Sophie

A bell chimes overhead as you push the door open and step into the office of Detective Jonathan Winters. Dust and the warm smell of wood fill your nose, replacing the brisk air of the heavy gray London sky. At the sound of the bell, you hear feet scurry across the floor above you.

The loft at the top of the stairs is fashioned into an office, with packed bookshelves lining the wall. A single window fills the space with light, shining onto the impressive mahogany desk. Everything in the room communicates the reputation of Detective Winters, except for one. Sitting naturally confident atop the desk, black-gloved hands resting on the surface, is a girl peering at you with big amber eyes.

"Now, then," she starts brightly, "what can I, Detective Sophie, do for you?" She waits eagerly, as if she'd been waiting all day for someone to walk in.

Many years back, London saw an outbreak of disease. The Crown instituted public bathhouses to improve hygiene and promote cleanliness. They soon became a regular fixture, and contributed, along with the industrial district, to London being known as the Steam City.

Voices cut through the warm water and enveloping steam as you relax in the large main bath. You can make out some of the shouting, words like "stop" and "thief". Soon, the outer door bursting open reverberates through the water. A few moments later, the door opens again, this time hesitantly.

The calm bath ripples as someone steps in, and your eyes flick over on instinct to see who. Wide amber eyes lock with yours. This must be the person chasing that thief, and evidently she thought her tits were small enough that she would pass for a boy. Her arms stay down at her sides, aware that men don't hide their chests. Completely naked except for a small towel around her hips, she's mortified that she recognizes you from somewhere.

"Ah...you—what are you...here...", she tries desperately to form words, clinging to the faint hope that she can still pass as male.

It's a rare day of clear skies in London, and people are outside enjoying the sun. Sophie is among them, and, out of habit, she's off to investigate the nearby sounds of excitement.

She finds herself at a public park, built for the neighborhood to enjoy some greenery between all the brick and cobblestone. "Now, how about a volunteer?" a loud voice calls, bringing Sophie's eyes to a street magician. A few onlookers stand around him and his props placed on a table. "Let's see a brave soul try to guess what's in this Mystery Box!", he barks while gesturing to a box on the table, sealed except for a two holes on opposite sides.

"Oh!" The street magician spots Sophie looking over. "Miss Detective, how 'bout it? Show us all your powers of deduction!" A few more sets of eyes land on her. Sophie thinks to herself, surely she can see right through a cheap trick like this and score some clients in the process, right?

"Alright, then. I, Detective Sophie, will solve this mystery!" She struts over, removing her gloves, and reaches through the box's holes with no hesitation. Her bare fingers wrap around something warm and rod-like. As the crowd waits to hear her guess, Sophie racks her brain at what else it could be.

So long as the business passes government inspection, brothels are legal in the Steam City. Helping out with a case netted Sophie a contact at the Gentlemen's Lounge, the only such brothel in London.

Sophie always thought of herself as boyish, and never practiced her charms. She's starting to wonder how useful seduction could be during an investigation. One of the regular girls taking a sick day provided the perfect opportunity for Sophie to learn something about pleasing men.

Sophie waits in one of the bedrooms, wearing only a sheer purple negligee. Before long, a man steps through the door.

"Um, I'm Sophie, the new girl. I'm still pretty inexperienced, so please bear with me," she greets you nervously. "We can't have sex this time...", she steps close and starts working your belt, "If you come see me regularly, perhaps that could change." Sophie lilts her voice with practiced sensuality, but the sight of your cock clouds her mind immediately. On instinct, her tongue laps at your shaft.

Much like her father, Sophie often consults on policework that requires some extra sleuthing. This time, a detective of the London Police has come up to a dead end while investigating an underground trade of sex slaves.

You've uncovered the location of the private club fronting for this illicit business, but admission is limited to "couples" only. Sophie, determined to catch the criminals at any cost, agreed to pose as your companion for the night. You approach the club, preparing to infiltrate this nest of degeneracy undercover.

Sophie waits for you in the reception, wearing hair extensions that her hair down her exposed back in her evening gown. Her makeup transforms her into a nearly unrecognizable beauty, standing a little taller on high heels that match the deep blue of her dress.. Sophie feels vulnerable without her gloves, her bare hands waiting at her side. As you lock eyes, you hear a voice purr, "Master~ Mess my pussy up even more..!", muffled through the door. Sophie breaks eye contact with you, flustered at what she might have to do to keep her cover.

