Growing the force

By Mad Dog 
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• Latest update: 7 December. Next update: 21 December. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest from BRK: “Flashmob”, Parts 9‑10.

 

Officer Liam O’Brien patrolled his assigned beat in his police cruiser, keeping a vigilant eye for anything out of the ordinary and a keen ear on his radio. The young man was a bit anxious, but mostly excited to be on duty. It was Liam’s first day as a real, bonafide police officer, a dream he’d had since childhood finally realized. His policeman’s hat was affixed squarely atop his head, covering his red high-and-tight hairstyle that remained from training. His police uniform was fresh from the department. He’d given them his measurements and it still didn’t seem to fit him quite right in certain places… namely in the chest and shoulders. The sleeves weren’t too bad, if he didn’t bend his arms too far. The pants, too, clung too tightly in places, mostly in the thighs, buttocks and crotch.

Liam, at least, had the good sense to blush when he first saw himself decked out in his uniform. He couldn’t even comfortably button his shirt all the way up. He’d always had visions of himself proudly wearing his uniform loaded up to the nines, collar button, tie tied, his badge proudly set upon his chest, his pants ironed within an inch of their life to cut a handsome, authoritative figure. Instead what he saw was more like… some sort of “hot cop” that showed up at women’s bachelorette parties. He almost called in his first day before his girlfriend assured him he looked fine.

Then again, she thought he looked fine in anything, he thought to himself. And it was true enough, he did. Liam O’Brien was a handsome, red-headed young man. At 6’ tall and 205 ripped lbs of muscle, he made most anything look good on him. In fact, when he was in college and had not piled up quite so much muscle on his frame, he had been approached for some modeling gigs, thanks to his chiseled cheekbones, regal nose and bright green eyes. Then he’d dove headfirst into his weight training in anticipation of police academy and suddenly the fashion offers dried up… to be replaced by fitness offers. Still, he considered that a distraction from doing what he wanted to do most in the world: make the world a safer place.

That’s what his mantra was as he rolled around the quiet suburb of the big East Coast metropolis he called home. He’d been given the beat because it was a fairly quiet one; they didn’t want to overwhelm the rookie, on his first day no less. So here Liam was, cruising around, halfway hoping for something awful to happen so he could be of some use. He felt guilty for even attempting to think that, but rolling around the suburbs had not been a part of his dream when he was a kid. The most exciting part of his morning was when he got to stop a soccer mom and give her a warning that the left brake light on her minivan was out. She had given out a sigh of relief to realize she wasn’t going to be ticketed and gave Officer O’Brien her heartfelt thanks… right before giving his slightly exposed pecs a look, some ginger hairs exposed from the crevice. Liam initially felt a bit embarrassed, but then felt his substantial cock start to twitch in his jock and thought that maybe he could wait a day or two for his uniform to get replaced.

It was after lunch (which Liam had brought with him in the cruiser, a couple of tuna sandwiches) that he had his first taste of real police work. He heard on the radio that a breaking and entering was occurring not too far from where he was. He answered the dispatch, saying that he was close to the scene and flipped the switch for the sirens, stepping on the gas pedal. He made it to the address just a minute later, requested backup and got out of the car and making sure all of his offensive options—baton, taser, gun—were ready at his disposal. He walked carefully up to the house. He noticed a window off to the side had been broken in and he slowly walked up to investigate the scene. Suddenly, a wiry figure jumped out of the opening and started running down the sidewalk. Liam shouted for the perp to freeze but when it obviously went unheeded, he followed suit. Of all the dunderheaded ideas that had gone through the thief’s head that day, surely thinking he could outrun a man in as fine condition as Officer O’Brien was among the largest. Liam’s strong quads and calves propelled him down the sidewalk at top speed. In under half a minute, he was tackling the smaller man and handcuffing him behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent,” he huffed, barely winded at all from the sprint as he started reading off the wiry Caucasian man’s Miranda rights, roughly leading the perp back to his cruiser. He radioed in that he’d arrested the perp and that he was heading back with him in custody.

The wiry man was shoved into the backseat of the cruiser as Liam drove away. “Aw, fuck,” the young man groaned, tilting his head back as his rough language filled the cruiser. “He said it was a sure fuckin’ thing, that no one would be around this time of day to even notice…” he continued to curse, more annoyed that his information on the house being an easy target had been inaccurate rather than feeling guilty for committing a crime.

