Notoriety - Part 1

By Native Holmes

15 minute read -


Dead of night. The heads of trees danced and swayed as gales of decent strength swept a late howling wave. Underneath the shade parked a red mobile convertible, and within its veneer were heinous schemes unfolding; a scenario of young love taking place, Dove and Joana’s. The current climate was fierce, the chill breeze becoming even colder. But both remained sufficiently sheltered, and protected within the confines of the scarlet Chevrolet.

They were in the middle of the woods, far-about the fringes of town. The two were mad drunk. Dove was swallowing Joana’s tongue beyond what was considered humanely comfortable. Joana was fine with it. She understood her lover’s taste for acrobatic tongues.

They broke off after a long duration.

“Listen,” Dove started, “my dick’s going to explode any second. I need you to wrap your lips around it and keep sucking until it blows.” An erection had manifested at the area of crotch, straining against his brown Levi pants. He was rubbing it – his hands and feelings tense.

“Fuck.” Joana’s neck reclined against her seat. The top of the Chevy was down and she saw the stars high above dark heaven. Only a few were revealed, while the rest remain concealed, somewhere behind that ceiling there, made of dense leaves.

“Hand me a can,” she said. “I need a hit. My mouth is numb.”

“This here is the last one,” Dove held up a silver tin, “and it’s mine.”

“I’ll buy that can for twelve bucks.”

“All right.”

In no time, Dove’s pants were pulled down free. His penis stood, drenched in clear liquid of lubricating substance. Joana held it and began to stroke. It felt like eel on her hand: vigorous and slippery. She continued to stroke and stroke; her hand motions enticing to the touch.

Dove began to moan.

Joana dived for it. Hard meat of the male sex filled her mouth; her jaw bobbed up and down, building the pleasure, segueing occasionally to lick the head and the sides for a shift in pace and theme. She claimed to be inexperienced in the ways of sex; but her performance was that of one who is already adept in the oral coital practice. Dove reached his hands over her blond head and was assisting with the movement.

The bastard did not stop moaning.

After some time, Dove retracted his thing out from her maw. Hot seed erupted from the tip. A good load hit Joana’s face. Square in the middle; right about her low brows and round nose. Thin, narrow streams of it began to form and flow as it dripped down her chin.

They were almost done cleaning up. Dove was wiping Joana’s face with some tissue.

“Let’s call it a night.” Joana suggested.

“What. Why?”

“Tired nerves. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“You sure? I got off, while you didn’t…”

“It’s alright. Really, I feel beat. Bad unexplainable mood. Another time would be a good time.”

“If you say so.”


There came a sudden flash of extreme light. The source of the brightness came from behind them. With the roof of the convertible kept away, there was nothing shielding them from the translucent attack. They turned around but only saw a mute of harsh blast of whiteness, and nothing else coherent. They were paralyzed and confused; partly by cause of intoxication, and partly by the strong tug of urge in wanting to know who was this accursed assailant, so intent in terrorizing their peace: Out here. In outskirts land. In this specific spot of hidden jungle terrain.

“POLICE.” Boomed a voice. “Stay where you are! I repeat: I instruct you to remain as you are!”


“Dove, how drunk are you?”

“I’m seeing four hands instead of two.”

“Don’t risk it. Don’t start the engine.”

There was a sound of approaching footsteps. Sounds of heavy boots. The vibes were getting terrible, getting worse. Get a grip. The paranoia was hideous, but it can be managed. No one was guilty. Not yet. Handle the situation before it becomes a problem.

“Good evening.” Said the cop; being by the passenger seat, the addressed was indicated to be Joana. She did not answer.

“Evening, officer!” Said Dove.

The cop was holding this black tool that more resembled a large lunchbox than a lamp. It looked hefty and menacing. It looked like it could confound a grown adult unconscious, if appropriately clubbed to the skull. The cop held the object towards the driver’s seat – Dove’s spot. The harsh light made him squint.

“How old are you?”

“20. Uh. Both.”


“He left it at home,” Joana responded.

“You two together… Miss… Girlfriend?”

“You could say that.”

“You look familiar. You attend Grain Valley High School?”

“My sister. Our resemblance is an uncanny discomfort.”


“I left mine at home too.”

“Bull… shit. You don’t look 20 to me. Either of you.”


“I smell a weird scent. Have the two of you been drinking?”

“Check the cans.”

The cop flashed a spot to more intricately scrutinized the car floor to then finally notice and recognize for the first time: 20 to 30 crushed empty cans of ale and beer, of kinds, sizes, colors and brands that vary. “Jesus Christ.” His free hand found his forehead. “All right. I’m nice. I’m a nice cop. I’ll let you go on the condition I get to call your parents.”

