Hunting the Girls

Jonathan sighed, waving his own salute.

"Father. Inquisitors. Are you ready now?"

"Yes yes yes, let's get this over with son come one!" Jonathan was in no mood for chit chat. The policeman nodded, and led them down the hall to a flight of stairs, where they began to ascend up to the second story. Father Jonathan grumbled under his breath, panting slightly as they climbed up. Jefferson said nothing, smiling to himself, as the father struggled.

"We got a tip from the Inquisition yesterday suggesting there was a target in the neighborhood." The young officer talked as they climbed. "We sent in a few undercover men and put some watchers in the apartments. We got lucky and spotted it this afternoon. We noticed that there was a woman with it. We made the move instantly."

They passed the first flight of stairs and moved onto the next, continuing ever up.

"Unfortunately, we weren't quick enough. It got her before we could break through the door and secure the target."

"Who was it?"

"A housewife. She'd been out getting groceries for her children. No husband so it must have smelt she was an easy prey straight away. Seems she had sold her iron protection to survive, so she was helpless before the beast. It brought her back here immediately. We've gone to her house and gotten the kids sent down to the police station. There's no other family that we could ascertain."

"They'll be taken in by the church, as is the law, not to a workhouse. Hopefully they will make worthy additions to the faith."

A work house was a death sentence for a child in this day and age. Most never lived past the age of twelve. They were put to work and died, running the factories and mills on the outskirts of London. It was a brutal life. Marcus was thankful that his daughters were old enough now that if anything happened to him or Gwendoline, they'd be able to survive without them.

"We have the first target in custody. The victim is still in her normal state for now. We expect it to happen any moment though."

They reached the top of the stairs and the second floor. Jonathan brought a handkerchief out of his robe, dabbing his brow. He wheezed a little.

"Well... huh... lead on my boy..."

The young man headed off. Jonathan continued to suck down air, standing still as Jefferson passed him. "How are you able to keep up with all those women when you can't walk up a flight of stairs?"

"I spend most of my time on my back thank you very much."

There was another hallway, smaller this time, and now there were about four officers standing about one door. One by one they all saluted the three as they approached. The younger officer stood aside now as a Constable greeted him, about Marcus's age, 40, with muttonchops and thick mustache. His uniform had a splash of blood across his chest.

"Evening your holiness. Constable Williams. We have both tied up. The victim is yet to transform but it will happen any minute."

"Very good. You've taken all precautions?"

"Yes Father."

"Alright, let's go to work Gentlemen. Jefferson, Marcus: come." Father Jonathan beckoned them forward as he entered the room. They filed in behind him.

The first thing Marcus noticed was the smell. The air was humid, heavy, the complete opposite of the bitter dry air that had just come in from. It was like a summer's day just after rain, where all the water seemed to still be in the air but it produced nothing but sweat out of one's pores. The smell was that of fruit, sweet and delightful, and it reminded Marcus of the time he had a tour in the rainforests of India. The smell wafted into his nostrils, bringing a smile to his face, making him almost a little light headed.

"Oh yeah, that's the stuff - fucking freaks!"

It was common to find one of their dens smelling like this. They did it to ensure a heightened libido in their victims, lowering their moral barriers and making their victims easier to corrupt. It was a simple mix of liquids readily available at markets across the city. They would usually buy the items from various grocers and shop keeps, ensuring that it was harder to trace or figure out what they were doing. They had leant well over the years. Of course, the secret ingredient, the one that truly made their aphrodisiac so powerful, was their own juices. Marcus had smelt its pure form twice before. Both times had made his head spin. It was a powerful drug.

The window had been opened to allow a breeze in, keeping the room ventilated to ensure none of the policeman or members of the church were susceptible to it's power. The cold air blew through in little gusts, but if Marcus was still able to smell it, it must have only just been used. And in a powerful amount. There was no way the victim could have escaped.

The culprit for this entire mess sat in the middle of the room. There was a brown sheet placed over it, soiled and torn in places, but it hide it's body from anyone looking. It was sitting up in a chair, the sheet falling just down to it's ankles so Marcus could see it's bare feet, bound together in an iron shackle, while the wooden legs sat wobbly on the timber floor. It was tall, Marcus could tell even from where it sat, taller than him by at least a hard. It's breath was strong, it's chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as it sat there, waiting it's fate.

