The Whole Squad Get Involved

Rosa has Amy bent over her own desk in the middle of the bullpen, skirt flipped up, while pretending to show her “case notes.” In reality, Rosa is slowly grinding her piss-soaked pussy against Amy’s ass while two fingers are knuckle-deep inside her.

“You’re literally leaking down your legs, Santiago,” Rosa mutters, voice low but amused. “Holt really turned you into a walking cum toilet.”

Amy is biting her own wrist to stay quiet, eyes half-lidded in humiliated bliss.

You walk past them like nothing is happening, but you can’t resist. You “accidentally” drop a pen near Rosa’s chair, kneel down, and quickly push two fingers into Amy’s dripping cunt, scooping out a mix of cum and piss, then smear it across the seat of Rosa’s chair before standing back up.

Rosa smirks. “Good boy.”

By 11:30 AM, the depravity has snowballed.

Gina somehow figures it out within minutes (because of course she does). Instead of being disgusted, she immediately wants in. She forces Amy into the women’s bathroom, makes her lie on the dirty floor, and squats over her face, pissing directly into her mouth while filming it “for the group chat.”

Boyle, bless his deranged heart, finds out when he catches you jerking off into the new batch of creamer. Instead of freaking out, he gets visibly excited and asks if he can “enhance” it further by adding his own load while describing the flavor profile in disturbing detail.

Even Terry gets pulled in.

During lunch, Rosa locks the break room door and makes you and Amy kneel side by side. Terry, after heavy **** and visible guilt, ends up fucking Amy’s tits while you fuck her throat. He finishes with a deep, ashamed groan, painting Amy’s face and glasses with an absolutely massive load. Amy thanks him like the broken cumslut she’s become.

By 2 PM, almost the entire squad is vaguely aware something filthy is happening.

Holt, ever the conductor of this descending orchestra of depravity, sends a new mass text to the “active participants” group chat (which now includes Rosa, Gina, and a very confused but horny Boyle):

Holt: Mandatory “strategy meeting” in the evidence archive at 4 PM.

Holt: Dress code: optional.

Holt: Santiago will serve as the official receptacle. Bring fluids.

4:00 PM – Evidence Archive

The room is dimly lit and packed.

Amy is completely naked except for the collar around her neck and the smeared, barely legible marker writing still visible on her body. She’s lying on her back on a large evidence table, legs spread wide and pulled back, with a funnel already lodged in her asshole.

Holt stands at the head of the table like he’s conducting a briefing.

“Line up,” he says calmly. “One at a time. You will deposit into the funnel. Santiago will retain everything until the end of the meeting.”

Rosa goes first. She steps up, shoves three fingers into Amy’s pussy, then pisses directly into the funnel, filling her ass with hot piss.

Gina goes next, giggling maniacally as she squats over the funnel and unloads a long, powerful stream while calling Amy every filthy name she can think of.

Boyle is so enthusiastic he nearly misses, jerking off into the funnel while describing how “nutty and earthy” everyone’s contributions taste.

You step up and add two thick loads — one in her ass via the funnel, one directly across her face for good measure.

Even Scully and Hitchcock get brought in at the end. They’re confused but happy to jerk off onto Amy’s tits while she lies there trembling, belly slightly swollen from how full her ass is.

Holt is last.

He removes the funnel, replaces it with his cock, and fucks Amy’s piss-and-cum filled ass while the entire group watches. When he cums, he stays buried deep, pumping what feels like the biggest load yet straight into her overflowing guts.

When he finally pulls out, a gush of mixed fluids pours out of Amy’s ruined asshole onto the evidence table.

Holt looks around at the depraved squad with complete satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” he announces, “we move to Phase Two. The entire precinct water cooler will be replaced with a mixture we create tonight at my apartment. Santiago will be the main collection vessel. Peralta will be in charge of… quality control.”

Amy, lying in a puddle of piss, cum, and sweat, looks up at the ceiling with a broken, ecstatic smile.

She whispers hoarsely, voice cracking:

“…Can we do this every day?”