(Author’s note: The Sorcery Patrol ™ and characters of Mark and Emily are the creation of C. M. Ellis, and are being used with permission. All others belong to the author.)
Tales From the Sorcery Patrol:
Case #9714285: The Stakeout
It was another day on the force. Emily and I had just come back from a difficult case involving a demon. Drawing pentagrams in blood is tricky when you faint at the sight of the stuff, and your partner only has a cup in her entire body. HQ had summoned us for a meeting. When you get ordered to HQ, man, you go to HQ if you don’t want to spend the next two weeks eating flies. So I drove us to the Chief’s office. Once there, the chief told us about our next case.
"Mark, Emily, we’re on the lookout for a rapist. Seems he’s been sighted in town, and our intelligence says he should strike in the Riteabaer Arms tonight."
Emily scoffed, "So why do they call US? This is a case for the regular police."
"That’s not the kind of guy he is, Emily. This fellow has magic powers. He turns his victims into swine, since they’ve defiled themselves. The Chauvinistic Pig Rapist, as we’ve come to call him, has never been seen closely, so we don’t know what he looks like. All we know of him came from a cop who watched him sexually assault another victim from a distance while working on another crime. And we’ve had a hundred sightings of pigs roaming the streets in the past week, unusually high since the only two in the city are safe in their cages at the zoo. Anyhow, that was at the Riteabaer Arms on Friday night two weeks ago. One week later, at the same time, the same cop saw him in action, and confirmed the change to a pig after hearing several cries for help, followed by squeals for help. We’re going under the assumption that he strikes at the Riteabaer, which is the swankiest part of town, once a week. Since it’s Friday tonight, we’ll need you two to catch him and bring him to justice. And we want to catch him in the act, since we have no motive."
Furious, Emily flew all over the place, then yelled at the chief as loudly as her tiny lungs will let her, "NO WAY AM I SACRIFICING MY FRIDAY NIGHT, NOT TO MENTION MY OWN BODY, JUST TO CATCH A CROOK!"
"Absolutely correct, Emily. You don’t have the, erm, inner workings to be raped, since pixies are reproduced asexually. Further, department regulation 45, code 3, section B forbids me from making you big enough to become his next victim. Mark will be the bait."
"What?!" I couldn’t help saying.
"That’s correct, Mark. You’ll be turned into an attractive female, then placed alone in the street in the middle of the night. As any woman can tell you, that’s the best place to go if you’re gonna get raped. Besides, we need the arresting officer to be undercover, and Emily can hide much better than you can because of her small size. And even though Mark will become totally female, he’ll retain all of his masculine strength. We want a victim who can easily overpower the rapist."
"That’s it, you ... human! One more knock at my size and I’m turning you into a frog!" Emily wasn’t afraid to threaten people who call her short.
"Cool it, Emily. You want to lose your job?"
"Sorry, Mark." Emily took a few deep breaths, then calmed down. She flew back onto my shoulder, as the chief resumed the details.
"Now, Emily, Mark, you two are to report to the magic chambers at 11PM tonight, sharp. When you’re in your female guise, just stand outside the Riteabaer building, and wait for our unknown fellow to strike. If he turns you into a creature of species porcine, Emily is to come out of the shadows and arrest this fellow. Got it?"
"Understood, Chief," Emily and I replied in unison.
"Very well, then. Good night, and good luck." The meeting adjourned then, and nothing much happened until 11. Until then, I was worried about what would happen to Emily, and myself. What if he turns me into a pig, and nobody can change me back? What if the Chauvinistic Pig Rapist doesn’t show? What if Emily blows my cover? It was a long night, but somehow I got through it and reached the magic chambers on time.
Inside, Emily and I met Dr. Hermann, who handed me a couple of issues of People. "Mark, flip through this magazine and find a lady whose form you’d like to assume."
"But Doc, it wouldn’t be right for me to assume the identity of Cindy Crawford, Lisa Kudrow, or any of dozens of other famous women the Rapist is bound to recognize."
"Of course not. We’ve gone to court over that sort of things too many times to allow it anymore. You’re going to be one of the ladies in the background." As I skimmed the magazines, I found a photo of a beautiful blonde lady that looked perfect. She was about five foot ten, rather tall for a lady. Her breasts, legs, face, and everything else about her suggested she could easily have posed for Playboy, even if we could only see her left side. The woman was also wearing a gorgeous red strapless nightgown with matching purse and pumps.
I pointed at her, then told Dr. Hermann, "I want to look just like that. And even though we can’t see her right side, please try to make my right half an exact mirror image of my left." He gave me a nod, then changed me as I requested. Staring at Emily, I asked her, in my new lilting alto, if she liked the "new" me.
