Although the Slut Note can cause brain-death, catatonia, and near-death states as side-effects at its most extreme, as well as manipulating those under its control into potentially dangerous situations, it cannot actually be used to directly kill anybody. Who wants a notebook that KILLS people, for crying out loud?
Minutes after the Interpol announcement, O the super-sleuth jumped into business. The altered voice coming from the computer monitor that showed only the gothic letter O asked to speak with the delegates of Japan.
“Why Japan?” asked the Assistant Chief of the National Police Agency, sent as the nation’s representative.
“Whether the actions of the entity designated as ‘Perva’ is the work of an individual or a group, it is highly probably that, if they are not Japanese, they are almost definitely based in Japan,” O explained electronically.
“How can this be?” the Chief asked. “What evidence do you have?”
“Not only do I have evidence, but I have enough verification to justify moving the investigation’s headquarters to Japan. Careful analysis of affected individuals, especially criminals, has indicated a bias for Japanese reporting. Although criminals have been affected worldwide and turned into sluts, there is a disparity. All Perva might need is access to the world-wide Interpol database to get the names of criminals, but several criminals in Japan have been reported as turning into sluts before being listed into official files, but after Japanese news reports. Additionally, there is a full 2.4% higher rate of those exhibiting the behavior and growth more common to malicious behavior rather than necessarily criminal. Finally, at least twenty cases were reported of individuals who had never been televised or publicized in any way even before Perva websites began forming, all based in Japan.
“These numbers are negligible, which is why they were overlooked, but they are present. This indicates that if Perva is an actual conscience act by party or parties unknown, it is one who is very intelligent and plans ahead to keep from being easily located. Therefore, I think the ideal thing to do is to call Perva out and let him, her, or them be aware that they are known to us. At the very worst, I am absolutely wrong, and we will have an embarrassing 30 second spot on television. At best, we will cause Perva to panic and take action that is unplanned, thus confirming the location and quickly narrowing our search from a global one to a national one, and narrowing Perva’s identity from any one of the 6.72 billion people on Earth to less than 2% of the world’s population.
“Not bad for an opening gambit…”
This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. If the name of a partner is written within forty seconds, they will have sex with that person. If a partner is not specified, the person will simply become irresistibly horny until they orgasm. Following orgasm, the person will return to normal unless changes are made permanent. If changes to specific traits of sexuality (such as fetishes, attitudes, specific sexual acts, body or clothes alterations, length of alterations, etc.) is written within six minutes and forty seconds of writing the person’s name, it will happen.”
Right was walking home with two acquaintances from school, listening with amusement as they unknowingly talked about Perva in his presence.
“It’s totally crazy, right?”
“Yeah, but also totally cool! Did you see Shimabukuro Asuke-senpai in class today? That ice queen has totally mellowed ever since Perva had a go at her.”
“How do you know he did?”
“Come on! A girl doesn’t turn into a total slut with quadruple-sized tits overnight without Perva!”
“Not as crazy as Inoue Koichi-senpai and those other gangsters turning gay. How did they wind up on Perva’s list anyway? Do you think Perva goes to our school?”
Right laughed. “Please. Even if there is a Perva, he or she has thousands of people on those online websites that keep popping up. Someone probably just put those people’s name on one of those with sufficient reason for her to learn some humility, like hundreds of other assholes around the planet, and this is the result.”
Unseen and unheard as she flew above him, Fyuk chuckled throatily.
“Holy shit! Check that out!” Right followed his companion’s finger, where he saw a gorgeous woman leaning provocatively against a wall, wearing just enough to make it clear that she was wearing absolutely nothing beneath it. She winked at the boys, licking lips slathered with whore-red lipstick, and indicated them over. “Guys! She’s totally offering herself to us!”
“Do you think its right?” Right considered aloud, the devil playing devil’s advocate. “If she is under Perva’s control, then she is not in command of her own actions. Taking her up on her offer could be considered rape.”
“Dude, she’s totally begging for it.”
“Yeah, and besides, as I understand it, Perva will return them to normal after they’ve served their time, so we’d really just be helping along her convalescence. We’re, like, giving to the community, you know?”
