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Betty Boots' Big Bust

12

Betty Boots had just finishing re-applying her lipstick after Mr. Largeski's training session when she heard a crash from the back of the Fantasy Factory warehouse.

"Golly!" Betty leapt to her feet, spilling her fashion magazines over the floor. There was another thunk and then Betty was sure she heard voices. She gulped and tugged her little white t-shirt straight. The big black letters SECURITY stretched across her large breasts. She was slender, except for those darn breasts! Betty had asked Mr. Largeski if there were any larger sizes in uniforms but had gotten extra training for her impertinence.

She pushed her cap over her long red hair, straightened her gun belt around her broad hips and dashed down the hall wall, thumping her chunky black boots.

On her first night as a security guard, Betty had heard a strange cry, like a woman in pain, and then the sound of something shaking fiercely. She panicked and pressed the alarm button immediately. The police and Mr. Largeski, in his bathrobe, arrived ten minutes later. She had been so embarrassed when it turned out to be a box of vibrators going off under a novelty 'orgasm in a box'.

"Largeski," laughed one of the officers as they got back into their patrol car. "What is she doing guarding your warehouse? She should be in one of your stores!"

"She was," growled Mr. Largeski, one of his signature cigars clenched between his teeth. He was a powerful man, in his fifties, with close-cropped steel gray hair and a dark mustache that reminded Betty of Groucho Marx when it tickled her.

"Well," said Mr. Largeski, once the officers had driven off. "Since I'm here we might as well have a training session." He ushered her into the back room, loosening the belt on his bathrobe.

Betty sighed. She had worked at one of the Fantasy Factory stores but one of the customers had tricked her. A very earnest young man had insisted it was her job to make sure the customer was always satisfied. It sounded like what Mr. Largeski had told her, so...

When Mr. Largeski arrived at the store a couple of hours later, Betty was completely naked and covered in the white sticky stuff of at least thirty satisfied customers. What made Mr. Largeski upset was that she hadn't made a single sale. It was off to the warehouse for her.

He had been very kind to Betty, despite her screw-ups. Again and again, he took time to train her to be a security guard. Betty worried that she was infringing on his time with Mrs. Largeski.

"No," said Mr. Largeski, getting Betty to kneel in front of him. "Deborah is busy training the pool boy and the gardener. That's why I hired them."

Betty was happy to hear this. Mr. Largeski sure was a training enthusiast!

But tonight was different. When he left, Mr. Largeski had told her that she wasn't to disturb him. His niece was in town and he wanted to show her the sights. Betty wasn't sure what tourist attractions would be open in the middle of the night, but she bit her tongue. Mr. Largeski was very smart and very stern.

Betty skidded to a stop. From around the corner she could hear voices and see the glints of flashlights. Her heart was thumping but she was determined to protect the Fantasy Factory's sex toys. Who knows what would happen if the extra long dildos and the naughty nurse videos got into the wrong hands! She drew her gun and then slowly reached around the corner to the light switch. Hopefully she wouldn't break a nail when she clicked it on. She hated it when that happened.

"Freeze, you naughty criminals!" she cried, swinging round the corner as the lights blazed on. Betty was actually surprised to see she was right. There were two men wearing black sweats and ski masks, their arms loaded with boxes labeled VIBRATORS. She was so startled that she just stood there, both hands on the gun straight out in front of her. A full minute passed before she realized they were waiting for her to do something.

"Hands up!" she said, trying not to sound too girly.

They just stood there. They were big men, much taller than Betty's five foot six. She could see their bulging muscles under the soft fabric of the sweats.

"Hands up!" she repeated. What was she going to do if they didn't obey? She could never shoot anyone.

"We can't," said the taller man on the right.

"What?" asked Betty. The shorter guy wobbled the boxes in his arms. "Oh! Put down the boxes and then put up your hands." To her relief, the men obeyed, but Betty didn't know what to do next.

"You're under arrest," Betty said, stalling for time.

"Who are you?" asked the taller guy.

"I'm Officer Betty Boobs! I mean - Boots. Betty Boots!"

The shorter thief snickered, eyeing Betty's knockers and her long bare legs. Betty ran a hand nervously over her tight black shorts. This was going terribly!

"You're doing fine," said the taller man in a deep, gentle voice, seemingly reading Betty's mind. He slowly pulled off his ski mask, revealing a clean-shaven, craggy face of a man about Betty's age, in his late twenties, with short brown hair and deep hazel eyes. The smaller man also removed his mask. He was older with jet-black hair and a small mustache. The taller man continued to talk in a soft voice. "I'm Mr. Jones and this is Mr. Smith. Don't worry you're doing a terrific job so far."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," said Betty. "I'm awful nervous, this is the first time I've ever erected - I mean - arrested anyone." Those sweat pants showed everything!

