satisfaction Jasmine saw blondie take a step forward. The tick tock of heels slowly approached. Jasmine could smell the blondes perfume mixed in with the SUV’s smell of burnt rubber, exhaust fumes and motor oil. She waited. The blonde was now stood directly over her.

“You awake bitch?” demanded LaTasha, in a neutral mid western non accent.

Jasmine remained silent. She wanted the blonde closer. Sure blondie looked fat and dumb but with a pistol in her hand it only took one squeeze of the trigger and Jasmine was out of action.

“Stupid fuckin’ bitch” laughed LaTasha “Jake is gonna love this!”

Then she crouched down. Jasmine could hear the seams of her too tight jeans and jacket creak against her bulk. Then she felt LaTasha’s set of long acrylic finger nails work their way inside her jacket. LaTasha was breathing heavily. That was the moment. Jasmine grabbed LaTasha’s hand and then with her other hand spun round, flicked the taser on maximum, pointed it at her attackers middle and pressed the fire button. LaTasha hardly knew what hit her. The moment the powerful electric shock hit her she lurched forward. Jasmine kept the fire button down and watched the electric bolds flow through blondie’s body inflicting what the manufacturer called neuromuscular incapacitation. Moments later she was out cold; her body twitching with occasional muscular contractions.

Much to Jasmine’s irritation the bimbo had fallen on top of her. It was quite a weight. Gathering her strength Jasmine gripped her would be attackers bloated body and rolled her off.

“Jeeze you’re all kinds of fat” said Jasmine as she rose to her feet.

Reaching down she unzipped the skin tight jacket and searched for anything in the pockets. The jacket was so tight it would have been impossible to fit anything in. She zipped it back up. Freezing cold outside and the blonde had just had a serious shock from the taser. Hard to predict how long until she came round. Jasmine wasn’t overly bothered about her welfare but she didn’t want the bitch dying of hypothermia. Jasmine wanted a deal; not all out war. Taking a step over the body she picked up the gun and walked towards the SUV.

Now it was time to play a little offensive football. The guys in the parking lot were next.
 

samster

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Chapter 4

Memorial Hospital and the tall, slender, well dressed man strolled down the corridors to the room where John Doe slept. He wore a thick, long winter coat over a tailor made navy blue suit and expensive custom made Oxford shoes. One look and he was a man of authority. In his mid fifties he had chiselled facial features and distinguished silver white hair without any hint of balding. He was one of those guys who was genetically fortunate. In another world, and with another personality, he could have been a politician. Instead he was Commissioner for the Cedar Rapids Police Department (CRPD).

Poor John Doe had been dumped at the Emergency Clinic and had taken one hell of a beating. Doctors had worked the past eight hours trying to get him stable. In an overstretched, under funded, hospital all effort have been on just keeping him alive. Eventually they got him stable and the ER consultant thought to fax John Doe’s details across to the CRPD.

Stopping at the duty doctors’ office he knocked on the door three times and waited. It was the kind of loud, purposeful knock cops made. A young, tired doctor half way through night shift appeared. His expression changed as he clocked the man.

“Commissioner Carter” rushed the doctor “what can I do for you at this hour?”

“You sent through details of a John Doe. I want to check him out.”

“Sure” nodded the doctor “I faxed it over.”

“I was working late so I picked it up.”

“Hardly expected you to come check the guy out.”

“I take a hard line on violent crime.”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s the kind of thing that disgusts me.”

“Follow me, sir.”

Carter followed on. After his meeting with Jake he’d headed back for the police department. There were loose ends and Carter didn’t like loose ends. Jake and his boys were good with muscle but Carter brought the brains. He’d picked up the fax from the hospital. Then he’d run the prints into the police database. The match had been instant. John Doe was actually Mike McAllister; a detective in the Boston Police Department. That was good and potentially bad. No way was a rank and file detective from a north east coast city, over seven hundred miles away in town to do police work. He was there to make some cash on the side. Bent cops were hardly a new phenomenon.

The concern was what would McAllister say. Some point soon he was going to come round. As soon as he did a CRPD detective would be interviewing him. Even in his role as Commissioner it would look wrong if he blocked that. So he’d headed down to the hospital to check what state the guy was in and how long he had to find a solution. Carter already had a plan but he needed to know the timeframe.

Stepping into the private room he looked down at the badly beaten Mike McAllister. His face was messed up and his arms were wrapped up. The regular beep of the heart monitor suggested he was stable and recovering.

“How long until we can talk to him?” asked Carter.

“He’s recovering well. He’ll be out most of tomorrow but a quick interview day after would be okay I guess. Poor guy probably has a heck of a story to tell.”

“That’s for sure” mused Carter as he looked down at the broken man.

“Anything else?”

“Inform me direct if there’s any change to his condition” said Carter as he handed across his card.

“Yes, sir”

“Good work young man. I’ll detail one of my guys to guard him tomorrow. Make sure the bad guys don’t revisit.”

“I hope you get the assholes that did this.”

“That’s my job.”

Carter turned on his heels and walked back down the long corridors. Stopping by the vending machine he put a quarter in and waited for a black coffee. Sipping on the coffee he headed out into the night. It was cold and dark; like Carter’s soul. If Mike McAllister had a partner, which he almost certainly did, there was a pissed off Boston cop running round town.