“Can it back there,” Liam gruffly called back to him, not wanting to hear him whine, especially since he’d just told him it was in his best interest to be quiet. He glanced back at the perp. He was young, maybe 22, tops. He had dirty blond hair that looked greasy and unkempt and was adorning a face that looked like it had fallen upon hard times. The facial features were still youthful, but the deep-set, beady eyes were already hard. His wifebeater shirt made obvious the physical differences between the two men. Liam was trained and toned and beefy. The crook was scrawny and had decent definition solely due to how little fat he carried on him. Liam had easily outmuscled him.

“Hey, fuck you, pig!” the young ruffian spat, lunging forward in his seat, hands still cuffed behind him.

“I’d settle down if I were you, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” Liam grunted, focusing his eyes back on the road, making a note to himself that he would do his best to ignore the jackass riding in the backseat until they’d made it back to the precinct.

“Long nothin’, I’ll be back out there so quick it’ll make your head spin, ya fuckin’ pig,” the criminal continued to spew, grunting as he tried to move his arms into a more comfortable position and couldn’t due to the handcuffs. He actually began to wince. Had the handcuffs been that tight when he’d been arrested. A look of confusion swept over the young man’s hard features, his shoulders shifting underneath his wifebeater. He grunted again when the shirt began to feel tight around him. He looked down and saw two mounds where there had earlier been only the flat surface that had previously made up his pecs. Now there were two pert hillocks of muscle that were becoming more pronounced by the moment, the nipples adorning them pushing harder against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he grunted out again, his exposed arms beginning to beef up. Their stick-like forms began to bulge with the shape of masculine musculature, the curve of his biceps and wedges of his triceps coming into view and beginning to magnify on his frame. He wiggled his shoulders again, trying to get comfortable as suddenly their width filled out, deltoids growing larger on either side until the specific heads of the muscles became faintly visible. He was so very confused by what he was seeing and feeling and tried to shut his eyes, to limit the amount of contradictory stimuli assaulting him. Still, he felt his abdomen cobbling, pressing more against the fabric of his shirt as well, lats starting to flare out, taking up more and more space under the fabric.

Damn shirts, I never buy them big enough, came a voice in the back of the criminal’s head. Was it him saying that? It didn’t initially seem like something he’d say. But he couldn’t deny the shirt felt so fucking small now. The straps of the collar were starting to dig into his growing traps, causing more discomfort. He reached up with one mitt-like hand to rub at them, soothing the pain as he suddenly forgot his hands were supposed to be handcuffed together. The other paw went south toward the growing tightness in his crotch. These jeans had fit fine just a few minutes ago. Hell, they’d even been baggy! Now he felt something hard filling up the legs past bursting, the crotch of them quite hefty. With several loud rips, the tough denim burst open to reveal olive-toned skin covered with a light dusting of dark hair that seemed to get thicker by the second. The thighs that had burst through were not the legs he’d just attempted to use to outrun the athletic cop sitting up front. These were real wheels, with power behind them. The thick wedges of muscle making up his quads said that loud and clear, and began emphasizing it more and more as the teardrop over his kneecaps became more pronounced, his thighs becoming so thick they were beginning to rub up against each other. He’d grunt and spread them a little wider only to have to repeat the process a few moments later.

And the chaos that had been happening at his crotch… He looked over the hemispheres of his still-growing pecs to see a dick that was definitely different than the very average piece of meat he’d packed earlier. What poked out of his dark, thick bush now was rock hard and a little bigger than average, maybe 7”, but it was pretty damn fat, maybe five or six inches around. And the balls supporting it… whoa. They were heavy in his lap, big as jumbo eggs and still swelling.

He rubbed at the growing orbs and released a soft “Oof,” sound from his throat, his thick bull neck sending out a deeper, richer timbre of a voice than his previously reedy quality. That hand doing the rubbing was attached to a thick wrist, which was attached to an even thicker forearm, bulging with sinew as it led to upper arms that would have only been slightly exaggerating to call “bowling ball-sized.” His shoulders were massive and his trapezius muscles beefy yokes attached to his bull-neck. It was clear now that his wifebeater had grown to accommodate the watermelons he was smuggling underneath the fabric now, the cut for the neck suddenly deeper than it had been at the start of all this, showing off the majority of his pecs, the deep cleavage, powerful striations and macho curls of dark hair tufting off of the surface, giving the stone-hard muscle a soft, cuddly coating. The criminal stopped rubbing his balls for a moment, enormous arms relaxed at his side as the torn denim started to reform, taking on a darker, navy hue and becoming a softer poly-cotton blend that fit over his thick thighs, wrapping around his wide, thick ass that pushed him up inches higher in his seat. His upper body started to feel warmer as it, too, began to have more fabric cover it, this time it being more of a lighter blue, the buttons coming up his relatively trim waist and suddenly being unable to meet together halfway up the beefy man’s chest. The wifebeater was still hidden even with this amount of exposure, showing nothing but beefy, furry pecs. The sleeves of the shirt extended down his brawny arms. They were loose enough to not inhibit movement of his limbs, but tight enough that when one of those arms contracted, the size and majesty of what lay beneath the fabric came through loud and clear to anyone who cared to look.

