A Spy Discovered (Full Story) free porn video

What follows is my recollection of the events that led to my current predicament, perhaps as a warning to others out there to be more cautious than I. Chapter 1: Bait and Catch My life as a spy for the United States was short lived. I wasn't your typical CIA recruit; with impeccable credentials, technical skills or fluency in other languages. In fact I was incredibly ordinary, which is perhaps why I'd been chosen. I was unassuming, and in my opinion unattractive. I was short for a guy at 5'6", with a slender frame no matter how much I ate or worked out. My initial assignments mostly included being a courier for "drops". No one suspected the skinny kid (I say kid, but I was 17 and still in high school when I started). This job was everything to me especially since I had no real education or skills. My cover job was as a barista at a local coffee shop. The pay there was crap; without the supplemental pay from the government, I knew it'd be a struggle to keep up my rent (a crappy studio apartment with an asshole of a landlord). My relationship with my parents was nonexistent due to some issues I had in school and my unwillingness to make amends. So I knew I had no fallback. My record was perfect. No one ever grew suspicious, and perhaps I became complacent. My one vice, and apparently weakness, was women. I may not have had a commanding presence, but I had confidence, and that allowed me to find a new hook up almost every single week. For the first time in awhile, I'd actually started a relationship with a girl I'd met at the coffee shop; a customer. Her name was Nicole, and she was a beautiful blonde. Shy at first, but opened up after drinks. For weeks we'd meet up for drinks every Friday night, and just had an amazing time. I must have let something slip because it didn't take long for everything to start tumbling down. I'd been getting ready for our weekly night on the town when I got a call from Nicole. She sounded upset. "I'm sorry Michael (my name). I didn't mean for this to happen. Trust me when I say I've developed true feelings for you. But I have no other choice; they made me do it. Goodbye; I hope we one day see each other again." She hung up before I could respond. I was confused. What the hell just happened? Something must be wrong with Nicole, I thought. I ran downstairs, got in my car and started driving towards her place. When I got there, her apartment was empty. Door unlocked, everything cleaned out. Everything. No sign of anyone living there. As I turned to leave, and probably go to the cops, I saw a brief shadow and then... Blackness. I awoke to a dull ache in my temple and more darkness. I could tell I was in a vehicle as it bounced along a rough road. I must be wearing a blindfold, I thought. I couldn't move my arms or legs and sensed they were heavily restrained by chains. I could hear someone talking in Russian, and then a familiar voice over what must have been a handheld radio. It was Nicole's voice: "Please do not hurt him, that's all I ask. He is a good boy," she pleaded, strangely in a Russian accent. "Natasha, you've finished your part. Enjoy your trip back to Moscow. If you interfere, your release will be rescinded and you'll be back here in the clubs for the rest of your life," the gruff Russian voice threatened. There was no response from Nicole. She'd given up on me. I dared not speak, as I knew I had to stay strong and not reveal any information about my government work. Eventually we reached what I assumed was our destination. I was dragged out of the vehicle and carried into a building. I was thrown onto a cold tiled floor, unchained and a hood was removed from my head. The lights were bright and made me squint. I looked at my surroundings and saw I was in what looked to be a combination between a prison cell and a hospital examination room. Cold white lights shown down on light tiled floor. There was a cot in one corner, a toilet/sink combination in the other. This must be a Russian black site on US soil, I realized. I'd heard they existed but assumed it was an urban legend. Apparently not. After several hours passed, I was brought to an interrogation room and sat at a large table, with my hands handcuffed to a ring in the middle of the table. A large man approached the table and sat down. "Michael Abernathy. CIA asset #27692. We know who you are. We know what you do. You have three options. Give us information on the documents you've been delivering, face execution, or become our asset." I didn't respond. Not only because that's what I'd been trained to do, but because I hadn't expected to be given any options. Not that any of these three were good options... "Your silence is expected although I assure you, it will not help your case. Hopefully you're prepared to die because we have no problem dispatching of you. Just be aware, Natasha, or as you know her, Nicole, is currently on a private jet back to Moscow. She believes she's served her time and is now free. Unfortunately for both of you, that's not the case just yet. If you assist us, the plane will land safely and she will move in with a new, comfortable life. If you