He pulled out his Blackberry and dialled Jake.

“We may have a problem with the guy you beat up.”

“What?”

“He’s a cop.”

“Shit!”

“But there is a solution…”

--------------------------

Driving the Yukon away from the Menards parking lot and onto the interstate Jasmine felt good. It was frustrating as hell being a cop. You had to play by a set of rules and that didn’t sit well with Jasmine. She liked to play her own game. That’s why her time outs from the Boston Police Department were so much fun. Mike was in it for the money but for Jasmine it was the game. They tracked down a supply of drugs through their contacts to a far away city; easy enough for Jasmine who worked the narcotics division. In the past it had been Atlanta, Houston, Miami, Seattle and most recently Chicago. Next they tracked the distribution ring to the smaller dealers out of the main city. Finally they found the supply and stole the product and sold it back through their contacts. It had been surprisingly easy stealing from drug dealers. That was until Cedar Rapids.

But Jasmine was enjoying Cedar Rapids. She could take action without worrying about the law. She thought back to the blonde in the Menards lot. Fuck precautions she’d turned the taser up to the max and downed the fat bitch. No reasonable restraint or anything. Now she had the blondes SUV. The interior of the SUV smelled of perfume and greasy chicken wings. The KFC meal was still scattered over the passenger side. Jasmine was tempted by a hot wing but then she remembered the blonde’s bloated figure. It was best to resist the KFC.

Searching through the Yukon’s center console Jasmine had picked up some information. She had a roll of nine one hundred dollar bills and a cell phone. The cell phone wasn’t anything fancy. A basic Nokia you buy on pay as you go from WalMart. No numbers were saved in it. With TV shows like CSI and The Wire every criminal organization understood it made sense to keep changing phones. She bet these guys did it once a week. The old Nokia got thrown in the trash and replaced with another. Keep doing that and it made it hard for the overworked, under resourced cops to keep pace.

Clicking through the dialled numbers she saw a number of regulars that blondie either called or received calls from. Jasmine debated calling them. She held back. First there was the guys’ watching the Expedition.

Take them out and whoever was running this shitbird operation would get the message. Jasmine wanted a deal and it would be on her terms. Mike was expendable but nobody could be allowed to link her back to the Boston PD. Ten years in jail wouldn’t work out well for Jasmine.

Up on the top floor of the Sheraton parking garage Duke and Brett were bored. It was 2am, cold and nothing had happened. Not one damn thing. The white Expedition was still stood motionless in the center of the lot, a frost forming over it. Brett was dozing off whilst Duke stayed focused. Once again he scanned round the lot. He went from car to car. With only a scattered few vehicles up there, in the early hours, it was a quick work. His eyes rested on the old Honda sedan in the far corner. It looked abandoned. It also looked out of place. Parked in the far corner of the lot, with the exact reverse angle to the Expedition as they had. Kind of like the driver had picked it out using the same logic. Duke paused and reflected. That made sense. The dumb fuck who stole the Expedition had to follow it and the Honda was the perfect car for doing that. Anonymous, cheap and expendable. If you’re up three hundred grand’s worth of coke you don’t worry about losing a piece of crap old Honda that was worth more broken up as salvage metal.

He elbowed the snoring Brett.

“Hey dumb ass!!”

“Waaaa…” groaned Brett.

“Wake the fuck up!!!”

“Somethin’ happened?”

“Hell no”

“Why the fuck you wake me up then?” grunted Brett.

“I’m checkin’ that shit heap Honda out over there.”

“Why? It’s freezin’ out there man.”

“I’m checkin’ it cos the dumb fuck who tried to steal our shit drove it up here and dumped it. Maybe some information inside it.”

“Like clues or something’?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes.”

“Who?”

“Dumb ass” grunted Duke as he opened the door and stepped out into the cold.

“You want me to come with?” asked Brett.

“No, stay here but stay awake.”

“Okay” nodded Brett “whadda I do if shit happens with the Expedition?”

“Call your momma.”

“Why?”

“Cos I’m fuckin’ her.”

Duke slammed the door behind him, took his bag out of the pick-ups flat bed and walked across the lot. The early hours of the morning and he could hear the rumble of downtown around him. Over the west he could see the industrial units with their smoke billowing into the freezing night sky. He could hear the occasional big rig on the interstate and the distant noise of a train. Up above the sky was dark and clear. A frost had formed on the asphalt and he could here is cowboy boots crunching as he stepped through it. Despite himself Duke shivered.

He stopped next to the Honda. It was a mid nineties Civic. In his days before Jake and his organization Duke had broken into more cars than he’d had hot meals. New cars with their electronic security systems were a challenge but a piece of shit Civic from the last millennium was easy meat. Most owners would thank him for stealing it. Taking a screwdriver from his bag he got leverage and forced the car window down. When he had enough of a gap Duke reached inside and unlocked the door. Then he simply opened the door and lowered himself in. Freezing cold and he picked his bag up, threw it on the passenger seat and closed the door behind him.

