Moving In

Settling into her new home in Orange County would’ve been jarring without the transformations. A Laguna Beach mansion was going to feel weird without her new occupation hanging over like a guillotine. An escape where the water was crystal blue and palm trees had coconuts that rivaled her own. Not even allowed any stops back at the ghetto apartment she was glad to be the first of three to reach the house. Three floors of pristine white flooring—stainless large windows showcasing the beautiful sea beneath. She would’ve shed tears gazing at the balcony if she hadn’t already dried her ducts during the plane ride over. Her false memory routed her along to her new room as she sighed thinking about her chances of affording the palace. Hell, much less the beachside house, she probably couldn't afford rent if she had to pay a share for it. And it wasn’t even slut-formed like her. Outside of what was in her closet and drawers, everything looked as normal as rich real estate could.

Evie was hoping the normality would've included the closet, but the outfits inside seemed tailor-made for her new "taste". She could take solace that it wasn't just the same outfit she was wearing; all of them were levels of slutty that she would never see herself wearing prior to the game show. Stretching the label of "sexy police officer", Sweaters and pencil skirts were also included, but otherwise, it was like she raided a raunchy Halloween outlet. If days away from the show, maybe she would've dashed the hope of regular clothes before she arrived. But alas, now she just had to carry the disappointment into the bathroom. Between getting intimate with her new body shape and being in sheer awe of the lavish size of her new bathroom Evie couldn’t help but whine with approval. Moving from her rotting apartment complex and a life of debt to a place that anybody would have fantasies about. Any reason to gin up any frustration disappeared as soon as the jets pounded her back.

After drying herself off, Evie picked the least skimpy lingerie that was in there and took that mindset when trying to find a fit. Arms hoisting up her hanging hills, Evie stared at her reflection as she finally took a good look in the mirror. Her red hair flared out underneath her beret in perfectly permed curls all the way down her shoulders—framing her smokey half-open eyes and her fire-engine red pillows, parted just enough to make a mini O. Though her titanic ta-tas had zero top cleavage to celebrate, these jumbo jubilees pushed out the sleeveless sweater so far out that they were completely visible from the sides. If she had any plans on leaving the luxurious livings she would've thought twice about it, but it was comfy enough to ignore the fact that every swish flashed a bit of the g-string underneath. Despite any wishes to put on a skirt, apparently, it was either this or putting on an entirely see-through blouse. The punishment seemed to have a set in mind whenever she chose a sweater or shirt and she had to stick with it if she wanted to wear it. The hour spent hemming and hawing at which one would make the homeowners association least offended resulted in an outfit that would probably result in a public obscenity charge. Even so, only half of her felt guilty. One half was crying over spilled milk on whether or not it was right; the other was quietly admiring the bombshell she turned into.

There was a snap realization that she was probably normalizing it all irregularly fast, but before she could sit down and truly ponder about that, the doorbell announced the arrival of her co-victims. Click-clacking her way down the steps, Evie surprised herself—speedily managing her white stilettos all the way back to the entrance where the two other "officers" stepped in. They were two officers from her old department in Chicago. She vaguely remembered both of them, knowing enough to smirk at the situation. It was like the good cop/bad cop decided to swap looks.

"Ms. Lydia Doebetch" formally Lyrie Doe used to fit her last name pretty well. Unassuming, a bit meek, and generally a bit too lenient with the law. If there was a quota for speeding tickets it was automatically assumed that the station would have to do extra work to cover for the pats on the back she was giving out instead. The way she was dressed up now didn't fit her bill at all. She seemed to have developed some Russian features, growing a foot taller than her previous five-foot-five stature. Dressed in a latex police uniform, her long legs were barely covered by the pencil skirt that just about stopped before her new ass did. Though she didn't have an exaggerated figure like Evie, her hourglass figure certainly fed a masochist's wet dreams. Straight and long jet-black hair with piercing blue eyes. DD-cup cha-chas poking through the latex paired with the belt holding a riding crop and cuffs.