Jefferson stood before it, his jaw locked, as he eyed it down. The contempt in his eyes, they way his temple flexed, was all the information someone needed to know about him and the contempt he felt for the creature in the room. There was a tense silence as Marcus watched him, Jefferson's right hand closing into a fist.

"Don't."

The single word cut through the room. Jefferson looked up to Jonathan. Jonathan himself had steeled his body, his eyes locked dead on Jefferson's fist.

Jefferson growled... and relaxed his hand. He spat on the ground. The figure on the sheet remained unmoved.

"Father, if you would be so kind, I suggest it best we do the last rites first before dealing with the prisoner?" Constable Williams stepped between Jefferson and Jonathan, trying to avoid any issue between the two. Jonathan relaxed with a sigh, nodding his head.

"Of course."

"She's in the other room. She's only just awakened and is understandably distraught." Williams moved to the door by the right of the room, a policeman in front standing guard. He stepped aside as Jonathan and Marcus followed behind, Williams opening the door. He stopped to look at Jefferson who was still standing in front of the sheeted person.

"Don't worry about him." Marcus shrugged. "Doesn't have much of a taste for the change. He'll be alright here. Trust me." He gave Jonathan a look, telling the man to ease up. To his credit, Jonathan understood. Jonathan gave a slight nod. Williams seemed unsure, cutting one glance back to the old man in the middle of the room, before he headed into the bedroom.

"Where there any other signs of anybody else here?" Marcus asked.

"No sir. Just the two. There were clothes in the dresser." Williams pointed across the room to large dresser by the far wall, some of the only furniture in the flat. Jefferson nodded and headed over to look.

Marcus and Jonathan stepped into the room and stood side by side before a single bed. It was old, unpainted, the timber grey and ashen. The posts seemed to barely by holding the mattress together on top, where a brown sheet covered a thin mattress. Marcus now knew where they had gotten the sheet for the thing in the other room. The room was small, the single window open as wide as possible, and it smelled off the aphrodisiac just as pungent as the last room. There were a few items of clothing strewn about the floor but otherwise it looked almost abandoned.

Jonathan sighed despondently. "Oh God... I know her."

Marcus turned to him, eyebrow raised, quizzical. "One of your flock?"

Jonathan said nothing as Marcus now examined the woman lying on the bed. She was tied to the four bed posts with rope, her arms and legs spread out, leaving her looking like a starfish. She was in her thirties, quite attractive really, with silken black hair that was curled underneath her. She was naked, stripped of all her clothing, and was lying on the bed shivering. Whether the creature had done that or the police had, Marcus couldn't tell. It was standard procedure to have them naked during the change. It ensured less harm came to the poor victim.

Jonathan moved up along side the bed, sitting down on the mattress. The woman looked up to him. She was sweating heavily, panting. A fever was coming over her. Her eyes were dizzy, she was having a hard time focusing, but between the deliriousness she seemed to recognize him. Jonathan stroked her hair, calming her, his face one of misery.

"Who is she Father?"

Jonathan said nothing as he looked over her body. Her breasts were firm, a decent handful each, with bright pink nipples that had harden in the cold. She was a bit round, her belly a little bloated, and Marcus suspected she had already had children due to the width of her hips. Sweating was pooling in her belly button, running down thick thighs, to dampen the sheets underneath her. If it had been anybody else Marcus would have been racing to find a local doctor to look after her. But there was nothing to be done now.

"Her name? I don't know. I've met her husband a few times. He's a local parishioner. She's his second wife I believe. Well she was, before he died last winter."

He ran his hand over her chest, his hand gliding across the slickness of her pale white skin, as he felt down between the valley of her breasts. He went further, across the paunch of her stomach, over her belly, and down to the black forest of her on top of her womanhood. There his hand lay, feeling through her skin, gauging her temperature.

"She's burning up. I must move quickly."

Marcus and Jonathan stood back, watching, as Jonathan closed his eyes. He began to pray. It was in Latin, as it always was, the holy word.

