Fingered By The Mob Part 1 By Timothy Reisling Betticut

Alas, there does not appear to be a part 2.


So thank you to the person who flagged up this story.



Fingered By The Mob

Part 1


Timothy Reisling Betticut

I Let my hair grow down to my backside

Colored a red shade of gold

Let my nipples be seen

fattened large through the sheen

of a dress that’s outrageously bold.

And finally I’ll wear your handcuffs

And hobbles that clutch at my knees

I’ll hold back my arms

So you can bind up my charms so

You’ll be mine for as long as I please.

“Then we made him into a girl.”

Counsel: Will the witness speak up please and tell this inquest just
precisely what happened.

“Uh, Chief Groff ordered us to make Officer Tim Mitty into a girl, and we
did it,” the full figured young woman sits straight as a bullet. Her hands
smooth at the uniform skirt. She’s one of those tall and busty bleached
blondes who don’t look quite as alluring up close as they do in the chorus
line. This one isn’t a chorine, she’s a cop.

Counsel: You say “us’ Corporal Zwiche, who all did that include?

“There were the five of us in Chief Groff’s office as I recall,” she sweeps
a blond curl from her blue green eye and continues in her deep nasal Corn
Belt voice. “The Chief, Officer Mitty, myself, Officer Gretchen Burton and
Miss Susan Fenton, Chief Groff’s secretary who’d been assigned to the

Counsel: And why were the other women there Corporal?”

“Chief wanted each of us for our special talents, our backgrounds, before
joining the Moundville Police. Gretchen, ah, Officer Burton was trained as
a cosmetologist. Susan was a nurse and I guess my background as a dress and
costume designer was …. Well Chief said he thought that was a bit
important,” she shifts in the hard chair and pauses, her eyes darting about
the panelled hearing room focusing on none of the two dozen attendees. ”
But not as important as my five years on the force. I’m the ranking woman
you know.”

Counsel: But who chose this team Corporal Zwiche?

“I guess I recommended the girls, after all women know best how to do this
sort of thing and their talents were familiar to me. There aren’t that many
women in the department and we’re close.

Counsel: Close.… Of course Corporal. Now give us some background on Bella

“Well…. The Groin, er, Mr. Dagroinian was alleged to be the Cappa Summa
in the Commonwealth. The Feds were coming into Moundville to set up a net,
but Chief felt we might be able to get ahead of them.”

Counsel: Just how large is the Moundville force Corporal?

“Sixteen fulltime uniforms, ten partime, plus six line officers and three
detectives. The borough’s only got eleven thousand people. We do a fine

Counsel: Don’t draw political conclusions Corporal. Now, isn’t the
relatively small size of your force one of the reasons Mr. Dagroinian
established himself in Moundville?

“Well, we’re pretty central. You can get to most anywhere in the
Commonwealth in a few hours. We got your great roads, good airport,

Counsel: Preening point at the Chamber of Commerce, right. Yes a central
location, good access to market and a small cadre of local police with
little specialized training. Nice place for Dagroinian business. So just
exactly what was Chief Groff’s plan?

Cat Zwiche peers at the gaunt figure firing questions, she wishes that the
tone was warmer and tightens against the unexpected hostility, “The Groin’s
headquarters is the Farmer’s Daughter Cafe’, a country and western bar he
owns, where they all keep to themselves. Scuzzy place. Strippers at night,
almost topless daytimes. Groin works outta a booth in the main room. In the
far corner, you know? The way the place is set up you can see him if you
look hard but the rest of the people back there are hidden behind a
divider. There’s a phone on the table, and a bimbo beside him. Always
worked that way,” the tall blond’s into her story now, the inquest room
fades and her eyes glaze while the last weeks came tumbling back……..
back to the first Corporal Cat Zwiche started on this weird case.….

*** ** ***

He really hated to have us do it, but we gave Tim Mitty the works. It took
us about five days to finish him through the Metacalpholate-X treatments up
at Hersey Med Center. They did the TV Pre-Op stuff on him and it came out
really good. The Commonwealth has a law that any fa… er, gay guys,
wanting to become transsexuals, well they got to go through a procedure
that turns their bodies really feminine. This M/X injection makes them grow
breasts and buns by pulling water from their waists and face and generally
stealing it from the muscles structure, you know? They get all girlish.