Taking hold of a small flashlight he scanned round the interior looking for something. Odds were the car was clean but Duke figured you made your own look. A few minutes in and all he’d worked out was the driver smoked Winston’s. There was a new Rand McNally ‘Road Atlas USA’ on the passenger seat. The ‘Iowa’ page was worn and marked. Pretty useless information because Duke already knew the car was in Iowa. What he wanted to know was where his driver started out. Reaching back he ran his hands around the foot wells. He paused; his fingers were running across metal plates. Hauling them up Duke shone the flashlight over them. Four license plate tags from different states; Massachusetts, New York, Ohio and Illinois.

Duke smiled. Now he knew something. The driver had set off on the north east coast and driven west. He’d changed plates as he crossed state lines so as not to stand out. The driver was an anonymous guy driving an anonymous Japanese sedan making him almost invisible. Duke doubted the guy they’d busted was smart enough to have planned all that.

Settling back in the drivers seat Duke thought things through. The information was useful but it didn’t really move things forward. All he knew was they were at least dealing with a semi pro. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a powerful V8 driving around the floor below and then on up the ramp. He saw the headlight appear up the ramp. It was LaTasha’s black Yukon. Duke smiled. Maybe she was dropping off a couple of the girls to keep them warm? Duke liked that idea. He was about to open the door of the Honda and stroll back across the lot when he paused. Duke was an observant man.

The SUV was being driven carefully and slowly. LaTasha was the kind of driver who always gunned the gas, spun the wheels and clipped curbs. The Yukon was nearly new but give her a few months and it would need a re-spray. With the front windows blacked out he couldn’t make out the driver at all. Could be LaTasha but normally he could make out her mass of blonde highlights. Best to be cautious. Duke ran back through the nights events. Way back LaTasha had dropped off the KFC. Maybe the other guy was watching them? Maybe he’d then followed on? With LaTasha running the hookers round town he could have surprised her at any point. If he was smart enough to swap plates as he crossed state lines he was sure as hell smart enough to outwit LaTasha. In Duke’s opinion LaTasha was almost as dumb as Brett.

Duke sunk lower in his seat and dialled LaTasha’s cell number into his own Nokia. It rang straight to answer phone. Next he dialled Jake’s number. The boss picked up on the first ring.

“What?” said Jake.

“Some shits going down here” said Duke, his eyes never leaving the slow moving Yukon.

“With the Expedition?”

“No, LaTasha’s Yukon’s here but she ain’t drivin’”

“She’s supposed to be at Menards” said Jake.

“Her SUV’s here. Where’re you boss?”

“Approachin’ town. I was out of town for a meetin’”

“What you want me to do?”

“If we’ve got some fucker out there causin’ trouble take them down. You’re good at that. I’m on my way over to the Sheraton now. Should be ‘bout ten minutes. You do what you gotta do.”

“You want em dead or alive?”

“Alive.”

Duke hung up and kept on watching. He opened the door and silently stepped out. Going down onto his hands and knees he slowly worked his way across the lot. Five years as a sniper in the US Army, before a dishonourable discharge, and he knew how to approach unseen.

Jasmine slowly approached the stationary Dodge pick-up and switched the taser to high voltage. She figured the guys watching would be familiar with the Yukon and their guard would be down. The action would be swift and fast and smooth. Repeatedly the blondes cell phone had been ringing. Jasmine had it on silent and ignored it. The hookers and John’s of Cedar Rapids would just have to go without that night. She smiled as she imagined the girls stuck at hotels and motels around town whilst their boss was sprawled on her fat ass across the Menards parking lot. Slowing further she stopped next to the pick-up, raised the taser gun and buzzed the window down.

She was greeted by the stunned face of a big, bulky young guy. He had a smile that rapidly turned to shock and then to horror. Before he had chance to reach for his gun Jasmine fired the taser. The guy shuddered under the electric currents and then slumped forward. His big, buffed up body rocking as the muscle spasms worked through his body. Confused Jasmine looked around the pick-ups cab. The second guy was gone. It was late and nothing had happened so had he called it a day?

Moving the gear lever into park Jasmine opened the drivers door and stepped down. Taking a short step across to the pick up she opened the door and looked inside. Searching the still convulsing guys pockets she acquired another cell phone and a roll of one hundred dollar notes. It was the same crappy Nokia she’d taken from the blonde. She scrolled through the numbers. This guy had less calls; only one number. That figured. The blonde was running hookers round town so she had maybe ten or fifteen numbers. This guy was the muscle so he talked only to the boss man.

Jasmine was about to press the green button when she heard a noise behind her. Quick on her feet she spun round. She was too slow. In a split second she made out the tall, wiry guy with long hair and crooked yellow teeth swinging the butt of a pistol at her. Seconds later the pistol hit squarely across her face. Jasmine blacked out and fell backward into the pick-ups cab.

“Well what do we have here?” laughed Duke as he looked at the petite, pretty, slender Jasmine.

After delivering another blow across her forehead, just to make sure, he hog tied Jasmine and threw her across the back seat of the cab. Next he called Jake back up:

“I got the other one boss and guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s not a guy. It’s a pretty little lady.”

“Fuck me.”

“You got it under control?”

“Yeah dumb ass Brett got tasered and he’s out cold.”

“You got LaTasha?”

“No, I got her Yukon but not her.”

