Agent Kask Part I
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Agent Kask Pt III free porn video
Agent Kask Pt III
By Teaser
The twilight of the night, as I like to call it. It's my
favorite part. When the sun begins to make its first
appearance. The darkness begins to fade just a little. The
early birds begin their songs. The earliest workers are
already at their task. The street sweepers are cleaning up
the broken bottles and empty beer cans. The occasional bus
or truck can be heard off in the distance. Garbage trucks
banging the shit out of metal cans. I'm still in bed. Part
awake, part asleep. One foot in both worlds. From here, I
can sometimes dream. Not just any dream. But dream what I
want. No longer a hostage to the deep sleep dreaming,
nightmares, wet dreams, what have you. I command what I
dream. An active, willing participant. I love it.
I can be at the beach. Or in the arms of a lover. Visit an
old friend, long since gone. Play with my best friend from
childhood, my dog Phil. Or I can be in the middle of a
party. Perhaps visit a place I know only from pictures. As
long as I don't try to do anything to that causes me to
think too strenuously, like read a paper or a book, the
world is mine. For a few more hours at least. Till the
alarm clock drags back to the cruel reality of the present.
That's where I was now. At least it felt like it. I was a
bit tired. Tired enough to want to keep sleeping. But also
awake enough where my mind was thinking just a little. But
for some reason, I couldn't dream. Usually it's easy. The
hard part is trying to reach this light sleep phase. So I
tried to picture something in my head to dream about. But I
couldn't. I tried to remember what happened recently. I
drew a blank. The more I thought, the more awake I became.
Kind of like pulling myself out of a fog.
I felt stiff, sore, and hungry. I also felt something on my
legs.
And I felt something cutting into my shoulders. My throat
was sore. My ass also felt funny. I tried to place the
feeling. It reminded me of playing in the pool with my
nieces and nephews out on the West Coast on my last
vacation. Trying to sit my fat ass on a way too small
inner-tube. Where you have to balance it just right or over
you flip over. Which is what I did most of the time. It's
impossible when you've got a gaggle of children swimming up
underneath you, tipping you over. But the kids love it.
That was a nice thought - maybe I could go back to sleep
and dream about my last visit to my sister and her family
in California. Too late. I'd thought too much as it is, and
was waking up. My eyes were hard to open. That crusty stuff
you get when you're sick. Which meant I'd been sleeping for
some time. My throat was dry and sore. I didn't remember
what the hell I did last night, but man I must have drank
like a fish. Scotch makes me feel like this some times.
Like I'm in a fog. If you absolutely must have to have a
hang over, I strongly recommend the type provided by Johnny
Walker Black. Twelve year old scotch.
I sat up slowly, trying to focus my eyes. I felt a tugging
on my shoulders and chest. When my eyes finally did focus I
realized I wasn't in my apartment. Where the hell was I? I
scratched my head, and felt a shit load more hair than I
have. I felt something digging into my shoulders. It was
some kind of strap. It was a bra strap. I was wearing a
bra. I was wearing a bra? Shit! I was wearing a BRA! Then
it all came rushing back to me.
I started to get out of bed slowly. I realized I had a drip
IV in my arm. I pulled it out and a drop of blood quickly
formed. I felt nauseous. Maybe that wasn't such a good
idea. I reached over to grab a tissue off the nightstand,
and I damn near fell out of the bed. The momentum of these
tits nearly carried me over the edge. I was going to have
to be careful moving them around. With one arm holding them
up, I grabbed a tissue and held it over the needle mark.
Slowly I stood up. I was wearing surgical support
stockings. Thick white ones that held my legs firm. I
carefully walked over to a mirror by the sink, to get a
look at myself.
As I stood there, I was amazed by the sight. The simple
hospital gown could not hide the large chest. Chest? My
chest. That pair of knockers was me. I stated to get a
little dizzy, but did some deep breathing exercise I'd
learned in training to calm myself. I took another look. I
had bandages on my nose, and my eyes were a touch purple.
Probably from the nose job. I had a full head of hair.
Blonde, down to my shoulders. I tugged on it. It hurt, just
a little. Must be a hair weave. My ass was pretty good
sized. And so where my hips.
On closer inspection I had an array of small bandages all
over my body. Well, okay, not all over. But enough. It must
be where they put the implants in. My throat hurt, and
didn't have the guts to speak. So I stayed quiet. I looked
at myself from various sides in the mirror. And I'll be
damned if I didn't look like a woman. These guys were good.