AUTHOR’S NOTE: For an intimate plunge into the juicy mania Metacalpholate-
X can wreak upon the unwilling heterosexual body and mind – see the
classic Steward-Dress in Issue #5 of TV Queens Fiction Digest .


Tim was…. well it really worked on him. He’d been doing undercover for a
while so his hair was already long and the stuff somehow made it thicker
and fuller. It fell all over his shoulders. Then they took some new stuff
the doctors called, Plasti-Flesh. It’s used for burn patients I think, but
they can attach it like tape. Amazing how it fits right in. Well they can
build up all kinds of things. It’s just invisible and looks better than
real skin. They stripped it onto his face and it pulled his nose up into
kind of a ski jump? And then they used it to cover up his male equipment to
construct a functioning vagina. Well, it seemed to work anyway. They even
installed a permanent lubricant so it always felt….. er….. ready?

What a sight. He was pretty before we even started to work on him and that
M-X stuff abated all of his normal male hair growth and raised his voice.

Then Gretchen, Sue and I went to work; lots of makeup, sizzling clothes,
stilt heels and golden highlights for those red curls under a soft perm.
You could buy a week’s groceries for the effort we put into that hair. You
know, the thing that really bothered him the most was the piercing. When we
poked in the holes and dangled some earings he got moodier than a bitch dog
in heat. Maybe they seemed too permanent or something. For a day or so he
kept poking at them, flicking them away when they brushed his neck and
shoulders. Must have felt like a strange bug until he got used to them.

When we finished it was unbelievable. He was prettier than I am….. I
mean. Well, he was very attractive.

Anyways the idea was sort of simple. The Groin always had a bimbo in his
booth. It was his way of relaxing, that and tons of country music, the
guy’s fanatic for the stuff. Anyway, you know how Arabs finger their worry
beads? Well, this Albanian pug Dagroinian needed to finger something warm
and gushy all day long. He paid some girl to sit there, legs spread under
his left hand, while he did business with his right. Is that peculiar?

Top it off, the girl’s tied up! Right. All sorts of different wrappings.
Can you believe it? His wife, the lovely Lancastra Dagroinian, dreamt up
the costuming and packaging of the Bimbo De Jour. Long ago she realized
that The Groin was her meal ticket and a happy hubby is a productive hubby,
so Lanky did the prep.

Of course, with all the sensitive stuff under discussion at that table, it
was important his Hand Lady didn’t hear nothin’ so a Walkman was the one
constant part of each girl’s ensemble, that and big tits, um, breasts. The
Groin likes breasts a lot. That’s one reason why Tim got really big
knockers. We had the drugs and the Plasti-Flesh work them out to jiggling D
cups. This was one undercover job that wouldn’t supply a lot of cover, so
his equipment had to be authentic.

No way we could get somebody in as a bartender or anything. They kept the
place sewed up tight. Only the waitresses and the bimbo turned over at all,
and the waitresses never got near the table for long enough. It’s common
knowledge that I wanted to go undercover and get the guy. But not in this
town. They wouldn’t let a woman do what any good police officer should be
able to do. So Tim Mitty, our thirty eight year old macho cop was tagged to
‘Drag up’ effectively enough to get next to that table at least for a day.

And it wouldn’t matter that he couldn’t hear nothing, that’s the other
reason for them big tits. The doctors up at Hersey Med Center installed two
Electro-Z17’s, one in each nipple. The transmitters were all contained in
implants underneath. Neat? Brings a whole new meaning to Tipping Off The
Police, eh?

Well after Sue Fenton, Gretchen Burton and me got through… Damn he looked
good, and somehow familiar, but it wasn’t until later that I figured out
who he looked like. We called him Candi Liptz. And he looked sweet from the
neck up and deadly on down. With flaming red hair, his blue eyes, thick
lashes and a drop dead outfit, hell, Candi was dandy with a look quicker
than liquor. And his new body even made him move a lot like a woman still,
he needed training, so we enrolled him in that two week crash course, ‘The
Art of Flirtatious Vibration’. I went along with him, learned a lot myself
actually, but he was something.

