This is a prequel to Joe Doe's "The Worst Part is the Waiting." 
 
Arty is an excellent writer in several genres; his clever pastiches 
of Joe Doe represent only one portion of his ablities.  Check out 
http://www.asstr.org/~arty/stories/index.html




 
                    FOX AND CHICKENS

                           by 

                          Arty


THE SHERIFF IS AT THE LOCAL COLLEGE WITH A "JANE DOE" SEARCH 
WARRANT SIGNED BY JUDGE SEARCH'EM.  THE LOCAL BUSINESSWOMAN OF 
THE YEAR LUNCH IS BEING HELD TODAY.  HOW MANY CHICKENS WILL BE 
"PLUCKED"? 



The Sheriff couldn't believe his luck.  Judge Search'em had sent 
him to the local college with a "Jane Doe" search warrant and 
instructions to search every female on campus who wasn’t a student 
or a member of the faculty. 

"Make sure you strip 'em down to the bare and make 'em squirm," 
the judge had said. 

Well, the judge could be sure he'd be doing that, the Sheriff 
thought, gleefully.  Of course, he'd have to adhere to some of 
the proprieties since he wasn't on his 'home turf,' but then the 
two female deputies he'd brought along with him to do the cavity 
searches seemed to enjoy strip-searching beautiful women almost 
as much as he did.  Perhaps now was the time to institute the 
'double-check' policy that the judge had suggested for searches 
conducted 'in the field.' 

"You have ta make sure ya haven't missed anythin'," the judge had 
said in his best 'good old boy' phrasing.  The Sheriff knew that 
he had studied law at Harvard, and his normal accent was clipped to 
the point of Englishness.  Still, the Sheriff thought to himself, 
you have to admire his dedication. 

Pulling himself from his reverie, he surveyed the group of women 
that he and his deputies had managed to whittle the original 
group down to.  To a woman they were all young, attractive, and 
very nervous.  One of them was talking on a cell phone. 

"I don't care what you have to do, Ashley, just get me out of 
this!"  The woman finished speaking and closed her 'phone with 
a snap. 

Suddenly the door to the sports hall was kicked open with a bang, 
and two male deputies struggled in, each carrying a pile of milk 
crates. 

"The kitchen staff let us have these, Boss, but they said they 
needed them back before tomorrow,"  one of the deputies said, as 
he dropped his load of crates in front of the nervous women.  The 
second deputy did the same, and once more the women jumped at the 
loud noise. 

"Ladies, if I can have your attention, please?"  The women turned 
to look at the Sheriff. 

"If you'd all like to form a line and come pick a crate we can 
get started.” 

"What's going to happen?" one of the women asked. 

"Well, first you're going to form an orderly line and pick up a 
crate."  The Sheriff smirked. 

"After that!" she said, waspishly, her exasperation overcoming her 
nervousness slightly. 

"Oh!  Afterwards.  Well, why don't we leave that as a little 
surprise?" 

The woman took a breath to respond.... 

"I mean, where would we be without our little surprises?" the 
Sheriff cut her off.  "Now, enough chat, just pick up a box like 
your friends here and line up over there on the centre-line!" 

The women collected their milk crates and walked timidly to the 
centre-line of the basketball court that was marked out on the 
floor. 

"Spread out!  Shoulder width apart; just like you see in the 
boot-camp movies." 

The women shuffled sideways and looked around nervously.  Now that 
they were physically separated, everything seemed that bit more 
scary. 

"Okay, ladies, we'll start nice and easy.  Just take off your 
shoes and put them in the crate that you have in front of you; 
then drop your purse in there, too; while we're at it you can put 
your jewellery in your shoes so it don't get lost." 

A collective gasp came from the women. 

"You can't mean you're going to search us here?" the woman who'd 
been talking on the 'phone objected. 

"Well, we can do it here or down the station."  (The women relaxed; 
it looked like they could at least choose to do this in private.)  
"But, obviously, if we go down to the station, you'll have to be 
arrested and processed."  (Things weren't looking so rosy.)  "And 
you'll have to be strip-searched as part of this."  (Definitely 
not looking rosy at all.) 