Meanwhile "Ms. Sou Fuk-Mi" formally Susan Franken was known for being a hardass who constantly egged on fights as if to prove that she deserved to be there. If there was an unlucky soul who was caught in her sights she'd figure out a way to whack them with as much of the law she could throw at them. The grit she had in the field was now only apparent through her clenched jaw, as all the muscles she spent cultivating vanished to the winds and were replaced by plush curves. And whatever sliver of Asian in her pale blood has been amplified a thousand-fold: A whole foot was taken off the previous five-foot-eleven gladiator, and it looked like she was transported back to her college years. Accentuating her new e-cup bazookas, was a uniform that more or less resembled a cheerleader top and skirt. Barely fluttering below Trinity's new bubble bum and semi-transparent, the skirt ensured that the bright pink thong underneath got full visibility no matter the situation. A blue and black top with a white "R.I.O." stretched underneath the canyon of cleavage that spilled over the two-sizes too-small tank top. Resting between her fun bags was the badge that identified the only thing official about the look. Blue and white pom-poms, Ruby red on the cute officer's pouty mouth hole, and black fluffy pigtails finished the look of a short-stack college girl deciding to back the blue with some pep and cheer. Seeing the veteran police dick reduced to such a state was funny enough but her accent when introducing herself was what sent Evie. It was as if the native officer picked up English as a second language. Evie expected a full language change and this sort of stereotypical speech caused bubbling laughter. “OH-EM-GEEE!!! Chya got my boinky doinkies shaking—Super duper cutie with the accent!!!!"

Blush started to color Fuk-Mi's frustrated face. Stepping up, the little girl put her pom-pom hands against her hips and spat "Why you laugh at Fuk-Mi's trouble! You sound dim bulb need replacing.”

“Fer shure.” Evie’s tolerance didn’t even feel slighted as she continued to shake her sweater stuffers with laughter. “Though mademoiselle, ai don’t alwais 'avé to sound lik a dullaird. I’m sairry zat you apparént-lee can’t do la sam”

Fuk-Mi's started to bite her lip in protest. Her conflicted frustrations looked like she was either going to dropkick Evie or start eating her out. Stammering, she eventually responded "E-Either Fuk-Mi talk like this or talk like high pitch, anime incel. Fuk-Mi like this better."

The long-legged Betchwood couldn’t help putting her leg in between the two tiny cops. “Da. Ve are all here bekause of zat game show. All ve arrre doing is giving kompany free enterrtainment if ve starrrt katfights vith each other.”

Nodding her head, Evie swapped back to her valley girl tone. “Totes.”

“Whatever. Fuk-Mi go upstairs to wake up from this nightmare.” Almost skipping on her heels, the Asian cheerleader starts her way up the stairs. Meanwhile, Lydia outstretched her hand to Evie. “Sory to meet tyou on such missfortunate cirkumstances. I don’t know if you remember me, but I really respect yourrr efforrts in ****.”

“I totally remember, swear on my melons!” Shaking her hand, Evie’s hair pushes up her cap as the flame-red curls form a large beehive hairdo.

“Lyrie right?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you remember!” Breaking out into a sultry smile, Ms. Doebetch sighed in relief. “Vith veteran like you here, I’m sure ve’ll survive whatever hell zose producerrrs vill put us through.”

Grinning right back, Evie couldn’t help thinking “As long as you stop yur catch-and-release program i’m sure we’ll do finé.”

“What vas zat about my release program?” Raising an eyebrow, Lydia gave an uncertain glance at Evie’s thought

“Merde! You 'aird zat?” Blushing in guilt, Evie explained. “I just mean that, like, we’re going to need to actually do them for their crimes so, uhm, yeah.”

“Da. I get zat I vasn’t best at filling quotas. But you von’t have to vorrry about it.” Starting to move upstairs as-well, Lydia turned around as she reached the top. “I still respect you, don’t vory about zat.”

Evie could almost see a grin peek out of that former meek’s cocksuckers as she continued up to her bedroom. All three of them were a bit weird there, but there was enough of a reason for her to brush it off. But as she started to walk into the kitchen to get some coffee, her legs suddenly gave out as she fell backward onto her bum-bum. “Stupid game show!”

NOTE: I'll be writing short stories about the day-to-day life of Evie's new positions, but feel free to write about the transformations of her co-workers or the days of their lives. For now, this is the end of this branch, and I'm so happy that I finally got something completed for once. Please let me know if you guys enjoyed the ride.