"Praesidio Dominus velit haec mulier modo animam eius a malo ut sumeret eam consumit." He repeated it three times, his eyes closed, speaking fast, his hand resting just above her groin. Williams seemed to be antsy, his hand shaking, as he watched. Marcus eyed him.

"Have you ever witnessed the change before Constable?"

He nodded, swallowing. "Once. A few years back. Young girl, only eighteen."

Marcus himself had kept count during his early years. He'd even seen it a few times during the frontier wars in Eastern India. He'd stopped counting at forty. There wasn't much point to carrying on after that. And that had been many years ago.

Jonathan completed his prayer and stood up, performing the cross over his chest. He looked to the sky. "Father, she is all yours now." He spread his hands wide, rising them to the ceiling, as the woman now screamed out. Williams grabbed the side arm on his belt, fumbling with the holster. "Fuck it's happening!"

Marcus grabbed the man's hand, shoving the weapon back into the holster. He gave him a steely gaze. Williams looked back at him frightened.

"She's not going anywhere. Calm down." Williams seemed very unsure about Marcus's statement, but he relented. Jonathan stepped back and all three of them now observed the woman, and the unholy rite she was to succumb too.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, her back aching up off the mattress as she fought the restraints and screamed again. It was a howl, a deep animalistic cry into the deep of the night. It would have been heard streets away, only drowned out by the cheers of new year revelers and party goers who celebrated. But here, the misery was now taking place. She clawed at the sheets, hands fighting the rope but it held, her heels digging in. Sweat was pouring out of her now and Marcus saw the first of the changes take place.

Milk began to pour from her nipples. It was a trickle at first, then a stream, as the white liquid began to cascade down the slope of her breasts, falling down her sides and onto her belly, where it slid off to join the sweat that was soaking her bed sheets. Next it was her breasts as well, which began to throb visibly. Both mounds shook, quaking, as blue veins began to appear across the domes. Her breasts began to swell, growing right before all the men's eyes, as they ballooned out. They went from being a handful to the size of a ripe melon and even beyond, the huge mammaries larger than any normal woman would be accustomed too. The veins stood out on her skin as the milk pouring forth from her grew even more copious. Her nipples, engorged, grew to the size of a man's thumb and just as thick.

Next it was her belly. The little ring of fat that ran around her waist began to swell, bloating out, as her stomach seemed to blossom out. Her stomach distended, pushing out and up, as she grew bigger. Marcus watched the woman seemingly go through months of pregnancy in seconds as she ripened out, her belly now the size of a Chinese lantern, then even bigger as her belly button popped. Her gravid belly now matched her breasts in size and scope as she looked like she was with child, only there were probably three in there jostling for position.

She began to grow, now in her arms and legs. Marcus checked the restraints. They would still hold her, but the tension was now lax. Her body was extending out by inches all over, lengthening, as she became taller. Fat began to disappear as that happened, her belly still nine months pregnant, but her arms thinned and then thickened around her biceps. Her skin became smoother and flatter. Blemishes disappeared. Her body turned from one of voluptuous comfort to suddenly a pregnant Amazonian Goddess. She looked strong, fit and healthy. Her hips remained just as wide but now they seemed more in proportion with the rest of her body, including those bulging tits which sat upon her chest and that fecund belly.

"This is it. The final phase." Jonathan whispered to himself.

This was the one, the one they all dreaded. The one which would forever change this woman's life and leave her castrated from society, an outcast to be shipped halfway around the world, never to be seen again by loved ones.

She groaned, hands now trying to reach her breasts, struggling with the ropes as she desired to squeeze them. She thrashed, reaching for those pert nipples but it was to no avail. If she had succeeded it would of only sped up the process. The change was inevitable. She collapsed back on the bed, cursing, before she thrust her hips up into the air.

Between her legs her cunt juice squirted out. She was orgasming. Her whole body now was being racked in pleasure, the pain fading away, as she experienced the most powerful orgasm she had ever had in her life. It had been described to Marcus as Earth shattering, that everything before that singular moment had been a dream and this orgasm was the first moment of being alive. The girl juice shot out of her snatch like a fountain, spraying the sheets and the far wall it was so powerful. The woman grinded her teeth, clinging on for consciousness.

