Cops debased

The temperatures were soaring even at this late time of night as Officers Hernandez and Evangelou drove through the city. Having totalled their squad car the week before in a high-speed chase the cops had been issued with the department’s clunker and the lack of air conditioning meant that both men were pitted out with sweat in the summertime heat.

“Pull over John, I need somethin’ to drink – this heat is bustin’ my balls”

John Evangelou sighed and pulled the battered cruiser in alongside an all-night diner. He looked across at his partner as Ricky climbed out of the car, noting the sweat stain down his broad back and at the top of his ass, and shifted in his seat pulling his back away from the cloying plastic so his own sweat might cool.

Ricky entered the diner and sauntered to the counter where he began a spirited conversation with the pretty young thing who came over to serve him. John watched the interaction for a few moments then lost interest and scanned the streets idly. Heat like tonight always made the city cranky; people were always slightly more hair-trigger and reactions always more extreme. John hoped that tonight would pass uneventfully and that, in a few hours, he and Ricky would have finished their shift without incident and would be working out in the gym at the stationhouse as was their custom.

Ricky came back to the car laden with drinks – soda for himself and root beers for John. He handed the drinks through the window and then climbed in with his usual fuss, puffing and grunting. John smiled to himself. Everything Ricky did was accompanied by puffing and grunting. The man took up more space than most people, partly because he was actually bigger than most people, width-wise anyway. Ricky was 5 feet 10 tall but, thanks to his almost obsessive workouts, he was broad and very well-muscled. Ricky’s shirts always strained to hold his chest and biceps and his pants were stretched as taut as they could be, without splitting, by his thighs whenever he sat.

Ricky Hernandez’ expressive personality filled up any other available space around him and people always warmed to him – even now when he looked like shit in the hot, leaden air of the night.

John was the quieter of the two. Taller than Ricky by a couple of inches his muscles didn’t stand out as much but he was definitely someone you would describe as beefy if you saw him on the street. People, including Ricky, always saw John as the brains of the team but Evangelou knew only too well how bright his partner was and the two men had been through enough scrapes in their careers to function as a well-oiled partnership. Neither man would feel safe without the other at his back.

The night crept onwards as the two cops cruised around the city streets waiting for the despatch call to come that would rouse them from the torpid heat and get their adrenalin pumping. Empty soda cups littered the floor of the car.

At around one in the morning, the two men were driving through the warehouse district when John abruptly pulled the car over.

“Hang on – I really need a piss buddy” he was grabbing at his crotch even as he put the car into park.

“Thought I could hold on ’til we hit another diner but no such luck and now I’m desperate!”

Ricky laughed at his friend’s discomfort and said,

“You’re not the only one dude – those damn sodas have gone right through me. Looks like we’re gonna have to find a quiet wall. A nice distance apart though – I don’t want to have to see your junk”

In spite of his urgency, Evangelou laughed

“You shouldn’t be looking anyway – you know you only get upset when you compare”

“Fuck you dude!” Ricky exited the car and both men looked around the deserted streets for an alcove in which to relieve themselves. In the end, Ricky stayed on the main drag while John scurried off down a darkened alleyway between the big brick warehouses.

Ricky trotted up to a recess in a nearby building and unzipped his flies. He was about to pull out his dick when he heard a noise and a muffled sound which, even though quiet, froze his blood and stilled him. The sound came from the alley down which his partner had just run. Zipping up his flies he reached for his gun and shouted.

“John! You okay buddy?” No response came from the darkened mouth of the alley and Ricky couldn’t see his partner in the gloom. He cursed under his breath. The flashlight was back in the car and he didn’t want to waste time if something was going down. He stepped into the alleyway.

“Police officer here! Evangelou, sound off!” Silence greeted him and he flicked the safety off his gun and entered cautiously. He’d gone about 20 yards when he was suddenly blinded as a sodium lamp went on above him. He brought his hands up to his eyes to shield them and, as he lowered them, Ricky was suddenly aware of a guy leaning against the wall ahead of him smoking a cigarette. Of John, there was no sign.

“Hey, you there! Seen another officer round here?” The guy jerked his thumb and Ricky realised that there was a door in the wall next to the guy, partly hidden by his shadow. He approached cautiously at first, still slightly spooked, but soon relaxed as he heard loud music coming from behind the door. It was evidently a club; they often popped up in the warehouse district, and his buddy must have gone inside to use the can.

Feeling vaguely foolish Ricky holstered his gun. Drawing closer to the guy, Ricky looked at him quizzically and the guy smiled and gestured economically with his head that all were welcome. Ricky pushed open the unmarked door and stepped inside.

