IDA: THE GOLD-HEARTED COPPER                 by: Roy Del Frink

 

10:30 AM:

Well, it seems I, Officer Colin O’Brien, have my first case for the day. Actually, it’s not a case so much as an order of business. The longest arm of the law in the city, Police Chief Billy Vincent, has asked me to investigate this escort service called "International Dating Agency." He feels an organization which allows men to pay money for sex is illegal prostitution, even if the sex is optional and consensual, and the women provide other services. I disagree, but it’s my job to uphold the law, so I’m stuck with the case. Still, I’ve been there before, and the owner seems like a nice guy. He even treats his employees with more respect than many bosses in the corporate world. I don’t wanna arrest him and bust the business, but that’s the assignment. Oh, well. I’m writing this in my officer’s notebook so that, should I fail, I can explain why I did what I did.

 

11 AM:

Have arrived at IDA headquarters. I met the owner and some of his "employees." Contrary to my expectations, the ladies are not sex-crazed bimbos. In fact, only one, an Italian named Rosita, seems unable to control her urges. The rest are all beautiful, but smart and eager to please. Any one of them seems like a good dinner mate, or even wife. But I really like the Irish lady, Erin Flannegan. She looks pretty, but she’s also presentable to your family. Most important, she speaks English fluently. Most of the other ladies are foreigners (hence the "International" part of the name), and they know little more than their native tongue. And I’ve always had a thing for Irish women, coming from an Irish-American family myself. So what I have to do pains me even more.

I walk over to the manager, and tell him, "I’m sorry, but I’ll have to shut down your business. The chief of police thinks you’re a bad example, and you’re under arrest for prostitution, abasement of women, public lewdness, and general promotion of indecent values. You have the right to remain silent, " I added, strapping the handcuffs around his wrists. "If you waive the-"

"WHAT!" he yells at me. "I’ve been trying to obey the law to the letter. I’ve even gone out of my way to avoid any chance of sexual harassment. And this is how they repay me? I should have known something like this was gonna happen. Would you please take me to headquarters?"

I look at him, stunned. "Of course. That’s where the jail is."

He replies, "Then take me there!"

I read this fellow the rest of his Miranda rights, then leave for the station. I’m surprised he WANTS to be turned in. Still, it’s my job, so I do it.

 

Noon

Back at headquarters. The IDA man asks me to remove the handcuffs. Since we’re at the station, there’s no reason not to. It’s part of the job, anyway. He asks me, "Okay, where’s the chief of police?"

Boy, this guys seems awfully bold. He thinks he can beat the rap, even though I’ve never seen anyone in this town get off on public opinion alone. I explain to him he’s in his office at the other end of the building.

"Thanks," he tells me. He starts waving his wands, as if he can cast magic spells or something. I look down for a moment, shaking my head in disbelief. The moment I raise it, I notice he’s gone. Must have made a break for it or something. Oh, well. Another failure for my record. And all I wanted to do was do my job right. Ah, it’s no skin off my back.

 

12:15 PM

Well, looks like this is my final entry. I was fired for letting my suspect escape. I hate this badge and all the corrupt responsibilities that came with it. I’m leaving this at my desk, for anyone who cares to read it. Good riddance!

Boy, I had no idea that Officer O’Brien was really such a nice guy. He tries to get me arrested and my agency shut down, yet all along he was just following orders against his will. A quick aural-residue scan of this notebook confirms his good intentions. I’m gonna have to make it up to him.

Wait a minute, where are my manners? I need to properly introduce myself to the reader. My name is - well, that’s not very important. I can’t even pronounce it correctly without detaching my head. What matters is, I’m the IDA manager. True, I’ve had run-ins with the law before, but I’ve always been able to talk my way out of them. This time, though, I was gonna be arrested, no questions asked. And they were gonna close my little service down in the name of decency. What fools! They should have known that, by giving my ladies a place to work and live, taking care of their room and board, and teaching them to survive without enduring the hardships of homelessness or the ghetto, I’m treating them far more decently than they ever could have managed if they’d been "freed" from my "sex service." And besides, my rules on sex are clear-cut. Any funny business from my customers, and they become my "indentured" servant.

