Like a couple of rookies...

Unfortunately, our ladies aren't up to the task.

Officer Maria took the lead and approached the side door. She tried the handle, as one might expect, it didn't budge. "There must be a code" Liliana observed, acknowledging the number pad. "Let's try the address..." Garcia had already begun punching in the numbers before the words even left her mouth. *Click* *Beep-Boop* The number pad flashed green, apparently properly opened. "No fucking way..." Lilli's Puerto Rican accent snuck out in surprise as her partner swung the door open. Maria gave her a quick nod, indicating she would clear the room first while Lilli kept anchor outside. The moment Maria passed over the threshold, the door slammed shut, surprising both women.

"Shit.... Shit, shit shit!" Maria cursed as she kicked and pounded on the door. On the other side, Lilli frantically punched in the code. "Come on, come on... hijo de puta" No matter how many times she entered the code, the pad refused to respond. She was locked out... and her partner was locked in. Lilli decided she couldn't just stand around like a chump. She'd have to find another way in. Cautiously, the younger Latina worked her way around the perimeter. She felt naked without her gear. No radio, no flashlight, no gun... she'd have to figure something out. The bay doors appeared well shut, though they did wiggle slightly when she dug her fingernails into the small cracks between plates. However, on her own, it didn't seem likely that she could **** it open. Maybe if she had a better grip, or a second pair of hands. She gave up and continued working the perimeter, increasingly impatient to get in and back-up her partner. On the back side of the garage, something caught her eye. A thin, open window set tauntingly just out of her reach. Surely she could find something to stand on to help her reach it...

After the third or fourth kick, Maria gave up. Obviously, the door wasn't giving in. The garage was dim, lit only by a small window on the far wall. If she were clearing this room in a firefight, she'd have an aneurism. Two antique roadsters of unknown make and model. At least three rows of mechanics tools arranged on pegboards set in steel frames. Piles of boxes behind piles of boxes obstructed view, and created far too many crevasses to hide behind. The wall on her left sported an elaborate door, obviously the next objective, provided Maria could reunite with her partner. With nothing better to do, Maria examined the door.

"Buried in legends of the past, shadow below, sun above. Ignore the roar, seek to change. Encapsuled within, twisted and turned. The key lies buried in the head in your hand."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Maria muttered under hear breath. "Okay...'key lies buried in the head in your hand'..." She looked the room a moment. "Cylinder heads. The key is probably stuffed in a cylinder head." With a goal in mind, Maria slowly started moving her way through the Garage, inspecting each box she stumbled across as she went. "Ah-ha!" Eventually, she located a dusty old box jam packed with greasy cylinder heads. She wasted no time pulling out the spare parts, carefully examining each before discarding the junk on the floor beside her. As grease and grime began building up on her hands, she heard a voice calling out. "Maria? Ves la ventana?" "Lil? Yeah, I see it!" The women's voices carried through the open window, easing both their minds. "I'm dragging the dumpster over, I'm gonna climb in through that bitch." Excellent! Lilli was always a quick thinker, of course she'd figure out how to get in. Maria wiped her hands on her shirt and pants to clear-off the accumulated gunk. Sure it was her official uniform, but it was also quite easy to clean. She'd yet to stain it in nearly a decade of service.

"Mess detected. Initiating cleaning protocols." A strange, robotic voice chimed out. "The fuck?" Maria mumbled beneath her breath. A strange light illuminated the enclosed space, like a screen illuminating a dark room, flickering and swirling chaotically. Then rhythmic thumping, like heavy boots marching with machine precision echoed throughout the garage. Before Maria could formulate a plan, a humanoid "robot" began advancing towards her. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was a Manor employee in a cheap costume with a few motorized components being puppeted by some underpaid interns. Surely that couldn't be the case. More or less trapped between the shelves, the boxes, and the bay door, Maria had little choice but to fight. She swung wildly, using one of the cylinder heads like a club. Thankfully for Manor insurance, the "robot" was easily able to catch her wrist mid swing. In a few moments, her other arm was similarly controlled. As the elder Latina struggled to break free, motorized limbs adorned with what appeared to be sewing shears crept ever closer to the robot's unwilling captive.