“Yeah, giving till it hurts. You coming, Right?”
Right shook his head. “It sounds like fun, but college entrance exams wait for no man. Gotta study.” The two boys barely heard his feeble excuse as they headed over to the waiting woman, and discovered that this victim of Perva not only had amazing breasts but a delightful addition: they temporarily grew larger every time they were grabbed. By the time Right was out of earshot both boys were embracing mammaries larger than filled beanbags and the woman was having trouble standing up.
“You aren’t going to enjoy yourself, Right?” Fyuk inquired.
Right shrugged. He pulled out a cellphone so it looked like he was not just talking to himself. “Oh, I am enjoying myself, Fyuk. Scenes like that are playing out all over the world right now. People know and respect the power of Perva. His name is on the airways, even if the legitimate media still isn’t admitting to anything. And it works because people are so fucked up about sex.”
“What do you mean?” Fyuk asked, as Right arrived home and slid quietly into his room.
“If everybody on earth were completely comfortable with sex, Perva’s punishments would be seen for the atrocities they are. I recognize that I’m subverting people’s will, even if it is in the name of the greater good, and that this is wrong. But the Slut Note is like an atom bomb: even if it is a weapon too horrible to use, it is also a weapon too horrible not to use.
“Instead, people leap at the chance to take advantage of Perva’s victims. A stable, sane person can have mutually-consenting sex with another individual without feelings of guilt or remorse. A stable, sane person can also take and give no for an answer without hurting the other person’s feelings, or being hurt in return. In a perfect world without a lifetime of neuroses built up around sex – what’s good, what’s sinful, how kinky is too much, if you’re a bad person for your feelings – without these sex is just one more way people can interact and grow closer.
“We don’t have that, because humans are the only species to whom sex involves kinks. Animals either have sex or don’t. People make up all sorts of reasons to have sex or not, and reinterpret those reasons afterwards. People lie to get sex, they lie about sex, hell, they lie while they’re having sex! We are messed up when it comes to genital interactions, Fyuk. And that is why Perva’s punishments are so powerful.
“When Perva is done with these people, they feel humiliated and powerless. But after so much sex, and with the power of the Slut Note to help convert their mindset, they have also overcome many of the hang-ups about sex that made them so repressed in the first place, which to a big degree cuts down on a lot of the abuse towards other people that got them altered in the first place. The Slut Note promises not only punishment but also true reform. It is like the power of God, promising salvation to the worthy but also promising damnation to those found wanting.
“And the people realize it. Even though legitimate media is pretending Perva doesn’t exist, tabloids and trash TV are jumping on this supernatural savior. Those with clean consciences are cheering and getting laid, while those guilty are living in fear, waiting for judgment to strike them…”
Right trailed off as he turned on the TV, as the talking head on the BBC reported a bank heist in Berlin to the tune of 1.3 million euros. The assailants had been identified and were on the run, considered armed and dangerous. Right went to work.
Over the last few months, he had refined his process, experimenting with the transformative powers of the Slut Note. When he’d discovered that gender swapping was possible, it dawned on him that he was wasting a lot of possibility. Most women (or men, for that matter) simply did not want a simpering, effeminate male slave, and so they were going to waste. They were desperate to please anybody but with no takers, and the rules of the Slut Note precluded using someone under its influence to rape another: a rape victim also had to be written in there for the Slut Note to take any effect, in a bizarre way making it consensual from the other way around. And besides, Right wanted to use the Slut Note to abolish violent crime, not propagate it.
So instead, he’d begun transforming men into women. Beautiful women. Sexy women. And above all, slutty women. Ever since determining this power, there had been a slow but steady progression until almost all male victims became big-breasted sluts.
As it turned out, this worked out better than he could have imagined. Not only did many men choose to stay this way (for it turned out the ability to get sex with a wink and the chance to see breasts anytime there was a mirror around was the male dream), but to those unaffected the threatened theft of their masculinity acted as a greater deterrent than any promise of God’s lightning bolt.
Half a world away, Karl Olfanson and Johan Weiss let their getaway van drift to the side of the road as they felt something strange happen.
