Tracey Joins the Force
"And why do you want this job with the Eastfield Police Force?" Superintendant Hamish McGonagle looked at Tracey quizically over the top of his half moon spectacles.
"I want to investigate wrongdoing Sir. I want to unearth corruption and evil practices. I want to bring the perpetrators to justice!"
"Admirable sentiments indeed!" McGonagle looked impressed, "but how good are you at making tea?"
"Tea?"
"Yes, I am interviewing for the role of tea girl."
Tracey groaned. She'd done it again. Last week had been bad enough. She'd gone for an interview for Strippers Unlimited. She'd perfected her act. She'd got the very best music. She'd performed her sexiest routine. But she hadn't got the job. Apparently she was supposed to know something about paint removal. Honestly! They might have stopped her before she'd gone all the way. And they might have let her have her clothes back at the end.
Now her hopes seemed dashed again. She didn't know how to make tea.
An idea struck her though. She got out her mobile phone that had her music on and started to play it.
She got the job. And they let her have her clothes back at the end.
Tracey was a great success as tea girl. Her tea wasn't much good but her act at the staff Christmas variety show was a sensation.
It was early in the new year that McGonagle called her into his office.
"Tracey."
"Yes Sir."
"You know how you wanted to investigate wrongdoing and bring the evil purpetrators to justice."
"Yes Sir."
"Well I may just have a job for you doing just that."
"But I'm not a policewoman Sir. I'm the tea girl."
"Ah," said McGonagle, "you may have heard on the news about the government's efficiency drive. About manpower cutbacks."
"Yes I have Sir."
"Well the watchword now is flexibility and multitasking. We all have to share responsibility. We all have to do our bit. Don't you agree Tracey?"
"Yes Sir!"
"Well Tracey, I have a job for you undercover."
"Bringing evildoers to justice Sir?"
"Exactly that Tracey. You have heard perhaps of St Mungo's School for the Daughters of Gentlefolk?"
"You mean the one that there are all the rumours about. The one where families send their rebellious daughters. The one where the girls go in and sometimes never come out. The one where..."
"Yes, that's the one."
"And you want me to go in undercover. To find out what happens to the girls. To find where they disppear to..."
"No, no. Nobody cares about them. The ratepayers of Eastfield wouldn't waste money on that!"
"What is it then?"
"We have had an anonymous tip-off that they are disposing of some of their rubbish in an unlicensed skip."
"And the ratepayers are worried about that?"
"We have a very green council Tracey. Very green indeed! This skip, which has rather the form of what our American colleagues would call a dumpster, has been seen standing in the school grounds for weeks. It is closed with a single lockable door for the rubbish. The council want to know if they are fly-tipping!"
"So I've to get a job as a teacher and unearth their secrets."
"Teacher! Oh no, you haven't quite got the ability to pass as a teacher Tracey."
"Oh, you mean I'm going to be a tea girl."
"Tea girl? You haven't quite got the ability to be a plausible tea girl either. Have you tasted your tea? No, we've enrolled you as a pupil. The pupils always know what's happening in a school. New term starts on Monday. Here's your uniform."
"But I'm twenty-four!"
"Well girls mature early nowadays. You'll pass for eighteen any day!"
"But isn't it dangerous?"
"Don't worry Tracey. We'll have Constable Pettigrew looking out for you. He'll be watching your backside every minute of the day."
Nothing new there then, thought Tracey.
******
Tracey sat in the office of the headmaster on her first day as a pupil at St Mungo's. She was wearing her school uniform. Unfortunately whatever idiotic policeman had bought the uniform had got one suitable for a sixteen year old fourth former. Tracey was bulging out of it and it barely went half way down her thighs.
"So, Tracey Smith is it?" Theobald Chambers headmaster for life of St Mungo's leered at her through his glasses.
"Yes Sir," Tracey was determined to play the schoolgirl realistically.
"And what brought you to St Mungo's Tracey?"
"The bus Sir."
"Yes indeed, but what I meant was why have your parents sent you to our very special school?"
"My mother ran off with a Bulgarian sword swallower Sir and my father has remarried a Malagasy princess and gone to live in Bora-Bora. He doesn't want to see me ever again Sir," Tracey affected a silent tear.
Tracey was proud of her acting abilities. She had been left to develop her own 'legend' as the television series always call it and had come up with this affecting tale to make sure that there would be no worries about why her 'parents' never appeared.
"Uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins?"
"No-one Sir. I'm all alone in the world."
She certainly didn't want a host of imaginary relatives buggering things up.
"Then you are all alone in the world," Chambers seemed to sneer.
"Yes Sir."
"Poor child. We shall just have to see what we can do about that."
****
Tracey stood in the Headmaster's office. She had only been a pupil at the school for three days and already she was in trouble. She had come to the school excited at the prospect of being an undercover investigator and found she was actually expected to do school work! She had got nowhere with finding out what was in the mysterious skip. And even worse nowhere in learning to do algebra. She was coping in history and english and subjects like that. But algebra! It was hopeless.