“Shit!!!”

“Watchin’ what happened to Brett I’m bettin’ that useless tub of goo got her ass fried. I got her cell here. There’s girls an’ John’s callin’ from all over town. Some fuckers hidin’ our girl in his wine cellar cos wifey got back home.”

“Shit” said Jake again “I better swing by the Menards lot.”

“Whatever.”

“You wait where you are and we’ll figure out what to do.”

“Okay boss.”

“No fuckin’ with her before I get there!”

“If you say so.”

Duke looked back at his prisoner. She was tight, toned and pretty. She had a look of class about her; like maybe she wasn’t a thief most her life? Duke puzzled over that. The lady would probably have been wise sticking to what she knew. Now she was in a whole new world of pain. His eyes soaked in her body. What Jake didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it?

---------------

LaTasha had walked further that evening than she had anytime over the past two years. Waking up in a daze, freezing cold she’d tried to remember what happened. She recalled running down the skinny bitch, walking over to check her out and then it was all a blank. At first she figured she’d been shot but running her hands around her porked up body she seemed fine. Then she realised how cold it was. Her top had ridden up exposing her bloated belly and her super sized tits were jiggling as she shivered. With an effort she’d boosted herself up, wobbled on her heels and gotten her bearings. Her big brown eyes had rested on the neon lights of the twenty four hour KFC and she’d waddled her way across the lot.

With her SUV, cell phone and money stolen LaTasha realised she was screwed. Inside the KFC she was a regular and the Mexican girl behind the counter gave the fat blonde another bargain bucket and a giant soda. Sitting her fat ass down in the corner LaTasha stuffed her cheeks with greasy fried chicken and washed it down with the soda. Working her way through the bucket her breathing was getting a little laboured. Whilst stuffing herself LaTasha tried to think.

No doubt she’d fucked up. In one night she’d got her new Yukon stolen with a thousand dollars cash and her cell phone. Jake went ballistic when employees lost cell phones. Then she’d tried to chase down the skinny bitch and got tasered and let the skinny bitch go. Even worse she had ten girls working the town and didn’t have a clue where they were. This could work out bad for LaTasha. Jake always made an example of an employee who screwed up.

“Fuck” she sighed to herself before biting into another chicken wing, the grease dripping down from her collagen pumped lips and onto her chin.

Two more chicken pieces later and Jake skidded her F-150 Raptor to a stop outside the KFC. He didn’t get out. Instead he just rammed his hand down on the horn and waited. Dutifully LaTasha got up and waddled her way out of the restaurant. She looked down, tired and defeated. Like she’d tried to achieve something and failed. It was another screw up in a life littered by them. Now she was going to face the music.

“What the fuck happened?” demanded Jake as she got up into the cab.

“I dunno.”

“You got fuckin’ tasered” said Jake as be accelerated onto the highway.

“Tasered?”

“Yeah, electric shock stuff.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah shit” nodded Jake “what I can’t work out his how the fuck it happened? You know your instructions?”

LaTasha nodded. Her instructions were crystal clear. When she was working she never got out of her car. Any trouble happened she called Duke and he dealt with it. Her job was to run the girls round and talk with the John’s on the phone. All that was done in her car. The only place she got out of the car when she was working was a Jake’s club. After her run in with the taser LaTasha now understood why.

“Tell me exactly what happened” sighed Jake.

Running through the story as best she could LaTasha concluded with:

“I fucked up an’ I won’t do it again.”

“Damn straight! Issue I’ve gotta consider is how to deal with that.”

Shifting nervously in her seat LaTasha reached across the center console and ran her long acrylic finger nails round his crotch. She squeezed. Jake was getting hard. With her free hand she reached across for his belt buckle. She had one failsafe way of keeping her boss happy. Jake groaned and pushed her away.

He made business decision based on what made sense, not based on whether he was about to get a blow job. Truth was he kinda liked the story. She’d fucked up but LaTasha had crossed a line; she’d tried to run down the bitch. What’s more she was good with the hookers. She could keep them in line and talk sweet with the John’s on the phone. Added to that he had the job Carter had landed him with. That was going to run way smoother with a gal around.

“There’s two things your gonna do to keep me sweet” said Jake.

“What?” asked LaTasha eagerly.

“You wanna be bad ass takin’ down the people who fuck with us?”

“I’m a bad girl.”

“Then first thing is I’ve gotta job for you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Second thing is give me that blowjob.”

He reached across, grabbed her mesh of golden streaked blonde hair and pulled her across. Her finger tore open his belt, popped open his jeans and he pushed down. LaTasha opened her mouth and her hot, moist lips wrapped round his cock. She sucked hard. One hand on the wheel, the other still pushing down Jake pulled off the interstate and into downtown. LaTasha was sure as hell a good cock sucker. He shot his load and LaTasha swallowed. Now he knew she’d been well fed.
 

hamster80

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Very good I love your stories and especially the art. Are you going to write any more on Corporate Chubby?
 

samster

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Thanks Hamster80 and glad your enjoying it...there will no doubt be some more Corporate Chubbies at some point in the future:)
 

hamster80

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I'm glad to hear that - a female scheming to fatten up a hot girl is my favorite them and so very hard to find. And to see the size of the blond in 'Falling Down'....wow! beautiful! Love the progression of weight gain in word and art.
 

samster

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Chapter 5



The next morning Jasmine woke up and her situation hit home hard. She was in a small windowless room in a basement. It was cold and she was shivering. There was a painful, thumping bruise on the back of her head. Above she could hear the noise of downtown; vehicles passing overhead and folks walking by. It was the morning rush hour. She groaned and moaned. Recalling the events of the previous night she wondered how she’d screwed up so bad. Finally she settled on Mike. She’d needed to know where he was and who he was talking to. That quest had led her right into the hands of the gang she was supposed to be stealing from.

