D2

I was alone, save for my thoughts. Attempting to avoid even those I sat on the couch staring intently at the ceiling. That swiftly led to fidgeting as I focused on not thinking about what an incredibly bad fit my boxers were. After eight interminable minutes I shifted to my desk. I fiddled for a while with the chair before figuring out that it was never going to be entirely comfortable. Getting it high enough to work on my laptop left my feet well off the ground.

I took the laptop back to the couch instead, fumbling the password twice. I had to resort to picking at the keys one key at a time since apparently my muscle memory had gone up in smoke. It wasn't only that my fingers were smaller, I literally couldn't remember how to type except in the vaguest of ways. I didn't want to think about what that said about my jiu jitsu, though considering I was wobbly just when walking I doubted it was anything good.

I'd barely opened up the browser when I noticed a new issue. With the computer on my lap the - my - boobs obstructed sight of the keyboard. It wouldn't be an issue if I could still touch-type but as things were it was something of a handicap. Also it sort of freaked me out to watch them move as I breathed.

Moving back to the desk I placed a few textbooks on the floor to keep my feet from hanging and got comfortable. From there I spent several hours glued to the screen as I researched everything from ancient Chinese curses to Greek mythology to voodoo. I accomplished nothing of importance but the talk of voodoo reminded me of something very dear to my heart. "I need to kill someone."

The change of body had done nothing to abate that need. If anything it felt more urgent as I realized this could be my ticket to escaping Doakes. The man had been shadowing me for so long that the Dark Passenger was starting to make my head explode. This was perfect, well, except in the ways it wasn't. The point was that it was kill time and I already had the perfect target planned out. [Jimmy Sensio]

I giggled as I grabbed my kill tools, jumping at the sound. A quick paranoid glance around the room reassured me that there was no giggling girls behind me and that the sound was coming from me, not that that was particularly reassuring. Borrowing Debra's flip flops was the next step. Not the greatest footwear for killing but they were the only thing that remotely fit me. Stuffing my keys into a ridiculously small pocket I was ready to go.

I left the apartment with a slight skip in my step, breasts bouncing along with me happily. That all ended when I spotted Doakes' car parked around the corner. He'd gotten cagier, not parking it in direct sight of my apartment any more. I'd applaud his moderate intelligence if I wasn't so incredibly frustrated with him. Dexter (probably not healthy to refer to myself in the third person) doesn't show up to work and Doakes' response was to skip work as well. Just how obsessed with me was he?

The unexpected block to my intentions made me more tempted to remove him forcibly than ever. If I didn't have a code he'd be on my table by day's end. So annoying. Did he really have nothing better to do with his time than stalk me? Even with a different body if he saw my car moving he'd likely follow it. Maybe if I got him a girlfriend he'd lay off.

I cocked my head, bemused. That was an unusual plan of attack for me. It was both a strength and weakness for me that I was typically extremely methodical and single-minded. Creative out-of-the-box thinking wasn't normally in my toolbox, but maybe it should be. Leaning against the wall just out of sight from Doakes I tried to brainstorm.

"I've got it."

Stuffing my kill tools bag under the couch cushions I picked up a paper bag instead. Thinking over my course again I grabbed some old tongs I didn't mind losing and put on some plastic gloves as well. I took the back staircase and combed the lawn for goodies. Once the bag was nice and full I discarded the tongs and one glove so that I could pinch my nose.

I moved stealthily around the parking lot, taking the long way 'round. Doakes was parked between two large vans to try and avoid my notice but that just made it easier to sneak up on him. Aiming carefully at his back windshield I threw the bag. Unfortunately the bag of dog shit went right through the driver window instead.

"Agh my oh shit fuck!" He staggered out of the car with splatter all over him. Remembering that I really needed to get out of sight I ran around to the other side of the van. Dropping to the pavement I started scooting under the van, stomach up. Getting my thighs and butt under was a struggle but my bosom proved even trickier. My weak arms struggled to squish me under. I'd nearly gotten my nipples underneath the van when Doakes' grinning face appeared in the sky above me.

"Surprise motherfucker." Inwardly screaming at the rashness of my 'out-of-the-box' plan I meekly let him pull me back out. Well, I intended to.

"Don't touch me, you smell like shit." It didn't take looking at his face to know that was a terrible thing to say. I was really off my game today. Lately my inhibitions had been a bit shot thanks to weeks of enforced murder-abstinence but even after two tequila shots I wasn't normally this bad.

