The Beat and Beating It

Sinking her teeth into a doughnut, Donna Riggs relished sweet chocolate glaze and the fluffy full texture of the bread. A sudden and surprising spurt of gooey, white-yellow cream filling escaped, leaving a thin trail splattered on her lower lip, slinking sensually down her chin. With a satisfied moan, she used a finger to recapture the errant cream, sucking her digit clean. Taking her credit chip back from the floating Carlton's Pastries robot, she tucked the doughnut box away. The robot floated off into the busy city around her SquadCar.

"I assumed eating donuts was merely an American police stereotype," said the woman in the passenger seat of the hovering police vehicle. Only a bare hint of a German accent could be heard in Renata Deckholdt's words, mostly when her "And" veered a bit "Und." One delicate eyebrow raised. "How can you eat such things?"

Donna gave the blonde a dirty look. "NuSlim'll handle the fat and sugar just fine. Just as good as veggies that way only these taste much better. You should try one." Donna tapped the doughnut container sitting between them, below the center input station for the SquadCar's primary computer system. A simple cartoon logo of a racoon in a hat proffering donuts decorated the blue and white box.

Renata lifted her nose with a demeaning sniff. Her gaze moved outward as she ignored Donna. Here on some kind of transfer to the New York division for training purposes, or international cooperation, or some other beauracratic nonsense, she specialized, like Donna, in Sexual Investigations, or whatever they called it in German. It was logical that the woman become her newest partner.

Normally that would be fine, as Renata was a quite the piece of work. Long legged, taller than Donna's six one, she had long ringlets of blonde hair and oval face. Bright green eyes, with sparkling flecks of gold, full lips that Donna was sure (she hadn't yet seen, though) could make a dangerously seductive smile, and last but certainly not least, a pair of massive breasts. They were squeezed under the black anti-impact skinsuit Renata wore, her white undershirt with black tie, and a thick blue uniform jacket, creating a sight that gave Donna shivers imagining the twin mounds of flesh mashed together, massaged beyond reason by the tight confining fabrics. The first of many stiff feelings down between her legs, inspired by that thought, had come shortly after sighting Renata.

Except the tall perfect blonde acted like some kind of aristocrat, seemingly having no patience for a commoner like Donna. Certainly the German woman was too polite to make mention of that, but her attitude was quiet clear. Donna had hoped sharing donuts with the woman might loosen her up a bit.

Renata's pride certainly rubbed Donna the wrong way, but she couldn't quite blame the woman's standoffish attitude entirely on regal heritage. Donna was currently assigned to painfully boring street patrol duties, and Renata had to accompany her. And that was Donna's fault. Captain Hallster had caught her fucking a suspect. To be fair the woman was an extremely hot and thick redhead, and totally agreed to it, and thanks to that little bit of physical persuasion she ended up spilling the beans about the illegal pleasure-enhancing drug operation going on down around D17-L2 which Donna had been in the process of hunting, but in the end Captain Hallster had determined that some punishment must be meted out for the breach of protocol.

"We should get back to work," Renata said. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a gesture the blonde seemed unaware only made her confined mammaries appear even larger. Donna glanced at her, and then her huge tits. She wanted to free them, massage them, make love to them, and bury her girlcock in them. Glaze them with her girlcum. Even thoroughly covered they drew the eye, somehow mesmerizing without even moving. Had Renata been kneading them or even just lifting them, hell, even tracing a finger around the plump curves it would be too much. Donna was sure she'd break down and beg for a plunge of her head betwixt the lovely orbs.

Lieutenant Deckholt seemed oblivious to Donna's secret attentions, a state of affairs which the native New Yorker found just a bit odd. The woman was otherwise quite perceptive; on their first day she made note, within about five minutes, of every single crumb and stain within the SquadCar, going so far as to identify what flavor and type of donut each had come from. With disgust, naturally. Donna began to suspect the woman did know she had been staring at her huge tits, but choose to ignore it, because of her high birth. That didn't discourage Donna. She watched Renata stare out the front of the SquadCar, past the embedded electronic tags floating before everyone and all the vehicles, sharp green eyes narrowed with desire to find something suspicious.