Maybe too good. I gently lifted the edge of the gown and
said a prayer as reached for my dick. It was still there. I
gave thanks. I checked again, my balls were also intact.
I'm definitely going to start going to church again. After
a few more minutes I slowly made my way back to the bed. It
felt strange the way these boobs pulled, and swayed back
and forth. I couldn't imagine what it would be like with
out a bra to keep them somewhat in place. As I crawled
under the covers, my mind swam with this new information. I
had actually agreed to all this. It wasn't a bad dream, it
was real.
I tried to get some more sleep, but I couldn't. I'd been
out too long. I was awake and that was that. As I lay
there, my right hand slid down the gown. I reached
underneath and searched for my dick again. Yes! It was
still there. It gave me a little piece of mind. What the
hell was I dong here? I'm not a field agent. I'm certainly
no master of disguise. I've spent my post-puberty life
hunting down women for sport. And now I was going to
pretend to be one? I couldn't pull this off. What if I
forget and stood to piss? What if I fart and burp? What
happens if I get an itch and scratch my ass? Manners have
never been my strong point. That's why I'm a lab rat. It
doesn't matter what my manners are. Okay Kask, get a hold
of yourself. I squeezed my dick again, felt my sack. I'm
still me. A trained agent working for the FBI. All I need
to do is make some small talk, hack a few computer systems.
And then get the fuck out. I don't need to be the bell of
the freak'in ball.
While I was laying there, a heard a female voice clear a
throat. I looked up and saw nurse in the doorway staring at
me.
"You know I'm the one who decides when your IV comes out.
Are you trying to put me out of a job?" I glanced over and
saw the hanging tube. It'd made a puddle on the floor.
"Sorry." I said and was startled by the sound of my voice.
It was raspy and croaky but it was definitely a few octaves
higher. It hurt some, but not too bad.
"I'll let it slide this one time." she chuckled walking
over and clipping off the flow in the tube. She checked my
arm where the needle had been, and pulled a band-aid from
her pocket.
As she put it on my arm, she said, "You have to be careful
with these things. You could get a nasty infection. Not to
mention, with out checking your chart, you could still be
low on fluids. You've been sleeping for the last couple of
days." She got up and looked at the chart hanging from the
bottom of the bed. She read for a few minutes and said, "It
looks like you can do with out it. The note here says to
notify Dr. Stevens immediately when you wake. I'll give him
a page. In the mean time, would you like some thing to
eat?"
In my raspy high-pitched voice I said, "Yes, please."
"Okay, I'll have something sent up. It'll probably be jello
or soup or something light like that. Just till your
stomach comes back on line." I nodded a thank you, and she
smiled and left.
Soon enough another nurse brought a small tray to the room.
She put it down on the table thingy they have in hospitals
that roll and fit over the bed like a desk. Jello. Tea. And
oatmeal. Yumma! I ate it and drank it. And nearly heaved it
back up. So when my stomach settled, I started in again,
much slower. After a while, Dr. Stevens entered the room.
With some bullshit small talk, he took my blood pressure,
checked my eyes, ears and throat. Temperature too. But
fortunately not up my ass. I was saved a modicum of
dignity. I think.
"I'd like to keep you under observation for another day or
two Jack." he said. "I'd also like you to get out of bed
occasionally. To use the bathroom. Feel free to walk around
the ward. We need to get you back on your feet as soon as
possible. But please, stay put in this ward. This is the
restricted ward. Don't ask personal questions of the staff
or other patients. They're here for a reason, just as you
are. Other than that you're no longer officially chained to
this bed." He packed up his gear. "I was meeting Assistant
Director Skinner when I was paged. He asked me to drop off
a package for you. Some reading material I believe. There
is a private safe over in the closet." He said pointing to
a small door on the other side of the room. "You can set
the combination yourself. Skinner said to be sure I made
clear this is highly sensitive material. And if the seal is
broken, which it's not, you're to report me immediately."
Nice. Like I'm gonna rat on the only man who turn me back
into my former `Pumping Palace'.