He was assailed by the thumping beat of hard house music and the flashing strobe of the lighting and it took Officer Hernandez’ vision a couple of seconds to acclimate. The heat was intense and the place was packed out with jumping, writhing bodies. Dry ice and smoke made visibility even worse and it took Ricky a couple of seconds to notice that something was slightly off about the scene in front of him. He could smell the alcohol, smoke, and sweat common to any club in town at this time of night but there was another scent in the air that was familiar yet out of place. He realised what it was only as his eyes registered the cages suspended around the big room.

There were about 6 of them – giant birdcages in which, Ricky knew, generally young women wearing very little would dance and grind for the entertainment of those around them. Not so here and he had to look again to be sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Each cage held a guy wearing a massive diaper and little else. The men in the cages were active but their movements were jerky and uncoordinated. Transfixed; Ricky moved closer to one of the hanging cages, oblivious to the group of guys that had come together and were closing in behind him through the throng.

The man in the cage was naked apart from the diaper and the reason for his awkwardness was clear. His arms were pinioned up behind his back and chained to a thick leather collar that encircled his neck. He was gagged with a massive ball that must have been stretching his jaw painfully. The guy’s diaper was severely stained both back and front and looked very heavy – implying a lot of use and, as Ricky watched, the guy, with sweat pouring off him, turned and locked eyes with the cop.

The guy’s eyes widened in recognition of the uniform and he started trying to yell for help through the gag. Ricky saw the look of terror on the helpless guy’s face and pushed forward through the bodies around him to get to the cage. He now realised what the smell was that had seemed so familiar. It was a combination of human effluent masked by the heavy aroma of baby powder.

Just as Ricky reached the base of the cage the lights at the back of the room brightened painfully and he looked in that direction to see what was happening. Ricky could make out a raised stage at the back end of the room and the lights that had come on were bathing it in searing white light and illuminating the lone figure present there.

“Holy fuck!!” It was John Evangleou and he looked in a bad way. Ricky’s fellow officer was slumped awkwardly in what appeared to be just the frame of a chair and it looked like he was tied to it by leather straps around his chest, neck and ankles. John’s arms were, Ricky assumed, secured behind his back and he too sported a large ball gag in his mouth. A bruise on John’s sweaty forehead told Ricky all he needed to know and he barged forward, reaching for his gun. He didn’t even see what struck him but suddenly he felt a sharp thud against the side of his head and he was unconscious before he hit the filthy floor.

The pain in Officer Hernandez’ head matched the thudding of the music for a while before he came to enough to open his eyes. He groaned as he took in the scene in front of him.

Both Ricky and his colleague, Officer John Evangelou, were lashed to chairs on a big stage and brightly lit by blinding spotlights. Ricky tested his bonds but they were very secure and he was tied at his ankles, chest, and neck to the chair in such a way that his feet were drawn back and his thick thighs spread. His wrists were also tied to the chair and he could do nothing to pull them free. The chair itself had only the frame of the back and seat but no upholstery or support for Ricky’s butt. It was clearly bolted to the stage as no amount of struggling produced any movement. His jaw ached and he realised, with a muffled groan, that he was also gagged with a large rubber ball, held in place with a thick leather strap.

He looked across at his buddy and saw in John’s eyes a level of exhaustion from his efforts to escape and fear at their current situation. Both men were placed side by side and facing out into the club and they could vaguely see, beyond the spotlight that illuminated them, people were focusing their attention on the two hapless cops. Both men had sweat running down their muscular frames, drenching their regulation issue shirts.

John, always the calmer of the two men, was assessing the situation. Clearly, these people revelling in front of them were far too drunk to realise that assaulting and detaining a Law Enforcement Officer was ultimately going to get them into some deep shit. He knew he had to wait this awful situation out until help arrived or people came to their senses. He had tried to reason with those in the crowd closest to him but the combination of the gag and the noise levels in the club meant that his pleas fell on deaf, and probably unsympathetic, ears. He remained fearful of what these people might do to them but, now that his initial adrenaline rush had died down a little, Officer Evangelou was becoming painfully aware of another, more pressing need. He was desperate for the piss he’d not had a chance to take about 40 minutes ago. In fact, the more he thought about it the more he really needed to relieve himself. He moaned in frustration and tugged ineffectually against his bindings.

He worried that; if he couldn’t hold on, his splayed position due to the way his legs were pulled apart by the straps would make any accident obvious to the watching crowd. It was bad enough that both men’s groins were pretty much eye-level and on display to the revellers and, he finally noticed with a shudder of revulsion, the only people he could see leering at him at the front of the stage were men.