The criminal groaned some more, eyes still shut, leaning his head to the side, the collar of his shirt rubbing against the stubble that had grown on his face. The patches signifying something… something important… adorned the sides of his sleeves, epaulets appearing on the tops of his shoulders. Pleated pockets were drawn taut against his big, beefy pecs, a metal decoration of some kind resting against the surface of his left pectoral muscle. His belt at his waist became loaded down with the tools needed for his job: radio, baton, taser… gun, safely towed away in its holster.

“Jesus Christ, what’s goin’ on?” the man croaked in his deep voice, opening his eyes to try to make sense out of everything, his thoughts very confused. He looked down and was immediately confronted with the abundance of muscular flesh of a darker complexion bursting from the front of his shirt, with a generous amount of black fur swirling around it. He arched his eyebrow and looked forward, at his reflection in the cruiser’s rearview mirror. He saw a wide, handsome face staring back at him. Square jaw, strong cheekbones, a big nose that gave him character and a mouth with lips that weren’t too thin or thick. His jawline and cheeks were coated with dark stubble. He somehow knew it was tough to keep himself looking smooth and sharp on the job. His genetics gave him a pretty heavy beard.

His genetics? And what were those? Whatever they were, they gave him the hefty set of equipment stowed away in the crotch of his slacks. It made a mound whenever he sat down that was almost obscene. He would always feel a bit self-conscious when he would sit down in the pews at church on Sunday, Jesus staring down from the crucifix at his massive collection of genital meat making itself known in his lap. He went to church on Sunday? Of course he did, what kind of Catholic would he be if he didn’t take Communion every week? Plus, he was sure his mama would slap him upside the head if he ever thought about being anything other than a devoted member of the parish. And he wanted to keep his mama happy, it was part of his Italian upbringing.

Italian, that was right. Of course he was, where else would he get the dark complexion and hair from? Not to mention his ruggedly handsome looks and balls that would make a bull envious. Oh, and the nice, thick frame that helped him build nice, thick muscles. His wife liked his muscles. He liked them even more, though. Even Carmen would eventually roll her eyes when he would occasionally flex and pose in the full-length mirror in their bedroom. That was before he would make her eyes roll into the back of her head with his sexual prowess. He knew it was a stereotype that Italians were good in bed, but he didn’t mind embodying that particular trope. It had produced three children already, two teenage boys and a girl they had been pleasantly surprised with a couple years ago. As far as Sal was concerned, their family couldn’t be big enough but Carmen swore she would get her tubes tied if their family got any more unplanned additions.

Yeah, he was Sal. Salvatore Russo. Officer Russo, if you crossed him the wrong way. A big, beefy Italian cop and that was exactly the way he liked it. “Hey, what’s the hell’s goin’ on?” he asked Liam, his voice deep and sounding like he was coming out of a trance suddenly.

Liam looked back and looked momentarily surprised, then confused. “I dunno, sir. I’ll pull over and you can get up front again,” he said, signaling to traffic that he was pulling off to the shoulder of the road.

“Must be some kind of prank the guys are pulling on me,” Sal grunted under his breath, heaving himself out of the side of the cruiser once Liam opened the door, stretching to his full 6’2” height and 260 lbs bulk. His joints loudly cracked as he did so, the man’s stubbled face yawning as if he’d just had a really great nap. “And I thought I told you to just call me Sal, kid,” he smirked at his new partner.

“Sal, got it,” Liam smiled, sliding back into the driver’s seat as Sal squeezed himself into the passenger side. “Thanks for showing me the ropes, Sal. You don’t know what it means to me to finally get to put on the badge,” the younger man gushed, grinning with pride as they resumed their beat.