Their features rounded and softened, and the hard lines of their bodies molded to immodest curves. Their clothes sagged on them and then stretched as breasts grew from their chests, twin cantaloupes that defied not only biology but also gravity. Their hair, both shaved to bristles, grew to long locks down to their backs; Karl’s a dirty blonde and Johan’s platinum with highlights.
The change was so fast that before the shock could turn to terror, their minds began to alter as well. They felt memories of their old lives fade away, nothing more than vivid dreams of the past. The future, they now knew, was cock. Cock in their newly formed (but violently hungry) pussies, in the rounded, bubble asses, wrapped in the inflated-looking lips of their mouths. The two girls saw a clear vision of their future, covered in a blissful white sheen of jism. Their master Perva punished criminals by making them into sluts: to honor Master Perva, they would help by being the best sluts they could be. In their old lives they had done a lot of harm, and now in their new lives they had the chance to do a lot of good. Do a lot of good, by doing a lot of men. And women, for they realized they were quite bisexual. In fact, Karl thought of Johan at the same moment Johan thought it of Karl, their partner’s new body was drop dead gorgeous, and they felt so horny and they were so sexy…
The van began rocking, and when it was found by police cars an hour later the girls invited both cops to join the fun.
Back in Japan, meanwhile, Right was still hard at work filling in the names of general assholes off the website.
A group of rednecks in Texas were shooting at immigrants, masking xenophobia with patriotism as an unofficial militia; by that night, all twelve of them had become Latina bombshells. A business executive in China knowingly manufactured toys covered in lead paint; Perva stole all the brains from his head before turning the guy into a six foot three Amazonian who loved being humiliated. The prefect of an African county diverted money for medical supplied to his own private fortune; Perva made him a Nubian goddess who would pay any man who pleasured her.
It was much more productive this way. The vast majority of crime was committed by males, after all. Down at the level of social crimes, it evened out, and since Perva usually left such crimes to be settled between the disgraced party, often such changes were not necessary. Still, as soon as people began to figure out that Perva not only changed people’s minds and bodies but could change them to meet specifications, they also would often leave a detailed, sometimes pornographic explanation of the alterations they desired as reparation for past transgressions. Right had eventually created a new kanji symbol that made such changes as specified by the petitioner without having to bother righting specifics.
As Right scanned the websites and wrote names and changed the Earth for the better one appellation at a time, the TV news suddenly flickered to indicate an announcement. “We interrupt this programming to bring you a live, globally televised broadcast from Interpol.”
An attractive white woman with long brown hair tied behind her and what was clearly an expensive business suit appeared on the TV a moment later. She sat before an unadorned background, with a plaque proclaiming her name: Linda O. Taylor. She sat with studied poise, her hands folded before her except for a quick motion to slide up her narrow glasses. As she spoke, a Japanese woman’s voice acting as interpreter was dubbed over her own, so that her lips did not match up with the voice.
“I am Linda. O. Taylor, more commonly known as “O” – the sole person able to mobilize the world’s police forces to target the force known as Perva. People have been turned into instruments of sexuality against their will, punished without judge or jury by a monstrous force. Perva, as the perpetrator is commonly known, will be caught. I guarantee it.”
Fyuk floated above the television, her ripe red lips pursed in a moue. “He guarantees you’ll be caught, Right. Chuckle.”
Right snorted. “Don’t worry. I was prepared for something like this. It was only a matter of time before the governments of the world mobilized. But they’ve made it pretty easy for me: with the Slut Note, I can turn this woman into a brainless bimbo more interested in dicks than detecting.”
Linda O. Taylor leaned toward the television. The folds of her blouse revealed a little bit of cleavage for all viewers as she spoke directly to the camera. “Perva, I can understand your motivations in punishing criminals, prisoners, even those others consider social criminals, but what you are doing is beyond wrong.
“It is evil.”
Right’s smile slowly drooped into a frown. “Don’t talk to me like a child. I know its evil, you stupid cow. But it’s making the world a better place. I am making a perfect world. And in this new perfect Eden, people like you who try and prevent it are the snakes.” He wrote her name, and followed with some specifics. “Too bad you put your name on a plaque there, O. If you’d been smarter, this could’ve gotten interesting.”
