Coroner's Response

“That's… that's… wow…” the coroner is a tall man, a good six and a half feet of dark skinned lean muscle, with no hair on his head.

“Ooh! Like, a man!” the mountain of female flesh exclaims, wobbling to her feet, “this totally lifeless thing just can't like, quite satisfy that itch. But like… Duh! A man!” As she stands, the flashlight slides easily out of her slick folds, landing on the ground with a wet thud.

The coroner takes a deep breath, “Ah… ma'am? This is a crime scene…” sweat starting to bead on his forehead as his face flushes, darkening his skin further.

“I like, totally want your babies…” she starts walking towards her target, hips swaying with each step, flesh rippling as she goes.

“Ahh… is she…” the only physical male in sight starts to pant, his eyes fixated on the vision of lust in front of him.

“He startled me when I was carrying too much power from self-defense,” the doctor supplies, sighing as the newly minted woman wobbles towards the newcomer, “I was in the process of draining the excess power so he can think again. He's disease free and won't try to kill you, but you might die anyway if you have a weak heart. Oh, and he'll be super fertile right now, so use a rubber unless….”

“I had a vasectomy a year ago…” the man pants, “...half the **** did, because you… well… and I run marathons in my free time…” his eyes still glued to the woman.

“No stopping what comes next, then…” Dr. Benjamin Maddox Beaux chuckles, “...have fun. I do need to keep poking him though.”

“Go on…” the man agrees as the wobbling woman reaches him, grabbing at his belt and rapidly undoing the clasp, ripping down his pants, and letting the man's member fly free… which springs a good two feet from his waist.

The previously male state trooper mounts the coroner, sliding his full length into her hungry hole, and starts riding him, while the doctor keeps poking at her with a knife.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, other officers come and go, take pictures of the scene, gather what scraps of evidence they deem fit, and move on, the trio keeping up their activities all the while, mostly oblivious to the world. Oh, the doctor answers questions put to himand follows instructions, but the other two pretty much stay dead to the world until finally….

“Oh, red…” the doctor smiles as his knife finally comes away with a few drops of blood.

“Oh, wow, that's a rush…” the state trooper, her hips still rocking on the very virile coroner, finally speaks clearly, “...is it going to feel like that every time?”

“The… urgency… should be gone now,” the doctor begins, “...but the nerves are still all there and wired in the same way. Barring something like surgery... which I can get you, free of charge given the circumstances… this is you now.”

“So every time I mount a pole, it's going to feel like this?” The state trooper is still rocking her hips on the coroner… who is apparently still thrusting up into the exaggerated woman.

Benjamin shakes his head, “No. Few men are hung like that stallion, and fewer still can keep going even for one hour… much less the…” the doctor checks his phone, “...five that this specimen has reached.”

“You're you again?” The stallion in question pants into the conversation, as he stops thrusting up into the woman, “umm… you did say yes….”

“I did NOT tell you to stop!” The state trooper screeches at the coroner.

“Yes ma'am,” the coroner continues thrusting.

The woman bites her lip for a moment, “So basically I need to marry this guy if… ooh… I want to keep feeling like this?”

“Well… yes, but don't you want to return to…” the doctor begins.

“To being a sixty-six year old man putting off retirement solely because I didn't have anything better to do?” She thrashes a few moments as she goes off yet again, and continues, “no thanks. I didn't ask for this… but I'm certainly not going to CUMMING!!” the doctor waits patiently for her to be in a state to finish her sentence, “...complain at being young again. And wow… that's… I'm getting tired now?” She starts panting.

“Yes,” the doctor shrugs, “the seemingly limitless stamina was a side effect of the excess life, it was never really limitless… that's gone now, so you're going to need to work your way up to marathons like anyone else.” The doctor looks down at the man who already did that work, “like this man obviously did.”

“It was…” the man pauses to thrust and grunt, “...how I got my college scholarships.”

“How do you feel about…” the woman moans again, “...being a kept man?”

“Umm…” the coroner slows down and stops, thinking.

The woman doesn't object this time, seeming to be a bit tired herself, “I have a four thousand square foot house on ten acres, fully paid off, no debts, and a retirement plan waiting for me that means I'll be getting six grand a month take home, with adjustments for inflation, for the rest of my days. I have approximately half a million in long-term investments besides… which you can inherit: I have no kids, no current spouse, no ex-wife, and given that I kept you rock hard for five hours, I think you like me.” The woman finds she is a little wobbly as she gets up off the man's meat rod, which finally starts to deflate.

“Don't set your hopes on inheriting her money…” the doctor shakes his head, covering his face, “...she's got a good fifty or sixty years before old age catches up to her again.”

“I am willing to give it a try,” the black man sits up in the mud puddle formed from the juices of their activities, “but I still have a job to do here, so….”

“Actually, no,” the doctor interrupts, “the investegator called for a state coroner while you were rather occupied. At this point your only job is to get me home: The body's already been documented, identified from the ID in his wallet, and picked up… and we know very well I killed him, so the autopsy is little more than a formality.” Everyone involved already knows what it will show: Seemingly healthy tissues that are simply dead and unresponsive. Some microbiologists digging into it previously found detectable unwinding in every protein checked, animals refuse to eat the bodies, and necromancers found that the corpses didn't react correctly to reanimation: They reported that it was more like working with things that were never alive to begin with than working with proper corpses.

“Ah. Well… umm…” the man stands, then pull up his rather muddy pants, “ah, can I get your name, miss….”

“Howard…” the caricature of a woman responds, holding out her hand, “...although that doesn't exactly fit well anymore.”

The coroner shakes the transformed troopers hand, “Francois,” and finishes fasting his belt. “We should probably exchange contact information…”

“The investigators found your phone and wallet…” the doctor hands them over to the woman, “I can help with the ID paperwork…”

The trio exchange contact information, and then the trooper heads home, while the coroner takes the doctor home… and the coroner doesn't even complain about the mysterious wet spot on the seats where the doctor sat.