"Well, you're doing great," said Mr. Jones. Betty was happy to see they kept their hands up. She blushed slightly. They were sure muscular. "Isn't Betty doing well, Mr. Smith?" Mr. Smith didn't answer immediately. Mr. Jones kicked him.

"Oh! Yes, Mr. Jones. Officer Boobs is doing a terrific job." Mr. Smith exchanged a glance with Mr. Jones before adding. "Are you going to search us now?"

"Hey, Mr. Smith," said Mr. Jones quickly. "I'm sure Officer Betty is well aware that she's supposed to search us."

"Umm...yeah!" said Betty. "Put your hands against the wall and spread 'em!" She had heard that on a television show. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith were very obedient, so Betty holstered her gun and patted them down.

Mr. Jones smelled wonderful! Betty couldn't help but smell his neck for his aftershave as she ran her hand down his bulging arms and over his back and waist. She tried to be very conscientious and check each leg and even poked her fingers into both of their boots to feel for knives. Mr. Smith had a very nice ass, and after years of having her own bottom squeezed, she couldn't help but give his an extra going over. She straightened up and was about to declare them disarmed when she heard Mr. Smith whisper to Mr. Jones.

"She didn't check our--" He broke off, realizing Betty was listening.

"It's no use Mr. Smith. Officer Boobs--I mean--Boots is too smart. She saved searching our crotches for last," said Mr. Jones, shaking his head.

"You're darn tooting!" said Betty, relieved that Mr. Jones was on her side.

She walked up behind Mr. Jones and gingerly reached her hand around him. The front of his pants sure had something in them!

"Don't be shy Officer Betty," whispered Mr. Jones, so Mr. Smith wouldn't hear. "I realize you are only doing this as an officer of the law. I feel totally safe in your capable hands." Betty's chest swelled with pride. Mr. Jones was right--she was Officer Boots! She pressed herself against Mr. Jones and began running her hand up and down the suspiciously long pole in his pants.

"Oh! Officer Boobs!" said Mr. Jones. "You sure know how to search a suspect." Betty found the bottom end of the shaft, underneath were a couple of balls. She squeezed them, hard. Mr. Jones moaned. Betty grinned; this suspect was all hers! She fiddled with the balls and the shaft, completely engrossed in her search. After a little while Mr. Smith coughed politely.

"Uh, are you going to search me too, officer?" Betty blushed; she had totally forgotten about her other suspect, but she covered it with officious bluster.

"Oh, it's your turn now, buster!" She wasn't timid this time. She shoved her pubis against Mr. Smith's cute ass and kicked his legs further apart. "Let's see what you're hiding." Mr. Smith's pants were a little tighter than Mr. Jones, but whatever Mr. Smith was hiding was really thick and its end was even bigger. Betty was able to just put her hand around the large bulbous tip and stroke it, feeling for anything odd.

"Wow! Officer Boobs, you're really good at this!" Mr. Smith gasped, as Betty roughly ran her hand up and down the very odd projectile.

"That's Officer Boots! You naughty thief!" said Betty, giving Mr. Smith a smack across his firm ass and pressing her very proud tits against his back. Mr. Smith started to apologize but Betty found an even larger sack of balls under his shaft, which she subjected to a series of rapid tugs. When that didn't yield anything, she began to tug the sack as she jerked on the giant tube. But all she got was Mr. Smith moaning helpless until she finally took pity on the poor man and stopped.

"Turn around," she said, stepping back. The men turned. Their bulges had grown even bigger! Who knows what they could be concealing? But frisking hadn't worked. Betty stared at them doubtfully.

"If you're not sure," said Mr. Jones. "You could do a strip search."

"A--a strip search?" Betty's eyes widened.

"You need to do your duty as an officer," reminded Mr. Smith.

"Officer Boots know she needs to properly secure her prisoners," said Mr. Jones. Betty liked Mr. Jones; he was always sticking up for her. Well, she licked her lips, they were both sticking up for her right now!

"I--I want you to take off your clothes!" commanded Betty.

"Everything?" asked Mr. Smith. Mr. Jones had already pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing a broad muscular chest, completely hairless. His skin was a deep golden brown.

"Everything," said Betty, failing to take her eyes from Mr. Jones' smooth chest. When Mr. Smith removed his shirt he revealed an equally powerful chest covered with curly black hair, much to Betty's delight. She suppressed an urge to compare the sensation of Mr. Jones' smoothness with Mr. Smith's furriness.