Right watched, counting the seconds as O continued to speak. “Police worldwide have launched a coordinated investi…” O trailed off, looking puzzled. Her serious featured morphed into a vapid expression, revealing a change to her mind as her body began its own transformations. Her breasts swelled, bursting the buttons from the suit and tearing asunder the blouse beneath. Two gargantuan tits erupted onto the table, not quite large enough to obscure the blonde, curly locks the woman now had. “Oo! My titties grew! They’re huge!” the now bimbofied Linda O. Taylor squealed in delight. She leaned forward, stretching to reach around her enormous breasts as rub her tits. “Oo! They’re super-sensitive. I bet I could cum just by rubbing them.” She pouted, and as she did her lips and ass also grew thicker. “But that’s no fun. I bet one of you big, strong men behind the camera with your big, strong cocks would like a titty-fuck, wouldn’t you?” She climbed on the table, and as she did the rags that remained of her suit transformed into a tight pink bikini. Her flats transmogrified into white boots with four inch heels, while large gold hoops appeared through each ear. She made a “come here” motion with a finger, the nails stretching nearly an inch and turning the same shade of slut red as her lips. In a voice dripping with sex, this new embodiment of feminine carnality that was once Linda O. Taylor desperately sought to seduce the men offstage to fuck her, as her continually expanding breasts, by now the size of fully-inflated beach balls and with no signs of slowing down, were now too large for her to move. “I want dick!” she squeeked, and then the channel abruptly went back to its call sign.
Right laughed, and gave a high five to Fyuk. “Now that, Fyuk, is how you strike fear into the hearts of the masses. In one bold stroke they not only have proof of Perva’s omnipotence, but also know the governments of the worlds are powerless against him!”
Suddenly, the broadcast cut away, the station’s call sign replaced by a large letter O in an archaic gothic font. “Hello, Perva. I had not really thought it possible, but you have just proven you can work your power without direct contact. I suspected, but I could not believe it until I had seen it with my own eyes…” The voice that spoke was digitally altered. It could be a man, or woman, of any age. “Congratulations, Perva. You just turned Linda O. Taylor, a convicted criminal scheduled for execution an hour ago, into a brainless slut. She volunteered to act as bait, knowing the possible consequences, in exchange for her freedom. Her arrest and convictions were kept secret from the media, and went unreported on the internet, so apparently you could not know about them…also interesting…”
Fyuk laughed out loud. “Oh, he’s figured you out, Right.”
Right bit the urge to shut the succubus up, knowing there was no way he could enforce it and not wanting to either draw attention from his family downstairs or miss anything on the television.
“You have changed Linda O. Taylor, Perva, but I, O, do in fact exist, and I am still here. Go ahead and change ME. That is, if you can.”
Right seethed. “That son of a bitch!” Without O’s name or countenance, he could do nothing, and it seemed that somehow this faceless detective had somehow figured that out!
An eternity passed, as people all over watching waited with baited breath for the sounds of O’s altered voice to take a girlish twitter. And waited.
“It seems you aren’t able to affect me, Perva,” O considered. “That’s a valuable clue. So now I’ll give you some information in return.
“This broadcast, although announced worldwide, is actually airing only in Japan. What is more, it is airing hourly in different specific regions throughout the nation, starting in the most highly populated centers. The plan was to broadcast live in other areas in turn, but that is no longer necessary. You have just proven to me that you are in the Kanto region of Japan, Perva.
“You were careful, Perva, but not careful enough. I am greatly interested to known how you are changing these people. It is something I intend to ask you personally.
“After I catch you.”
The transmission cut out. A moment later, the regularly scheduled afternoon news took its place.
Fyuk lounged in midair, stroking her body in slow, deliberate sensuality as she enjoyed the anguished frustration of the mortals. To an emotivore like the succubi tasted almost as sweet as sex itself, for it was almost the same thing.