She flew closer to me, examined every crevasse of my body in a quick seconds-long flight, then said, "Excellent! I can’t think of a better pearl to attract that swine."
"Good. I’m glad you agree. Mark, you’d better call yourself ‘Marcie’ while in this body. How confused do you think folks would be if Emily called this stunning beauty by a man’s name?"
"Good point, Dr. Hermann. Emily, let’s roll."
My partner flew onto my now-bare shoulder, and I took us into the car. As I drove to the Riteabaer Arms, I teased Emily. "Are you jealous of my beauty?"
She gave me a polite slap on my cheek (which I hardly felt at all, due to the size of Emily’s pixie hand) and replied, "Of course not! I’ve seen pixies that look twice as beautiful as you do. And even if I am much smaller than you, I don’t think a lady with areolae wider than my waist and breasts that stick out further than I am tall look very pretty. More like very slutty."
I grinned at her. "Emily, Emily, Emily. I know that, but slutty is what I was going for. Our Chauvinistic Pig Rapist wouldn’t be very likely to assault a total dog."
"Hmmm. I guess you have a point there. Well, there it is." Emily pointed out the swanky apartment building I was looking for. We parked in the lot, and took our positions. I just walked back and forth in front of the place, while Emily flew onto a nearby tree branch and stayed hidden.
The next hour was pretty uneventful, but shortly after the witching hour began, I saw a man in black and gray walk towards me. His mask and cap, along with his striped shirt, reminded me of a classic burglar. I was a little bothered by his getup; assuming this is the Rapist, why is he drawing attention to himself with his clothes? Don’t most criminals try to blend into the crowd? Anyhow, the man walked towards me and asked, "You come here often?"
"No, usually just whenever Kwanza approaches," I joked.
"Seriously, do you work?"
"Naah, my roommate supports the both of us."
"When I’m done with you, you’ll be the one bringing home the bacon." After some sinister laughter, he pulled his pants down. Just the sight of my gorgeous body was enough to give him an erection. Then he grabbed me, very rough, and pulled down my dress. No doubt about it; this gentleman must be the Chauvinist Pig Rapist. I fought him as well as I could, but he was stronger than I. Although I’ve acquired the strength of ten men, he must have had the strength of twenty. Also no question this Rapist has magic powers.
I struggled to keep him from violating me, but in vain. The Rapist got my outfit all the way off, after tearing it to shreds. Starting at my voluptuous nude form, he forces an illegal entry. As I fight off any possible sexual pleasure flowing through my body, I feel some strange feelings flowing inside. It’s a weird combination of sexual passion and frantic anger. I screamed, "Emily! Save me!" as loud as my lungs would allow. Then I saw he flying to the rescue.
"Say your prayers, you dumb human!" she yelled. Her fingers sparked with magical energy as she cast a spell on my attacker. I knew it well; it was one that turned men into sex-crazed women. But something went wrong, as the energy just bounced off of him and raced headlong towards Emily. Instantly, she turns into a full-sized human female, complete with the sexual organs she lacked. However, she retained her pointed ears and wings.
"I’m rubber and you’re glue. Any spell you cast on me, bounces off and sticks to you!" the Rapist taunted. With one final gesture, he turned me into a male pig and ran off. I could only grunt in an annoyed manner as Emily looks at me. In her state, she could be turned on by watching paint dry.
"This little piggy looks like fun," she told me. In her state of spell-induced lust, she mounted me and prepared to screw me for all I was worth. Although I didn’t like this a bit, I could only oink the sexual satisfaction I was getting out of this.
After a weekend of practically nonstop sex with Emily I’d rather forget about, the Sorcery Patrol learned of our fate when HQ heard reports of a giant fairy woman humping a pig. The Chief put two and two together, and by Monday afternoon, Emily and I were ourselves again. I spent all of Tuesday recovering from that horrific rape in therapy. It was tough, but by Wednesday, I was ready to go back on the job with Emily. She was as repulsed by our weird weekend as I was, and gave me the cold shoulder by refusing to sit on mine as we went back on the job.
"Look, Emily, I—" I tried to reassure her.
"SHUT UP!" she bellowed as loudly as possible. "I just spent the last two days in an extended orgy with you as a dirty stinky pig, and defiled myself in the process. Pixies are supposed to be chaste and clean, you know."