Dove bolted; he slammed his side of the door open and though clumsy, made for a fast break to the deeper woods. The cop froze momentarily. “STOP,” he says. “Loose fucker!”

He considered making chase, his body motioning for a sprint. Yet. He did not resume. No pursuit happened. The cop-heart was hesitant. Why? What reasons were hindering him? Joana could not fathom the answers. But she recognized an opportunity when she saw one. And the moment then was perfect.

Joana leapt from her seat and with strong force, hurled her small body against the cop. The lamp flew off his hand and made a loud thudding sound as it landed somewhere rugged and hard. The two were on the ground, locked in furious, physical quarrel. Something was strange. The heavy size and unexplainable power was not consistent to her tiny frame. The policeman was having immense difficulty, breaking free from the abnormal strong female grip that tied him around the waist. He struggled and struggled, but could not achieve total separation.

The bizarre developments continued. Strange ooze began to leak out from the woman’s pores; out from her arms and face. It perspired like sweat, but the substance was dense like slime. It looked to be moving and… alive. It was leaving the girl’s system and was slowly enveloping his face. The cop was trying to scream a call of some sort of distress but was hindered by the huge volume of muck that was now seeping through his nostrils and mouth. He was writhing madly but it only resulted in futility. His resistance only became weaker and weaker as the minutes came and passed. Then the moment arrived when everything stopped. The girl’s body was on top of the cop. Nothing moved. As for the slime, it was as if it was never there. It was gone.

The officer roused from the wake of the struggle. Over him was the unconscious body of the deranged girl who from the moments earlier, tackled with strength comparable to a mountain ape. He plopped her by the side on soft grass. Her body was limp, looking almost convincing as dead. As he drew close, he ran his fingers to her wrist and felt a meek quiver of pulse respond. She reeked a horrendous smell that made him recoil back almost just as immediately. The cop stood up, found the lamp a fair distance away, and turned to look at the loose night jungle.

“ALRIGHT. You can come out now, Dove.” the cop declared as he scratched his groin.

Dove emerged from the woods, looking stricken but nonetheless fine.

“You OK?” Dove asked looking up, his companion he realized now: very tall.

“Elucidated. Wait. Wait. Hold on. Shit. It was your moaning that got us.”

“Say what.”

“He was… He was right around the area when he suddenly heard an ominous shrill voice. His initial assumption was that maybe a woman was being assaulted in some brutal sodomized act.”

“You serious?”

“Yes.” The cop said, chuckling. “I’m not pulling your leg.”

“Why is he even here? He shouldn’t be here!”

“Bored.” The cop said. “He left post. Decided on a whim to roll his vehicle someplace different, someplace far and cozy. And here we are.”

“Agh. Christ. Hey, do you mind sitting? My head spins if I look up too much.”

The cop found a nearby log and sat.

“So, Grizz.” Dove said struggling, the drunkenness getting into him, “Uh. What… Uh. Plans?”

“Give me a moment.”

“AHHHH.” Dove exclaimed. “I need another beer.”

“Officer Jude Willis.” The cop began. “Age 32. Unmarried. Intercourse with women: gratifying amount. Had done part-time modeling gigs before he became a cop. As a cop, is mildly unsuccessful in gaining recognition. Lax temperament. Been described many times as attractive. Is six foot four. Is naturally blonde. Has ancestral roots from Great Britain and Norway. Yeah. Sounds about right.”

A sudden buzz came up on his radio. A static noise from an incoming transmission; a woman claiming to be one: Officer Rosa, was requesting an update for the current location and status of Bravo 1: Officer Jude Willis.

“Making routine patrol down in Larder Street,” Officer Jude Willis reported untruthfully. Larder Street was a 12 minute drive away from the actual current location. “Signs of peace. Solemn, even. Criminal activity was thought to be observed earlier but it was a false alarm. It was just the local Hobo, Billy, trying to kill himself as usual.”


Then the thing hung up.


By some mahogany sprout, the cop took a great piss of pale urine. As he did, Dove was bemoaning something about Heineken and a series of beer brands he regretted not having at the moment. The lamp shone like the sun when set at max. Light had spread about in a small area. The glow gave off a warm and secure feeling.

The cop returned from his brief recess and upon his reemergence, his fly was left open. There, erect, was a glorious uncircumcised member sitting very proud, and very, very large. “Look at it!” says he in a raised, excited voice.

“I’m looking at it. Jesus Christ, it’s big!”

Dove made an attempt to reach it with his hand. The cop slapped it away.

“You drunk fool!”

“I feel a strange powerful lust. Shit. We can’t just leave it hanging, you know?”