The shears made short work of her top, slicing carefully from the wrist to the collar on each arm. They took their time with the buttons on the front, snipping one at a time from top to bottom, letting the cloth fall away bit by bit. A lacey pale yellow bra slowly unveiled itself. The floral patterns of the white lace trimming each cup emerged first. Then the shiny fabric of the cups tenderly embracing her modest breasts. Maria stopped shaking in resistance, fearful that she would further expose herself, or catch her skin on the shears. Her face reddened as a cute little pink ribbon between the cups was unveiled. Her toned stomach showed itself, and for a moment, Maria believed her torment was over. Another arm grasped the shreds of her former uniform and brought them to a "mouth" of sorts built into the robot's head. The sound of gears grinding and the crackle of a flame made it clear: she wasn't getting what remained of her shirt back.

The embarrassed officer's ordeal was far from over unfortunately. One of the mechanical arms grasped her belt, slowly undoing it and pulling it away from her restrained body. It reminded her of an old boyfriend who pulled a very similar move in very different circumstances. The feeling of vulnerability and helplessness drove her mad. She kicked and thrashed, but it was no use. The robot maintained an iron grip on her wrists, and kept her arms locked fully extended to her sides. The shears went to work yet again, first on the button of her pants, then slowly working their way around the waist. *Snip* *Snip* *Snnnnniiiipp* Some of the strokes were short, staccato in their rhythm. Others were long, graceful glides through the fabric of her precinct issued uniform. Of all the underwear she could've chosen for today, why did she have to choose something so... adventurous? Pale yellow satin and floral white lace stretched from just below her stomach to neatly cover her well trimmed crotch. Little patches of dark curly hair peaked out through little lace windows. Similar fabric swung from the small of her back and betwixt her finely toned buttocks. Her underwear was normally a tanga cut, but in her exertion, and simply the preponderance of her posterior, it now much more closely resembled a thong. An elaborate open back with white ribbon crisscrossing a pattern through the lace certainly brought one's eyes to her ample assets.

Thoroughly humiliated, Maria didn't bother to struggle as final pair of arms extracted her boots, leaving her in just her thigh high nude pantyhose and decorative underwear. The machine removed the greasy cylinder head from her grasp, then turned her loose. She took a few moments to recompose herself as the machine meandered away to patrol the rest of the Garage. "Maria! Ayúdame!"

Lilliana finally managed to drag a heavy dumpster over to the back wall of the garage and boost herself up to the window. Unfortunately, just when she'd squeezed her shoulders through the narrow gap of the open window, the glass slid shut ever so slightly tighter... just enough to pin the younger Latina in place. Her ass dangled above the dumpster, and she kicked her legs, unable to find a foothold or wriggle loose. She shoved and pushed against the window and the wall with all her might, but to no avail. Things only got worse when a swarm of animatronic arms emerged from ports surrounding the window. A few of the larger arms pinned the officer's arms to the wall to prevent her interference. Outside, a similar swarm took advantage of her unprotected rear. Cries that might very easily be misheard as moans escaped her lips, as mechanical arms slapped and groped her generous ass. In her current condition, her buttocks beautifully filled the seat of her pants, clearly delineating her ample curves. Her hind quarters squished and bounced with each blow in a lurid display.

Inside, Liliana found her buttons being ruthlessly ripped out of place, the brass circles clattering about the messy shop floor. The arms grasped at her shirt, pulling it out of her waistband, then up and over her head, taking her officer cap with it. Her soft pink bra now lay fully exposed. Her chest was noticeably larger than her partner's, and demanded far more support. Stretchy spandex and an abundance of cotton mostly succeeded in containing her generous endowments, even through intense activity. Her belt soon became the next victim of the grabbing ****. Rather than being carelessly tossed aside, the hands daisy chained the leather strip to the other side of the window. It took a great deal of doing to remove the officer's pants. Even with the button destroyed and the zipper fully open, the fabric clung tight to her curves. Surely, they must pour this woman into her uniform every morning. Eventually, brute **** won the day, and the waistband slowly worked it's way down Lilliana's plush posterior. The unforgiving cling of her pants demanded the woman exclusively wear thongs or nothing at all if she dreamed of hiding her panty lines. Sure enough, a soft pink G-string emerged inch by inch as the pants lost their battle to remain in place.