Let me tell you about Tim Mitty. He was on the force longer than me, but
he’d been passed over for promotion a lot. He kept getting into trouble
with the ladies. Chief Groff hates that. Says he doesn’t want no Jack The
Zipper on his force, but Tim, well he can’t keep it closed. And the girls
like him which don’t help any. He’s a good cop though. Oh, he don’t use his
gun maybe all the times he ought to. And maybe he is a little too Liberal.
But I don’t think he voted for Dukakis or nothin’ stupid like that. I mean
he’s not way out. But he likes the babes. And he plays a terrific guitar
and when he sings one of those country songs he writes….. well I guess
him and me got kinda close once or twice. But that happened easy with Tim.
Why I found out that both Sue Fenton and Gretchen Burton also had……

We went on into that flirting course and it was a hoot. Did you know that
there are rules for flirting? They teach you that the best opening line is
just a plain old enthusiastic, ‘Hi.’ But you got to make eye contact. Then,
after a while you kind of glance at a man’s lips. It drives those suckers
wild. And if you smile a lot it’s even better. Then there are the
exercises. But I don’t want to go into them.

Anyway, Tim would get all gussied up and walk over to one of the guys in
the class and I thought they’d die. Of course everyone knew him as Candi
and by now I was even thinking of him as a her…… Well she’d high heel
it on over to some hunk, bat her eyes, smile off a, “Hi” the way a blast
furnace throws off heat and lay on some of the sincerest compliments you
ever heard. Her victim’d be struck dumber than a phone after you hit the
mute button.

Took us two weeks to finish it all. They gave us beauty tips, and went on
shopping trips with us, even took us to Federicks. All the while we had to
fondle our Calvins. I spent too much much money, but Candi was on expense
account. The Borough Manager must have creamed over those bills.

I remember the Touching Classes. Candi told me she was real nervous about
them. See, what happened was toward the end. We got all decked out. Candi
had on this spandex pink dress over a crushing corset and black stockings.
She was perched up on stilts that make your knees bend to jut out your tail
and boobs. Her hair was wild, teased out about a mile and Sue Fenton
sparkled her up with that glitter stuff? So she glimmered all over.

Well this was a field trip down to a single’s bar and each girl had to hit
on a neat guy. Now Candi, she picks the guy I wanted. Big sucker. Looked
like the history of leather, you know? Well she makes the move first and of
course she’s got it together real good. I mean, what’s she got to lose?
Struts up to the guy and slides onto the next stool. Hell, her skirt went
farther north than Santa, letting the guy get a feeling for a warm
Christmas Tail. She gives him his big ‘Hi’, smiles and asks for a light.

Stud goes for his lighter faster than a cowboy gunslinger. And Candi leans
forward letting the guy’s gaze plunge so far down, I thought he’d spot oil.
She cupped his hands, just like we were taught and looks him zap in the
eyes. WHACK! That boy looked novocained! He slipped off the stool. She had
to reach out and steady the monster. And of course Candi never let go of
his hand. It was textbook. She was ready. And I was going to see that she
got it. Uh, I mean, like a good officer, I wanted to do everything possible
to help.

*** ** ***

Counsel: You describe yourself as a good police officer, Corporal Zwiche?

“What kind of question is that?” The blond’s eyes blaze out of her reverie.
“I’m the best marksman on the force, seven citations for bravery and my
paperwork’s flawless. I’ve placed in the qualifying quintiles in the
officer exams. The DA’s never criticized a case I’ve made,” Cat Zwiche
ticks off each point evenly on blood red nails, as if giving a well
remembered lecture.

Counsel: You say that both of your associates on the make-over team, Susan
Fenton and officer Gretchen Burton also had affairs with Officer Mitty?

For an instant her jaw muscles tighten then she relaxes, leaning toward the
interrogator and lighting a winning smile, “Well, Tim’s a special guy and
we didn’t all know each other at the time. That was before I was in patrol
cars. Why I hadn’t even got my corporal bars yet.”

Counsel: And there will be an officer slot opening soon I understand.
Corporal Zwiche, can you assure this inquest you entered the Bella
Dagroinian investigation with the best interests of both the Moundville
Police Force and its citizens in your heart?

“Have you got evidence to doubt that? What, what are you getting at
counselor? I thought we were.….”