Tracey had been no good at algebra when she had been a real school student and she was even worse now.
"Tracey," Chambers leered at her in his usual fashion, "what sort of equation is this?". He pointed at some meaningless scribbles on a blackboard.
Tracey looked at it puzzled. She was supposed to be doing important police work not algebra!
"A quadratic equation?" she ventured.
"Heavens above girl. Don't you know even the simplest thing. It's a simultaneous equation. A first former would know that. Let me tell you girl we don't tolerate laziness and ignorance in this school. Turn round Tracey."
"Yes Sir," Tracey did as she was told.
"Lift up your skirt Tracey."
Tracey's mouth dropped open, but she didn't dare disobey. She hadn't completed her police work yet.
She heard the head open the drawer of his desk and remove something.
"Do you know what this is Tracey?"
Tracey looked round and her mouth opened even further.
"A cane Sir."
"That's right Tracey, and not just any cane, a punishment cane. And do you know what this is?" he poked Tracey's behind which was covered by the tightly stretched white cotton of her slightly too small school knickers.
"My bottom Sir," Tracey was getting worried now.
"Well Tracey you should understand this. If I don't see an improvement in your algebra my punishment cane will be coming in contact with your bottom in a way in which, though it pains me to say it, will hurt you more than it hurts me. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
Tracey beat a quick retreat. What with algebra and tight knickers she wasn't going to have much time to investigate the mysterious skip.
*******
That evening Tracey sat in the dorm alone. A large book entitled 'Algebra Without Tears' was open on the desk in front of her. She was doing her homework
She stared at the first question.
1. If 2x = 4 what is x
She stared at it a long time before the answer came to her. Of course. Algebra was dead easy after all. In scrawly capital letters she wrote 'A BIG KISS' and moved on to the next question.
Her studies were however interrupted by a furtive knock on the door.
She opened the door and peered out. Constable Pettigrew was standing there dressed in an old pair of brown overalls.
"Yikes!" Tracey let out a little scream.
"Shhhhh! Come with me. The coast's clear! We can sneak out and take a look at the skip."
"But I've got my algebra homework to do!"
"Algebra? Homework? What are you talking about girl? You've not come here to do homework!"
"But if I don't get it done!"
Tracey felt a strange anticipatory tingle in her bottom.
"Never mind that. Come with me."
With a sigh Tracey put her pen down, "Can I at least put some clothes on first?"
"If you must."
They crept out of the dorm and along the corridor.
"Constable Pettigrew?"
"Yes Tracey."
"Where did you get those overalls from?"
"Police issue of course."
"Perhaps it might have been better to use overalls that didn't have the word 'POLICE' stencilled in large letters on the back."
"Bugger," said Constable Pettigrew as they sneaked back to the dorm. He would have to try another ploy.
******
Tracey was in the headmaster's study cursing Constable Pettigrew. The problem was not that they had failed to uncover the mysteries of the mysterious skip it was that she had forgotten to do her algebra homework.
That was why she was bent over the head's desk with her skirt pulled up. She felt a cane tapping the tightly stretched material covering her bottom.
"Tracey, did I not tell you something yesterday about this," he showed her his cane, "this," he tapped her on the bottom again, "and algebra."
"Yes Sir."
"And could you solve the simple equation 2x equals 4?"
"No Sir," Tracey eyed the cane apprehensively," only her sense of duty stopped her from announcing who she really was and making a run for it. No - her bottom would suffer for the greater good.
"What did I say Tracey."
"That the cane would come in contact with my bottom Sir."
"And what else did I say Tracey?"
"That it would hurt me more than it hurt you Sir."
"And so it shall. And so it shall Tracey. Six up or three down, which is it to be?"
"I don't understand Sir."
"Six with your knickers up or three with your knickers down. The choice is yours."
Tracey thought for a moment, it was a no-brainer, "Knickers down Sir."
"Excellent choice Tracey," said Chambers, lowering her knickers until they were round her thighs and surveying her nicely rounded posterior. It made an excellent target.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in!" Chambers seemed oblivious of the fact that Tracey's bare posterior was on display, "Ah, Pettigrew, I have a lttle job for you."
Tracey squirmed, the wretched Pettigrew could see her bare behind. She determined to say something.
"Yes Mr Chambers,"
"Sir..." said Tracey.
"Keep quiet Tracey! Pettigrew - you know the er.. Excuse me a moment I just need to cane this young lady..."
THWACK
"...sorry where was I? Yes... You know the skip in the yard?"
"Certainly Mr Chambers."
Tracey bit back her words. Pettigrew was about to get access to the skip."
"Well... Excuse me a moment..."
THWACK
Tracey had turned bright red at being caned on the bare behind in front of Pettigrew. But she had no choice. She bit her lip and tried not to shout.