With that we shook hands and he was on his way. I couldn't
help noticing how limp wristed he was. Not alt all like
when we first met. I wondered if it had anything to do with
my looks. I checked out the safe, set the combination, made
sure it was secure. Then I waddled back to the bed and
opened my package. It hadn't been tampered with. The first
thing I saw was a not stating just that, from Skinner. If
it was tampered with, call him immediately on a secure
line. So much for trusting our teammates. Inside the
wrapper was a file stamped "Most Secret'. Must be from our
British friends. Our mates across the 'pond'. I always get
a kick out of that. `Most Secret'. As opposed to what -
`Almost Secret'?
It was the file on our little gal, then one I was to pose
as. I got up and locked the door. Don't need any prying
eyes. And I wondered if I would ever get used to wearing
tits. It seems what ever I tried to do, I had these huge
things in the way. What a pain in the ass. When I walked,
they swayed. When I lay on my back, they flopped all over
my chest. When I leaned forward, they pulled my chest down.
And don't even get me started on trying to piss standing
up. It's a good thing my dick is huge, or else I wouldn't
even be able to see it.
But I digress. I climbed back into bed. I tried to make my
ass somewhat stable. But it wasn't easy sitting on this
thing. Kind of like sitting on some balloons. I opened up
the file and glanced through it. Name: Martina Von
Bruckenstien. Big family. Several brothers and sisters.
Each one uglier than the one before. And I'll be damned if
every woman in the photographs didn't have an Adam's Apple.
There were plenty of details, names, dates, places, but I
was just scanning for now. Great, an opera fan. I fucking
hate opera. I'd rather fuck a goat than listen to it. I
hope they weren't expecting me to become a freaking
fanatic. Art appreciation. Charitable giver. Expensive
tastes. I like that. Likes fine clothes, fancy foods and
good wine. Partial to the Swiss Alps for skiing. Skiing?
How the hell could she ski with a set of jugs like this. I
have a hard time bending over. From all the various snap
shots, she seemed like a conservative dresser. That's good,
I don't need to worry about cleavage. As if I wasn't self
conscious enough as it was.
Then something caught my eye. Holy shit! Now I know what
they had on her. It was a picture of her in a dominatrix
outfit whipping the ass off some naked guy. She had pretty
nice legs for a gal her age. Black stockings and garter
belt peaking out from a leather miniskirt. I hope it's not
that kind of party they expect me to go. I looked closer at
her face. It was a bit out of focus, obviously taken from
some distance. But still I could tell she seemed enraptured
by the situation. Her face had a scary look, of some one at
least temporarily insane. Wild flashing eyes. The mouth
curled into a snarl. There were some pretty heavy marks on
the guy's ass and thighs. She was really getting into it.
Bizarre.
After a few hours of browsing, I closed the file and
secured it in the safe. I walked over to unlock the door,
and just as I got there, I head a knock. I opened it up and
it was, oh what was her name, Nurse Selma Hyack. My cock
jumped. She looked me in the eyes. They were bright and
smiling.
"Good evening!" she exclaimed. "I was hoping to find you
awake. I have something for you." She tried not to stare,
but she eyed me up and down quite a bit. "Those Drs. do
some Job, don't they?"
"I guess so." I muttered with my female voice.
"I have something for you." she said again as she pushed
past me into the room. She put a package on the bed, and
waited for me to open it up.
"And I didn't get anything for you." I joked. Damn. How the
heck am I supposed to impress her with my manliness when I
sound like a cocktail waitress.
"Oh don't worry, it's not a gift or anything. It's some
clothes for when we begin our sessions. Can't very well do
PT in a hospital gown, now can you?"
I opened the package and inside were a bunch of women's gym
clothes. Leotards, tights, spandex pants, jog bras, socks
and sneakers.
"You can pick out which ever you feel more comfortable in.
Try them on when you get the chance and see which gives you
the best, um, support. If you need some pointers with the
tights, let me know. I'll be happy to help."
I blushed. Here's the babe I wanted to screw so bad my
balls ached. And she was offering to show me how to put on
pantyhose. She must have noticed the way I felt because she
put her arm on my shoulder, and gave me a pat.
"Don't worry, it's perfectly natural to feel confused, and
out of place. That's why I'm here. Looks like you'll need
some help with your hair and make up too."
I was stunned. Hair? Makeup? All kinds of little things
that I never thought about before started popping into my
mind. Beauty Salons, fingernails, matching shoes. Man, I
was really starting to feel overwhelmed.
"Easy there." She said putting my arm around me. "It may be
the hormones kicking in."
