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- The Escape - 

“Hands in the air!” Officer Sebastian Ruiz yelled at the suspect.

Ruiz has only been working in the force for a couple of year after serving in the Navy. One might say that the experience from being in the military and a policeman would prepare him for anything. But what about to come is not something that one could be prepared for.

Just minutes ago, Ruiz received a radio call about an escaped prisoner. Although unarmed, the wanted man was considered “a severe threat level”. “Pfft, what an unarmed man could do?” Ruiz told himself.

The man in the orange jumpsuit complies with Ruiz’s order, while slowly turning around to the officer who is having him at gunpoint. When the man is facing Ruiz, he sees that the suspect is having a smug look.

“What are you smiling at? Get on the ground, NOW!” The man’s grimace gives the policeman a unnerving feeling. He could see the hands holding his gun starting to shake. However, it isn’t him that is shaking. The suspect gives Ruiz a wink, and suddenly his firearm just disassembles by itself into pieces. Ruiz is flabbergasted, trying to understand what was going on. By instinct, he tries to reach for his backup gun, but before he could do so, the suspect flicks his fingers, and Ruiz is sent flying backward by an invisible force.

“THUMP!” Ruiz’s fall is cushioned by his own patrol car. No amount of time spent in the gym could prepare the police officer’s body for such impact. Ruiz feels a sharp pain running through his body, and the buildings start to swirl and disappear in the darkness of his mind.

The suspect does not even flinch. He stands still at the very spot he was told to lie down, making gestures with his hands. Ruiz’s body rises from the mopped vehicle and dangles in the air, slowly floating toward the perpetrator. The strange man examines the knocked out copper; except for a bleeding nose and a bump on the back of his head, Ruiz would be able to see his wife and children for another day. The man begins to move his index finger in a swirling motion, and in turn, Ruiz starts swirling like an ice skater in mid-air. One by one, his clothes fall off his limp body: his leather jacket, white cargo shirt and clip-on tie, belt and gears, shoes and trousers. The only items left on him are his undershirt, boxers and black crew socks. The suspect appears to appreciate the officer’s physique, especially his bulging cock; as Ruiz floats to a reachable range for the powered man, he puts his hand up the KO'ed cop’s boxers and fondles his 6 inches cock.

“Ruiz, come in! Come in Ruiz!” A voice coming though Ruiz’s radio interrupts the action, but the police officer is unfortunately too unconscious to answer at the moment. The suspect quickly puts on the stolen outfit using the power of his mind, and after he is satisfied with the strangely perfectly fit uniform, he gestures his hands and Ruiz’s body is slowly raised until it is tenderly laid flat on a nearby roof top. Even with Ruiz out of sight, the telekinetic man manages to use his power to handcuff the copper to a pipe.

A beautiful but warm summer day. I am just having my afternoon tea break and  of enjoying the scene outside of the window: an afterschool playground full of kids playing behind the line of oak trees across the street. But, like a dark cloud of thunderstorm that suddenly comes out of nowhere, I notice a broad man, a little bit on the older side, leaning against the wall of the house next to the playground, watching over the children…

The worst of thoughts are just going over and over in my head… Is this man…?

I carefully examine the man before drawing a conclusion. He has a dad-type of body, but much more well-built. His blue plaid shirt looks slightly damped due to the heat, and if not for the three buttons unfastened, it would hug his chest so tightly. Even from my window I can see how much skin he is showing off to the public, including his cheap, dull necklace that shapes like a feather. Really, in front of the children? Where is his decency? (But honestly, if I look that good, I would do it too). Meanwhile, his sleeves are rolled up and it’s like, he’s posing with his hands in his pocket, and legs crossed like a typical macho man. But I wouldn’t suspect a thing if not for his massive erection he’s having under that thin white trousers.

“That’s it!”, I talk to myself as I gather all of my gut and rush down the stairs, to the direction of the peeper. But the image of that buff man makes me realize that I need something to defend myself. (The last time I try to stand up against some creeps in the alley, I woke up with no undies and walking funny for three whole days!) At the bottom of the stairs there conveniently lies a mini fire extinguisher. How lame! But better than nothing, as I pick up the thing and charge across the street.

“Da hell are you doing over there?”, I raise my voice as I approach the stranger. He is first startled, but quickly gains composure and answers with a firm voice:

“Just looking out for my grandkid. He’s over there…”

“Lies! I saw you stalking the kids for half an hour!”, as I continue to confront him. The man notices that I begin to swing around this small ass fire extinguisher toward him, trying to keep him from retreating.

“What are you doing with that thing?… Put it down, you might hurt somebody…”

He realizes what’s going on. He gets caught in the act, creeping on innocent children. He is still trying to defuse the situation so I won’t make a big fuss. Like a true predator he puffs his chest forward to intimidate me, but pretends to raise his hands as a sign of surrender.