"... Well can you go and stick these labels on it. It goes off today. I'd do it myself but..."
THWACK
"Ouch!"
"I've twenty-three girls to cane this morning so I'm rather busy..."
THWACK
"Ouch! Sir!"
"Keep quiet Tracey."
"Yes sir."
"Yes Mr Chambers. Certainly Mr Chambers," Pettigrew was his usual ingratiating self.
"It's er...."
THWACK
"Please Sir!"
"Keep quiet Tracey, and take your punishment like a good girl."
"Yes Sir."
"...It's going to Hong Kong."
Pettigrew smiled. Disposing of toxic waste in China no doubt. The Super would be really pleased.
"Get along then..."
"Certainly Mr Chambers."
THWACK
"Sir!"
*****
Tracey rubbed her stinging bottom as she ran down the corridor to her next lesson. Bloody Pettigrew, it was all his fault. She had done the first question. She'd have finished if it hadn't been for him. And if he hadn't come in Chambers wouldn't have forgotten she'd traded her knickers for a reduction to three strokes.
Still, her bottom had suffered in the line of duty, the mystery of the mysterious skip would be unravelled.
She looked at the timetable. Gym! Oh no! Nobody had given her any gym kit!
Bloody police! Bloody Pettigrew! Couldn't they get anything right.
*******
"Right girls. That's enough. Go and get showered," Roley Younghusband, whose age and general decrepitude belied his name and his position as gym teacher at St Mungo's, brought the lesson to an end.
Thank God, thought Tracey, she was able to stop doing jumping jacks at last. It had transpired that the punishment for not bringing gym kit was to spend the whole lesson doing jumping jacks in your knickers. She had pleaded to be able to keep her bra, but Younghusband claimed that sixteen year old fourth-formers didn't need such things.
Tracey's unsupported plump bosoms had therefore bounced up and down for the last forty minutes, during which time Younghusband's eyes hadn't left them for a second. He was regretting allowing her to keep her knickers on.
She staggered into the shower. Naked girls were milling all round the changing room when Chambers marched in.
"Come on you girls," he said, "some of you haven't got any clothes on yet!"
"What are you doing, we're all naked," expostulated Tracey.
"Never mind that, you're only sixteen year old fourth-formers, you shouldn't be bothered about being seen naked at your age! Anyway, you, you, you and you come with me."
"Come where, and can't we get dressed?" Tracey had been one of the 'You's' that Chambers pointed out.
"Into the gym and no you can't."
The four naked girls were lined up in the gym.
What's all this about, thought Tracey. A trio of oriental looking gentlemen entered. They walked down the line of naked girls judging them like cattle at a show.
Tracey eyed them suspiciously. She remembered that the skip had been labelled to go to Hong Kong. These must be the people who were going to illegally transport the toxic waste.
She watched as each girl was stared at in turn. She mustn't complain. She was under cover! The oriental gentlemen conferred, then the biggest and fattest turned and looked at her pointing his gnarled finger.
"We take the prump one," he said.
"Prump one," Chambers looked confused.
"Prump one. With stlipey bottom."
"Oh the plump one with the stripey bottom!"
Tracey was aghast. The plump one. How dared they call her the plump one. As the other girls were led away she stood with her hands on her hips. Naked or not she wasn't going to be called plump!
"Not so fast!" she said, "I am with the Eastfield Police Force and I know what you are up to."
Chambers smirked, "Since when have the police recruited fourth-formers?"
"I'm not a fourth-former, I'm a..."
"Yes what are you?" Chambers chuckled as if thinking of some funny joke, "If your in the police where's your uniform? Where's your warrant card?"
Tracey was suddenly struck by the realisation that not only did she not have a uniform or warrant card. She didn't have anything. She was stark naked and completely defenceless.
"Eeek!" she flung her hands to hide her vagina, "Eeeek!"
"Take her away. Take her to my office!"
******
Inside her cage Tracey was on hands and knees. There wasn't room to stand up. She was quite naked.
Chambers was shaking hands with a large oriental gentleman; a large pile of money lay on his desk. It had been a lucrative transaction. The cage would join the others in the skip in the evening. Not for the first time Chambers congratulated himself for finding a use for girls who couldn't do algebra, particularly ones whose families never wanted to see them again.
"Ugh," said Tracey. The large object in her mouth stopped her from saying anything else.
*******
"They were just sending some rubbish off to China Sir," Constable Pettigrew was giving his report, "nothing to worry about."
"Good, good," Superintendant McGonagle looked up from doing the Daily Mail crossword, "Where's my tea?"
"No idea," said Pettigrew, "the tea girl didn't turn in this morning. Probably found something better after playing the policemwoman for a couple of days."
"Probably for the best," said McGonagle, "her tea was bloody awful. I wonder where she is now."
Tracey in her cage wondered the same thing too. It was dark inside the skip and cold when you didn't have anything on. She could hear voices, and it was odd, they sounded vaguely Chinese.