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He Wanted It
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: request
“Are you okay now, Ma’am? Do you feel up to making a statement?”
“Yes, Officer. I finished writing my statement. Here it is. Um, what’s he being charged with?”
“Carjacking. Now, let’s see . . . Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to tell me what happened.”
“Okay . . . I was stopped here at the red light. I was, you know, on my way home – can I sit down?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Thanks. Anyway, um, I had the driver’s, you know, my side of the car? My driver’s side window was open, and this guy comes up.”
“And this guy was?”
“Looked like an otter, you know, like me? Wearing a sweatshirt. He just came up and tried to climb into my car – well, not so much climb, but he had one arm, his head and – oh, I dunno – about halfway down his chest – inside my car, and he was reaching for my car keys.”
“You were scared?”
“’Course I was! What kind of question is that?”
“I’m just asking, Ma’am. I have to ask. Now, what did you do?”
“Well, I didn’t want him to get away, so I moved my left arm, like this – “
“Twisting yourself to the left?”
“Yeah. And I got my left paw over his neck and pinned him up close between me and steering wheel. I couldn’t let him get away, could I?”
“Then what did you do?”
“I hit the panic button on my rear view mirror. I can show it to you – “
“I’ve seen it, Ma’am. Now, what did you do next?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Ma’am, but the detectives will have to sort that out. Just tell me what you did, and why.”
“Well, I was yelling at the operator, and he was yelling, and he was trying to get away.”
“Why didn’t you just let him go?’
“He was committing a crime! Why would I let the little – huff, I’m sorry, Officer. I’m not mad at you. I figured I had to do something, you know, to make sure you could catch him if he did get away from me.”
“Uh-huh. So - ?”
“So I reached into my carryall, and pulled out my shaver.”
“ . . . “
“I have a license for it, Officer. I had to go to school to learn how to use it. I’m no pervert.”
“I never said you were, Ma’am, please don’t put words in my muzzle.”
“I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m a registered surgical prep technician, so I have to know how to use a shaver.”
“So you used your . . . shaver.”
“Yeah.”
“And . . . shaved . . . an ‘X’ on his headfur.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“He was acting like he wanted it, Officer.”
“Heh. Okay, I’m going to have you talk to the Victim Advocate . . . “
End.
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: request
“Are you okay now, Ma’am? Do you feel up to making a statement?”
“Yes, Officer. I finished writing my statement. Here it is. Um, what’s he being charged with?”
“Carjacking. Now, let’s see . . . Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to tell me what happened.”
“Okay . . . I was stopped here at the red light. I was, you know, on my way home – can I sit down?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Thanks. Anyway, um, I had the driver’s, you know, my side of the car? My driver’s side window was open, and this guy comes up.”
“And this guy was?”
“Looked like an otter, you know, like me? Wearing a sweatshirt. He just came up and tried to climb into my car – well, not so much climb, but he had one arm, his head and – oh, I dunno – about halfway down his chest – inside my car, and he was reaching for my car keys.”
“You were scared?”
“’Course I was! What kind of question is that?”
“I’m just asking, Ma’am. I have to ask. Now, what did you do?”
“Well, I didn’t want him to get away, so I moved my left arm, like this – “
“Twisting yourself to the left?”
“Yeah. And I got my left paw over his neck and pinned him up close between me and steering wheel. I couldn’t let him get away, could I?”
“Then what did you do?”
“I hit the panic button on my rear view mirror. I can show it to you – “
“I’ve seen it, Ma’am. Now, what did you do next?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Ma’am, but the detectives will have to sort that out. Just tell me what you did, and why.”
“Well, I was yelling at the operator, and he was yelling, and he was trying to get away.”
“Why didn’t you just let him go?’
“He was committing a crime! Why would I let the little – huff, I’m sorry, Officer. I’m not mad at you. I figured I had to do something, you know, to make sure you could catch him if he did get away from me.”
“Uh-huh. So - ?”
“So I reached into my carryall, and pulled out my shaver.”
“ . . . “
“I have a license for it, Officer. I had to go to school to learn how to use it. I’m no pervert.”
“I never said you were, Ma’am, please don’t put words in my muzzle.”
“I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m a registered surgical prep technician, so I have to know how to use a shaver.”
“So you used your . . . shaver.”
“Yeah.”
“And . . . shaved . . . an ‘X’ on his headfur.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“He was acting like he wanted it, Officer.”
“Heh. Okay, I’m going to have you talk to the Victim Advocate . . . “
End.
Category Story / Fetish Other
Species Otter
Size 98 x 120px
File Size 34.2 kB
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