“Sure I do, kiddo. It was my first day once, too. That rush putting on the uniform the first time, I swear, I was chubbed up the whole first week just from that,” he chuckled, patting his bulky package as they drove along. He glanced again in the rearview mirror and grunted, “Shit,” before fishing around the glove compartment, picking out the travel electric razor he kept around to touch up his stubble during the day. If he didn’t keep up with the growth, he’d practically have a full beard by the time he went home.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice all day that… you don’t exactly fit into your uniform either, Sal. Haven’t you asked them to tailor you a new one that fits?” Liam innocently asked, obeying all the traffic laws.

“And why would I fuckin’ do that?” Sal snorted. “Listen, kid, when you’re built like us, it doesn’t hurt to show some of it off. You know the reason I haven’t been written up for lookin’ like I’m about to burst out of this fuckin’ shirt all the time?” he asked the younger cop, tugging at taut fabric attempting to cover his massive chest. “It projects a certain image. An image that the cops are powerful and you don’t wanna fuck with them. Hoods see guys like us hoofin’ around, they’re less likely to start shit.”

“That’s a little primitive, if you ask me,” Liam replied.

“It’s the law of the jungle. I don’t write it,” Sal said, shrugging his massive yokes of shoulders. “I don’t mind it one bit, though, and neither should you. You’ve got a great chest, kid. Great everything else, too. Might even get as big as me one day if you want to.”

“Maybe,” Liam smiled, his generous dick making its own show in his uniform pants as he thought about that.

“Trust me, it’ll come in handy when you start a family, ESPECIALLY if you have boys. Keeping yourself bigger than them not only teaches them respect, but gives ’em something to shoot for. I think my second boy wants to start getting really serious into bodybuilding. He’s been askin’ me about routines and diets and shit. If he does, he’ll knock ’em dead, I think. Great frame to build muscle on and he’s got the face of a ladykiller, if I do say so myself,” he chuckled, patting himself on the back for his athletic, handsome son.

“Well it’s a bit early for me and Molly to think about that. We’ve only just moved in together a few months ago. But marriage and kids… wouldn’t be a bad thing. Eventually,” Liam said, slightly envious of what Sal already had. Maybe he’d have something that great to go home to when he was his age.

“Hell, if you like her, why wait? Carmen and I got married at 19, she had Antonio at 20. Never regretted it,” he sniffed.

“Hey, for some of us kids are a big deal!” Liam chuckled, playfully elbowing the older cop in his lat. It was only 2 in the afternoon and already he felt a bond forming between them.

“Shit, I’d have 10 of them if Carmen would let me! I love kids and bein’ a dad. Best thing in the world. Can’t wait until you have some of your own, O’Brien. You’re not a real man until you’re a dad,” he smiled, clearly aglow with recollections of raising his own brood.

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Never really had much of a father myself. He was out of the picture by the time I could remember. As for starting my own family, the right time will come. Until then, I don’t mind it just being Molly and I. Besides, I hear it’s easier to get laid without kids.”

“Fuck, ain’t that the truth,” Sal groaned. “I just about thought my balls would swell so big and blue they’d pop off my crotch the first several months after Carmen had each of the kids. And now we gotta make sure the little one’s occupied, that the older boys are out of the house or something before we can really let loose in the sack. I didn’t think the walls in that house would be so fucking thin when I bought it,” he chuckled.

Liam chuckled along with his older, bigger partner and smiled. He had hoped the first day on the force would be inspiring, but meeting a guy like Sal was more than he could’ve wished for. Liam hadn’t realized how much he’d missed out on having an older male figure in his life until he met Sal that morning. He wanted to make him proud. Something told him the two of them would be lifelong friends.


“I’M HOME!” Sal roared as he walked through the doorway, in a fresh muscle-t and sweats after showering up at the gym to wash off the sweat of his workout. He worked out six days a week, religiously. Giving out a great big bellow signaling his arrival home had become a family tradition. He could remember when the boys were little they’d squeal once they heard him and come running up, asking if they could hang off of his biceps or feel his abs. He’d felt like a superhero in those days. Now, though, Tony was hanging out with a rough crowd that Sal didn’t exactly approve of and Sal Jr. was fully into his teens now, and all the secrecy that entailed. He was relieved when he found out that Carmen had gotten pregnant with Isabella. It meant that he wouldn’t have to leave behind the childhood years completely, not quite yet. He’d still be her big, strong superhero for several years to come.