Donna took another bite of her doughnut and cast her own look around. The immediate area, environs consisting of massive nickel-titanium columns, steel and plastic buildings hundreds of feet high, was known as K-Town, which had meant something on the old map of New York, from the 2200s, but was officially listed as D10-L4. People bustled between the huge buildings, where storefronts could be seen on every level, beneath an all-encompassing metal and concrete sky, the upper reaches of the level hidden in a faint fog. Little platforms zoomed up and down in places, allowing pedestrians to access the different sidewalks. In some places they crossed the large spaces between the buildings but for the most part that was left for the hundreds of zipping hovercars.

Donna's well trained eyes failed to spot any discrepancy among the thousands of flashy and colorfully dressed New Yorkers at the bottom level, where the SquadCar floated a dozen or so feet up. Her no-less attuned or keen sexual sense, however, did detect two rather stunning men, and three women she'd certainly want to get to know closer. Donna said, "Nothin' going on, is there?"

Renata looked at her like she had just announced the world was flat. Sucking in an exasperated breath, she said, "You are a daft one. There's always something going on, Lieutenant Riggs. You cannot put six hundred million people in one city and expect that nothing will happen."

Donna blinked. "Well, sure. But here?"

Renata's look suggested her understanding of a challenge, so she sent her gaze over the population, sorting through thousands of people in an instant. Throwing out a slender arm, her finger pointed almost delicately. "That man, the one in the yellow and green flashing shirt. He is picking pockets. There, he just took that man's computer pad." Her eyes locked on with annoyance. "And again, some kind of spray bottle from that woman. Likely the man is in it for the sport. A mere annoyance but not something which we should tolerate, ja?"

Donna squinted into the distance, quickly spotting the man. His jacket was a big glowing piece of work with dozens of pockets. He wandered between people like a drunkard, his round and jovial face playing exactly the part. Yet his hands moved with a particular deftness each time he encountered a person. Donna saw a glimmer of the movement, and sure enough each time he found a pocket, purse, or zipper which to exploit, his hand plucked forth a credit chip, or shining jewelry, or some kind of knicknack. Donna said, "Betsy, intercept and restrain the man I'm sighting."

"Comin' right up, toots," Betsy said, her SquadCar AI. By scanning her sightline through the window, the complex machine picked out the man in the bright glowing coat.

Renata rolled her eyes. She had also made sure to criticize the mere fact that Donna had named her SquadCar AI. The second critique was that she'd given it a folksy personality.

Donna stuffed the rest of her doughnut in her mouth, chewing with a pang of guilt. It annoyed her that she couldn't savor the pastry, eating in such a rush felt like a waste of good bread and chocolate. The SquadCar lurched into motion, over the crowds but below the first level of traffic flow. A dozen seconds later it stopped, and automatically lowered Donna's window just as the round-faced man was levitated into view, his hands forced at his side by Betsy's restraint field.

Smiling at the man, Donna said, "Good evening, sir. I've sighted you personally stealing items from passersby in the street below, and am making a formal accusation. You have the right to a LawyerComp. If you do not have one my vehicle can provide you with a temporary legal AI. You may ensure this temporary AI's impartiality via the New York Central Computer."

Making a face, the man said, "Stanley, please defend me."

Donna sighed. Just once, she wished someone would have the balls to face the consequences, come out and declare their crimes outright. But no, they always went for their trusty LawyerComp, even though picking pockets didn't carry a massive punishment. Most only did it as a way to pass the time. Some wanted to distinguish themselves. Donna had heard the petty crime officers talking about rooting out competitions for best pick pocket in New York, with rewards and accolades and all that. Getting caught supposedly only reduced one's rank.

She said, "Betsy, engage with Stanley please." Betsy said, "Sure thing," her voice high and sweet. "Ready to shoot 'em down for ya, Donna." A few moments passed, slow seconds that Donna waited out patiently.

Betsy's voice changed, turning official and staid. She said, "Stanley has deferred to the evidence as presented. Automatically registering fine of a thousand dollars to primary credit account... checking... Account balance cleared. Fine successfully charged. Personal records have been updated appropriately." The AI's voice altered again, back to folksy and sweet. "Ya better get those things back, too, Donna. I've tracked the last six victims and have readied contacts."

"Right," Donna said, hand out, "Give it here."