"Stand back," said Mr. Jones, grinning, after they had kicked off their shoes and socks. Betty tried to keep a straight face as the men pulled down their sweat pants. She goggled. As she suspected they weren't wearing any underwear!

Mr. Jones' cock was long and shaven, with a tip like a shark. It hung in the air, a smooth torpedo, smooth and as taunt as the rest of him. Mr. Smith's dick was so thick and with a giant head that made Betty cross and uncross her legs. He was all hairy, animal even. A Greek god and a barbarian stood before her.

"Uh--I guess there are no...weapons," she said. Though they could sure incapacitate her with those! "I guess you can...umm...get dressed and I'll call the police." But Mr. Jones was shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Officer Betty. We've deceived you."

"What?" Betty looked around, suspiciously. Was there someone else here besides her and these two gloriously naked men?

"We're not thieves," said Mr. Jones, smiling at Mr. Smith. "We're officials--officers actually--of the National Security Guard Association. I'm sure you've heard of the NSGA. It would be in your manual."

"You've read your manual, haven't you?" asked Mr. Smith, still stern, even though he was completely naked.

"Oh, yes!" said Betty guiltily. She'd been too busy getting trained by Mr. Largeski to read any of the literature.

"Well you did a pretty good job," said Mr. Jones. "But there's a couple of things that-- Well, I don't want you to get in trouble with your boss."

"Oh, no! Please don't tell Mr. Largeski," said Betty, bouncing over to Mr. Jones.

"Mr. Jones, we're supposed to file a full report," said Mr. Smith. "You shouldn't have even told her that we're from the NASG." Mr. Smith's hands were on his hips, but Betty couldn't help but look at his big dick swinging from side to side.

"You mean the NSGA," said Betty, her eyes still on Mr. Smith's cock.

"Whatever," said Mr. Smith.

"Come on, Smith," said Mr. Jones. "If we show Officer Betty the proper procedures and she co-operates fully, we won't have to tell her boss about her slip ups."

"I'll co-operate fully!" Betty insisted, bouncing up and down. "Please, I love training!"

Her pleas melted Mr. Smith's heart. Very tenderly he straightened her security t-shirt and patted her bottom. Betty smiled shyly and looked at her feet. She was so lucky.

"Okay!" Mr. Jones clapped his hands. "Take off your cap and gun belt Betty. You'll be the robber and we'll apprehend you."

"Okay!" Betty said brightly. She bent over and picked up a box labeled KING DONGS. "Do you want to put your clothes on?"

"No," Mr. Smith chimed in. "It is good practice to apprehend criminals this way, so you don't depend on the uniform."

"Right," said Mr. Jones. "We'll stand by the corner and when I say 'go' we'll start. Okay?"

"Sure thing!" Betty was excited, now she was getting professional training.

Mr. Jones said 'go' and the both men barked 'halt' as Betty tried to steal the King Dongs. They pointed their fingers at her and Betty couldn't help but giggle. If this were for real, she'd be much more worried about the other things they were pointing at her.

"Drop the box, scum bag!" barked Mr. Smith. Betty dropped the box, but wasn't very careful. It spilled all over the floor. The dongs were almost as big as Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith. "Hands up!" continued Mr. Smith.

"Up against the wall, you neer-do-well!" Mr. Jones grabbed her arm and spun her around. She leaned against the wall.

"Spread 'em!" snarled Mr. Smith, kicking Betty's boots apart.

"Frisk her," said Mr. Jones.

Mr. Smith had very big hands and Betty gasped as they crawled all over her body. They especially dwelt on her boobs, squeezing them, plucking her nipples, and making her gasp.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked. She could feel Mr. Smith's cock shoved against her shorts.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Smith. "You'd be surprised what I've found in women's brassieres.

"But I'm not wearing one!" Betty said as Mr. Smith shoved harder against her and cupped her knockers through her very thin shirt.

"Really?" Mr. Smith nuzzled her neck. "How interesting!"

"You're failing to do your job," admonished Mr. Jones, motioning for Mr. Smith to move back. For a moment Betty thought Mr. Jones would be gentler, but he too pushed himself against Betty's pert ass. His hands went lower, slipping into her front pockets, digging into them in a most pleasant way.

"You see?" said Mr. Jones to Mr. Smith. "You were missing a most important hiding spot. He went deeper and his fingers did circles and strokes. It really made Betty most dizzy. Mr. Smith had to hold her up in front while Mr. Jones continued in the back.