Carmen rose off of the couch to greet him and Sal’s heart and cock throbbed seeing her. Even now, she was the only woman he had eyes for. “Welcome home, honey,” she cooed, walking over and embracing her arms around him as much as a woman standing only 5’6” and weighing 120 lbs could. She leaned up to kiss him, simultaneously irritated and aroused by the fact that her man still had scratchy stubble on his face, even though she knew he tried his best to keep it trimmed all day long.

“Mmm… now this is what I call a welcome, babe,” he purred, wrapping his bulky arms around his hot Hispanic wife, the hands slowly moving down until they cupped her buttocks.

“Glad you like it. Sal Jr. accidentally broke a window in the living room when he was horsing around with a friend,” she said, deftly slipping in the bad news, knowing it was the only way to keep big Sal from losing his temper over the accident.

“Shiiiiiiiit, when’s he gonna learn?” Sal griped, craning his bull-neck over to see that, yes, there was definitely a broken window in the living room. Almost looked like someone tried to break into the house, his keen cop observation told him. “Well, we’ll have to call a repairman.”

“Already taken care of. You wanna heat up one of your meals in the kitchen?” she asked, referring to one of the many high-protein meals they prepared every week, to keep down the amount of time during the weekdays they had to spend to fuel his muscles.

“How about I heat up our bed?” he suggested, prodding her with the stiff organ branching out from his crotch.

“Salvatore Russo, you’re an animal,” she whispered into his ear, gently stepping out of his grasp. “You know you need that meal to keep being the big, strong man of the house,” she halfway-teased, keeping up the seductive tone of their conversation. “Eat first. I’ll be waiting up in the bedroom when you’re finished. Isabella’s already asleep and the boys are at friends’ houses,” she mentioned, knowing she didn’t have to get any more obvious with her hints.

Sal, the massive Italian muscle cop, stood in the foyer grinning dumbly, his erection visibly stretching the cotton of his sweatpants. “Damn, I love my life,” he chuckled.


Liam unlocked the door to his cramped downtown apartment and stepped inside. He was greeted by the comparatively sparse decor of a couple in their mid-20s who couldn’t yet afford many of the nicer things in life. Liam loved being a cop because it completed something inside of him, not because it paid him well. Molly taught grade school for the same reason. They both knew they’d likely always be scraping by but they had a great fondness for one another and as long as they were together, Liam felt like he didn’t need very much.

“Hey, Molly,” he smiled, taking off his jacket and revealing his muscular body, covered with a green shirt tucked into the waist of his faded denim jeans. The bulges of his pecs, biceps and deltoids could be easily seen through the cotton fabric. “Miss me?”

“Of course, as cramped as this place is, it still feels lonely without you,” she smiled, leaving papers on the coffee table to grade as she got up and gave Liam a peck on the cheek.

“Mmm, well I missed you, too,” he told her, reaching out an arm to keep her from going back to grading and leaning in to give her a more passionate kiss. “You wouldn’t believe the guy they partnered me up with. Big Italian stud with three kids. Kept pawin’ at his bulge all day long. You should see it, Molly. Looks like a couple of melons are packed in there,” he chuckled.

Although Molly was a bit tired from a day full of wrangling children, the sight, sound and feel of her hunky boyfriend was teasing out her amorous side. “Is that a fact? Well, I can see why that would be so exciting,” she whispered, slipping a hand down to the crotch of Liam’s worn denim, feeling the hefty bulge that extended off to the side of his hip. “I can’t wait for you two to get to know each other better,” she cooed, brushing her long, delicate fingers across the length of Liam’s covered shaft.

Liam grunted in pleasure, but tried not to be swept away in it. “When he started talking about his kids, it got me to thinking. I want kids some day, Molly. Maybe it’s too early to say anything about it, but they’re important to me. What about you?”

“Liam, really? This conversation, now? I thought we were just unwinding…” she pouted.

“Sorry, Molly. But… I wanted to know, because I see a future with you. I need to know if that future includes kids or not,” he said earnestly.

Molly took a moment before looking up into Liam’s green eyes and telling him, “Of course I’d want to have children with you, Liam. But if you think you’re knocking me up without a ring on this, think again,” she smirked, holding up her empty ring finger.

“Heh, deal,” he chuckled, giving her his handsome model smile that she could never resist.

“How about we heat up some leftovers, have a little bit of fun and fall asleep watching some 30 Rock?” she offered, taking the dozen steps required to go from the living room to the kitchen.

“Sounds like a great evening to me,” Liam sighed contentedly.


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