Freed from restraint on his arms, but still floating outside Donna's car, the man gave a resigned sigh and started handing over the credit chips and odd things he'd stolen. Once he was empty, and Betsy determined he was not lying about this, the car lowered him to the street and Donna arranged for a few of Betsy's drones to handle returning the items.

Asking for a patrol course around D10, Donna relaxed in her seat and drew out another doughnut from her box, this time one with strawberry frosting. She glanced at Renata and said, "Not exactly high crimes, here, Renata. I'm sure the petties would have got him sooner or later. Good eyes spotting that, though."

Donna hoped for some warmth at the compliment, that she really did mean, but Renata's face might as well have been a porcelain mask.

"I'll remind you," Renata said, tone even, "our current assignment makes us, as you so drolly put it, petties."

I'll remind you your tits are fantastic, Donna thought, eyes dipping to the other woman's chest. Her breasts strained against the uniform's complex nano-fabrics, struggling to break free, where, Donna thought with the touch of a smile, they definitely belonged. She toyed with a fantasy of arresting Renata right there, for the crime of hiding her boobs from the world. Any thoughts of joking fled when she met the taller woman's eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? How many times you want it? And it's only three more days."

Renata nodded and said, "Apology accepted. At least it was worth solving your case, ja?"

Donna frowned. That had sounded sarcastic, but it seemed that Renata was honestly praising her for successfully completing a case. After further thought she assumed it was a backhanded compliment. Of course an American police officer would have to sleep with a suspect to succeed. Testing the waters, Donna smiled and said, "Thank you, Lieutenant Deckholdt."

Renata's eyes found her, showing something that might have been acceptance. It was small and slight, and for an instant it made the blonde woman even more attractive. Donna hoped it wasn't just her imagination; she really wanted the woman to warm up to her. And then warm her with those massive knockers. With one last glance at her, and then one not at all last glance for her tits, Donna gave a barely audible sigh, and focused on scanning the denizens of New York for any further criminal exhibitionists.

At the end of their patrol Donna asked Renata to her apartment. She hoped the tall blonde might melt under more physical persuasion but the German woman refused. Politely, at least, so there'd seemed a chance. They'd only known each other for a few days so far, though that was quite a long time for Donna to wait on a partner. But Renata Deckholdt and her breasts would be worth the wait. She was less certain that waiting would lead to success, the woman was so icy. Donna didn't know many people like that, in this age of excessively free love.

Punching the enter command, Donna stepped into her apartment with an air of disappointment. She leaned on the closed door and sighed. Her apartment computer picked up on her mood right away, and she supposed today she hadn't made it very hard thing to deduce. The deep male voice said, "Bad day, Donna?"

"Nah, Boxer, work was fine," Donna said, pushing herself off the door with a second sigh. She padded through her living room and swerved left, heading down a small hallway leading to the combination wardrobe-shower. "Just new partner blues, that's all."

"New partner blues?" The apartment computer asked in a mischeiveous tone. "Or new partner blue balls?"

The accurate assessment set a twist to Donna's lips. The computer knew her well, and mostly she didn't mind. When she asked for food the computer would bring her just what she wanted, whether that was doughnuts, or a nice sizzling steak, or steamed vegetables, or simply water. And if she was bored it suggested the proper entertainment, just the thing to bring her out of an idle funk. It'd form a hookup with a favorite partner, find her a VR-experience to play around in, or suggest a sex-club if she was looking to find something new. Now that skill had given her just another reminder that Renata Deckholdt was not in her apartment disrobing. Instead she was baring her massive chest somewhere else.

Maybe, Donna thought, even for someone else. Some other very lucky body might be grasping those tits right now, mashing them between their fingers, tweaking her nipples just so. Licking them. Donna wondered if Renata might have a MilkMod. Her chest certainly was big enough. If so, someone else was probably tasting that delectable milk right this instant. A wash of envy came over her, warming her body with the emotion. She moaned. Her girlcock thrummed in her tight work pants, eager to be free at the thought of touching and licking and kneading Renata's bare bosom.

"That bad, Donna? I'm sorry," her apartment computer said.

Idle thoughts rudely jerked off track, Donna said, "Boxer, I wish you weren't so good at that sometimes." She stepped into the wardrobe, a small room just big enough for her to spin around with her arms outstretched. It was square, and each surface, ceiling, floor, even the closed door, were mirrored. Donna stared into a fading infinity of herself, dressed prim and proper in her blue patrol uniform. She said, "Strip, please."