Counsel: Yes, yes Corporal. We know what you think. Sorry if that came out
wrong, but this is an investigative inquest and it’s important the record
be thorough. Getting back to the case. Just exactly how did you manage to
place Officer Tim Mitty into the Dagroinian compound?

She relaxes, another small smile curling across her moist lips, “Ah, that
was my idea actually. From the research? It was so obvious…..” Once again
the tall blond falls back into her seat as her memories bubble over……

*** ** ***

Remember, The Groin’s a Country and Western freak. Loves the stuff. Conway,
Earl, Bubba, Dolly – their records were always playing in his place. The
girl’s even peel to it. Maybe that’s why we never got it on whoring. Who’s
ever going to get it on to cow music? But remember, Tim Mitty plays a good
guitar, writes his own songs, even sings them pretty well. So I get the
idea of making Candi and me two of the backup singers for Big Lester
Hinkle’s concert down at the Civic Center. Largest country act to hit town
in a long time, I know The Groin won’t miss it. But just in case, I arrange
for the radio station to let him ‘win’ some free tickets and to meet the
group afterwards. Nifty?

Our outfits were sensational. Bright green satin things with a hundred
miles of ruffles. When we walked we made more noise than brushes on a snare
drum. The dresses were big around the top, puffy long sleeves with white
transparent lace inserts tighter’n stretched rubber over the busts. We
poked right through them. The skirts were shorties, maybe six inches above
the knees spilling over clouds of petticoats. We wore white lace stockings
that matched the bust and six inch open-toed shoes. Oh yea, we had those
tiny fingerless gloves in white lace too. With stage makeup and dangling
rhinestone earings, we had an effect on men like Kentucky whiskey, only

I’ve done a lot of things before, but laced into a crusher corset with an
open tipped bra, I even felt embarrassed up in those lights. It must have
been mortifying to Candi. I mean the way we swished and swayed and shook
our assets. I did, I really blushed, particularly when I looked down once
and saw my nipples jiggling right through the netting. And I couldn’t do a
thing about it. Then I peeked at Candi and her’s were poking out like a
couple of little red crayons. But she carried it off, especially her duet
for Big Lester’s encore.

We’d set it all up to go with a number that Candi wrote. She came on out
looking shy and scared and innocent. And when the spot hit her red curls
and that green satin and white lace, WOW! That’s when I remembered who she
looked like. You know that mother/daughter country and western act, The
Juggs? Well Candi was the image of Mom, the pretty red headed one – only
lots younger.

“Now I want to present a little lady who’s new at all of this, but someone
I think will really excite you,” if only Big Lester knew just how new his
‘Little Lady’ was, he’d have probably fainted. ‘Everyone, give a big down
home welcome to Miss Candi Liptz who’s going to join me in a new ballad we
call, Love Slave.…. Com’ere Candi Honey.” We’d really practiced her walk,
so when she wiggled on out to that mike, men’ s minds turned to thoughts of

“Did you bring ’em girl?”

“Uh-Huh, Sure did Big Lester,” Candi pulled out a green satin purse she’d
been hiding coyly behind her back, lost in the mounds of thick skirting. As
the band started into the ballad, she tugged open the drawstring top and
started to sing into the mike.….

“I left lavender under my pillow

Let my petticoats fly in my breeze

I Wear corsets with stays

that jiggle and sway

Over boots that rise to my knees.”

Her voice was thin and a little high pitched. If I had to find a word to
describe it, I’d say Little Girl-Like. You know, sort of breathy and ditzy?
All the while she sang, she looked into Big Lester’s eyes and swayed her
hips to make the crinolines flail out. Then it was Lester’s turn at the

“Promise me that you’ll wear high heels

So tall that they’ll push out your buns

To make onlookers think

you desire that they sink

Fingers deep in them just for some fun.”

All the while he sang, Candi looked up at the large man in his sparkling
rhinestone levis, her big blue eyes wider than a lake. She turned to the
mike again, actually giggled and in that tiny voice crooned…..

“I Let my hair grow down to my backside

Colored a red shade of gold

Let my nipples be seen

fattened large through the sheen

of a dress that’s outrageously bold.”

