There is a series called Silent Witness on British TV, a fictional thriller about a forensic laboratory and it’s dealing with gruesome murder cases. A recent two part episode’s main story line was care staff abusing disabled inmates in posh care home.
S’funny how ideas smoulder and burn.
“Shit! This one’s been well and truly fucked,” exclaimed Police Inspector Ryan Beatrand, gazing down at the naked young girl’s torso laid out on the examination table. The stressed Paramedics who had delivered her had flung some shrouds over her with not a lot of care, far too busy for detail and Ryan could see the state of her when he first entered the room, flinging aside the shrouds to examine the sole evidence they had at present.
“Fuck me!” he exclaimed.
“Sorry, love to mate, but no cock and the toys not in your car,” sniggered Police Forensic Officer Alice Lisle, joining him, wishing she could resume without having the intrusion of work, the shag happy fest she’d left that morning.
He lent closer, thinking he should really have a word in the lovely ear of his assistant about using the term ‘mate’ when at work. He noticed the sparse but wide growth of fair hairs sprouting round the bloated, torn and bruised slit on the cadaver’s slim body. Hmm! Maybe 10 possibly 12, he thought as Alice sidled in beside him.
“Fuck! left a mess ain’t it?” she commented, grabbing the pale legs and spreading them as wide as the table would allow. Her theory was if she was going to examine a female ... a reasonably attractive female, might as well have an open view of her cunt while getting on with it. She liked cunt, but she liked cocks as well. “She had big inner labia anyway, but these look sort of stretched and look at those marks on the tips, tool like pliers stretched them you think?” she muttered. “What ever’s been in here ... I mean, never seen one as extended as this, well maybe after birthing, but they didn’t stay stretched like this ... Fucking big’un too,” she giggled, glancing down at Ryan’s big bulge in the front of his cavalry twill slacks, which weren’t particularly slack aver his groin. The stiffness, bulk and extremity of it was not quite pushing against the cushioned edge of the table, but soon would be Alice reckoned.
“Well it wasn’t me,” he chuckled catching her glance and budging forward to gently jam the back of her hand on the table edge after she’d slung a backhand clutch on his erection.
“TOD?” shouted Alice over her shoulder to a laboratory assistant Gayle Cataract, staring into a microscope.
“Four hours – ish,” came the reply. DNA results tomorrow,” answered the chunky Ugandan.
“Well I had an alibi so there,” giggled Ryan.
“Yes, I will vouch for you mate, well established in my twat lets see ... Yes smack on time,” she giggled, squeezing his stiffy.
“Twat or Tush though, got to be accurate for the Chief Super Alice,” he chortled, his gloved hand folding into the cadaver’s cunt.
“You were so fucking randy for both holes mate, you were going from one to the other you bastard. Both sore, look out, top brass.” she nudged Ryan’s arm, not purposely, but for his sake usefully jamming his digits fully into the cold abused young aperture.
The two colleagues and current lovers stood back from the table as the weedy, bespectacled, slicked down hair figure of Chief Superintendent Foster (Fossy) Boothroyd shambled over. Uniform immaculate but looking decidedly scruffy on his weak five foot three frame, he’d approached the central table admiring the cut of Alice’s smart business two piece trouser suit, under an obligatory clinging to her shoulders white laboratory smock, the jacket just offering a tempting tight glimpse of her large shapely buttocks. She turned to greet him, dwarfing him by seven inches in her impossibly high stilettos and at the same level, leered at two inches of smooth rounded cleavage through the cut of her jacket with wide apart slim lapels, revealing a claret coloured slim knit V neck sweater. The titillated Fossy being a tit man, thought he could see the shape of a white brassiere through the threaded garment. She smelled divine.
Ryan stood back letting her dictate the conversation having removed, sniffed and licked his glove and wishing he could do the job without the latex. Alice was a bright woman and her animated expressions when briefing Fossy, didn’t fit the calm square featured face usually on show. Her hair was a deep auburn to black colour, always beautifully styled, full and nearly to her shoulders. Many were the times he had rested in her bed, watching her tart herself back to a state where she could meet the public, press and colleagues through the Force. She reminded him of Jane Hill of the BBC News
“You going to shag this one Ryan?” asked Fossy. “You usually do ... remember that one last week ... what ... she must have been ... no ... she was 71 and you still had your evil way with her. You go first as always I suppose, ahead of the rest of this lot.” he guffawed with a high falsetto squeak. “This one’s a bit tasty ... Any info?” Ryan didn’t speak.
Mbongo Cataract, the laboratory manager loomed forward with a clip board and a mobile device.
“Says here ... Sassy Jackson, age fourteen and four months, pupil at Strikken Academy, ... hang on ... er ... er! mother of Pawnee Jackson ... er ... fuck!” he paused re reading the information.
Fossy licked his lips and drooled at the sight of the seven foot two black giant who while scanning the typed sheets and the twelve inch screen, deftly held in one massive mitt to confirm details, occasionally fiddled and scratched what to Fossy from the old days looked like a truncheon down the inside leg of Mbongo’s trousers.
“Daughter of Insistus and Hemorage Jackson, once of Hermitage Peak, Colorado, now of Coldage Street. Ley Valley,” Mbongo continued, “Who have been informed. Apparently they are on holiday at a Butlins near Brighton and expect to be home by next Friday.”
Fucking Yanks, mused Fossy, no sense of emergency.
Hmm! Alice thought she has birthed but her cunt was still enlarged. No tits to speak of but her buds must have been milkers once.
“She can stay here then?” he asked, getting a nod from Mbongo. “She’s been well shagged” he stuck two fingers in the dead girl’s cunt, much to the dismay of everyone present who knew he should and he knew he should wear latex gloves when fingering cunts, or indeed anything. He briefly looked at his digits and asked. “ ... Up the arse?”
“Haven’t had a look yet sir,” answered Ryan casually.”Give us a hand Mbongo.”
The tall powerful white chap and the very tall chubby black man heaved the girl’s body over, Alice leaning in to open her legs. The cadaver was slender enough not to need the buttocks spread for access, but Ryan did anyway. Alice prodded the dead girl’s sphincter with a latex gloved finger.
“Nice arse,” she murmured, wishing she didn’t have to wear the gloves, flattening the butt wide again, knowing everyone hadn’t had a good luck.
“Yes not the neatest,” Fossy added.” Bit too muscular for m...” he stopped talking, sniffing and turning away, bumping into an apologetic Ryan, eager to see inside the bum crack spread in front of him.
The Chief Super left after making arrangements for Mbongo to meet him after hours for a pint and chat about enlarging certain essential bodies of the police and forensic operations.
“Tell you what Ryan, she’s got more hairs round her arse hole than her cunt,” snickered Alice.
“Bit like you darling,” he giggled, heftily nudging her elbow reversing their roles on the pantomime of examining dead bodies. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Alice extracted her forefinger from it’s three knuckle depth inside Sassy’s fundament, looked closely, sniffed and took the latex off.
“I’m going to call it a day,” she announced, letting the white smock drop to the floor for a cleaner to pick up. “By the way...” she raised her voice. “I am not gong to change, but I do need to check my panty pad, it feels sticky, so if anyone’s going to come and peep through that hole in the wall, better leave now,” she turned and sauntered out, smirking, two lab technicians knocking stuff over in their haste.