Sweat stung his eyes as John turned and looked over at Ricky. Both men were looking rough by this point and, as John tried to silently reassure his colleague, he saw Ricky looking down at his own crotch and realised that they were both in the same predicament. Sudden anger in Ricky’s eyes made John turn his head to see what was happening. A group of about 5 men were walking onto the stage and towards the helpless officers. They carried a lot of camera equipment and other, unidentifiable, machinery and leads.

Without even acknowledging the two cops thrashing and grunting at them, the men set to work and soon both officers were surrounded by cameras; about five trained on each of them and at points that made both men more nervous than ever. As far as John could tell the cameras were trained on their groins, faces, and, at a slight distance, their whole body. There was however a camera placed under what would have been the seat of the chairs and focusing up, on their butts and another one was assembled behind each man – out of sight.

Ricky struggled to break free as the men fixed microphones to the leather collars they were wearing and trailed the leads back to join the other cabling at what looked like an impromptu DJ station at the side of the stage.

One of the men then approached the officers with a medical bag and withdrew a syringe from it. He approached Officer Evangelou who was now screaming into his gag and yanking furiously on the leather straps to get away from whatever the needle held in store. John’s nose flared as he sucked in air and sweat was flung in arcs away from his head as he thrashed in his bonds. It did him no good and the man calmly injected him with the golden solution in the syringe. Ricky also struggled, to no avail, and soon he too was dosed up with the mystery medication.

Suddenly the crowd went wild, cheering and screaming at the stage. Both officers realised that the assembled throng wasn’t looking at them anymore however and it dawned on them that the cameras were televising their predicament onto massive screens behind the two captives. It seemed horribly as if the entire warehouse was now focused on the two sweaty, muscular men and Ricky also finally noticed that there were no women present among the partygoers.

Both men started feeling the effects of the injection at about the same time. This manifested as a slow-spreading heat that started at their chests. Ricky could feel his nipples harden under his shirt and any movement that allowed the fabric to brush against them seemed only to inflame them more and sent spiralling sensations of arousal throughout the buff officer’s frame. He looked over at his buddy and could see that John was having the same problem.

The languid heat then moved down and, in spite of his current predicament, he found himself becoming hard in his pants. Trapped by his underwear his dick was becoming painfully engorged and he tried to move a little in his restraints to free it. Ricky could tell by the responses of the crowd that they knew what was going on and they practically cheered as he finally managed to achieve a position that allowed his dick to straighten. He risked a glance at Officer Evangelou and saw that he too was clearly in the same boat; using what little wriggle room the bonds allowed to gain a bit of relief.

Looking down Ricky realised with horror that his dick was now tenting the fabric of his pants and no amount of movement or attempting to defocus from the sensations coursing through him were working to hide his embarrassment. In fact, any movement at all just served to inflame his ardour and he found himself adjusting his position just to have the material of his underwear rub tantalisingly against his throbbing cock. He groaned lustily in spite of himself and was shocked to hear the groan broadcast around the warehouse above even the volume of the thumping music that still played on. The next groan that echoed out across the crowd was John’s and Ricky realised that the microphones were on and broadcasting their torment for all to hear.

John was also in a quandary of unwanted arousal and he glanced to one side and realised that neither man could hide their excited state from the cameras and the many voyeurs watching their sexual debasement. He frantically willed his erection to go away but with each pulse of blood through his dick he became even more stimulated and he was appalled when he realised that without even knowing he was doing it, he was practically grinding his dick against the confines of his underwear to gain relief.

Both men were aware that they should have been imploring the crowd through their gags to free them but they could only moan in rhythmic ecstasy as they became harder and harder – their tortured grunts and groans broadcast loud and wide and ringing in their own ears as an added humiliation.

Suddenly Ricky became aware that the cries from his colleague pinioned beside him had changed in intensity and were cries of pain. He looked over at John just in time to see that his buddy had lost control and was pissing himself. Urine shot from John’s dick at such pressure that it sprayed through the fabric of his tented pants and arced to the stage floor in front of the helpless cop. The crowd went wild but Ricky, who knew the pain of the occasional piss erection, watched; horrified at the agony on his fellow officer’s face and knowing that he too would soon face similar a similar ordeal. That was unless he shamed himself by coming in his pants before he lost control of his bladder – the thought of either occurrence made him shudder. John continued to spray his piss but now it was beginning to ebb a little,

“Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh” John’s pants were visibly darkened by his piss and there was no mistaking what he had just done. The wet fabric glistened as it was pulled taut by his pulsing dick and even from his vantage point, Ricky could now see the throbbing of John’s member as it strained against the soaking wet material. Even with this distraction Ricky was still, almost unconsciously, fidgeting in his chair to gain friction against his own priapic member and grant himself some much-needed relief. John’s breathing was ragged and the warehouse could hear his pained sighs as the flow finally ended.

