After you have finished sucking off the cop and he buckles up again, sealing his cock in its tight leather prison once more, the cop becomes unusually…cuddly?
You tense up in surprise as he starts to caress and grope you with his big, strong hands, slipping under your shirt and in your pants, rubbing the smooth, buttery leather of his gloves over the skin of your chest…ass…dick.
Receiving treatment like that you quickly melt in his arms, giving control over to the cop. He smiles at you, gazes deeply into your eyes and then draws you in for a kiss. Like everything about this man, this leather hunk, so far the kiss is simply overwhelming. At this moment, as your lips are interlocked with his, you don’t care about Keith or the keys or making it on time for open day at that college, you care about this man, and nothing more.
As he breaks the kiss the cop takes you over to the car and gestures for you to open the door to the backseat. You eagerly comply and soon you end up the little spoon to the leather hunk’s big spoon in the back of your car.
His grip is strong, you couldn’t make him let go of you even if you wanted to, so all you can do is lying there as he enjoys and explores you. The smell of new leather and manly musk is so strong that you almost lose consciousness.
You hear a loud ripping sound and then feel your shirt being pulled off your torso as you raise your head in confusion you look up to see the tattered remains of your shirt grasp in the cop’s shiny leather hand. He chuckles as he throws them onto the floor. He tears the undershirt off your back in a very similar way before forcing you out of your pants and boxers.
Now you lie naked in the cop’s arms, the leather of his uniform caressing you from all sides as he starts to gently, oh so very gently for such a big man, press you against himself and dry hump you, his hidden leather boner teasing your ass.
At the same time his big, meaty, gloved hand starts to tease your dick. He runs a smooth finger along your shaft, before he grasps your cock and starts to wank you. This goes on until you blow your load, much too soon, due to all the sensory overload.
Afterwards the two of you, feeling tired but contempt, just lay there. But soon you start to think… You remember the rookie policeman whom you turned into this dreamboat of a motorcycle cop and suddenly you can’t help but wonder if the guy holding you now is still the same person as he was before you transformed him.
“Hey,” he address hum.
He stirs, apparently he had fallen asleep, and nuzzles your neck, “Yeah, babe?”
You blush as he calls you ‘babe’ “I was just wondering…are you happy with your new body?”
“Wahddaya mean new body?” he asks.
This confuses you, “Can’t you remember? You used to be a skinny rookie policeman until an hour ago…then I used my car keys on you and you became as you are now…”
You hear, and feel, the cop chuckle, “I dunno what you’re yapping about, but I haven’t been a rookie in over ten years…and I’ve never been skinny.”
“But…”
You feel his leather gloved hand closing your mouth, “Shhhh, babe, you’re just dreaming, go back to sleep…” He tightens his grip on you and starts to caress your cheek before falling asleep again.
You however, are wide awake now. So your hunk is a completely different person, a different entity, from the policeman he was created from… Does that mean the rookie is…gone? Poof?
You feel your chest cramping up…that was not right…you had to restore him!
Through some acts of impressive contortion, you manage to slip from the arms of the sleeping hunk, put your boxers and pants back on, and retriever your car keys from your pocket.
You aim the keys at the sleeping leather giant…
…and you can’t get yourself to press the button. You curse under your breath. You know turning him back into his original self is the right thing to do…but this man has given you so much pleasure… he seemed like a good man…he didn’t deserve to be “poofed away” in his sleep.
Then again, neither did the rookie…
In an attempt to convince yourself that the motorcycle cop, no matter how hot he is, is merely a creation of the keys you, carefully, silently, retrieve the I.D. from his jacket. If it still showed the rookie, then you had proof that the hunk wasn’t real.
Bad news approaches as you look at the I.D. not only does it feature the hunks manly mug instead of a photo of the rookie, but it also lists a date of birth and a date of enlistment that are far too old to make sense for a 22-year-old rookie cop. The hunk is real, and his name is Charles Martinez.
You slip the I.D. back into Officer Martinez’ jacket and walk a few steps to calm you down. So you now had two, 100% real people wrapped up in this; restore the rookie and Martinez, the hot leather hunk would disappear forever, don’t restore him and the rookie was gone… You shake your head; what is this shit? You don’t want to make decisions about who gets to exist or not, at least not until you’ve reached upper management!
Deciding that Keith is the easier problem to deal with right now you open your trunk and return your attention to the paper-wrapped pile of dog waste that was once your best friend.
“Hey, buddy” you say to the pile of waste, not sure if it can even hear or comprehend, “sorry I took so long to get back to you…”
Then you aim your keys at the waste and press the unlock button.
The piece of paper unravels from the shit, which starts to float in the air and accumulate into something like a tiny clay figure…a tiny clay figure of a human…
You hold your thumbs as the figure starts to grow, doll size, child size, fully grown adult. Have you just restored Keith? Was your buddy back?
Soon you could answer your own question with a disheartened “No.”
As the figure gains defined features it becomes clear that the proportions are all wrong for Keith, or for the average human, for that matter; the limbs are too short in relation to the torso, which appears just a little too broad, the whole figure seems oddly squat and almost “square” shaped. Facial features emerge. Now Keith would never have won a beauty pageant, but this guy’s features were particularly squat, crude and…just plain ugly, with a prominent brow ridge, a fleeing forehead and an abnormally large nose.
Next hair started to grow, the whole figure started to sprout a dusting of coarse, auburn coloured body hair, on its head a long, matted mane and beard make the appearance complete.
Even before the paper you had wrapped the dog waste in transforms into a crude loincloth made from animal hide you can already tell what this creature is; a Neanderthal!
The creature springs to live, crouching inside the car, his eyes wide as they dart around, seemingly overwhelmed by its surroundings.
“Keith?”” you ask as you tentatively take a step back.
The Neanderthal looks at you…and bears his teeth, letting out a menacing, guttural growl. He creeps towards you making sounds that, perhaps, resemble some ancient Neanderthal language.
You manage to press the keys just in time before the Neanderthal can pounce at you. He freezes and, a moment later the Neanderthal’s body at the same time darkens and becomes translucent. Shifting to an almost black, reddish-brown shade, its features smoothening over the Neanderthal transforms into something resembling an ice sculpture, only instead of water he is made of…
“Coke?” you ask as you recognize the smell. Yes the Neanderthal has turned into cola! Upon closer inspection it turns out it isn’t frozen coke either; while still retaining the general shape of the Neanderthal the liquid is fizzing, bubbling and sloshing around, painting lines of white foam through the dark liquid. You stare at this odd, liquid construct, and to be honest you almost feel tempted to poke your finger into the thing and taste some of the coke. One small part of you even want to jump right into the liquefied Neanderthal, just to see what’d happen.
Before you can do that however, the Neanderthal’s loin cloth…which had slipped from his hips during his transformation into coke starts to take on a metallic sheen. Curling up it transforms into a purple and green can of (what else?) Morpho Cola. The Neanderthal cola construct loses its integrity as it is sucked into the can, which then proceeds to seal itself before landing in your hand.
You stare at the can in disbelief; it’s an ice cold, brand new can of coke…