“Jesus” sighed Jasmine.

Apart from her bruise she was in good condition. She wasn’t tied up and there were no handcuffs. From the burn marks around her wrist she knew she’d been tied at some point. Presumably by the redneck who’d hit her in the lot. In many ways it was better conditions than the Boston city jail. For a moment she reflected on that. If Mike was running his mouth, and she ever got out of her current mess that was where she was headed. A fate worse than death.

Another hour passed and Jasmine listened as the rush hour quietened down. Outside her door she could hear footsteps inside the building. Nervously she waited. She heard an old key turn in the lock and the door opened. Two men stepped into the room. One was huge, pushing three hundred fifty pounds and build like an NFL linebacker. The other man was tall, slender and well dressed and was carrying a brown leather briefcase. He looked small next to the man monster but stood alone he was a big guy in his own right. He had silver grey hair and a distinguished, politicians face.

“Good morning Detective Jasmine Oakes” said Carter smoothly.

Jasmine blinked. The guy knew her name and who she was. That could only be bad. Potentially very bad. Had Mike talked? Carter opened his briefcase and produced a manila folder. He handed it over to Jasmine.

“Read this and we’ll talk later.”

Carter turned on his heels and walked out of the door. Jake followed on, closing the door and turning the old key. Once again Jasmine was alone in the dark. A few seconds later light switched on. Shuffling underneath it Jasmine opened the folder and read on. The document was written on Cedar Rapid PD letterhead and accounted for a tale of destruction at the hands of two rogue cops from Boston. Mike McAllister and Jasmine Oaks. They’d stolen a shipment of cocaine and then tried to sell it on to a man they thought was a dealer from Iowa City. Turned out the guy was an undercover cop who’d turned them in. Both Mike and Jasmine’s finger prints were all over the product. Subsequent CCTV from around Cedar Rapid showed Jasmine on a violent rampage. Using her police issue taser to incapacitate a blonde women in the Menards parking lot and a burly white boy opposite the Sheraton.

Eyes wide Jasmine inspected the photographs. They were for real.

“Of fuck.”

Jasmine heard the key turn and the door opened. The two men stepped in.

“By my reckoning that’s fifteen years minimum inside” said Carter smoothly.

“Who are you?”

“I hold two primary roles” said Carter “I am the owner of the operation you and your associate stole from and I’m also Commissioner of the Cedar Rapids PD. Now you may consider that quite a conflict of interest but I find the two positions complement each other.”

“I bet” nodded Jasmine.

“My gut instinct is to take you on a long drive into the prairies and put a bullet in the back of your head” said Carter without emotion “but my man Jake here sees potential in you. We operate in a lucrative and ever expanding business and there’s always opportunities for dynamic, intelligent people who want to contribute to our success.”

Jasmine remained silent and waited. Her heart pounding as she listened. The bad guys were going to offer her a deal. Jake stepped forward.

“You fucked us up good last night. You took Brett an’ LaTasha down an’ Duke got lucky with you. Smart people are rare round here.”

“You want me to work for you?” gasped Jasmine.

“Yeah.”

“Its your best option” said Carter “that document has been circulated around the various wires. I spoke with a gentlemen from internal affairs in Boston just this morning and apparently they’re already investigating you on a number of police corruption charges. He sent me that file across as well. You’re a very bent cop.”

“Like you can freakin’ talk” protested Jasmine.

“I meant it as a compliment” said Carter.

Slumping against the wall Jasmine tried to think. Whichever way she turned the noose was tightening. She had precious few options.

“You circulated this stuff on the police wire?” said Jasmine, holding up the folder.

“Yes.”

“So how do I stand a chance with anything? I’m probably top of this towns most wanted list right now. You’ve got me stealing coke and shooting two people. My face is gonna be everywhere. I’m not going to be able to leave here without getting busted.”

“Not so” replied Carter “firstly I have some influence in regard to the vigour in which my department pursues a case. In addition Jake here has some ideas in regard to altering your appearance.”

“Plastic surgery?” asked Jasmine.

“Look at the centerfold” said Jake.

Jake smiled and handed across a copy of Playboy magazine. It was dated February 2005. Doing as instructed Jasmine turned to the center fold and opened it. The model was a firmly curvaceous blonde called Suzanne Summers. She had a trim, gym toned torso with a pair of oversized fake tits hanging above it. Reading the shit on the side Jasmine discovered Suzanne was from Indianapolis, loved horses, the Indy 500, reading novels and was hoping to have a career in Hollywood. The eyes were familiar but otherwise it was meaningless.

“You gonna make me look like her?” asked Jasmine.