“Heb ud! Bees heb ud!” Ricky shouted to the crowd against his gag. He was aware that he also was desperate and that his own pee, perhaps set off by watching Officer Evangelou’s recent loss of control, was well on the way. A glance at John confirmed that just urinating did not give relief from the stimulant they had been given. John’s dick was as hard as ever and he was squirming in his chair, trying to coax his dick to the point of orgasm and relief from his hellish endeavours.

“Oh doe!!” Ricky cried out as he too lost the battle and he began to piss a geyser of urine that immediately corrupted his tight pants and jetted from his practically vertical dick and onto the stage. The pain was excruciating as the pressure of his piss forced its way down his engorged cock and he yelled his anguish around the room for all to hear. The crowd were going crazy by this point. Ricky noticed a guy at the front of the stage had pulled out his own hard-on and was wanking furiously while watching the degraded cop piss himself.

Soon Ricky too had drained his bladder but it gave him no relief, such was his need to come. He shifted in his chair, feeling the sopping fabric of his pants and underwear rub against his member and fuelling his frantic desire for release. Next to him, he could see John practically bucking in his bondage, his grunts amplified by the speakers around the room. Soon neither of the red-faced, sweaty men cared about their audience or the shamefulness of their situation and both were rhythmically thrusting and groaning as they tried ever-harder to gain the necessary momentum to achieve a much-needed orgasm.

About ten minutes had passed when, almost simultaneously, the next torture began.

John felt a sudden dull thud in his stomach, like a heavy lurch, which drew a grunt of surprised discomfort from the sweaty cop. His need to gain release for his engorged (and now quite sore) dick was almost immediately forgotten as he became aware of a pressure building within him and a heaviness that sent a flicker of terror through him and acted like a splash of freezing water across his face. He suddenly became, for the first time in about twenty minutes, acutely aware of his current dilemma and the baying crowd. He was mortified to think that he’d completely forgotten where he was and that he had been humping his own sodden pants with a massive erection in front of a warehouse full of men. He moaned in abject embarrassment – which further added to his humiliation as it was echoed out around the club and he remembered that they had been listening to the soundtrack of his own ardour, without any reserve on his part, throughout the process of his trying to get off.

Next to him Ricky’s grunts of effort to cum illustrated perfectly the level to which both men had sunk and, as John listened, Ricky too suddenly let out a yelp of shock that let John know that, whatever was to come, this was also to be a shared indignity for both men. He watched as Ricky too broke out of his sexually frustrated haze and looked across at him with a level of fear in his eyes.

“Ed ud ohh! Bees! Ee eed arthoom! Bees heb ud!” Officer Hernandez thrashed against the straps that held him so securely on display, his dick still massively tenting the fabric of his work pants as he pleaded with the crowd to free the helpless men. As he wrenched against his bonds he let out a large fart that reverberated around the room and caused no small amount of glee from those men whose faces the cops could see at the front of the stage.

It was obvious that a microphone had also been affixed somewhere near their buttocks and, as the pressure mounted in John’s own rectum, he remembered the cameras placed directly below the seat-less chairs on which they were held. It all became horribly clear to him and he screamed into his own hated gag.

“Eb ud go! Ooo caah oo ih oo ud!!” His bowels felt horribly bloated and, looking down at himself, he could see that he looked distended also. He could also see and feel that his dick had not softened one iota during this new ordeal and he could not understand why he was still hard given his new, more pressing, needs. The medication must have had something else in it to bring on this effect for both men in such an out-of-the-blue way.

John could feel the heaviness of the weight inside of him and knew that it would be only minutes before he lost control and soiled himself, on film, for the crowd of perverts in front of him. He could not move to gain any relief as cramps started throughout his bowels and his massive load moved ever closer to its inevitable, and appallingly public, excretion.

Ricky was now fighting with the urge to shit. He felt ridiculously full and cried out as spasms wracked his body, their frequency increasing with each painful urge. He could hear his colleague grunting and farting next to him and the crowd shouting their encouragement. He spied several of the onlookers now openly masturbating as they watched the screens behind both men, evidently waiting for the moment when they pushed a load out into their already wet briefs and pants. Another spasm hit and Ricky could feel a massive log try to crown. By sheer force of will, he managed to clamp down and pull it painfully back in but he knew it would only be a short respite.

