Noah's Arc

"Get out of the car," he said. His voice had a teacher-like tone about it, but all the authority of a cop was there. I unbuckled my seatbelt and grunted as I made my way out. It seemed almost cooler out here than it was on the other road. That combined with my anxiety made me shiver. I stood by the car, and watched as the officer retrieved the brown bag from the trunk, and he looked inside, almost surprised to find exactly what I said, Budweiser.

He set the bag in front of me, and I realized how quiet it was again, with the chirp of crickets only adding to the suspense. The only light was the singular streetlight, and now I could see his face in total. It gave me goosebumps to watch him check his radio, button up his jacket, check the road, all while I stood frozen. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties. Dirty blonde hair. Stone-like face that still looked boyish in some ways, big eyes included. He had lips, not plump, but definitely pink and present. I was almost more scared to have an attractive cop treating me this way. It made me uneasy.

"Noah. Nineteen. Local beer delivery boy. Half Mexican. Hmm, 5'8"? 5'7"." He listed off these things like I was a suspect. "You're a big boy." I felt myself blush at that. "What, 300 pounds?"

I blinked, and felt myself shrink. I wanted to cover up somehow, more than the poncho. I only nodded. The officer clicked his tongue, and the way he looked me up and down only brought more goosebumps.

A silent minute later, and he reached in the bag, pulling out a bottle, and handing it to me with a shrug. "Drink it." I just stared at him, and I felt like this was a test. "What are you shaking for, huh?" He raised his voice. I jumped, and felt my lip quiver, not for the first time, and felt like I might cry.

"I'm scared," I whispered, surprised at my own honesty. It didn't help that the officer stared at me with crossed arms, and a frown on his face, and no response.

"What the hell are you scared for?" he finally asked, voice significantly softer, but still flippant, rude. I gulped. "You scared of me? You think I'd hurt you? Huh?"

"No, Sir," I said, and it was a flat out lie.

"Then have a damn drink of the damn beer."

I gulped, holding the bottle in both hands. "N-no thanks."

"Why not? Weren't you going to drink it?" he asked, tilting his head in a cocky way. "You were gonna haul all that weight for a mile to drink it."

"I m-mean yea, but I-I don't think I want to anymore."

"This is a lot of beer; I think it shouldn't go to waste, Noah. Drink it."

"But it's illegal b-because I'm under age," I said, my voice wavering again, and a tear made its way to my eye. "I really don't want it anymore."

The officer reached into the bag again, and pulled out another bottle. Wordlessly, he retrieved a set of keys, and popped the top. He handed me the beer, and took the other one from my hands, opening it as well. "How about we both have one, yeah?" The officer nodded, and he sounded like he was trying to be persuasive, rather than mean. He raised one eyebrow, and I felt myself panic even more. What was he doing?

"I-maybe I shouldn't-"

"I can't drink in uniform. You can't drink at all. So, tit for fucking tat." He took a long sip. "Drink your beer."

I took a timid sip, and then the cop took a large swig. I figured I wasn't getting out of this, so I began to drink, too. I realized a while ago, way back in high school, that I could really put some alcohol away, and quickly. I decided that the faster I drank this beer and played his game, I would be home, and yelled at, and then in bed.

Silently, we both drank sips of beer, until the officer finished his before me, and I had to catch up. The relief I felt after finishing the beer was only short lived, as the officer reached back into the bag, and popped the top off another. He handed it to me. "Drink it." He wasn't getting one for himself.

"P-please I know I messed up, and I shouldn't have been um, trying to drink under age and-"

"Drink it, Noah. Don't protest again. I am not gonna put up with that bullshit. Chug it the fuck down like you did the first one." He crossed his arms, and I saw the gun on his hip. I realized that I really didn't have any say in the situation, and began to drink the second beer. "You from around here?"

I nodded.

"You walk a lot? No car?"

"No, Sir." I kept drinking between answers, as he kept asking questions. I felt so crazy, drinking as he watched me. The way he watched me, too. With a determined face, he carefully watched me take every sip, occasionally looking around in the night when we heard a distant truck, and then he went right back to staring me down.

"Mmm. I grew up here, too. But people should've stopped letting their dumbass kids walk alone in the 80s," the officer said. "You go to school here?"

"I um, I actually go to UCLA," I said timidly, and chugged away.