"Obviously it will all take a lot longer...." 

He looked at the clock.  With a click, the minute hand moved from 
2:00pm to 2:01pm. 

The woman with the 'phone seemed to be have chosen herself as the 
spokeswoman.  "I suppose if it means we can get this over and done 
with, we can do it here."  She looked at her fellow sufferers, who 
all seemed to nod in agreement. 

The Sheriff pounced; grabbing a clipboard, he thrust it towards 
the woman.  "Well, in that case, you won't mind signing this here 
form saying you agree to be searched here and not have to go 
through all the trouble of being processed at the police station 
an' all?" 

This was just too easy, thought the Sheriff, as first one and 
then another of the women signed his forms.  The threat of being 
strip-searched at the police station seemed to have driven the 
capacity for rational thought from their minds. 

"Thank you, ladies.  Now if you will all take off your jackets, 
blouses, and skirts or trousers and put them in the milk crate." 

"What!  I thought you said...." 

"But we signed...." 

"You can't do this...." 

"QUIET!"  The excited babble from the women stopped.  Into the 
silence the Sheriff read from his clipboard.  “I, the undersigned, 
do hereby consent to be searched by Sheriff J. Doe in a manner 
and at a location of his choosing...."  As the Sheriff droned on, 
the meaning of the legal jargon slowly leaked into the women's 
awareness.  They had signed away their constitutional rights and 
agreed to the Sheriff searching them any way he pleased! 

Finally, he finished, and the women looked aghast as the 
realisation dawned that the Sheriff had hoodwinked them. 

"Now, you can do this the easy way...."  He leered at the women.  
"Or you can have me and my deputies 'assist' you out of your 
clothes." 

One of the women moaned in submission and took off her jacket and 
dropped it into the milk crate.  The other women started to follow 
suit.  One by one, they took off their outer clothing.  As they did 
so, the Sheriff sauntered up and down the line making appreciative 
comments. 

The ten women stood in a line, shivering and nervous.  There they 
were in their bras and panties in the centre of the large hall.  
What was going to happen next?  Would they really have to strip 
naked in front of the Sheriff and his deputies? 

"Let's all take off our bras and put them in the crates, please." 

One by one, each of the women unclasped her bra and did as she 
was asked.  The hall was air-conditioned, and, very quickly, there 
were twenty nipples showing hard and erect as they were exposed 
to the cool air in the hall for the first time. 

As each of them dropped her bra into the crate, she wrapped her 
arms around herself in order to cover her breasts and also to try 
to keep warm.  The Sheriff noticed this and decided to give them 
some respite.  Turning to one of his deputies, he said, "It's a 
little cold in here.  See if you can get the place warmed up a 
little, will ya?" 

Then he turned back to the women, and they steeled themselves for 
the inevitable.  "Now take off your panties and put them in the 
crate, too." 

There were a few quiet moans and some inchoate pleas, but 
eventually the ten shivering women were standing naked in front 
of the Sheriff.  He noted that they all stood in the classic 
embarrassed nude female stance of one arm across the breasts 
and one hand slipped between the legs.  He grinned a fox-like 
grin. 

"Well, while we're waiting for the hall to be warmed up, we'll 
have to make sure that you get warmed up some other way."  He 
appeared to think deeply about this.  "I know!" he said, in mock 
surprise.  "How about a few exercises."  The Sheriff motioned to 
the two female deputies.  "These two deputies will lead you through 
a few exercises to warm you up and to loosen anything that you 
might be hiding." 

The two female deputies stood up from where they were sitting and 
sauntered over to the line of naked women.  The older of the two 
spoke, "Let's get started, shall we?  I mean we can't have you all 
catching a cold, can we?"  She smiled broadly.  "Okay!  Stand up!  
Arms by your sides!" 

Almost involuntarily, the women did as they were told.  Now they 
stood exposed to the Sheriff and his deputies.  Some of the women 
blushed when they realised this and started to cover up.  "Enough 
of that!" the stentorian command rang out.  "Now, legs wide apart, 
ladies!" 