Folds in some mirrors revealed hatches for compartments. Donna felt a tug on her clothing as the invisible fields of the wardrobe removed her clothing quickly and gently. A slight pull raised her in the air, as her boots and socks were wormed off her feet. Only a few seconds had passed before Donna stood on the shining reflective floor as naked as the day she'd come into the world. Hands on her hips, she stared at her body.

Donna's chest was perky and large, though nothing compared to the mammoth mammaries Renata sported. She felt a touch of envy, but then her own chest was no small weight either and she couldn't imagine that which Renata bore. Perhaps the woman had further body mods to help with that. Donna's hips were shapely and wide, well muscled, and her legs and arms were matched with gentle soft bulges of strength. A tight six-pack stomach, the flesh hard and smooth to her touch, was the product of no small amount of fucking. At least, that's what Donna liked to believe. In truth she often exercised to keep her strength up. She was proud of the fact she was at least one standard deviation above the average officer fitness level. It was good for more than just running down sex slavers and no-pays.

Last she studied her eyes and face, staring into her familiar pale blue irises and drawing a finger along the curve of her square face and smooth skin. Thick brown curls tumbled off her shoulders to mid-back. She licked her full pink lips and smiled. Her eyes fell to her crotch, where her girlcock sat half-hard, throbbing and growing thanks to thoughts of Renata dancing in the back of Donna's mind. At eight inches it was no monster, naturally bequeathed by her alpha mother, not a gene-fix as was more common. Beneath were two smooth hairless balls.

She touched the shaft and gave herself a smooth short jerk. Her cock seemed to jump, and a tiny bead of pre slowly expanded at the tip. She shook herself, throwing it to the spotless mirror below. Her fingers crept lower, below her heavy balls, poking into her warm and wet cunt. Donna chewed her lip and brought her other hand into the play, to finger her slit and tug her cock at the same time.

She turned her body to present a three-quarters profile of her ass, one of the few chubby areas on her body, though hard muscle lurked below. Leaving her cock without a hand, she slapped her ass cheek and watched the flesh jiggle ever so slightly. A second smile touched her lips and she preened, hand still working her cunt. Donna Riggs had a lot going on, even though she was harder than most women. She hoped Renata saw something here.

Donna tugged herself to full mast thinking about Renata and her large breasts. She really hoped Renata would come around soon. She thought about sending her a message right this instant. Perhaps she'd changed her mind already and was just waiting for Donna to ask. She'd probably beg Donna to fondle her massive tits. Boxer broke into Donna's reverie, saying, "Donna, might I find you a partner? Shall we say something tall, blonde, and a little severe?"

Donna forced herself to relax, and tore her fingers from her cock and cunt. She tried to keep the hope out of her voice and said, "Is there a message from Lieutenant Deckholdt?" Her ears perked up, though the apartment always spoke clearly. Boxer said, "I'm afraid not, Donna. But I've found a few likely candidates, both in personality and appearance."

She thought about the computer's suggestion. There were six hundred million people in the New York administrative area. There were bound to be tons of blondes with huge breasts and an attitude problem, and most of them would gladly bed down with Donna. Except that wasn't what Donna wanted. She didn't want someone like Renata. She wanted Renata. The woman was something of a puzzle, tits and smoking bod aside, and solving a copy wouldn't be the same. Her shoulders slumped and she told Boxer that.

"Right," Boxer said, tone in complete agreement. "Something a little different then. Shall I run up the Inn? Or perhaps contact one of your regulars? I believe three are looking for something interesting at the moment, something you just might match. It could be fun."

Donna smiled. There was no "could" about it. Whatever Boxer arranged would be some damn fine entertainment. But she couldn't get Renata out of her mind, thoughts sticking on those enormous breasts. She imagined touching them, kissing them, licking up all the milk. In her mind Renata produced so much milk Donna was like to drown trying to swallow it all. She'd put her cock between them and fuck the orbs til she spurted all over that proper aristocratic chin. And Renata would suck up Donna's spend with relish, then beg for more.

Chewing her lip, Donna worked her shaft hard, feeling pulses run up and down the hardened flesh. Precum boiled out the tip. One spurt shot off, splattering to the floor. A flush crept along Donna's neck, up her cheek, warming her face. She was going to jerk off to Renata, right here in her wardrobe.