If you wondered what was going on at the station, I have magical powers, all right. I used them to teleport to the Police Chief’s office. I wanted to deal with the law once and for all.

I hid behind a potted palm. Chief Vincent spoke to his top cronies. "... and now that we’ve arrested that sleazy IDA proprietor, this town will become safe for clean-cut men and single women. To family values!"

The others cheered "Hear, hear!" in unison. So much for reasoning with them. I decided to use Plan B.

I emerged from behind the plant, and moved towards the front of Vincent’s desk. "How dare you interrupt our meeting!" he yelled at me.

I added, "How dare you arrest the owner of a perfectly legitimate business as part of a political plot to improve the city’s public image... and launch yourself towards a political career, Vincent!"

The chief stared me in the eye and pointed his index finger straight towards my eyes. "Look, I don’t know how you escaped from Officer O’Brien, or how you entered to my office unseen, but there’s no way you’ll escape a 20-year stint in jail! Men, arrest him before he escapes!"

As they pounced on me, I cast a spell. Every officer in the room except for Vincent became a stripper for the Club Topless in the shady part of town. Of course, I turned every single one of them into an appropriately-endowed female first. Since Vincent was a sexist bastard, all of them were men. Thus several competent but corrupt policemen were turned into sex-crazed dancers for the number-one adult facility in town.

Vincent stared at me in shock. "How the hell did you do that, you freak? Never mind, I’ll arrest you myself! You have the right to-" Before he could finish reading me my rights, I worked my magic on him. I didn’t really need more escorts, so I turned him into a hooker. He lost a foot in height, and most of his muscles. His salt-and-pepper hairstyle became a stylish, lengthy brown running to his tush. Said tush, like the rest of his body, took on a sexy, feminine look. In fact, his breasts were so big, they could serve as flotation devices in the event of an airplane crash. The new woman’s body was flawless and sexy. Any pimp would gladly hire her, for money or for fun. Before I can unleash her on an unsuspecting city, I needed to give her final instructions.

"You are Billie Jean Vintner," I told her. "You are the biggest slut in town. You are 21, and have been whoring for seven years, so you know all the tricks in the trade. You LOVE being a hooker. In fact, you love it so much, you can’t think of anything but sex. You work for Donald the Mac, the baddest, most abusive pimp in town. You are happy, as long as you have men to screw. And you’re even happier when you take on several at once. You can’t get enough of it, and you don’t care where to take it. Police Chief Billy Vincent does not, and has never, existed." Then I released her from my spell.

"Why, hi there, cutie," Billie Jean told me. "Wanna get lucky tonight?" She struts at me sexily, pure lust in her eyes.

"Sorry, dear, but I’m broke."

"I don’t care! Fuck that, just fuck ME!"

"Nope, I can’t. Donald wouldn’t approve. Here, I’m taking you home." I walked to Donald’s apartment building, dropping her off out front. No way I’m dealing with Donald personally. Besides, with the info I’ve planted in her brain, she could find the rest of the way herself.

Now that I’d dealt with Chief Vincent, I didn’t need to bother with anyone else. The new head of police will be a libertarian but honest and fair fellow who won’t give me any trouble. But I still feel I owe something to Colin O’Brien, the policeman who took the fall for my sake. I noticed a phone booth at a nearby street corner. I entered it, flipped through the phone book, and looked for O’Brien’s name. As I hoped, he was listed, and his address was next to his number. I walked through town until I found his place. (I could have teleported there, but I didn’t open for another couple hours, so I had the time. Besides, the spell isn’t as effective if you’ve never been there before.)

Colin greeted me at the door. "Hi. How’d you escape jail?" he asks me.

I told him about my showdown with the chief of police, and asked him, "How can I possibly repay you for your kindness? Can I get you your old job back?"