It was happening now. Marcus saw it, the hair on cunt beginning to part. There was something rising from within, pushing between the forest, just above her slit. She still came, the geyser turning into a waterfall then into a stream, as Marcus saw the pink flesh poke through the black curls of hair. It was her clitoris. The pink nub growing, morphing, as it rose higher and higher. It began to swell, growing in width just as much in length, as it began to change shape.

It began to look like a penis.

It grew ever longer and thicker, the girth the size of the bedpost and the length now as long as Marcus's forearm as the cock now reached it's full growth. It throbbed, thick and hard and glistening, as it felt the cold night's air for the first time. The head was engorged with blood as veins ran all across the shaft, keeping that mighty member supplied with life. Pre cum leaked from her cock slit, dripping between her legs. Finally, her balls now fell just below the root of her cock. They had swelled out of her groan, the size of a pair of peaches each, and plopped between her thighs, thick and heavy with a full load of cum.

The woman crashed onto the bed, her breath ragged, as she finally passed out. Her transformation was complete.

She had become a Futanari.

Williams removed his helmet, wiping his brow with his sleeve. Jonathan looked miserable. Marcus non pulsed. This was his job after all. He was used to this, even if he didn't enjoy it.

"Get her cleaned up and taking into the station for processing," Marcus ordered Williams. He stood shocked, still watching the pregnant Futanari. She had been a middle-aged woman only a minute ago.

"Constable! Get her cleaned up. Now."

Williams seemed to get his act together. He placed the helmet back on his head, straightening up. "Yes sir!" He opened the bedroom door, marching out to find his men. Jonathan continued to look down on the helpless creature. He was forlorn.

"Father, we still have to deal with the other one."

Jonathan said nothing. He gave the woman one final look and left, rejoining Jefferson in the other room.

Marcus however walked up to the woman. She truly was beautiful, despite what had happened to her. She was curvaceous, strikingly handsome even being so pregnant. But it was the cock, the epic girl cock between her legs which had caused so many centuries of problems, and would only cause more if she was free. Instead she would spend the rest of her life isolated from civilization, for a crime she didn't even commit.

But that was the law. That was they way things had been done for centuries. There was no room to dispute that.

Before he left, Marcus noted a tattoo on the neck of the woman. Her hair previously had hidden it, but with her thrashing and efforts to break free, it was now visible.

"Filia."

It was Latin for daughter.

Marcus left her as two policeman entered, ready to escort her into the prison wagon downstairs. He entered the living room where Williams and Jonathan stood together in the corner, watching, with Jefferson. He spotted Marcus.

"There were clothes in the dresser alright." Jefferson said as Marcus walked up to him. Marcus kept his eyes on the figure still under the sheet. "Three different sizes."

"Three?"

"Two of the sizes account for our ladies in this flat. The other was smaller, slimmer, they couldn't fit inside them. Which means we have a missing person."

"There's a second one." Marcus nodded. "We need to move quickly. Begin a manhunt straight away."

Jefferson nodded. Before they issued the order, there was still one manner of business. It never worked, every time they tried. But interrogation was still part of their job. Jefferson moved up besides the figure sitting in the room, Marcus watching. Grabbing the sheet, he flung it off, revealing the person underneath.

She was beautiful, so beautiful Marcus forgot for a second who she actually was. She sat there, naked, her back straight and she was poised, her hands in her lap where they were currently tied together with rope. She had blonde hair which cascaded down to her waist, the golden curls full of volume with a mesmerizing sheen. However there was blood matted into her scalp near her temple, where a wound had been inflicted on her. It had been a large strike, probably from a baton. That must have been how the police were able to capture her.

Her skin was tanned, unusual for a person in London, a nice bronze color. Her breasts were huge, the size of a pair of melons, one hand not enough to fully grasp their pendulous size. Thick brown nipples sat on top of wide areola, where they stood ready for attention. Unlike the new Futanari in the other room, these one's did not milk.

And unlike the other Futanari she was not pregnant. Instead her belly was taut and trim, her whole figure lithe and athletic, from toned thighs to well-shaped calves.