You're Under Arrest Your Own Shrinkray Adventure chapter 5 by zikade

Like fish in a river, the bustling crowd swam down the street, footfalls kicking up splashes of the torrential rainstorm that had soaked the city during the day. Glancing over, you catch notice of the policewoman standing guard in front of the station, standing ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back. You accidentally make eye contact with her as she scans the crowd, but any suspicion registered on her face is quickly washed away when she turns her head, looking at something else that piqued her interested. If you want to get her attention once more, you’d have to earn it.

Ahead of you, a lasciviously-dressed office lady walks down the street, stumbling slightly in her heels as she yammers into the phone held to her ear. You quickly close the distance between you and slip your hand under her short skirt, grabbing a fistful of her fat ass through her sweaty pantyhose. She shrieks and whips around, batting at your face with her purse, then you feel an iron grip close around your wrist. “Come with me,” a stern voice says, and your gaze follows the leather-gloved hand wrapped around your arm to the glaring face of the policewoman, who is so tall that she has to bend down slightly to talk to you. Before you can even brook an argument, the policewoman yanks you with enough force to nearly dislocate your shoulder, dragging you out of the crowd like a bear snapping up a salmon from a stream. She hauls you into a dark alley abutting the police station and pushes you up against the wall, her hand never leaving your wrist. The force of her shove causes her hair, cut in a bob sharp enough to pierce steel, to sway slightly in the humid air. You can hear the squeak of well-worn leather as she adjusts her grip on your arm, then she pulls her ID badge out of her vest and shoves it in your face. Officer Tanaka, your contact lenses auto-translate the name printed above her photo. The expression on her face in the ID is cold enough to freeze ice. You get the feeling that she graduated at the top of her officer class. “Inappropriate touching of a woman’s body is not allowed,” she says harshly, as she jams her badge back into her vest. Thankfully, you spent enough time studying the Japanese language that you can easily understand the biting words she says with her red-lipsticked lips. “You are in violation of Article 176 of the Penal Code. I’m tired of you… foreigners…” she says, looking you up and down the way someone might look at a pig, “coming to our fine land and committing chikan against our women. You can think about your crimes in the pen, with the other swine.” Great, she’s a racist, too.

Clicking your tongue, you put on the best smile you could manage, despite your pounding heartbeat. You tell her that there’s no way she’ll ever be able to hold you, in your best Japanese.

The creak of your bones as she tightens her grip on your wrist tells you that she didn’t quite approve of your answer. She takes a step forward, her perfectly-straight hat blocking out an overhead streetlight. Looking down, you notice that she’s wearing leather boots instead of heels; this chick’s impressive height was solely natural. Her dark eyes, under scrunched, thick eyebrows, are full of fury. “Let’s see how you squeal when I put these on,” she says, taking a pair of handcuffs from her belt with her other hand. Taking this as your cue, you surreptitiously slip your hand into the pocket of your pants, hooking a finger around the trigger of the shrink ray and pointing it at your leg. In a flash, the policewoman becomes the size of a building as you shrink down. Thankfully, you weren’t standing in a puddle, otherwise you might be swimming right now. A massive pair of perfectly-polished boots stand before you, the shiny leather surface reflecting the various neon lights. Sharply-creased pants ripple with movement, as, up above, the policewoman looks back and forth in shock, fingers that once held you in an iron grip now closing on empty air, before her gaze settles down, wide eyes registering the tiny person at her feet. Certainly, nothing in her training equipped her to deal with this. Her crimson lips part slightly in surprise. You gulp, knowing that the next move is hers.