"This is a place for doing those kinds of things, you know." she mutters. "I don't think we can just stand here doing nothing..."

The slums of the Steam City remain under the control of organized crime, despite the police's ongoing attempts to clean it up. As a low-level member of the gang, you're often called to stand watch for any prowling cops. Today's been dry, and you gaze at the clouds idly. The rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the unpaved path snaps you to attention, though the footfalls are much lighter than any cop's.

Sure enough, instead of London's finest, you find a young girl walking down. You don't intend to stop her, she's probably another one of the boss's girls. Her amber eyes find yours, a little hazy, and, with a look of understanding, she reaches with her bare gloveless hand to pull her collar loose.

Sophie pulls her shirt open, clearly intending to seduce you. The flushed skin on her chest draws your eyes to her purple bra. "Hey, mister..." she calls, "Won't you play with me. If it's just for a little, you can even touch~". She moves with confidence, almost like she's practiced. "As a special service, maybe I could help you with that bulge in your trousers."

Sophie noticed a pattern emerging in the anonymous tips and rumors floating around London. A number of women are reporting suspicious symptoms after visiting a local clinic, and strange behavior from the doctor running it. She narrows down the location of the clinic and heads in for an investigation.

"Welcome, welcome." Your voice reverberates through the plague mask. "You'll find our treatments are quite affordable for even the most unfortunate." The girl's eyes betray no suspicion.

"I only just heard of this place. Is it possible to get an exam now?" She asks. You weigh the risk for a moment, but this chance is too good to pass up. Pointing her to the examination chair, you ensure the doors are locked before joining her. You pull a bottle of your concoction and hold it out towards the girl. After lying to her about its properties, that it's a nutritional supplement, she pauses for a moment.

This seems shady, Sophie thinks to herself, but he might get suspicious if I refuse outright. I'll have to take a chance on this. Sophie gulps the drink down, its sweet taste the last thing that crosses her mind before she rapidly falls unconscious.

With her clothes out of the way, you can begin your examination in full.

One of Sophie's former clients, Melissa. invited her out for drinks, as further repayment for her help. Sophie doesn't have many female friends, so she's especially happy to get along tonight. After a few too many beers, though, the conversation takes a turn.

Melissa explains this particular bar caters to those with a fetish for piss. The men here will pay to relieve themselves on a girl. Sophie tries to bail on the discussion, but Melissa knows the exact words to push her buttons. "Oh? It looks like Miss Detective isn't so perfect, after all."

The beers you knocked back catch up with you, and you step away from the table to use the men's room. Upon entering the toilet, you instead find a naked young girl. The clothes piled on the floor must be hers. She's kneeling, mouth open, seemingly waiting for you.

Detective Metcalfe is a good friend and colleague of Sophie's father, and she's known him for as long as she can remember. Lately, with Jonathan away, Metcalfe has been noticing Sophie in a different way.

Your friend's daughter, Sophie, stands in your living room, blushing furiously and avoiding your eyes. Looking at her, you suspect what kind of girl she's grown up to be.

"Sophie, bend over. Immediately."

She complies with your command, leaning on your couch. As you thought, she's the type who can't resist a firm order. You're trying to hold yourself back out of consideration for Jonathan, but you're past your limit. You order her to spread her ass for you. Sophie offers a weak protest even as she pulls her trousers down with her bare hands to reveal her pussy.

"I'm telling you, it's no good. I can't do it with you. Dad's really perceptive, he'll definitely find out when he comes home...", she says meekly, completely surrendered.

Solving a case for a particularly wealthy client led Sophie to being introduced to the latest invention in London: the camera. The photographer sweet-talked her into posing nude for a shoot, and Sophie can't stop thinking about how good it feels to expose herself like that.

Her keen eyes noticed one of the local general stores keeps nude illustrations to sell quietly to discerning gentlemen. Would he buy my photos? Sophie dares to wonder. All those men...with my photograph...

It's a quiet day in your shop, which is how you like it. The door chimes and a young girl steps in. She seems familiar, but the flush on her face and the way her legs are squirming are all new to you. Before you realize it, her bare hands place a stack of papers on your counter. Sheets printed not with paint or pencil, but a capture of real life. You can hardly believe what you're seeing, image after image of the very girl before you. Naked, exposed, sucking cock, getting fucked.

You tear your eyes away from the photographs and search the girl for a reaction. She's just waiting for you to make an offer.