Jake laughed.

“Fuck no.”

“So how does this help?”

“The chick on the centerfold’s LaTasha, the gal you tasered in the Menards lot last night.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened:

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

Adding to the explanation Carter said:

“Miss Summers or whatever she’s really called had a reasonably successful career as a model. She was also quite the super bitch I hear. One night she went a little too far in a Chicago night club. Losing her temper with a rival model and, unfortunately, killing the poor girl. Unfortunately for Miss Summers the act was caught on the security camera’s. She was acquainted with Jake here. Jake agreed to keep her away from the police and she worked for us.”

“You want me to get fat like that?”

“Jake has a fetish for feeding women” explain Carter.

“Can’t help myself” chuckled Jake.

“Fuck me” groaned Jasmine.

“We’ll leave you to think it over.”

“What about Mike?” asked Jasmine.

“Mike will be your first job” said Carter with a wink.

The two men departed leaving Jasmine alone. She slumped down and tried to assess the situation. There was little choice as she saw it. If these guys turned her lose she was going to do time. Jake would just hand her to Carter and she’d be arrested. Fifteen years in an Iowa jail and then a trip back to Boston for whatever else they could pin on her. Six corrupt years in the Boston PD and there was a lot to go on. In total Jasmine figured she was looking at close on thirty years. Alternative was these guys plan. She could disappear into the boondocks and wait for the heat to cool off. In the circumstances getting fat wasn’t such a bad plan. Eventually she could cut lose from these guys and do her own thing. Short term a few years lying low in Cedar Rapids was the best deal on the table.

An hour later the door opened and Jake stepped in. He was carrying a large McDonalds bag.

“You thought it through?”

“Yeah” nodded Jasmine “you got a deal.”

“Cool.”

Jake handed across the McDonalds.

“Eat this an’ I’ll be back. Your gonna fix up that friend of yours in the hospital.”

“How?”

“Injection.”

“Shit.”

“Eat up and I’ll be back.”

The door closed again and Jasmine opened the food pack. It was full of Big Mac’s, chicken nuggets, fries and milk shake. She closed her eyes and wondered just how the hell she’d got into this mess. Systematically she ran through year’s worth of crime. Eventually it had caught up with her. Opening the bag she pulled out a Big Mac and took a bite. It was a taste Jasmine figured she was going to get very used to.
 

samster

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Chapter 6



4pm and Jaz, as Jasmine was now called, was stood in the elevator at Memorial Hospital next to LaTasha, aka Miss February 2005. They were both dressed in nurse’s uniforms. Both were scared. Jaz was about to prove she was part of the crew and LaTasha was making up for the previous nights screw ups. Either way it was bad for Mike McAllister. Both were carrying nurses bags which contained syringes that were full of a substance that meant Mike would never talk. There was one shot for each arm. The pair had been told not to worry about the head doctor, he was bought and paid for, and walk straight past the cop. He wasn’t going to notice anything. LaTasha didn’t get why that would be but after Jaz’s meeting with Carter she got it.

Added to the risk of what they were doing there was real tension between the two fake nurses. Just the previous night LaTasha had tried to run Jaz down with her SUV and Jaz had then tasered LaTasha. It was a sore point. Neither wanted to work together but Jake pointed out any of the other guys on his crew would look kinda freaky as nurses. So he’d sent his two girls on this job.

“I’ve still fuckin’ spasms after that taser thing you shot me with” snapped LaTasha.

“Fuck you fat bitch!”

“He’s feedin’ you up too” countered LaTasha with a prod to Jaz’s stuffed middle.

“Whatever.”

The elevator doors opened and the two stepped out. Jaz was grateful for LaTasha’s slow waddle. Her own belly was crammed full with more McDonalds than she’d ever eaten in her life. It was swelling out from her trim frame like a miniature basketball. Glancing at her reflection in the passing surgery room windows Jaz smiled. She looked very different already. Her short, jet black hair was hidden by a long, platinum blonde wig and she was sporting heavy make-up with pumped up lips. Not a total change but enough to avoid any unwanted attention.

Switching her mind to business she looked down the corridor. The room was easy to find. A short, stout cop was sat outside. He was resting back on a stool; half asleep. Otherwise the corridor was empty. Almost like the doctor in charge had called all staff in for an impromptu meeting. Which he had done. In return the good doctor had a hefty drug debt written off like it never existed.

“I don’t like that cop bein’ there” whispered LaTasha.

“Don’t worry about him.”

“How the fuck can’t I worry about a cop?”

“Trust me its cool.”

“How do you know?”

“Jake told me” replied Jaz, deciding not to mention the Commissioner Carter angle. Clearly LaTasha didn’t know about that.

“Jake tells what suits Jake to tell.”

“I know all about your deal, Miss February” whispered Jaz.

LaTasha bit her lip and nodded. Then she said:

“Jake told me about your deal too.”

“So we’re in this shit together” said Jaz.

“Yeah.”

“So let’s get our asses in there, shoot whatever stuff’s in these syringes into him and haul ass outta here.”

“I’m with ya there babes” nodded LaTasha.