The cop nodded, “Oh, I agree.”

“Hey. I know…” Dove pointed at the girl on the ground, breathing weak snores.

“Oh. Good Idea. Take her over.”

“Double alcohol. Fuck. The effect will kill me. Would it kill me?”

“Body Hoppers are a resilient breed. No, you’ll be fine. The girl… I’m not so sure.”

“Wish us luck.”

Dove was now standing over the woman. He started to melt into this glob of weird gelatin matter. It would strike one as queer; the process was different compared to what had transpired from earlier. The viscous muck did not leave his system. He, the individual, was the one transforming into it. The entity resembled a large amoeba; seemingly non-solid in structure and mildly transparent. His clothes slowly slid off. The pile of matter continued to move – smothering her head, invading her open mouth. The mass became less and less as more infiltrated the body. The cop obtained the clothes left behind and threw them to the inside of the convertible. They were strangely dry. Some minutes have passed before the mount resuscitated. Upon recovery, she let out a piercing wail that cut through the night breeze.

“AAAAAH GOD!” She screamed. “I feel like my head is about to crack.”

“Do you know who Archimedes is?”

“Sure… Discovered Gravity.”

“Buzz Aldrin?”

“Uh. Woody’s partner.”

“Your name?”

“Joana Penbar.”

“You’re all right. You answered every question successfully.”

“I need more beer!”

“Cut the shit, woman.”

The cop lifted her from the spot and hurled her against the hood of the Chevy. She began to make sounds of protest. Her head, torso and arms splayed over; legs slant and leaning, ass high up. Jude Willis extracted her skirt and tore away the panties; the color a shade of hideous pink. Revealed beneath was a clean shaven cunt; drenched and frightened.

“Now. Let’s begin with polite introductions. What was your name again?”

“What is the meaning of this!”

“This guy’s name is Alfred…” His one large hand twisted and locked her two wrists together, while the other one held the immense throbbing junk; easing and pressing the tip against the lip of her vagina, “… Hitchcock..”

“Please, Officer! Begging you!”

The cop only dismissed her pleas with a shushing sound. His thing was now making a grazing movement: Up and down, down and up. The danger of penetration was a distressing high.

“I don’t advise your current right to remain silent. I’m going to ask some questions. And I advise you to answer them truthfully. Do that and maybe I’ll think about letting you go.”

“Al… Alright!”

“Tell me where your boyfriend was heading.”

“I don’t know!”

His penis scraped inward in a swift instant motion, but it continued no further besides that few beginning millimeters before he extracted right back. It was a warning of haste. The tender meat folds inside was a flash of mad red. She gave a moan of terror.

“Second chance.”

“I… I DON’T KNOW! I really don’t know! He just ran off and I can’t tell where he’s gone! Where he’s going! He’s left me all alone – with you! With no one else, but yo– ”

The swine impaled her. Blood leaked from her cunt. She screamed in pain. The cop released the grip over her wrists. Joana’s pale and trembling palms turned to fist, loudly slamming them repeatedly against the car’s lid, as a deluge of emotions, new and unknown, flowed within her brought about from sources external: malignant and unwelcome.


“A virgin! You Catholic?”

“L -Latter-day CHRISTIA… AAAH.”

It was either underestimation or the lack of knowledge but Joana hadn’t yet realized the intrusive object was capable of even more disaster. It kept going. Deeper. The volume of her screams continued to increase.

Jude’s hands found their way for the girl’s shoulders. He held them with tight grip as he proceeded to ram his groin forward again, and again. There were several instances when he felt the head of this thing strike the cervix; and for every instance it did, her voice peaks. Joana was getting raped by a servant of the law. She has heard stories from the local rumors and gossip and from national news. But becoming a protagonist of this demoralizing ordeal had never once arrived in any of her wild considerations and impossible dreams. Her blonde hair was losing its elegance, her eyes became watery and bloodshot. The stimulation was overwhelming; the sensations volcanic.

“Ohhh…” Jude bucked; as his euphoria rose to a high, rising crest; blood came rushing from his burning loins, spreading mad miles within his system, tingling all the nerve, bone and flesh that took residence within his physical vessel. He clutched her shoulders even tighter. His throat rumbled a loud groan as he then expelled a gush of warm semen within her canals. “… FUCK!”

Joana’s body slid down as the cop’s restraint momentarily weakened, and made a hard collapse for the dirt. She puked what looked to be some pints’ worth of beer.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!”

The cop retrieved her with both arms and placed her again against the Chevy’s hood; this time on her back, her facing him.

“Hey there, miss. Do you think I’m cute?”

