Booked and baited.

Chapter 6: Booked and Bait

The officers marched us into the police station like prized catches. My heels clicked loudly on the tile floor as Danielle’s wide hips swayed with every step. The tight black sundress rode up my ass, and I could feel the cool air on my soaked thong. Every officer we passed turned to stare.

“Damn, look at these two,” one muttered.

We got processed fast. Fingerprints, photos, the works. Carlos — in Terry’s body — played the part perfectly, acting like a tipsy, flirty middle-aged tourist who’d made a bad choice.

The chief — a stocky, middle-aged Mexican man with a thick mustache — came out of his office the second he saw “Terry.” His eyes locked onto her like a heat-seeking missile. Carlos noticed immediately and leaned forward on the counter, pushing Terry’s heavy tits together in that tight white blouse.

“Officer… I mean, Chief,” Carlos purred in Terry’s sweet voice, “this is all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe we could talk about it… privately?”

The chief’s eyes dropped straight into her cleavage. “You two come with me. The younger one goes to holding. The mature one… we’ll handle this in my office.”

I got dragged one way. Carlos got escorted the other, already laughing softly as he brushed against the chief’s arm.

They tossed me into a small holding cell with three other women. The second the door clanged shut, all eyes turned to me.

“¡Mira qué puta tan hermosa!” one of them whistled — a tough-looking Latina woman with tattoos. “Fresh meat, and she’s gorgeous.”

They purposely gave me the smallest uniform they had: a tiny orange top that was way too tight across Danielle’s massive tits and barely reached below my ribs, and shorts so small they looked like panties. My ass cheeks hung out the bottom, and the top stretched obscenely over my chest, my hard nipples clearly visible.

The woman who’d spoken first — big, confident, and clearly the alpha in the cell — stepped right up to me. “Damn, mami. You’re too pretty to be in here alone.” She ran a hand down my side, squeezing my hip, then boldly cupped one of my heavy tits. “These are real? Fuck, they’re perfect.”

“Hands off,” I growled in Danielle’s husky voice, but it came out breathy and weak. My stupid body responded instantly — nipples hardening, pussy clenching and leaking down my thigh.

Cat calls and harassment started immediately.

“Hey blondie, shake that ass for us!”

“Come here, baby, I’ll make you my prison girlfriend.”

The big woman grinned and pressed me against the bars, her hand sliding between my legs to rub my soaked thong. “You’re already wet, huh? Good girl. I’m gonna take real good care of you while you’re in here.”

I tried to push her off, but Danielle’s body was soft and sensitive. Every rough grope sent jolts of unwanted pleasure through me. I bit my lip to hold back a moan as she pinched my nipple hard through the tiny top.

“Fuck… get off me,” I said, still sounding like a vulgar guy trapped in a slutty woman’s voice. But my hips twitched involuntarily against her hand.

Across the station, I could just barely see into the chief’s office through the blinds. Carlos (in Terry’s body) had the door half-closed. He was sitting on the edge of the chief’s desk, legs crossed seductively, laughing and leaning forward so Terry’s tits nearly spilled out. The chief was eating it up, his hand resting on her thigh, inching higher under the pencil skirt.

Carlos was laying the flirt on thick — touching the chief’s arm, whispering in his ear, even letting him cop a feel of Terry’s tits while giggling like a horny tourist.

I was stuck in this cell getting groped and claimed as someone’s prison girlfriend while Carlos worked the chief for the stone.

This plan was working… but at what cost?

To be continued in Chapter 7…