Seeing the two approaching the cop slouched even further down on his stool and closed his eyes. Whatever was about to happen he wasn’t going to see it. Jaz and LaTasha stepped into the room. Mike was motionless on the bed; his face still battered and bruised. Neither woman paid him much attention. Both reached into their bags and produced the syringe. Following the instructions Jake had given they pushed the needle into the main vein and pressed down. Slowly they watched the liquid disappear. As soon as it was gone they almost threw the syringes back in their bags and headed out of the door.

“Good day to you ladies” said the cop as they stepped into the corridor.

“Go fuck yourself” snapped Jaz.

“Asshole” added LaTasha.

Jaz wanted to run like hell but she kept her pace steady. A nurse running down a corridor might attract attention. LaTasha was getting out of breath. Controlled walking for Jaz was full pace for the fattened up former model. Relieved they reached the elevator, pressed the button and waited. Inside the elevator was full. Neither Jaz nor LaTasha spoke until they made it to the parking garage, got to LaTasha’s SUV and were on the highway heading away from the hospital.

“Oh migawd” sighed Jaz “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“I thought I was gonna barf” laughed LaTasha.

“Me too. All that McDonalds.”

“Get used to it babes.”

“Is Jake serious about that feeding shit?”

“Yeah babe!”

“He likes chick’s fat?”

“Yeah, keep eatin’ and you’ll work out cool.”

“”What if I don’t eat?”

“Never piss Jake off.”

“I’m getting that message.”

“He’s a total bad ass.”

“He’s kinda hot” laughed Jaz.

“Totally! He’s got a huge dick!”

“Really?”

“You see it soon, I’ll betcha”

Jaz laughed and looked out of the window. Slowly Cedar Rapids was approaching. The unspectacular downtown skyline dominated by the industrial complex and the Sheraton hotel. Closing her eyes Jaz reflected. What a difference three days makes. She tried to push Boston from her head. That was another world.


----------------------

Six months later, Saturday evening and Jaz was driving north along I-380 towards Cedar Rapids. So far the deal with Jake had worked out okay. After the hospital contract on Mike McAllister he’d handed over twenty thousand dollars cash and sorted her a condo out. Then he’d splurged on the plastic surgery and backed off some. He was keeping her round the club until he trusted her. That made Jaz nervous. Hanging round a strip club and guys checked her out; somebody might notice she was the Boston cop wanted on for drug running, assault and corruption. Fox had even included her in ‘America’s Most Wanted’.

Eventually as part of the expansion plan into Iowa City he’d acquired a nearly new Cadillac Escalade from a carjacker down in Miami and had Jaz running hookers round town. It was the exact same job description as LaTasha; take calls from John’s, book appointment, keep the girls in line and never get out of the truck unless you’re back at the club.

There was a time when Jaz would have kicked and screamed at the instruction. But she’d undergone a lot of changes. She had long jet black hair, a bronzed fake tan, lips so pumped with collagen they looked like a permanent bee sting and a pair of extreme breast implants. Several months under Jake’s feeding regime and the pounds were starting to pile on. There was a never ending supply of calorie laden fast food around. At first she tried to resist but eventually Jaz had given in and accepted the inevitable. The result was she was beginning to blow up like a junk food filled balloon.

She pulled off at the Eastern Iowa Airport exit and turned right at the intersection and towards the airport. Next to her sat a petite brunette with breast implants and a thick eastern European accent. Jaz turned into the Ramada lot and drove slowly past the room doors. She stopped outside number three hundred and forty.

The girl opened the door and stepped down.

“Two hours” said Jaz.

“Yes” replied the girl.

“Any more you take cash and call me, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck it up and I’ll call Duke.”

“Okay.”

“Fat bitch” muttered the girl under her breath as she walked towards the motel room door, knocked and stepped inside. Jaz turned the wheel and drove a slow arc out of the lot. She had an almost hour long break between pick up. Pulling her Nokia out from the center console she dialled her partner’s number.

“Hey fat bitch!” said Jaz as LaTasha picked up.

“Screw you bent cop”

“Where ya at?”

“Executive Inn, just dropped off two of them Asian chicks.”

“Meetcha at the McDonalds off 380?”

“Lazy bitch” countered LaTasha “its like miles for me.”

“I want their apple pie.”

“Okay babes, you’re the only who’s gotta get fat quick” said LaTasha.

“Yeah, only cos you already got there” countered Jaz.

Accelerating out of the lot Jaz drove across the highway and into the McDonalds lot. Sitting in the drive thru she ordered two Big Mac meals, three apple pies and a milk shake. Grabbing her massive order she drove to the edge of the lot, reversed into her space so she could see the lot entrance and took her first bite of burger. She waited ten minutes until LaTasha’s black Yukon appeared. LaTasha went through the same process before stopping in the bay next to Jaz. There instructions were strictly stay in their trucks but the two figured they could hang out together for breaks. Stepping down from her Yukon, LaTasha waddled round with her McDonalds bag and boosted herself up into the passenger seat of Jaz’s Escalade.

Greedily LaTasha gulped down her double quarter pounder with cheese. Then moved onto the chicken nuggets and finally onto the fries. Across from her Jaz kept pace. The burgers out of the way they ate fries washed down with soda.

“I was on America’s Most freakin’ Wanted last night” said Jaz as she munched fries.

