Officer Patrick Quinn was bored. All day, he cruised the local expressway, waiting for something to happen, but there wasn't so much as a convenience store holdup to break the monotony. So he decided to write some speeding tickets. In a few minutes, he found his quarry.
A large sedan sped by doing 58 in a 55-mph zone. But what interested Patrick was that the driver was a glamorous blonde in a coral pink business suit, someone he might be able to have some fun with, even if he didn't make his ticket quota. He pursued and pulled over the car.
"You know you were doing well over the speed limit," Patrick told the woman, whose driver's license identified her as Dr. Diane Wilson. "Please get this over with quickly. I'm the keynote speaker at the Genetic Researcher's Convention this afternoon," Diane said. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to step out of your car," Patrick sternly said.
Diane complied, only to see the policeman nose through her car, reaching under seats and checking in the glove box. He finally found a locked briefcase. "What's in the bag," he asked. "None of your business," she replied. This left Patrick angry. "I'll bet you have drugs or something else illegal in that case. And I think I smell liquor on your breath. I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you," he growled.
Patrick knew that his actions always put a scare in women. Fearing they would end up in jail, they would be more receptive to his "suggestions" of ways they could get him to forget everything. He patted down Diane in ways that made her blush. Then ordering her to put her hands behind her back so he could put handcuffs on her, he instead reached around and squeezed both of Diane's breasts.
"You pig!" Diane shouted before Patrick could make his proposal. "Shall I add 'resisting arrest' to the charges?" Patrick growled. "No! I think I'll show you what's in my case now," Diane said. From the case she pulled a spray bottle and gave Patrick a long blast in the face. The liquid caused Patrick's eyes to water and his skin to suffer severe irritation.
"What is this stuff? MACE?" Patrick asked as he stumbled around. "No. YETH," Diane grinned. As Patrick moved, he could feel his shoes and belt becoming loose. "YETH stands for Youth Enhancing Topical Hormone. I was going to reveal its existence during my speech at the convention," she added.
Patrick suddenly realized he was diminishing in size. His feet got so small; he tripped out of his shoes. In getting back on his feet, his trousers slid off. As he attempted to crawl back onto the seat of his squad car, his jockey shorts dropped off. Swimming in his uniform top and hat behind the wheel of his car, Patrick picked up the two-way radio speaker to summon help. "What is it, Car 82," the dispatcher said. "Gaaa gaaa gooo ghee," Patrick said. "Could you repeat that. You sound like you were breaking up," the dispatcher answered. Patrick dropped the speaker and began to bawl.
Finding a telephone number in his pants pocket, Diane used her cell phone to call what turned out to be his wife Janet. She came to the site of the incident immediately. After carefully listening to Diane's story, Janet turned to her shrunken husband. "Even after all my warnings, you were still trying to coerce sexual favors out of other women. Not even my threatening divorce stopped you. Well, maybe this will," Janet told her husband.
"You look about the same size and age as your 10-month-old daughter Terry. Maybe I can pass you off as her twin brother," Janet said, as she pulled a diaper bag from her car. Diane smiled broadly as Janet quickly powdered and diapered Patrick despite his twisting and crying.
Finally cuddling the diapered baby in her arms, Janet turned
to Diane and said, "Thanks! I think I like Patrick more as
a baby than when he was grown." But Patrick had other ideas.
Getting a close look at his wife-turned-mother's breasts, he began
to pat them excitedly. As Janet walked off with Patrick, Diane
could hear her admonish the baby, "No! Those are for feeding
Terry. She gets first dibs. Is that all men like you think about?"