"They haven't started me on it yet. I haven't had any
medication since I woke up." I told her.
"It's an implant." She said lifting my left arm, she showed
me a slightly larger band-aid than the rest, on the inside
of my left upper arm. "Time released. When it's all used
up, it's all gone. They're not going to mess you up much,
but it will have an effect."
Great, this just keeps getting better. Now my system is
running on PMS. And no one bothered to tell me.
"Come, sit on the bed." she said as she gently steered me
back to bed. Pushing the clothes out of the way, we sat
down together. "Looks like no one's bothered to clean you
up yet either. My guess is you're not sure what to do."
She leaned over and opened up the nightstand drawer. She
pulled a small plastic case out of it and retrieved a
hairbrush. Then she began to brush my hair. Can you believe
it? She started grooming me. And, and...I liked it. It felt
good. Nice. I felt a bit ashamed that I hadn't done it
myself earlier. It never occurred to me. She brushed me out
completely, then went through it again. It was very
soothing.
"I worked my way through nursing college as a beautician. I
can give you all kinds of tips. Perhaps the big brass
didn't think of everything after all."
"Yes, I'd like that." I said.
Now I know why a dog looks like it does when its getting
brushed. I felt like drooling a bit myself. And not just
because this gorgeous creature was lavishing so much
attention on me.
When she finished, we went into the bathroom and she showed
me how to wash up, and put my hair up out of the way. We
both agreed it was probably too soon to start putting on
make up. So she left me some stuff to work with. Not sure
what it was, some small metallic, bullet looking cases,
some small bottles with different shades of red and pink in
it. And some small round cases. I felt foolish. I mean, I
had sisters and a mother. And the women I'd dated had all
used this stuff over the years. But I guess I could never
really be bothered to pay attention to what exactly it was.
She said she had to go, and promised to return tomorrow.
Tomorrow? I realized I had no idea what time it was. She
said we'd work some more on grooming, make up, and maybe
even a little of the physical stuff. How to walk and sit
properly. Oh man, this was going to be hard. I'd have to
actually worry about how I sat? Then she was off with flash
of the wonderful smile. And I was alone again.
I searched around, and eventually found a clock in the
nightstand. It was late, ten thirty in the PM, as Archie
bunker used to say. I was a bit tired, even though I'd just
slept for two days. But I still had some steam. I started
looking at the clothes she brought me. Leotards. Tights.
Jog bras. I'd loved watching women wear this stuff. Shit -
I'd eat my lunch in the park sometimes so I could check out
the women jogging by dressed in it. Now I was going to have
to wear it.
I was absolutely sick to death of this stupid fucking
hospital gown. Walking around with one arm holding my
boobs, and the other keeping the back closed. I figured the
pants were a good start. I picked up a pair of stretch
pants. They didn't look big enough to fit. But of course,
that would be the definition of `stretch'. Now I'd worn
bike shorts in the past. Particularly when I'm out riding
my bike, trying to attract the attention of potential,
future ex-girlfriends. So I had some idea what I was doing.
But by the time I got them up to my bionic thighs, I was in
uncharted territory. I had to pull, and push, and squeeze,
and cajole, and lay down the law, and then compromise some
more. When I got to my new and improved ass, I was actually
sweating. Note to self, next time Nurse Selma offers to
help with clothes, accept wholeheartedly.
Finally, me and the pants compromised. I got them on enough
so they weren't yanking on things that shouldn't ought to
be yanked on. I picked up the jog bra. How in the hell was
this tiny thing going to hold these melons? I wasn't sure,
but I'd have to find out one way or another. I took the
gown off completely, and got my first real look. Okay, so
it wasn't a real look. I still had on this massive bra. It
reminded me of one of my aunts, when I was a kid. The
sucker was huge. Obviously government issued. From years of
experience in removing them, I had the back latches open in
seconds. I still got it!
When removed the body armor, I got my first real look at
myself. These things were huge. I'd have loved them on one
of my conquest's. On me? It was an entirely different
story. I'd never really thought about tits before, I mean
other than how great they feel when I buried my face in
them. But how they felt to the woman who had to carry them
around? I touched them. I felt them. I rolled them around
in my hands. They felt real enough. But they felt different
on the receiving end.
The only time I've ever actually played with my own nipples
was trying to make women laugh - you know Austin Powers
style. But I just had to try. I gave my nipples a tweak.
