Correction Officers

FTM girl is corrected by three officers after pretending to be a man and drinking underage

Damian Fernandez pushed through the crowded bar. He was built small but tough — stocky, muscular frame, broad shoulders, and a deep voice from years of testosterone shots. Only 18, he'd carved out a life for himself as a self made man and needed release now and then. Tonight, he was just blowing off steam after a long week, nursing a beer at the sticky counter, chatting up the local bartender who didn't pry.

The door swung open with authority, and three cops strode in like they owned the place. Officer Mike, the tallest at 6'4" with a buzzcut and a jaw like granite, led the pack. Flanking him was Officer Jake, shorter but ripped, his sleeves straining against his biceps, and Officer Tim, the wiry one with a smirk that screamed trouble. They scanned the room, eyes landing on Damian after a tip-off about a bar fight he hadn't even started.

"Dan Fernandez?" Mike barked, flashing a badge. Damian's stomach dropped—he went by Damian, but the ID said Danielle. Old habits from before transition. He nodded warily, but before he could explain, Jake grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back.

"You're coming with us, buddy," Jake growled, cuffing him roughly. The bar patrons averted their eyes as the trio dragged Damian out into the cool night air, shoving him into the back of their unmarked cruiser parked in the alley. The drive to the station was short, but the vibe inside the car turned sour fast. Tim in the passenger seat twisted around, eyeing Damian in the rearview.

"You look like a tough kid," Tim sneered, "But something's off."

At the station—a dingy back room they called an 'interrogation suite'—they uncuffed him just long enough to pat him down. Mike's hands lingered too long on his chest, pressing against the binder.

"What's this? You hiding something, Dan?"

Damian tensed. "It's nothing. Just let me call my lawyer."

Jake laughed, a low rumble. "Lawyer? For a little scuffle? Nah, we're handling this ourselves tonight." They shoved him against the wall, Mike yanking at his shirt. The fabric tore with a rip, exposing the binder underneath. Suddenly, knife in hand, Mike was tearing away at the restrictive fabric, until—

Huge tits spilled out, full and heavy, D-cups that jiggled from the force. Damian's face burned with rage and shame—he'd bound them flat for years, but now they were bare, nipples hardening in the cold air. The cops froze for a second, then burst into laughter.

"Holy shit," Mike boomed, reaching out to grab a handful of soft flesh, squeezing hard enough to make Damian gasp. "Look at these udders! You're no man, you're a goddamn girl pretending."

Jake snatched Damian's wallet from his pocket, flipping open the ID. "Danielle Fernandez. 18. Well, well, Danielle. FTM freak with a dick-hungry cunt, huh? Thought you could pass as one of the boys at the bar?"

Tim's eyes lit up, his smaller frame buzzing with excitement. "Pathetic. All that muscle, but you're just a slut with tits. Bet that pussy's been aching for real cock."

They pushed her—Danielle now, in their eyes—onto the cold metal table, face down. Her jeans were next, yanked down her legs along with her boxers, exposing her swollen pussy. No dick here, just an engorged clit and the warm, inviting folds they mocked as a 'hungry slit.' Mike pinned her arms, his massive hand dwarfing her wrist, while Jake spread her thighs wide.

"Check the goods," Jake ordered, and Tim dove in first, his fingers probing roughly, sliding into her dry entrance. Her pussy clenched, fighting the intrusion, but he laughed. "Tight, but it'll loosen up. This cunt's begging for it, Danielle."

Mike unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock—thick and long, at least 9 inches, veined and already hard. He slapped it against her ass cheek, the heavy meat thudding audibly against her fuzzy fat. "You like that, girl? Bigger than any strap-on you've dreamed of."

Jake followed, his own monster springing free—8 inches of girth that made her eyes widen in the dim light. Tim, not to be outdone, dropped his drawers to reveal his smaller prick, maybe 5 inches, but rigid and leaking pre-cum. "Don't worry, slut, we'll all get a turn in that fake-man pussy."

They flipped her onto her back, tits bouncing as she hit the table. Mike climbed up first, straddling her chest, his balls slapping against her belly as he shoved his cock between her massive breasts. "Titty-fuck time for the cow," he grunted, squeezing the soft mounds around his shaft, thrusting forward. The head of his dick poked at her chin with each pump, smearing pre-cum on her skin.

Jake positioned himself at her legs, rubbing his fat cockhead against her pussy lips, parting them without mercy. "Look at this dick-hungry cunt dripping already. You were born for this, Danielle. No more playing pretend." He slammed in with one brutal thrust, burying half his length inside her. She cried out, the stretch burning her vagina, but he didn't stop, pounding deeper until his hips met hers.

Tim grabbed her hand, forcing her fingers around his smaller cock. "Jerk it, bitch. Show us how a real slut multitasks." She resisted, but he slapped her udder hard, the flesh reddening under his palm. Reluctantly, her hand moved, stroking his shaft as he groped her other breast, pinching the nipple until it bled.

Jake fucked her relentlessly, his big cock pistoning in and out, slick sounds filling the room as her body betrayed her with unwanted wetness. "Feel that, girl? That's a man's dick owning your cunt. Not some gay dyke bullshit." He pulled out briefly, letting Tim take a turn. Tim's smaller prick slid in easily now, but he rutted like a jackhammer, his hips snapping fast.

"Even my little guy's too much for your tranny hole," he taunted, leaning down to suck on her nipple, biting the sensitive, bleedi g bud.

Mike shifted, replacing Tim at her chest, but now he aimed higher, forcing his cock past her lips. "Suck it, Danielle. Taste what a real cock feels like down your whore throat." She gagged as he pushed in, the girth stretching her jaw, but he held her head steady, face-fucking her while Jake reclaimed her pussy.

They rotated like that, sharing her holes without pause. Jake's massive tool stretched her wide, making her walls clench around him as he groped her tits, twisting them like handles. "These jugs are made for milking, slut. Bounce 'em while I fuck you." Tim took her mouth next, his smaller cock easier to handle, but he thrust deep anyway, calling her a "cock-sucking dyke in denial."

Mike went for her pussy last, his enormous dick splitting her open, bottoming out against her cervix with each savage plunge. "This cunt's ruined for anything else," he growled, slapping her clit with his thumb. Her body jerked, humiliation flooding her as unwanted pleasure built. Tim and Jake mauled her breasts, four hands kneading and slapping the heavy flesh, leaving red marks.

"Admit it, Danielle," Jake sneered, pinching her nipples. "You're just a female slut with a dick-hungry hole. Say it."

She whimpered around Tim's cock, but they didn't let up. Mike pulled out, stroking his length furiously over her tits, ropes of hot cum splattering across the pale skin, dripping down the curves. "Marked like the bitch you are."

Jake followed, yanking her legs higher to pound deeper, his balls slapping her ass until he groaned, flooding her pussy with thick spurts. Cum leaked out as he withdrew, only for Tim to shove in, his smaller load adding to the mess, pumping shallow but fast.

They left her there, spent and covered, tits heaving with sobs, pussy throbbing and full. "Welcome back to reality, Danielle," Mike said, zipping up. "Next time, don't pretend you're something you're not." The door clicked shut, leaving her in the dim room, body aching from their claim.