He guided her hand and allowed it to graze his prickly mug, where a thin brown beard had begun to grow, sharp against skin. This did not amuse her. She spat his face, a mixture of saliva and phlegm to show her indignant defiance. The cop slapped her head right back to show his indignant response. A large red palm embalmed her cheek.


“Damn you! Screw you to hell!” She yelled.

“I will! I fucking will!”

He intruded again, savagely vandalizing the inner workings of her womanhood. He kept humping and humping as he held on her by the thighs. She was trying to keep down her moans, biting her thin lower lip to ease the humiliating euphoria. The cop placed his mouth over hers. Teeth blockaded the entrance of his tongue. He struck her again with a back hand. The physical persuasion made her cavities more welcoming. They exchanged spit and their taste buds wrestled like maniacs.

“See this blue outfit?” Says the cop, lifting his mouth. “I’m the fucking establishment! See this badge?” He pointed at the shiny plate on his breast, “I’m the guardian angel of the law!”


“That’s right! Think of him! Think of him as I’m fucking you like an alley stripper!”


They both instantaneously came.

Joana curled forward and leapt her lips to the cop’s mouth.

“WOW. That was… great.” Joana says. “That was greaaat.

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t go on though. She is really unwell.”

“All right.”

Jude Willis carried Joana off the hood and placed her on the seat cushions of the convertible. She began to excrete vomit again, inside the car this time.

“What a mess you’ve made…” Says Joana, as she reached a finger to her loins.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Look at all this red. You almost obliterated her hymen to nothing.”

“Great. All I need is another round.”

“NO.” Joana snaps back, “I wanna break. I wanna sleep…”

“I don’t advise it. If you do that, you’ll be dead for the next 18 hours.”

“OH FUCK OFF.” There was menace in her tone. “Leave me alone, you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!”

“All right, ALL RIGHT! Good Lord. No more beer for you.”

The emotions were getting ugly. What followed was a silence that felt more tense than uneasy. Never underestimate the destruction that can be caused from the effects of alcohol. Especially, if you are inside a mount.

“Dove, would she be having it?” Jude asked. “Hey, say something!”

“She’s safe…” She said. “Safe… Safe… She’s safe…

“Well. That’s good to hear.”

Then, it was truly silent; save for the sounds of crickets and the haunting howls of her snores.

. . .

There came about another hiss of the radio buzz. It was Officer Rosa again. Jude Willis responded.

“Yup. This is Willis.”

“… Eagle 2, Officer Rosa speaking from HQ. Requesting status update, Bravo 1.”

“Ah. You know. I’m all right.”

“Please stick to the protocol, Bravo 1.”

“Let’s drop it, Rosa. Let’s talk like people for once. Real-people talk.”

“I’m just doing my job, Jude. Doing it right. I’m hoping you do yours too.”

“Right. On that note. I’m still surprised you’re still around. It’s close to 1:00 AM.”

“I got the 5:30 to 2:00 shift.”

“How the hell… Chief’s keeping you this late? Never the sensible type, that guy.”

“Wasn’t him; I was the one who called in the extra hours. More hours I get, the faster I get back to Cali.”

Jesus. Big shame. You’re gonna miss me.”

“In your dreams, Willis.”

“Feeling bored? We can do a little field assignment. You and me.”

“I’ll decline. I’m bored, but not bored enough to leave my post.”

“Tell you what: You know why the sucker’s doing it? Keeping you in there, close, in his office, cooped up, doing papers and playing false cop – it’s because he’s got his eyes on you! The chief likes you and he doesn’t like the pretty things in life leaving his sight.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“All I’m saying is that you deserve better, baby. Fuck that guy.”

“Sure. And the radio’s live. The other guys are tuning in our conversation this very moment. You think it’s smart saying all this, this incriminating information, regarding the Police Chief?”

“Ahh… Let them listen! Jack shit, they’re either sleeping or playing craps right now. They don’t care. They don’t bust. And I’m not doing anything wrong. Or saying anything false or blasphemous to his name. It is a universal fact that the person is a rotten-core bastard of proportions that are obese.”

She let out a suppressed giggle. It sounded beautiful.

“Look at the time, it’s 1:02.” Willis said as he looked over his watch. “Tell you what. I got a horse here, somewhere. Let me take you home tonight. I’ll drop by the station.”

“I got a car. I can manage fine.”

“My steed purrs when pretty ladies take a ride of him. He insists on meeting you.”

“Sounds quite the character.”

“You’ll love him. What do you say?”

“You push hard. Does this usually work?”

“Only once, and I feel she’s close in saying yes.”

“I’m thinking about it.” She says, laughing. “All right. But just this once.”


Then the thing hung up.