“There must be a misunde… Hrghh!…”

Before he can mesmerize me with his silver tongue, I bash the side of his chin with the fire extinguisher. He is instantly rendered unconscious. I know creeps like him are very good with words, and they can talk themselves out of such intense confrontation and make a quick escape. I couldn’t just let him go. Not today.

The man slips down and leans against the wall, with drool coming out of his mouth as his head drops to the side. Out cold and not a single drop of blood shed. I crouch down and check on him. As his body falls backward, his shirt accidentally unbuttons some more, revealing a full set of dark, hairy pectoral. There are many ways to check a man’s pulse, but at the moment I couldn’t think of anything else, so I slither my hand under his opened shirt and start caressing his moist chest. As I rub against his skin, the smell of sweat mix with cologne spreads around, and it is oddly… erotic. I take me a few seconds to properly feel his heart. Still beating strong, especially for man around his age. But what is his age exactly? Could he just look more mature?…

Why am I suddenly care for a pedo? He’s obviously sick in the head. No normal person would have a bulge like his while “watching his grandkid play”… Uhm no, it’s just his wallet. His cock is still limp, and it is surprisingly not as big as I’ve expected, based on the size of his hands and feet. I couldn’t help but to peek inside the wallet and find his ID and a business card.

“Nolan Smith. 59 years old. History professor. Head of Faculty”. And then there is a picture of him, apparently at a birthday party, with a young kid who looks similar to one of those on the playground. But hey, just because you have an esteemed job and fancy pants position, does not keep you from being a creep. An this mofo even has a photo with his victim. How awful! Quickly, I have to get rid of him before anyone sees us!

I put my hands under his sweaty armpits and drag him across the street to my building. This is a perfect occasion for me to test my fireman carries, but this bear is so damn big, I would probably break some parts of my body before I could take him to my apartment.

It takes a lot of effort for me to drag the man’s limp body without anyone noticing. Maybe I was lucky. What’s more immaculate is that his white pants have not a single spot of dirt. Then I look down to his feet. Black socks and blue denim slip-ons? Smithy here clearly has no sense of style at all, but somehow his weird pairing of clothing items is really turning me on. Kinda remind me of my own old man. Always favors comfort over appearance…

Wait…is he living around the area? That might explain the terrible choice of shoes, since no way he would have a good sexy outfit on just to be ruined by his footwear. But he has a belt that matches… Sigh…

I curiously take out his slippers and try it onto myself. Surprise, surprise, we share the same size! I have some other good pairs of dress shoes, but I admit, I was too shy to wear them even on special occasions. Now I have a, willing or not, model with a perfect fit. After a few seconds, I detect the odor emitting from the strange man’s moist socks in my tiny apartment, and my crotch couldn’t help but getting tighter. And I realize that the damped, warm slip-ons are hugging my feet. For some reasons, it starts to look good on me too, as I am also wearing black socks. I walk around the house, trying to channel the man’s alpha attitude before he was knocked out cold. Maybe I was too harsh on him, he seems to know what he’s doing…

It has been a full 10 minutes since I “arrested” him from the playground. Is he dead? No, still breathing…Concussion, perhaps? I pull up his eyelids to examine his pupils. Both are equally dilated. Phew… Uh oh, he’s twitching and starting to stir… What should I do?

I realize that I have saved some sedative for a rainy day. And that rainy day is today - the day that I capture a playground creep. The drug is for my own safety, in case I am up against someone like Smithy over here. I may have ko’ed him, but he could easily come to and turn the table, and I would end up in his current position: unconscious, helpless and at the mercy of a stranger.

I prick him with the syringe filled with ketamine. After finishing injecting him, I pressed my finger against his neck vein where the needle’s punctured his skin to prevent further bleeding, which would ruin his perfect blue plaid shirt, and give him a light pad on the chin for a good job done. He clearly tries to stay awake, but his attempt remains futile…

“Uuhhnnn…..”

As soon as the drug is pumped into the man’s system, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a faint whimper before returning to dream land. My hand is still glued to his neck, but I am able to lay my head on his slowly puffing chest, listening to his steady heartbeats. Feels like resting on a warm stuffed animal, only muskier. I show my appreciation to such fine male specimen with a gentle kiss on his erected nipple, knowing that he wouldn’t mind.

Outside, the sun is slowly going down. There is a cry echoing around the block. A kid appears to lose his grandpa, and the people gather around trying to help him find his way home. I close the shutters, trying not to pay attention to the commotion. I must focus on my own mission. In here, it is still quiet, as the drug will keep this sicko under for a couple more hours.