"Fucking wiseass aren't you." Grabbing my shoulders he pulled me out less than gently. Swiftly I found myself in handcuffs for the second time today. Hands locked behind my back I noticed that the bottom region was heavily pilled from dragging against the pavement. She'd be pissed that I damaged her dress in one day. Then again with the way my curves were stretching it out that might have been inevitable.

Seeing where this was going I quickly tried to head it off. "Can we like, not get in your car?" He pushed me towards his dog-shit-inundated turdmobile. "We can use my car." Had to remember what I looked like. "I mean Dexter's car. He gave me his keys. I don't mind if you drive."

He paused, intrigued. "You'll let me in his car?" I wasn't happy about it but I didn't have anything incriminating in the car.

"Sure, just keep your shitty hands off me." Damn, what happened to my filter. Was I just going to blurt out that I killed people next?

He strapped me into the passenger seat where he could keep an eye on me. It wasn't very comfortable with my hands stuck behind me and the seat belt on my chest made my breasts impossible to ignore. Hopefully it was temporary but for today my dark passenger had been joined by two more buoyant passengers. "So how old are you," he asked as investigated the empty trunk.

"It's rude to ask a woman that." It was like all the frustration I built up towards him since I killed my brother and even before that was being converted into petty mischief and snark.

"I need to know if I should call your parents or just toss you in a cell," he replied.

I was a bit confused by the question. I hadn't been carded in years and my parents were dead, adopted and otherwise. Would he guess I was Dexter if I told him my actual age? No, that would be a ridiculous jump. "I'm twenty-seven."

"Ha, right, sure you are." I squinted up at him as he unhooked me from the seat. "We're taking my car after all."

"Oh come on!" I whined. His only mercy was to open the windows after stuffing me in the back.

"Remember that this is your own fault," he said as he wiped off the steering wheel with a few napkins. "And try a more believable age next time."

I didn't have time to ponder that before the police radio kicked on. *We've got a jumper at Tikini Bridge.*

"Detective Doakes responding." Well, at least we weren't headed to the station. "So," he said to me, "you got a name?"

Tricky question. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Call me D."

"Dee? That short for something?"

"Nope," I said. "Just D."

We were only a minute from the bridge and except for two troopers were the first ones there. The proximity was probably why he'd responded in the first place to what was most likely a suicide.

The moment he pulled over and left me alone I started working. I wormed my way into the front seat - careful to avoid anything brown - and grabbed the key ring he'd taken from me. One of the keys was held on with a paperclip that I swiftly repurposed into a lockpick. I was lacking a great deal of my finger dexterity and muscle memory but breaking out of handcuffs had been something of a hobby of mine as a teenager. Two minutes later I was free, free and a little disturbed with what I heard outside. It had been awhile since I was reminded just how hopeless the police force was without the help of lab techs like myself.

To be fair Doakes was considerably better than average and was about as far from the cliche of a fat-bellied donut-eating cop as could be, but he seemed to be soaking in the speculation about the woman's suicide. Sure there was a suicide note and she was missing her shoes but any first-year crime student could tell otherwise. Stepping out I took a deep breath of fresh air as my foot tapped at the ground.

I should just leave, walk off while no one was looking. That would be the smart thing to do. With no paper trail he wouldn't know how to start finding me.

"It's not a suicide." Instead I opened my big fat mouth. Honestly it was sort of fat, lips almost awkwardly large. I was pleased to see Doakes jump though. He'd parked inside the perimeter so it was a cinch to get past the trooper on watch.

"How'd you get out of the cuffs?" asked Doakes.

"Nevermind that." Doakes moved to grab me but instead of moving away I moved towards the body. He latched onto my left arm but I pointed with my right. "Those cuts happened hours before she died, see the bruising? Not to mention the distance from the bridge and the rotational lacerations suggests she was thrown."

"Don't you mean pushed?" asked the exceedingly plain-faced cop.

"Nope," my 'p' popped a bit too cheerily for the situation. "Definitely thrown, and by someone quite strong. Like my friend here." Doakes' grip tightened at that but I ignored him. "Actually…" I looked back at my captor. "May I get a bit closer? There's something funny about the abrasion pattern." He glared at me but obliged. "Yep, thought so. She was either dead or unconscious before she hit the ground. Or paralyzed, I suppose. I'd need some time in the lab to be sure but from the blood pattern I'd guess dead. Oh, can I have a sandwich?" I was still getting used my body but the growling from my stomach had clued me in to the fact that I was very very hungry.