As the navy fabric descended, additional mechanical arms sprang to life, wrapping around the woman's thick, well toned thighs and forcing her to spread her legs. Once past her knees, the pants were far more obliging, and were quickly surrendered alongside her shoes and socks. Forcibly spread in nothing but her barely there panties, dangling out of a window, and pinned to a wall while arms attempted to rip off her bra. Lilliana was tempted to believe things could not get worse. *WHACK* The sharp sting of a leather belt across her bountiful buttocks changed her mind rather quickly. *Whack*, another sharp strike, this time followed by a slutty moan that might be confused for a pained yelp escaped her lips. "Maria! Ayúdame!"

With the robot now out of her way, Maria rushed to the window to help her partner. Without thinking, she leapt as high as she could, and grasped her friend's hands. Lilliana returned the grip, allowing Maria to plant her feet on the wall. With all her might, Maria pulled on her friend and pressed against the wall. The window creaked and groaned, the hands clamped down, but ultimately, the trap gave way. Lilliana and Maria tumbled to the garage floor. On the one hand, they were quite fortunate that a pile of boxes stuffed with old newspapers and rags broke their fall. On the other, they were both completely covered head to toe in dust and grime. A familiar light illuminated the room. "Mess detected. Initiating cleaning protocols."

"No. Nonononono. Shit!" Maria stuttered and cursed as she realized what was about to happen. "We need to go, now!" she continued. "Fucking where?" Lilliana asked, still trying to recuperate from her ordeal. "Bay doors. NOW!" Maria shouted as she scooped her partner up off the floor. The officers reached the door just as the robot began turning the corner behind them. The women found two sets of handles near the floor, and wasted no time in ripping the door upward as fast as they could. A jet of cold oil and a blast of white powder struck them in the back as the door swung over their heads. The impact and chill of the oil stunned them for a moment. The clanking of the robot's boots brought them back to reality. "Get on the other side and close it!" Maria ordered. The two repositioned themselves and prepared to swing the door closed before the robotic menace could catch them. The door didn't budge. They pulled again. Nothing. They tried a third time, only to be greeted with a horrible sound, and even worse sensation. *rtrtrtrt...Click*.

They were officers of the law. They knew damn well what handcuffs sounded like. And they were all too familiar with the feeling of steel on their wrists. Game over. They were well and truly stuck. The robot continued it's deliberate pace. Shears worked their way through a light pink sports bra, and dainty yellow lace affair. A pink thong so tiny might as well have never existed in the first place was disposed of. So to did yellow panties with lace find their way into oblivion. Two officers, covered in oil and dust hung by their wrists from an unyielding garage door. Naked, and on full display. Surely it couldn't get worse...

Maria so desperately wanted to believe that thought. Lilliana knew better than to hope. Spinning brushes and jets of soap and water abused the would-be intruders. Maria was old school. She'd always found a man to please her if she wanted to get off, or at worse would resort to her own two hands. She was completely unprepared for the intensity of motors and silicone rubber on her erogenous zones. Lilli was far more accustomed to adventurous play. While these toys were new, they weren't entirely exotic to her previous experiences. With no alternatives, she might as well give in to the pleasure. She wasn't entirely sure how slapping her ass with her own belt was getting her any cleaner. She was quite sure that she liked it. Maria hadn't expected to cum on a hair trigger a half dozen times in front of her partner. Nor had she expected to hear Lilliana bring herself to screaming orgasm while a machine abused her ass. Perhaps she should simply enjoy the fact that she did not face similar treatment. Every time the officers believed the blasted robot had finally cleaned their helpless bodies, the oil cannons sprang to life, coating them in a cold, glistening coat that coaxed the robot to continue it's work.

The women were left exposed and tormented with orgasms for a few hours before the challenge officially drew to an end. Part of the penalty for tripping at the starting line. It wasn't entirely necessary to **** them to walk home nude, hands cuffed behind their backs, and their clip on ties turned into makeshift blindfolds. It likely wasn't necessary for their co-workers to stick them in lock-up for indecent exposure and **** them to dance in the cage...er cell before they were released. Then again, it certainly wasn't necessary for them to fail so spectacularly on the first round of the Gauntlet.