Sweat ran down his face and he looked down in disbelief at his, still throbbing, dick – wondering how on earth he was experiencing such a hard-on while simultaneously frantic to void his overstuffed bowel.

Officer Evangelou moaned in pain as his own load tried to escape and he laboured loudly to control himself. He could feel a massive log pushing its way out and he relaxed for a microsecond before bearing down to stop the flow. The reaction of the crowd in front of him made it abundantly clear (even if he hadn’t felt the turd push out against the fabric of his pants) – he was not only touching cloth but he hadn’t managed to pull the monster all the way back in and he could feel the knob of shit that had made it out into his briefs.

It was obvious the crowd could clearly see it too so there was no hope that he could avoid their noticing. He was red-faced from all his exertions but now he flamed the red that only embarrassment can bring as he realised that he had pooped his pants in front of hundreds of people and that soon he would be loading them. A tear ran down his cheek as the humiliation of his situation became too much for the hardened cop.

John looked over at Ricky just as the crowd went crazy again. Ricky’s brow was furrowed as he fought to maintain control and he strained to keep his own load from noisy expulsion. John had seen the look before when they worked out together – the effort of man versus himself.

Sadly, as John watched, Ricky too lost some control and John could see Ricky’s pants-butt suddenly distend through the legs of the chair. Like John, Ricky was still fighting his appalling need and, as John watched, the lump in the seat of Ricky’s pants diminished a little but not enough and it was evident that he too was losing his own battle.

Another, harsh, spasm hit John and he felt the monster emerge again. He tried to stop it but couldn’t clench enough and was too exhausted from previous efforts and punishments to hold out for long. As he groaned in a mixture of (amplified) shame and relief he felt himself let go and the, oh-so-heavy, shit slowly pushed its way out. He could feel his pants and briefs fill and stretch to try and accommodate the new load – even pulling the fabric so taut that his still-hard dick was aroused again. Still the load came, pushing out his pants to the point that there was no give left in them at which point it started to spread – both up and under his aching balls and up the crack of his butt.

He looked, through tears, to one side and could see Ricky watching with horrified fascination as the endless log bulged obscenely. As he watched, Ricky too was hit by another spasm and he too lost his fight – loudly grunting and farting as his own load slowly, inexorably bloated out his regulation officers’ pants. Soon both men had forgotten the crowd again as they became lost in their need to evacuate their overstuffed bowels.

For the crowd watching, the sight of the two muscular officers slowly dumping into their soiled pants was driving them to almost mania and the cheers increased in volume with every anguished grunt and fart from the defenceless men as the bulges in their pants grew ever larger. Eventually, both officers sat, exhausted, in their own stinking waste while the crowd catcalled and cheered their utter degradation. The stench of their own waste assailed them.

Two young men walked onto the stage, both wearing only a heavily soiled diaper apiece and both gagged. Both looked scared and they took their places on either side of the befouled cops. They were given some form of cue that neither John nor Ricky could see but, as one, they both bent down and grabbed one of the hapless officers’ dicks through the fabric of their wet uniforms.

“Doe! Doe! Bees top!” Both Ricky and John cried out as, with only one yank, their stiff pricks were reanimated and their need to come rekindled. The two guys in diapers did indeed stop and both retreated from the stage leaving the two officers alone again and the focus of the crowd who were eagerly awaiting their next humiliation.

Ricky could feel himself building to orgasm and found himself, again, bucking against the chair to try and rub one out against the soaking fabric of his pants. As he rocked, tears of mortification streamed down his anguished face. He could feel his own, still hot, shit squishing up against him. He saw John doing the same and watched, grossly mesmerised, as John thrashed in his bonds, the obscene bulge in his pants hanging low and providing extra tension on his erect dick that was still massively tenting the fabric of his groin. Even the knowledge that Ricky too was presenting his own erection and hideous bulge to the crowd couldn’t stop him from seeking his own relief.

“Bees heb ud!!! – Uhhh, uhh, oohh” Almost simultaneously, tearfully, both came, floods of sperm, into their fouled underwear. The wet fabric clearly showed their emissions as the jism forced its way through the cloth; reflecting the light with its sticky wetness. Both men were screaming out in the ecstasy of their release but it was only a matter of moments until their spent heads hung low as tears ran down both officers faces freely. Their shame and humiliation before the crowd of strangers was complete.

The lights onstage went down.