Officer scoffed. "No way. You're really nineteen, huh? You look like a kid." He looked me up and down. "A fat kid."

I didn't know what to say. There were a few kids in school who teased me over my weight, but never flat out mean like this, and never adults. I felt like this was a nightmare of nonsensical things. A half mile walk, a racist officer, being forced to illegally drink alcohol, being made fun of for my weight... it was like a literal bad dream.

The officer watched me finish my beer, and as I thought it might end, he reached in the bag again, and popped the cap of another bottle. This was going to get worse and worse.

"I wasn't going to drink all these alone," I said quietly. The officer raised his brows.

"No? You were going to drink with other nineteen year olds? We can go there right now-"

"N-no. I-nevermind," I inhaled deeply, and then nodded as I began to drink my third beer in a row with no breaks. I wondered if his plan was to get me drunk. If so, why? What was he going to do? The possibility that he might just leave me out here, miles away from home or anything I recognize was getting realer by the second. How many of these was he going to make me drink? I could tell that the combination of me being empty and then chugging beer like a hazed frat boy wasn't going to go over well. Plus, my anxiety was through the roof.

I started thinking of all sorts of horrific things as he occasionally asked me an insensitive question, and I answered between chugs of beer. At least it was starting to taste better. The influx of alcohol wasn't doing my anxious gut any favors though, and by beer number four, I leaned slightly against the car, my belly trying to process why I was doing this to myself so quickly without a proper meal in my body.

He joined me on beer number five, and I knew that I was at the very least tipsy, and possibly on the verge of drunk. It felt surreal, and although it was probably half an hour, it felt like time was passing by quickly. By now, it felt like we were almost having a conversation, although my answers to his surface questions were short and sweet. Since he drank my beer number five with me, I thought he might let me stop, but he handed me my sixth beer, and I hesitated, wondering if I should try to reason with him again. I was afraid to see how drunk I really was. Then the officer stared at me, and I stared back, and took a chug of beer number six. A whole case. There were four left.

"Budweiser reminds me of college," he said, clicking his tongue. "When I was doing dumb shit."

I nodded. I was doing dumb shit. Nothing dumber than I've done before, but tonight was my unlucky night. At least the officer had softened up toward me. This was my lesson, I guess. I hiccupped after reaching the end of bottle number six, and felt a breeze swish past my lower belly. I finally looked down to see that my stomach had bloated out, rounded, and my poncho hugged at my belly, leaving the bottom exposed. I hiccupped again, and my belly jumped, and I heard the loud sloshing of beer as I realized that yes, I was indeed drunk, and no, this officer wasn't done.

"I'm Jansen, by the way," he said, and that's when the air around me seemed to change. I looked into his eyes, and he stared back, face expectant. My stomach grumbled. I was sure he heard it. He stared at my body. "You're full of beer, huh?"

"Duh," I said, and then I gasped. I didn't mean to be a smartmouth, but my drunkenness seemed to be hitting as I stood with my knees locked, and my body digesting nothing but carbs and alcohol. "C-can I just... go home?"

Officer Jansen, I suppose, stepped toward me, shaking his head once more. He scratched at the slight prickles of his dark blonde facial hair, and he reached for my seventh beer, popping it open. He was only a few feet away, like two. "One more, for me."

"My friends are worried-"

"They'll see you tomorrow, at home," he said softly, almost trying to get me to reason with him. I wasn't sure why, but it made me relieved that he said I'd be home tomorrow. "Your friends fat, too? Chugging away beer like a couple hogs?"

I shook my head, and felt my lip quiver. I was wondering what he was going to do, second by second, and the insults didn't help. "Just me."

"You're the impressive one, then," Jansen said. "Chubby boy getting in trouble." I was confused by his words, and just tried to focus on the task at hand. I burped, and it was way louder than I thought it'd be, nearly scaring me. Then my stomach growled again, solidifying my "hogginess". I almost thought I'd cry then and there. It growled louder, and I wished that we weren't on an abandoned and silent road. There was no hiding it. On the third growl, I looked at Jansen hopelessly. He shrugged. "Looks like it's got somethin' to say to you. All that noise."