While she sang, Candi’s long red fingernails outlined each of her parts,
teasing the nipples that peeked through the lacy netting and fluffing up
her skirts to show off tightly gartered stocking tops. The audience hooted
and whistled with each line. Big Lester put out his hand and she passed him
the purse with a tiny shake of her curly head. Was she changing her mind?

“And finally if you wear handcuffs

Or hobbles that clutch at your knees

If you’ll hold back your arms

To bind up your charms

I’ll be yours for as long as you please.

Well, the effect was explosive. With the hobble line, Big Lester pulled
leather cuffs from the purse that were joined by a flashing chain and he
locked them above her knees. Then, while she spun on her heels, drew out a
silvery set of handcuffs and snicked her wrists tight behind. Finally, he
took out a shiny green ball on some kind of belt, popped it between her
waiting lips, and while the crowd went crazy, buckled it tightly under her
curls, right there on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans from
all over the county.

There was a young Mother Jugg, all gussied up in a frothy outfit, looking
sexy and kittenish while her shortie skirt barely covered the green leather
cuffs locking her knees six inches apart. And the way her hands were
chained behind her made her tits and nipples poke even farther through
their skimpy netting. She had just enough freedom to mince back to the mike
to kind of hum a harmony through that gagging along with Big Lester as he
reprised the last chorus.

“And finally now you wear handcuffs

And hobbles that clutch at your knees.

Now that you’ve held back your arms

And I’ve bound up your charms

I’ll be yours for as long as you please.

You’ll see

I’ll be yours for forever – You’ll see.

An electric quitar sobbed out the last chord….what a finale’. The Civic
Center was insane. People hooted, hollered and whistled. Floors and walls
shook under thousands of stomping feet. The din was awesome. Some women
were crying and lots of people rushed the stage. There was no time to
unbind her, two big musicians, just swept Candi up and we all rushed out to
the private party area below the stage while security men bolted large
metal doors closed in our wake.

*** ** ***

Counsel: You’re telling this inquest then, that you deliberately incited
the sexual fetish passions of all of those people. Is that good police work
Corporal Zwiche?

The young woman fidgets on the stand and again nervously bats a blond curl
back, “We were doing our job Sir. That was a legitimate show and they loved

Counsel: I still can’t quite understand why you were up there Corporal. Are
you a singer or an entertainer.”

“Uh, I was wearing the ……” She bites her lip, stops to think a second,
then continues, “Look, I thought it was my duty as head of this squad to
stay as near to Candi….. Officer Tim Mitty as I could.”

Counsel: And of course it never occurred to you that just maybe Mr.
Dagroinian might pick you at the party later instead of the undercover
officer assigned to this case?

“No. Why would I want to do that. I’d been ordered to a support position.
So it seemed appropriate to give the closest support possible. After all
the mission was dangerous and Officer Mitty wasn’t know to use deadly force
as frequently as he might. I was worried for him.”

Counsel: Corporal, isn’t it true that you are very anxious to be considered
for a lieutenant’s position when it opens next month?

She stares a look deadlier than a Magnum at the interrogator, “Yea. So?”

Counsel: And what happened at the after-show party Corporal?

*** ** ***

The room was small for the crowd milling around. There were soggy canapes,
a bar off in one corner and maybe fifty people were filing in, most of them
dweebs. With all that and a tape of the show going the place was quiet as
a Gotham subway station. Dagroinian wasn’t there. He didn’t take the
invitation, and that worried me. We’d sat Candi at a bar stool to take the
stuff off her wrists and knees when some of his wonks came in. One of the
biggest, a goober called Lugar Murkmonko lurched right over and slid all
over the next stool.

You may have seen his pictures in the papers. Seems whenever something
violent happens in the Commonwealth, Lugar’s brought in for questioning.
He’s a mountain man from old country. Head of The Groin’s security and
loyal as a field donkey. Murkmonko’s Built like a quarry and twice as
craggy. No convictions but his file hints he’s a well trained killer with
one weakness – succulent, helpless girls. He’s got the sort of eyes that
like snuff movies.