Right sat slumped at his desk, staring in shock at the television. “Well, well. This just got interesting after all.” He turned to the succubus. “Fyuk. Good news. It seems like you’ll have something to keep you entertained after all. O is looking for me. I will find him first. I have advantages he hasn’t even imagined. If O isn’t a woman already, he will be after the Slut Note changes him. The sluttiest, horniest skank with the biggest tits on earth and the biggest sex drive to match. I’ll make Linda O. Taylor look like an evangelical nun compared to what I’ll do with him. He wants to throw down the gauntlet? Fine.
Fyuk floated down toward him, enveloping the human in her ephemeral embrace, her breasts engulfing his face as her arms, legs, and wings wrapped around his body. This mortal was not just entertaining; he was a riot. He deserved to be rewarded appropriately.
Only by touching each other’s Slut Note can human individuals who own the Slut Note in the human world recognize the appearance or voice of each other’s god of death.
Seiya passed by her brother’s room, and saw him staring out the window. “What’s up, big brother?”
“Oh, hello, Seiya. Nothing much. I was just thinking.”
Since his door was open, she bounced into Right’s room and sat on his bed. The room in here had the same strange scent as the one that had appeared in her room a few months ago when both she and her mother had that blackout. Neither could remember anything about it, and the family physician had found nothing wrong, and Right said he’d seen them both asleep although neither remembered actually dozing. Still, ever since then Right had been even more distant from her than usual. She knew that he didn’t have many friends and that he’d had to work harder than usual to bring his academic standing back up to number one. In the last few months it seemed like his mind was always elsewhere. She missed her big brother.
“Perva. He’s in all the magazines, all the newspapers, on every TV station. You can’t avoid it, and people don’t even know for certain that he’s real.”
“Well, sure he’s real,” Seiya said. “Didn’t you see that thing on TV this afternoon?”
“Sure I did,” Right said, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “And I’ve seen the people around town. What I’m wondering was if what O, or whoever it was, said was right, that what Perva was doing was evil. If the wrong thing is done for the right reasons and makes things better, is it still wrong?”
Seiya considered her older brother’s existential musings, then got distracted by the open pink notebook on his table. Especially one name written within it. Linda O. Taylor. “What’s this?”
Unseen and unheard by anybody but Right, Fyuk said, “Hey, Right. You might not want to let her touch that notebook, or she’ll be able to see me, too.”
That would have been nice of you to mention, Right mused irritably. He had already read through the rules of the Slut Note carefully and knew it, and only his own distress at falling for O’s manipulations (coupled with several hours of Fyuk’s erotic ministrations) had distracted him from putting the notebook in its usual hiding place. With feigned casualness, he got up and picked the notebook up, obscuring the title with his hand and nonchalantly moving it out of Seiya’s reach. Thinking quickly he explained, “I’ve been following the Perva case on my own, Seiya. In this notebook is a list of every victim recorded so far, in roughly chronological order. I’m searching for patterns, something besides the obvious mission statement on Perva’s websites.”
Seiya nodded, pleased to finally understand what had her brother so distracted over the last few months. “I see! That’s right! You’re going to be detective when you grow up.”
Right was even more pleased than Seiya. With some quick thinking, he had not only dispelled her doubts, but also set up a good cover story for the rest of his family in case Fyuk ever caused him to grow so careless again. At least, as long as he got to the Slut Note before anyone else touched it. “That’s right. I’m going to be the chief of the National Police Agency. I’ve already got something of an in.”
Floating above them, Fyuk considered her amusing young intellectual quizzically. Right had mentioned having some kind of advantage O could not know about. She leaned back to watch as events unfolded.
Across the city, O also stared out a window, at the scene of a large monitor above a mall in downtown Tokyo where the live showdown with Perva had occurred some hours earlier.