Slowly the women slid their feet apart.  All of them were blushing 
furiously by now.  By common consent, they stopped when their feet 
were about shoulder-width apart.  The deputy wasn't satisfied. 

"You can do better than that!  Wider!  NOW!"  This last word was 
shouted, and the women jumped and jerkily spread their legs so 
that their feet were much more widely spread.  The deputy walked 
down the line inspecting the women, who were all breathing heavily 
as their nervousness increased.  The younger of the two deputies 
now stood in a similar pose, but, as she was wearing clothes, she 
was a lot more comfortable with her position than any of the ten 
naked women. 

"Now, just do what my colleague is doing, and we'll all get on 
famously."  

The other deputy lowered herself into a squat.  Even clothed, it 
looked quite obscene, but doing it naked...!  "Stop staring and 
get squatting!  Let’s see those pussies down on the floor, shall 
we?" 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the women squatted down.  The position 
exposed their sex to everyone who cared to look, and everyone did, 
indeed, care to look.  The young deputy kept them squatting for 
what seemed like ages, and then she raised herself back to a 
standing position. 

"Now let's do that ten times quickly, shall we?"  The women stared 
in horror.  "Stop dawdling and get on with it!  One!  Two!"  As 
she counted, the ten women squatted and stood.  Each time they 
squatted, their pussy-lips opened, and the cool air of the hall 
was admitted to their most private depths.  By the time the ten 
repetitions were done, the women were all blushing crimson, and a 
light sheen of perspiration could be seen on their heaving breasts. 
The deputy turned to the Sheriff. 

"I think they're ready for their cavity searches, Boss." 

"Let 'em do another ten to keep 'em warm while we get set up." 

The women groaned in shame as they heard this exchange, but were 
powerless to do anything about it.  Whilst the deputy led them 
in a second set of ten squats, the Sheriff had spied a couple of 
picnic tables that had been stacked out of the way behind the 
seating.  With a couple of male deputies to each table, it was 
the work of only a few minutes to get them lined up in front of 
the naked, squatting ladies as they grunted their way through the 
last squats. 

"Okay!  That's enough of that."  At this juncture, the door to the 
hall banged open, and the deputy returned from his errand to warm 
up the hall.  He pointed up at the large temperature display.  
Everyone looked up and saw that the temperature was 68.  As they 
looked, the eight changed to a nine. 

"I had them set the air-conditioning to 75, is that all right?" 

"That’s just dandy!"  The Sheriff turned to the women, who were 
still panting from their exertions.  "Please collect your milk 
crate and put it on the table in front of you."  Each woman bent 
and picked up her milk crate.  They each looked longingly at the 
underwear that was resting on top of the clothes piled in the 
crate.  If only they could just put on their underwear, just for 
a minute....  With great trepidation, they walked to the picnic 
benches and put the crates down on the table. 

"Thank you, ladies, not long now.  We'll just get you into 
position, and my two lady colleagues here will check that you 
ain’t hiding anything you shouldn't, and then you can get dressed 
and put all this behind you." 

He smiled at the shocked expressions of the women. 

"Now, just kneel up on the seats, and you can rest your top halves 
on the table in front of you."  He motioned to his deputies, and 
they came forward to move the crates from the table and place 
them out of the way on the floor on the other side of the table 
from the women.  He made sure that the women could still see them 
-- see them, but not touch them -- so near, and yet so far! The 
Sheriff was an artist, and he was sure that the judge would relish 
these little details when he recounted his day's work over a beer 
tonight. 

He walked behind the women, and, with his nightstick, he briskly 
smacked each of the women as he spoke.  "Let's get those butts up 
in the air, shall we?  Spread those legs wide; my colleagues must 
have room to work!" 

In this position, the exposure was just horrific.  All of their 
pussies were visible, and their little butt-holes were shamefully 
exposed in the harsh lighting of the hall.  The wall clock clicked 
from 2:54 to 2:55, just as the hall door banged open once more.  A 
woman ran breathlessly into the hall. 

"Stop!  Stop!  I have a Restraining Order!" 



Edited by C. Lakewood


-Fin- 

A note: OK, I promise I won't write anymore about this set-up. 
(Unless I have another idea!)

 