Candi’s terrific, I’d have told this geek to bite moose, but soon as she’s
free she makes the move, and of course she’s good. She leaned over to
Bella and I see his flat eyes get hotter than an Adriatic volcano. Her
skirts flipped north and she gave off the big ‘Hi’, smiled and asked for a
light. Of course her mind’s on the exercises, you can tell from where she’s

Murkmonko’s like a trained puppy wipping out a toy. Candi leaned forward
letting his eyes pull those ripe nipples even farther through their lacy
netting. She cupped his hands, just like we were taught and looked him zap
in the face. ZAM! He wobbled on the stool. Again, she had to reach out and
steady a monster. And of course Candi never let his hands drop free,
holding them just millimeters from the tips of her nipples. Lancastra
Dagroinian, The Groin’s wife, sent Murkmonko to scope her, and Candi
closed the sale. Before the night was through, Candi Liptz was rented as
Bella Dagroinian’s next restaurant Bimbo.

*** ** ***

Counsel: Were there rules to this Bimbo business? I mean, was there some
sort of pattern your informants’ had identified?

It takes a moment for the blond policewoman to pull back from her memories
of the night after the concert and she looks startled to find herself in
the inquest chamber, “Wha? The pattern? Oh, what did we know? Well, the
Farmer’s Daughter Cafe’s a dark place, with no outside light. The menu
features Armenian food with some country stuff like fried chicken. The
waitresses all wear skimpy transparent pinafores that are open in back and
they’re dripping in gingham socks and bows. They wobble around in stilt
heeled cowboy boots and try to……”

Counsel: If you’ll focus yourself on the plight of our police officer Tim
Mitty please Corporal Zwiche?

“Well, I am in a way that you’ll see later, but alright. Lancastra
Dagroinian’s about twenty seven and she sits up front at the cash register
most days looking over the customers and chills out the bouncers. She’s a
brunette with boobs the size of mellons in a brazen September sun. Her face
is innocent as a smurf, but she’s meaner than the bad guys in a Bronson
flick. You tend to notice her nails. They’re the long cultured things, I
think she’s got a fetish there.

Counsel: But what about Officer Mitty, Corporal?

Corporal Cat Zwiche fiddles with her long hair staring at the counsel for
an instant, “Candi was going to be in the back, at Bella Dagroinian’s booth
like I said earlier. The thing’s designed to swing around in the corner,
with a partition that covers it half way. Bella sits on the open side with
his girl behind the thing on his left. That way diners can see him, but
they have to be sitting at the table to see her.”

Counsel: And did you have an informant of any kind inside on the day that
Officer Mitty penetrated the Farmer’s Daughter?

“You know we did Sir. Murkmonko hired me on as a waitress, one of three new
girls they took on that morning.”

Counsel: So you managed to get inside the restaurant even though you were
expected to stay well clear of the operation?

“I was never told to stay outside. I was ordered to mount an operation to
transform Officer Tim Mitty into a sufficiently successful female imposter
to place him at Bella Dagroinian’s table and I did! It was going very
successfully and I felt it essential that Officer Mitty be backed up. So
did he, he was very nervous about the entire thing by that time.

Counsel: Nervous? How did he express this trepidation to you?

“Well the morning we were driving in, he told me that the whole thing
seemed horribly humiliating and that he didn’t know if he could carry it
off, especially in the sort of bondage that the girl was forced to wear. Of
course if we’d known then the costume Lankie, uh, Mrs. Dagroinian had
planned, I’d have aborted the whole thing. But….”

Counsel: Why don’t you just describe everything Corporal, right from the
beginning, until the trouble.…..

*** ** ***

Consider if you will the plight of police officer Tim Mitty, who was
ordered by his chief to infiltrate the lair of a notorious mobster
elaborately transformed into a beautiful but vulnerable girl. What’s
happened to the guy? Why is the Borough of Moundville holding an Inquest of
Inquiry? And why does it center on the testimony of Corporal Catlin
Zwiche, Tim’s ex lover, an icily ambitious policewoman obviously upset that
he, and not she, was chosen for this critical assignment? Is it odd that
Cat Zwiche brought two other women to Tim’s transformation team who he’d
also bedded then dumped?

What will happen in the Farmer’s Daughter Cafe’? Just how much can Tim
Mitty discover when he becomes the distressed Candi Liptz? And will this
impersonator be sufficiently convincing to suck in the hulking Lugar
Murkmonko or even ravishing Lancastra Dagroinian? Who is Bella The Groin?
Look for bare facts in Part 2 as Tim Mitty’s, Fingered By the Mob.