"I know exactly how you feel," I reminded her. "I didn’t enjoy getting raped by a total stranger, and my wife isn’t going to be pleased that I messed around with my co-worker, either. But I’m not upset at you. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault, either. Unfortunate things like that ordeal are one of the risks that come with the Patrol. If I got upset every time I had sex with someone else while transformed, I wouldn’t have agreed to pose as the lure. And besides, it was our Chauvinist Pig Rapist who raped me, made me a boar, and turned you into an unnaturally horny woman. Now calm down, Emily, and we’ll catch that guy yet."
"I — I’m sorry, Mark. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I forgive you for all that. But now," Emily added, shaking a tiny fist in the air, "I wanna get that Rapist. I want him bad."
"So do I, Emily dear. But we can’t do anything until the Chief gives us another lead. Face it, Friday was our chance, and we blew it. Let’s just do our jobs and worry about the rapist later, okay?"
On Thursday evening, after a couple days back to normal, the Chief called us to his desk. "Mark, Emily, I’ve just found another hot tip on that Chauvinist Pig Rapist of ours."
"YEEEEHA! Now we can nab his sorry ass!" Emily jumped off my shoulder, and flew around in a spurt of vengeful happiness.
"Sit down, Emily!" She returned to my shoulder as the Chief resumed. "Now, it seems he’s gonna strike again at midnight tomorrow at the Triplet Towers. Once again, Mark will be turned into bait, and just to be sure, let’s make him genuine ‘jailbait’, so that we can add sex with a minor to his offenses. Emily, you’re going to hide out in the bushes, and cover Mark. When we found you, erhm, with Mark," (the Chief twitched in an uncomfortable manner while saying that) "we found residues of the Rapist’s magic signature. So now, when you do your counter-spell, Emily, you’ll be able to penetrate his anti-magic force-field. Now we know we’re up against a powerful wizard, so be careful."
"Will do, Chief." I left with Emily, and the following night we returned to Dr. Hermann’s lab. Remembering the Chief’s demands, I agreed to become an under-age version of my previous disguise. I was a not-so-sweet (more like sultry) 16-year-old. Hardly a man alive would want to resist my charms. As on the previous Friday, I strolled around the front of the Triplet Towers as Emily hid in the nearby shrubs.
As midnight approached, I couldn’t help staring at my pretty jewel-coated watch. Finally, I saw our man coming from the distance, dressed exactly as the previous weekend. He couldn’t help but notice my sultry form leaning against a lamp post. My beautiful body just screamed "fuck me" as I stared at my manicured fingernails. After a couple minutes, he poked me in the back and said, "Hey gorgeous. Wanna get it on?"
"Of course not. I’m under age, and I’m saving myself for the right man."
The Rapist giggled and replied, "Well, I’m the man, sweetie." He broke out in an annoying sinister laugh and pulled his pants down. Here we go again, I thought. Then he broke my hymen. As I felt the blood pouring onto my dress, I heard a faint shout from the distance.
"Eat pixie dust, jerkwad!" It was Emily, flying to my rescue. She shot a magnificent display of sparks from her fingertips. "Now we’ll see what you REALLY look like." They landed at our Chauvinist Pig Rapist, who turned into an ugly old hag, like a stereotypical witch.
"What the - what’s going on?" she asked in a deep, hoarse voice.
"The arrest of you, by the Sorcery Patrol, Witch Ewashee!" Emily yelled. She read our hag her rights, as I slapped a special set of magical handcuffs around her wrists.
I transformed myself back into my normal form. I was quite a sight, a middle-aged male in an outfit appropriate for a wealthy sixteen-year-old socialite girl. As I presented her with the warrant we’d acquired at HQ, she informed us, "Okay, I admit it. It was me. I wanted to have a child for years, but I’ve been robbed of that ability as a result of one of my past magical crimes. So after I was released from prison two weeks ago, I decided to take my revenge on all human women. If I couldn’t have human babies, neither could they. So I gave them one last fuck - as a man, of course - and turned them into pigs. But how’d you do figure out it was me? After all, I took on that easy-to-identify male form to avoid suspicion."
"But you made one big mistake," I replied. "When you spelled my partner and myself last week - yes, that was ME at the Riteabaer Arms - you left traces of your magical signature on Emily. Since the Sorcery Patrol has the magical signature of all known magic-users on file, it was just a matter of looking for the right one." (A magical signature, by the way, is similar to the fingerprints or DNA of an ordinary human. No matter how many spells are cast on a magic-user, he or she will always give off the same signature.)
"You won’t be able to stop me forever, you hear? I’ll break out of your jail, and then the Rapist will strike again!" As Ewashee continued her rant, we pulled her into the paddy wagon and returned to HQ. Another case closed for the Sorcery Patrol.
THE END
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