"I'm sorry," I said, not really knowing why I felt it necessary. And my stomach rolled on itself, causing a deep quivering. I instinctively placed my hand on top, and couldn't stop the helpless little moan that always came when my stomach decided to play games with me. Usually when I binge drank. Then I felt another hand on my belly, and it wasn't mine. Jansen seemed intrigued as he pressed his palm to my stomach.

"You could swallow me, huh?" he asked rhetorically, like he was trying to be friendly. "So big, geezus. Like a beach ball." He kept his hand there like I was a pregnant woman, and I instantly felt embarrassed while my stomach sloshed away with every hiccup. No one had ever, ever touched my stomach. People oftentimes actively avoided me, treating me like if they touched me, they'd blow up into a fatty like me. "Such a round gut for a teenager. You look like a care bear." That's when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the car. "Drink that beer, and stand with your arms and legs apart. I didn't search you."

This was when everything changed. I did as he told me, standing and trying not to wobble, in a starfish like position, left arm out, and right arm keeping the beer to my mouth as I-rather easily at this point-chugged on beer seven. Officer Jansen slowly made his way behind me, and I felt him close. He stepped close, and was against my back as I tried to realize that this was a very different situation than I thought it'd be. Officer Jansen patted my jeans and pockets regularly, and began to pat down each leg. I thought he had to know I didn't have a weapon. He patted my sleeves, and then began to pat down my poncho. At first, he was doing the normal amount of patting-down that I'd seen represented in cop movies, but then the patting slowed down, and quickly turned into rubbing.

If I thought I was frozen before, I was a statue now.

Officer Jansen stood behind me, my back flush to him, and actively had his arms wrapped around my torso, and hands rested spread out on my belly. He held me like I held myself as I tried to calm down. I quickly felt the switch inside me flip on, and I realized that this was now going in an intensely different direction.

I dropped my arms slightly, and felt Officer Jansen's breath on the back of my neck, and his hands rubbing large circles into my belly, which was bloated from the seven beers I'd guzzled. It felt soft, but tight at the same time, and was round like a beach ball, like he said. I just stood there as his hands caressed my big gut, soothing the burbling and bubbling it insisted on doing. Jansen felt my stomach bubble from the beer, and kept his hands in the same spot, squeezing me slightly. "Maybe I made you drink too much, huh?"

Then Jansen's hands traveled down to the exposed part of my belly. His fingers tickled as he massaged me. "Mmm, you're a big boy, Noah, you know that?" Officer Jansen said in my ear.

"I-I've always thought I should lose wei-"

"No, no. Look at this big, smooth belly, Noah." Jansen squeezed me closer, and rubbed a large circle over the poncho with his hand. "This isn't something to lose, no. This fat, round stomach is keeping you out of trouble. Hiding the evidence in your body, drinking it away. You're lucky I'm the one who caught you tonight." With that Officer Jansen leaned against the car, and pulled me with him. His hands were all over my belly, massaging and squeezing, and I watched him do it. I rested my hands at the top as I watched him rub all over my soft, protruding globe of a stomach.

Goddamn, did this feel amazing.

I sure as hell hadn't let anyone touch my belly voluntarily, and definitely not massaging it in this way. It certainly wasn't something I thought anyone else would find sexy. Officer Jansen seemed to have something different in mind than smacking me around or leaving me for drunk, and I was increasingly getting into it. This was so hot. But wrong.

"Mmm you're just a cute, chubby little fuck, aren't you?" he asked, and he grabbed my belly, shaking it up and down, side to side. That's when I moaned again, as we both heard the sloshing of beer inside me, splooshing around my bloated stomach. "Get over on the front of the car and sit." I did as I was told. As I walked over, I realized exactly how drunk I was. I felt myself wobble, and I nearly tripped over my own foot, having to catch myself on the car. Jansen chuckled through his nose as he watched me walk.

I was still anxious about this officer, who seemed to still want to order me around, but still had major confusions. I sat on the hood of the car, leaned back on my hands, and legs naturally spread to accommodate my body. My belly rested round and full in my lap and between my legs. As the officer made his way to stand in front of me, his radio crackled.

"Jansen 10-20." He froze, and stared at his radio. He glanced at me once, handed me beer number eight, and then unclipped it from his waist. Another few seconds of silence, and my stomach gurgled loud and long. He looked at me cautiously, licking his lips to wet them, and then going back to clip on his radio when it crackled again. I started chugging the beer, wide-eyed.

"Jansen 10-20."