Nothing. No jolts of electricity - like you read about in
letters to Penthouse. My back was beginning to hurt a bit
from the strain of these suckers, so I tried to put on the
jog bra. It went on easy enough like a T-shirt, but when I
got to the yabahoos, I was again at war. How the hell did
women do this stuff? Sure it looks great for guys, but what
a pain in the ass.
More pulling and tugging and wrestling and I got it over
the jugs. Then I spent another five minutes getting them
settled in, so nothing was tugging or pinching. I went over
to my mirror, and took a look. Interesting. I filled out
the spandex pretty good. Actually better than pretty good.
I stood there with hands on hips, legs slightly spread,
like the chicks at the gym. The only thing wrong was the
bulge in my pants. Anxiety returned. I reached down and
rearranged `issues' as best I could. Another look showed me
as passable. I decided to take a stab at it.
I ventured out into the ward. I had my spandex. I had my
slippers. My hair was up. What the fuck? I was told not ask
questions, so no one should be asking me any personal
questions. I peaked out the door. It was quiet. It was
late. I'm just another anonymous patient, like every one
else here. I did a few moderately paced laps around the
nurse's station. I passed a few nurses. They smiled. Looked
me in the eyes. I had no idea if they knew what I really
was. If they did, they didn't let on. I passed a few male
nurses, or what ever they were. Most looked at my tits and
ass, and only made eye contact at the last possible moment.
I had to wonder. Was I like that too? It felt strange.
Strange to have some one size you up on a purely sexual,
physical scale. I knew what they were doing. It was so
obvious. But they smiled like I hadn't a clue what they
were doing. They seemed so shallow. Did I come across like
that? If I acted the way these guys did, did I repulse
women the same way these guys repulsed me? It confused me
even more. I hoped it wasn't the hormones kicking in.
After about twenty minutes of slow walking, I began to feel
really tired. I didn't want to over due it, so I went back
to my room. I made sure the safe with the `Most Secret'
file was secure. I changed back into my gown, and climbed
into bed. I tried to clear my head of the millions of
stray, random thoughts. But I couldn't. I had to deal with
some of them. I'd come this far, I was in for the long
haul. But I'd bitten off far more that I could chew. This
was going to be tough. The spy part of the work, I thought,
was already more than I was trained to handle. I'd have to
work at that. But so was all the baggage that came with
being a woman. Hair. Makeup. Posture. Clothes. Pantyhose?
Fuck. Well, I'd bought in because I wanted to do something
to help my country. Not just good old USA. I'd bought in
for something bigger. Democracy. This country is more than
just Hollywood and Washington. It's more than just USA
Today and Entertainment Tonight. The Super Bowl is more
than new commercials and the half time crap that the
network crams down my throat. This idea behind this country
is far bigger than the fruited plains.
My Great Grandparents came to this country over a hundred
years ago. They came because the countries they lived in
wouldn't let them do what they wanted to do. Poland,
Slovakia, Lithuania, they forced people to be what the
Kings or Princes wanted them to be. Or regulated them
because of what their ancestors did. Here, they had the
opportunity to be what they wanted to be. If they looked at
a job and said `I could do it better', in America, they
could give it shot. There was no guarantee it would work.
But at least you got a shot at it. And that was a lot more
than they had in the old country. Here, someone could call
you a stupid Pollok, and say it would never work. But they
couldn't stop you from trying. At least not legally.
You got your shot. And if you failed, you could try again.
And again. And again. Till you got it right. Or till you
proved yourself to be the loser they said you were. But at
least you could try. You had the right. Not the privilege,
but the right! In other countries, they'd tell ya' you
couldn't even try because of something your great-great-
great-great-great-great-father did. Over here: `I'm looking
at you - what can you do?' And that was something special.
Really.
Democracy can be found in other countries. And it didn't
start here. We don't have a copyright on it. But we've
managed to take it to a new level. We made it the law of
the land. Democracy isn't pretty. It's pretty fucking ugly
as a matter of fact. But still. A country where it doesn't
matter where I came from, but rather where I'm headed too.
I decided I was going to go for it. In the big picture, no
one would even know what I did, what I achieved, or even
how hard I tried. All that matters is the effect. And I was
going to do my Goddamn best.
God Bless America! We're far from perfect. But we're giving
at least we've got the guts to give it a shot!!
Bree
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