O’s facile mind raced, exploring all options, reaching dead ends and discarding them quickly while other paths led to new questions. “Why couldn’t Perva change me into a sex-starved slut? Because I’m not a criminal? Neither were many of the people on the website. Because I’m not a jerk? I doubt he thinks so. Because I’m not on the website? People were affected before the websites came up: he definitely uses them for fodder, but he doesn’t need them. Considering the circumstances, he could have made me a chronic masturbator before the whole nation, or at any time since, but still he hasn’t. What did Linda have that I did not? He could not have known anything about Ms. Taylor until we put her in front of the cameras, and he knows even less about who I really am. He does not know real my name, my voice, or my appearance. Could one or more of those things be the vital link? Ancient magic put great stock in names, or perhaps visual contact is needed on his part…All signs definitely point to some metaphysical etiology…”
This line of thought was interrupted as O’s computer beeped, indicating that the online meeting with Japan’s National Police Agency was ready to commence.
In the NPA’s headquarters in Tokyo, in a presentation hall in the Special Investigation center that compromised the whole twelve floor of the building specifically set aside to dealing with Perva and his victims, a monitor set on the lecturn in the middle of the room clicked into activation, with O’s eponymous logo displayed across the screen.
The assistant chief, placed as director to spearhead the Perva projected and liaise between O and the NPA, stood beside the detective’s computer interface, addressing the fifty or so detective and police officers dedicated to the case. “Let us get down to business. Summaries of O’s findings are in the folders before you. The times are particularly interesting. Almost 65% of the victims exhibit behavior or physical changes on weekdays between 4 PM and 1 AM, with a majority between 8 to midnight. On weekdays and holidays the changes are more even throughout the day. We’ve received thousands of calls about Perva, mostly from people seeking more information about him, O, or both. Fourteen claimed to BE Perva: we have checked them out and, big surprise, discovered they are full of it. But to be safe, we have taken statements and have their names on file. You will also find O’s analysis of what can only be defined as a broadening of Perva’s preferences. Men who were ubiquitously changed into servile slaves are now, we have found, being transformed into women. While those remaining male continue to act subservient in a sexualized manner, the women’s attitudes and features were once one of three basic types, depending upon race. Asian and Latina women became more buxom and rounded, their attitudes desperately sexual; black women became stronger and more nubile, with a no-nonsense demand for sex; and white women became thinner and much bustier, blonde 80% of the time, and their attitude downright slutty and much kinkier. Over the few months not only have men been changing into women, but the variations in those women are more common. Though large breasts are nearly ubiquitous they are not as common on Perva’s victims as before, dropping from 100% to 85%, and blondes have dropped by nearly 10%. It seems Perva is starting to look for variety.”
“There is another possibility,” O interjected. “As more people write to Perva’s websites and suggest names, it seems they are beginning to comprehend the full extent of his power, and suggesting their own changes. The increase in variation may represent Perva gaining better control over his ability and obliging his petitioners accordingly.”
The director continued. “As the physical changes have grown more diverse, though, several mental and emotional changes seem more consistent, most notably an overwhelming loyalty to Perva. Despite knowing that they are being controlled and that they have been altered against their will, they remain fiercely loyal to the force that changed him, even though they have no idea who he is or if he even truly exists.”
“Does anyone have any further information to report? Any observations or questions?” O asked.
Eventually, a young cop near the back raised his hand. “Yes, Matsuko?” the director prompted.
Matsuko stood, and hesitantly spoke. “Um, in the last five months there has been a drastic decline in crime rates all over the world, everything from violent crime to domestic abuse to political scandal to schoolyard bullying. There have been no wars, no international disputes, and…well…” he trailed off, nervous at the glares he was getting for his comments.
The director scowled. O’s voice sounded chipper as it sounded over the computer. “That is a valid question. I am sure everyone here has thought of it themselves. Perva’s actions may have broadly positive immediate repercussions, but this is vigilante justice, pure and simple. If he were killing these people, or raping them, or tattooing a scarlet A across their foreheads, we would not hesitate to bring him to justice. What is so overwhelming is the awesome power Perva represents. He can seemingly alter reality itself with no warning, from afar, and with no ability to resist. This power can only be called god-like.” The men and women around the room murmured at O’s bluntness. “And if it is a power like a god’s, there are three options. We can strike down the god; no easy feat. We can forego our duty as police officers and accept the will of the gods. But even gods die, and when Perva’s justice leaves us we will be left with utter chaos, children who have been ruled so closely by their parents they cannot act responsibly on their own. Or we can submit and surrender to Perva, and let this be the future.”