“Yeah I saw it babes.”

“Freaked me out.”

“Yeah, has Jake sorted your fake ID and driving licence?”

“Yeah.”

LaTasha took a long slurp of strawberry milkshake and said:

“Nobody’s gonna recognise ya now babes.”

“I guess” replied Jaz.

“You look totally….ummmm….hot.”

Both Jaz and LaTasha bit their bulging collagen lips. They had so much injected into them they sometimes hurt. Working for Jake was frustrating. He was a selfish man. He expected servicing regularly but never returned the favour. Instead he preferred to leave his women frustrated and horny.

“Does Jake ever fuck ya?” asked Jaz.

“Noooooooooooo, I just suck.”

“Me too.”

“I haven’t had sex in like over a year” groaned LaTasha, her eyes fixing on Jaz.

“I’m so freakin’ horny.”

“Me too babes.”

Reaching across LaTasha grabbed hold of Jaz’s giant, planet sized tits and popped them clean out of her low cut top. Despite their size they hung hard and firm like the giant saline and fat packed orbs they were. She pulled and tweaked her nipples until Jaz squealed. Then she reached into the McDonalds bag, took out one of the apple pies and stuffed it into Jaz’s open mouth. Boosting herself across the heavier LaTasha pushed her partner against the seat and stuffed another apple pie between her lips.

Jaz played along. The former Miss February was a good eighty pounds heavier but she was also softer and dumber. Back when LaTasha had been posing for Playboy magazine, Jaz had been undergoing hand to hand combat training at the Boston police department. It was only a matter of time before the tables turned. After watching Jaz gulp down another apple pie LaTasha popped the buttons on her too tight jeans and pushed them down. Boosting herself on the seat, her fat ass cheeks spread in the air she pushed her crotch towards Jaz and mounted her face. The horny as hell Jaz obliged and began to eat LaTasha’s sweet center. With LaTasha bucking and thrashing an idea popped into Jaz’s head. It was mean as hell but she liked it.

She still had her police taser. Pulling the device from under her seat she pushed the nozzle hard between LaTasha’s fat ass cheeks. LaTasha froze.

“What the fuck” gasped LaTasha.

“I got my taser out.”

“Oh shit…”

LaTasha’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she looked back into the empty rear of the SUV. She couldn’t believe the position she was in. Spread across a woman who’d just appeared on America’s Most Wanted with a taser stuck up her ass. Problem was with LaTasha’s line of work was you never knew if the other was playing or they were about to pull the trigger.

“Fat bitch” said Jaz.

“Don’t taser my ass” protested LaTasha.

“See those milkshakes?”

“Yeah.”

“Grab em and drink em or your ass gets tasered.”

“But I…”

“Just do it.”

Reaching down to the cup holders LaTasha took hold of the oversized strawberry milkshake cup and began gulping it down. She was scared and on the brink of an orgasm at the same time. As LaTasha chugged down the milkshake Jaz kept the taser up her ass and moved her tongue back between blondie’s legs. LaTasha closed her eyes and moaned. She was on the brink of an orgasm but she daren’t buck and thrash. One wrong move and her ass got fried; literally.

With the milkshake drained LaTasha squeaked to climax. Underneath Jaz had the former Playboy Playmates juices running down her face. She thought about the taser. It was set on the lowest power setting. An evil smile crossed Jaz’s face.

Above her and LaTasha’s fat body was still quivering and jiggling as the orgasm ran through her. She wanted to flop down but dare not move. Then she felt the jab of electric currents. LaTasha’s jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. Then she lost neuromuscular control and flopped down onto Jaz, her fat ass slamming against the steering wheel and honking the horn and then down onto the passenger well. The shock only lasted seconds. Jaz threw the stun gun into back seat. LaTasha tried to recover herself. She’d just experienced pure pleasure and pain.

“Fuck that hurt…” groaned LaTasha.

“I couldn’t resist” laughed Jaz

“That was hot.”

“Please and pain.”

“Totally.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Boosting herself up in the seat she wriggled out of her black lycra pants and Jaz spread her legs. LaTasha dove in. Groping down Jaz squeezed LaTasha’s swollen tits hard. Quickly Jaz made it to climax, screamed and then felt herself relax. From between her legs LaTasha rose and kissed Jaz’s bee stung lips. In a surprising show of affection the two made out. Only Jaz’s ringing cells phone broke them up.

“Yes” said the former Boston PD cop into the Nokia.

“This is Frankie, what girls you got on tonight?”

“Hey Frankie!” chirped Jaz “we’ve got some total hotties on tonight, Candy from…”

Whilst Jaz made the booking LaTasha rolled over the center console, across the discarded McDonalds wrappers, and fixed herself up. After a struggle she managed to get her jeans back up and the opened the passenger door. Her ass still hurt. Glancing over at Jaz she said:

“Later babes.”

Jaz winked and nodded. She watched as LaTasha made her way back to her Yukon and then drove out of the lot. As she took the booking from Frankie she wondered what kind of strange parallel universe she’d dropped into. Whatever; she was starting to like it. Sure as hell beat doing time at the Iowa State Penitentiary. She got to indulge the many dark sides of her personality.

To be continued….
 
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