"Actually," he explained, "I never wanted to be a cop. I got there because the chief of police owed my Dad a favor, and Dad decided my Irish family needed a cop. After all, how many Irish policemen are there? It’d almost be a tragedy NOT to have a cop in the family, he figured. But I never liked the force; too much corruption, and the job took up all my time. I was only a couple weeks from retirement, after forty years on the force. Look at me, man! I’m almost 65, I’ve got more wrinkles than a prune, my hair’s been white for ten years, my bones are getting brittle, I’ve lost the strength of my youth, and my layoff makes me ineligible for the $40,000 pension I’d earned after all those years. But the worst part is, I never got to have kids. I’m probably getting too old to join the dating scene I never entered, and any woman my age is too old to bear my babies anyhow. My parents are both long-dead, and the rest of my family was wiped out in an accident at an O’Brien family reunion two years ago. I don’t have anything but this house, all the meager possessions in it, and a checking account worth about twenty-five bucks." Colin sobbed uncontrollably, not certain what to do.

"Are you sure there isn’t ANYTHING I can do for you? Remember, I’m a magician. And someone as kind as yourself doesn’t deserve to end up like this."

Colin sniffled, wiped his eyes clean, then looked at me. "Well, there is one thing. When I came to the IDA headquarters to arrest you, I noticed a nice young Irish lady named Erin. I’ve always wanted to marry someone from Emerald Isle stock like myself, but I don’t see how she could find me attractive."

"Don’t worry, Colin. I’ve got the perfect fix." I transformed him immediately. His hair darkened into a thick black mane, falling down to his navel. His skin turned smooth and soft, without wrinkles or any other blemish. His eyes were changed from green to hazel, and enlarged. In fact, they’re now bigger than his smaller, daintier nose. His cheekbones and eyebrows also took on sexier, more female shapes and positions. And his lips expanded until they’re about the size and shape of his doe-like eyes, resulting in an extremely attractive lady’s face. He was only about 5 foot 2, so I saw no need to shrink him any further. He did, however, experience a loss of muscle, a gain of body fat in the right places (particularly his hips, butt, and pectoral region), and a loss of body hair. When I finished with him, he was nothing less than a stunning beauty.

"What did you do to me?" she asks in a melodious soprano with clear Irish overtones.

"I’ve turned you into the sort of thing Erin enjoys most. I never told you, but she prefers other women. She does, however, enjoy men, and will open up to them if she feels right. Don’t worry about yourself; you’re now Colleen O’Brien, a 22-year-old second-generation Irish-American. You’re more secure financially than you’ve ever been, and if you look through your apartment, you’ll see it’s more consistent with a young lady’s dwelling than that of a 64-year-old cop. Since you cared so much for me, I decided to allow you to keep your old memories, as well as those from the 22 years of Colleen’s. Erin likes fellow Irish, as well, so you two shouldn’t have any problems hitting it off. Say, I just realized you’re unemployed. Although my International Dating Agency doesn’t need any more escorts, I could use a receptionist to help me keep track of the ladies’ whereabouts and draw up financial records. Are you interested?"

"Anything to get closer to my beloved Erin," Colleen replied.

"Good," I told her. "You start in one hour. See you then."

"Don’t go! What about this?" She removed her skirt (as always, I changed her clothes into an outfit appropriate for a lady), as exposed Colin’s penis, the one male part of her body.

"Keep it. You’ll need it if you ever want to have children with Erin. Actually, I should tell you something. Pull hard on it. Don’t be afraid."

Colleen pulled on it, and to her surprise, it came off, exposing what should have been part of her new female anatomy. She stares at me, puzzled, as I continue to explain. "It’s a magical penis. You or Erin can place it over your vaginal lips anytime you want, and remove it when you’re done. And it’s fully functional, so you can use it to impregnate Erin. Or she can use it to impregnate you, Colleen! And I think both of you will want to enjoy the miracle of pregnancy."

Colleen smiled at me, and said, "It’s a deal!" I teleported home, and got ready to open for the day. Colleen showed up on time, and started staring at Erin. Erin liked Colleen back, and they set up a date for lunch Thursday. They’re going to be wonderful together. And I figure Colleen should make an excellent fill-in for Erin during her pregnancy leaves. Things are looking up for IDA.

THE END

 

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