At O’s indication, a stunningly beautiful woman was wheeled in. She was bound spread-eagle to a large restraint, her bindings not quite tight enough to prevent her from writing in an erotic display. She was covered in a hospital gown that she had nearly managed to work off that was still not nearly enough to hide the bountiful and disproportionate funbags that jiggled on her chest. Each nipple stood erect against her thin sheet, impossible to conceal. Down her legs a slow, steady stream of wetness trickled as her wide hips buckled in heat. She moaned at a pitch that made every man in the room instantly hard as her sex pheromones pumped into the room. Even the Assistant Chief, a happily married man in his fifties, had to move behind the podium as this luscious beauty twisted in a hopeless need to douse the flames of desire that burned beneath her skin.
So engaged were the police officers in examining the body of this sensual prisoner that no one noticed her face until O spoke. “Her name is Seisano Chitori. She is an officer in the NPA.” The rapt attention and barely-controlled desire of the room clamped down, if not into complete remission, than at least into a more controlled modesty. “She apparently lied during a testimony to put a known criminal in jail who would have gotten off on a technicality. Someone who knew about this wrote to Perva, and he changed her. Chitori-san, how many men must you have sex with before you revert to normal?”
“Mmm…fifteen more,” she smiled dreamily. “Fifteen long, hard, thick cocks up me, in me, filling me…Oh god, I need it.” She thrust her massive breasts out on display. “Any of you big boys think you can give me my punishment?” Her gaze turned to a female officer. “It doesn’t have to be men,” she leered. “I’ve found out I can lick a pussy so long it’ll make your toes curl into permanent balls. Mm…Balls. I wish I had some of them in my mouth right now…”
“Chitori-san,” O interrupted, “once you have finished your ‘sentence,’ how do you think you will feel?”
“Well, at first I was too horny to think. Then after I got some dick up my tight little cunt – oh, god dammit I want some dick – I could think a bit better and I was pissed. But now I’ve been around and I’ve learned just how fucking it feels to be a slut, I’d be kinda sad to have to go back to being a repressed uptight bitch. But I wouldn’t mind getting a little bit closer to that day if it meant getting one of you bastards to get off your homo asses and fuck me like I need! Come on! Any hole you want! Just please, fuck me!”
“Thank you, Chitori-san,” O said. At her dismissal, she was carted away, and moved her attempts to seduce the officer transporting her. O addressed the rest of the group. “That, Officer Matsuko, is why we must resist Perva at all costs. Even if the worldwide effects seem positive, on the basic level, on the human level, this is an evil we must end.”
The director felt that was a prudent time to end the meeting. Since the rest of the task force was now caught up, he decided to risk looking at the clock and checking to see how late he was getting home. Only half an hour. Even before the NPA had started taking Perva seriously, that was not bad.
Assistant Chief Yumigachi Soun finished up a few things, taking a few moments before quitting for the day in case any new emergencies arose. When none emerged, he went down to the parking garage and drove home, calling the missus to expect him for dinner for a change.
At home, his exhaustion prompting him to sit in the stoop as he changed shoes, he got a kiss from his wife and a big hug from his daughter, who still raced down like a child to greet her daddy whenever he arrived home. His older son, of course, was much more reserved, and greeted him while waiting on the staircase. “Welcome home, dad.”
“Thanks, Right,” Yumigachi Soun said tiredly. “Finally…”
Hovering above the scene, Fyuk grinned as she saw Right’s father take off his overcoat, revealing a police badge clipped to his belt. So this was Right’s advantage over O, she realized. It was a double-sided sword, she considered. No doubt with this connection, Right would know about any of O’s involvement in searching for Perva. But on the other hand, his father was in the police force investigating his own son. Right not only had to stay ahead of this mysterious detective, but also his own father.
Despite her resolution to stay uninvolved, Fyuk certainly hoped her young buck was up to the challenge. Not only was he a fine lay with a good head on his shoulders (and a handsome face to go with it), but he had to be the most entertaining human she had ever met in her long, immortal life.