The thought carried some guilt. Pleasure was supposed to be shared, not secreted away in a dark closet, though Donna's auto-wardrobe was well lit. But no one else was present, no one else shared Donna's body. That was practically a crime in the eyes of many, one of the few ideals that tied together the massive New York sexual community. By masturbating on her own, in the privacy of her apartment, Donna was in a way denying someone else pleasure. Combined with thoughts of Renata's sweet large tits, the guilt proved to be of little help controlling herself. She felt her hand moving faster up and down her shaft as her fingers quested inside her dripping cunt or fondled her balls. Donna moaned.

Boxer said, "Are you sure you want to get off here, Donna? Alone?"

Far from giving her pause, the computer's statement merely enhanced her feelings, reminding her how naughty she was being. Donna met her own blue eyes in the mirror, staring at the greedy woman jerking herself off and playing with her own cunt, while a city of millions were willing and eager to service her. But she wanted this. If she couldn't have Renata she was going to have this one private moment. She huffed to herself, "Look at you. Such a slut. A guilty, greedy, slut." Her hand raced up and down her shaft, bumping and exploring every engorged ridge and vein. Pleasure pulsed in her shaft and precum was dripping liberally, slopping on the mirrored floor. Her cunt soaked her fingers with clear juice.

Donna's body quivered as her release drew near, she worked her cunt and cock delicately, drawing out her climax as she thought about Renata's breasts. In the space of a moment her mind's eye explored every inch of the tall German woman's body, examining every detail, even though she'd not seen her out of uniform yet. A strong pulse shook her cock and Donna held herself back, fighting her body as her hands worked to draw out her orgasm.

She felt her cunt quake first, quivering and sending trails of cuntjuice running down her thighs. Her legs shook and she gasped, breathing and heaving her breasts with the effort. Her thoughts were laser focused on Renata, covering the woman's imaginary chest with seed. Cum dripped slowly over Renata's busty curves, pooling in her belly button and throat, around her neck, frosting her tits with Donna's glaze.

Hard, aimed, and ready, her cock spurted. "Unnnnhh, Ahh, Ahhh, Ahhhhhmmmm," Donna cried. Her fember filled with warm liquid heat, as if it might burn away in sweet pleasure, before a blast of white hot cum shot out, a thick ropey strand of her woman goo. It splattered on the mirror and slowly dripped down. A second joined the first, and then a third. The fourth did not quite reach the mirror, splattering loudly on the reflective floor. Her cunt shook throughout, suffering the constant touch of her fingers. More cum burst up her shaft and Donna felt her legs give out, her knees bent and she landed on her butt on the floor, as the last few pulses burned through her cock, leaving a long lingering strand of cum from the tip to the floor.

Donna panted heavily, staring at the mess she'd made, reflecting almost infinitely in the mirrors that surrounded her. She gave her cunt a stir, feeling exceptionally dirty, exactly like the bad girl she'd been. The thought made her girlcock twitch, and she was afraid she might just jerk herself off again. Her mind continued inventing lurid fantasies concerning Renata's tall shape. While willing to indulge herself once, twice would be dangerously close to becoming a habit. Leaning back on her hands, she stared up at nothing in particular. "Sorry about the mess, Boxer."

"No worries, Donna," the apartment said. "Usual shower? Or maybe something colder?"

Donna let a lazy smile cross her lips. She pushed herself up and stood, rolling her shoulders and stretching. Spending herself while thinking about Renata had helped just a bit. Enough to get her through one more day, at least. She said, "Just the usual, please, Boxer."

The wardrobe's mirrored surfaces shifted again, retracting to reveal nozzles. A gentle spray of warm water assaulted Donna's body from every direction. She moaned and ran her hands over herself, cleaning off the dirt of the day and sweat from her recent exertion. Once the drying cycle was complete, the apartment computer dressed her in a light robe that ended at her thighs, a thing of sheer see-through purple fabric that was warm and slick on her skin but quite dry.

Donna hugged it around herself and left the wardrobe, thinking on what kind of entertainment she might want tonight. Thoughts of Renata were already creeping back into her mind, and she'd need something strong to drive that back. If she didn't want to end up jerking herself off all night.