He brought the radio up to his mouth. "This is Jansen. I'm handling a 10-40 near Westercourt, give me about twenty minutes."

"Need backup?" the radio said, a fuzzy gruff voice.

"No."

"10-4 buddy. Don't knock any heads off," the radio man chuckled. I didn't find it funny. I gulped, and wondered if we were actually near Westercourt. Regardless, Jansen seemed to have that situation handled, and he walked up close to me, and stood in front as I worked on my drink. I could see now that he was pretty stacked. I saw the muscles in his arms bulging in his jacket, and his thighs tightening his pants. He looked like he'd been in the army or something, with very broad shoulders and a thick neck. Now I was anticipating his next move.

Officer Jansen proceeded to look me over, and his expression quickly changed into a hungry one. It was still intimidating by any standards, even though I was sure he wasn't intending to hurt me anymore. He placed both hands on the top crest of my big belly, and began to rub circles again. As I breathed in deep, I watched my stomach expand and fall, and it made a squishy noise almost every time. I'd never felt so sexy to be bloated before, full of beer. I wondered how I looked, sitting like a fat little pet on the hood of a police car while Jansen massaged my belly. Sometimes, as he would press his strong hands into me, or jiggle me, my stomach would grumble in response, and I moaned aloud. At this, Jansen would sigh a low "mmm", like he was pleasured to see me feel good.

I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, or why it was so so good to have someone touch me and my fat, but then he began to smirk a little bit as he parked himself between my legs, and looked me in the eye as he grabbed my sides and squeezed me close. I felt so full, like I could burst, and my belly rumbled in response as I took in the aroma of beer and chewing tobacco. Jansen then pulled me closer to the front of the hood, and massaged me while his pelvis was against mine. I closed my eyes and relished him admiring my belly, and then he gently pulled my serape up, and more of my stomach was exposed to the air.

"You got a little girlfriend?" he asked. His tone throughout this interaction had softened with every escalation. I shook my head "no." "Mmm, you like girls at all?"

I shook my head "no."

"Yeah, I figured that when I took one look at you. And that sweet little voice. And cute little bubbly body." Jansen put his ear to my stomach right as I felt a wave of alcohol rush through me, and I moaned aloud, not for the first time.

"Well they don't make 'em like you in LA, no," Jansen said. He gently patted my stomach, and then proceeded to hump into me. That's when I realized that this was actually happening. I was out in the middle of nowhere with a police officer who found me and my fat body sexy, and got me drunk as fuck. "You blimped up from that beer, huh boy?"

"Yes, Sir," I nearly whispered. "I think I drank too much."

"I think you did too, baby boy. Show me your body. Pull that up." Jansen was turned on, I could tell. I think I had been turned on since the moment he first touched me. I pulled my poncho up, exposing my whole belly, and as I made my way to the top, Jansen indicated I should continue further, and soon enough, my whole torso and chest were exposed to the California night. My chest wasn't flat, but I didn't have the excess of man boobs that I feared I might develop after I realized my fat wasn't going to disappear. Jansen licked his lips again and brought his hands down upon my bare skin, rubbing my belly as he'd been doing for the last few minutes. He trailed his finger down to my belly button, which slightly sank into my soft stomach, and he gently placed the tip inside as the other hand continued to massage me.

I felt beyond drunk on both the beer and the fact that my night took a sexual turn pretty fast, and I never had anyone touch me like this before. I'd never even been kissed. As the thought crossed my mind, I saw Jansen staring at me, and he had a softer look in his eye. "You ever sucked a cock?" he asked. I shook my head. "You want to?"

Well, the thought never really crossed my mind. "Yes."

"Mine is nice and thick, you want to see it?" he mused, and he rubbed his hand along the rounded top of my stomach, and made his way to my nipples, where he pinched. The pinching caused a tingle to shoot up from my gut, and I found myself wanting to be obedient and for once, found myself confident. I bit my lip and spread my legs more, and rubbed my own stomach as Jansen rubbed my thighs and humped me again. His body was so hard and disciplined compared to my own. He pulled my poncho back down and his hand traveled down to his belt buckle.

"Can I?" I asked. Jansen smiled, and the sight of his straight teeth and dimples that came into view made me practically shiver. Goddamn, he was hot. It made me smile in response, and Jansen took my face in his hands.