"There is nothing there," Betty moaned.

"Oh, I can feel something," said Mr. Jones. "But you're correct, frisking is getting us nowhere." The two men stepped back and Betty noticed their cocks had remained rock hard, even harder! It must be the police work, thought Betty, she was finding it very arousing indeed. She was only too aware of her pointy nipples and the tingling dampness of her pussy.

"I think we'd better go on to a strip search," said Mr. Jones.

"Yes, I quite agree," said Mr. Smith, smiling down at Betty.

"A--a strip search. But men aren't supposed to strip search women!" protested Betty.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Jones. "But then, you broke protocol when you stripped us. Obviously you let your personal attractions get in the way. It seems only fair that we should give you the same treatment. That way it doesn't have to get back to your boss."

"I'd hate for Mr. Largeski to know about my...attractions," said Betty. "I'll do it!"

"Good," said Mr. Smith. "Actually there are special techniques for searching women that will come in handy for you later on in your career. Nothing like experiencing them yourself. Now strip you trollop!"

Betty quailed but obeyed. It was marvelous how Mr. Smith was able to put that tone of command in his voice. It made Betty want to do anything he said.

First she pulled off her boots, which Mr. Smith immediately took and checked for weapons. Then, with scarlet coming to her cheeks, she unzipped and pushed down her shorts.

"Ah, we're not the only ones to go sans underwear," said Mr. Jones, as Betty shyly tried to conceal her curly red triangle.

"I'm glad to see you trim it according to the Security Guard guidelines," said Mr. Smith. "Now off with your shirt!"

Betty peeled her shirt off. Perhaps she should be a robber; she was kind of enjoying this.

"Hands up!" reminded Mr. Jones.

Betty held up her hands. Freed from her tight t-shirt, her boobies jiggled and bounced with minds of their own. And her nipples--her nipples were like radio knobs!

"Very suspicious," said Mr. Smith, grasping a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "We'd better do the full search. Is there a room with a couch, you naughty criminal?"

"Yes," said Betty, as Mr. Jones ran his hands over her round ass. "Mr. Largeski trains me there a lot."

"Well, then pick up some of this evidence and lead the way," said Mr. Jones, pointing to the spilled King Dong dildos.

Betty led them to Mr. Largeski's office, with its very spacious couch. She hoped they wouldn't smell her perfume on the pillows. They didn't seem to notice as they had her lie back and spread her legs. Mr. Smith sat between her legs, and frankly admired her thick red fur amongst the curves of her whiteness. Mr. Jones stood over her. Betty felt awe looking up at his cock.

"Now Officer Boobs, I'm sure you're aware that a female suspect can hide things in a variety of places," said Mr. Smith. Betty nodded.

"To check these hiding places an officer has to be resourceful," said Mr. Jones, holding up one of the big dildos.

"We'll give you a demonstration," said Mr. Smith, a large dildo in his hand as well.

"Oh, you're going to...but I didn't take anything," said Betty, looking at the dildos fearfully.

"Betty, do you want to be the best security guard you can be?" asked Mr. Jones.

"I do!"

"Letting us show you these techniques will put you on the A list. Employers all over the world will want you when they hear what you've done," said Mr. Smith, stroking his cock with the dildo.

"They will?!" Betty wanted to stand out.

"They'll climb all over themselves to get a well trained girl like you under them," said Mr. Jones, running the cool silicon dong along Betty's jaw line.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" cried Betty, spreading her legs and looking up at Mr. Jones. "Search me!"

Mr. Smith started first. He ran the dildo up and down Betty's pussy, calling forth the wet already there from Mr. Jones' frisking. Betty started to think this wasn't going to be so tough when suddenly Mr. Smith pressed the tip pass her pussy lips and into her. Oh, this was going to be very hard work!

She moaned, and at that instant Mr. Jones pushed his dildo into her mouth, pushing down on her tongue, making her gag. She thrashed and wiggled but they were implacable. Mr. Smith shoved deeper into her sodden pussy and Mr. Jones slid further down her throat. Later, Betty was mad at herself. She should have been memorizing their technique but instead she had gotten completely and utterly aroused. Maybe she deserved to be locked up, or at least chained up and whipped. She was moaning helplessly when Mr. Smith looked up at Mr. Jones with very intense eyes.

"These dildos aren't big enough for this slutty suspect. Let's go to plan A." Betty was too aroused to do anything as Mr. Smith pulled his dildo free and placed his own monumental member at the door of Betty's throbbing pussy.

12
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