refuse, she gets to spend the rest of her valuable years as a sex slave; doing whatever we damn well tell her to, and won't get a cent of it. Of course we'll kill you too, now that you've seen our faces," he assured me. It'd be easy to say that she meant nothing to me, especially now that I knew she'd sold me out. And yet, for the first time in my life I'd actually cared for a woman more than just another notch on my belt. Could I really allow her to be fucked, and probably beaten, daily, and die myself as well? There was one problem though. How could I even assist them? My voice cracked as I spoke, "Please, I would help you but I don't even know what was in the documents. I never opened them. I only delivered. That's all I am. A delivery boy." That answer did not seem to amuse the Russian. "You WILL give us the intelligence we're demanding unless you want to die today. Be assured we will just move on to the next target until we get what we need." "I swear! I'm not some spy or high level intelligence officer. All I do is deliver items when and where I'm told," I pleaded. I was terrified for the first time in as long as I could recall. "Then your fate is sealed. Take him to the chamber and get rid of the body" the Russian commanded to the two guards. They began moving in. "Wait!" I cried. "You mentioned another option. What would I need to do for you to spare our lives?" The Russian looked up at me with a stare that made me feel small and insignificant. "The other option involves you becoming our property. We will relocate you to Washington DC, with a new identity. You will lead a similarly dull and boring life mostly. But occasionally we will call on you to perform missions for us. You will be paid for these missions based on performance. And all ties to the US government will be cut off. They will assume you've vanished or been found and terminated. Think carefully, because if you disobey any commands or fight back against any of our requirements, the end result will be the same as if you refuse to comply today. Your immediate death." I could tell he was painfully serious. "You have an hour to think it through," he advised as he rose from the table and left the room. I spent the next hour sitting in my room, contemplating my options. One, I could be a good patriot and refuse him; die with honor. Two, I could save my own neck and become a turncoat. I didn't know what their missions would require, but at least I'd be alive. I had never fooled myself into thinking I was some brave hero. The truth is, I've always been somewhat selfish. To give my life for a government that I felt never treated me with respect, didn't seem fair. Also, leaving this shitty town and living in DC sounded... Exciting. Like the life of a real spy. I felt I didn't have any real options. The only option, to me, was survival. I could figure out how to escape their grasp eventually. I couldn't do that if I died today. When I gave the Russian my answer, he revealed a smirk that made me uneasy, but whatever, I thought. Screw him. Chapter 2: A new life I spent the next several months in the same building; in the same "cell". I'd grown to learn that I wasn't the only one housed in this facility. I could hear other activity, and other prisoners pleading, although rarely could make out what was being said. They also made sure we were able to witness the executions of prisoners (I'm guessing other spies) that refused to give up information or work with the Russians. The executions were almost always painful and drawn out. They were meant to intimidate the rest of us, and it seemed to be very effective. During these initial months, they were preparing my new identity. I didn't know who I'd be, but I'd hoped it would be some dashing financial broker, or someone wealthy. While waiting to find out, I was put on a strict diet and training regime. Tons of cardio, and a more or less vegetarian diet. My already unimpressive build grew moreso by the day. Muscles faded away and I shed at least 20lbs over those few months. I felt faint and fragile, although I was at least toned from the cardio. Maybe this was their way of ensuring I don't put up a fight, I thought. Soon to find out, there was more to it than that. Officially 4 months from my date of "inception" as their asset, I was brought to a briefing room. In the room was myself, what looked to be a couple doctors, the original "Russian" and armed guards. The Russian opened the diologue: "Your willingness to follow orders to this point has been noted, as has your excellent physical improvement. This will be taken into account as we continue this transition to your new identity." Come on, who am I going to be! I thought to myself. "Tomorrow we will begin the physical transition to your new identity. As you'd expect, we can't have the US government locating you via facial recognition or other means, so some minor adjustments will be made," I gulped. "Following a recovery period, we will reconvene in this room and discuss your identity, your cover story and begin the process of relocation," the Russian concluded. I wanted to ask how they were going to "adjust" my face, but I knew better than to ask questions. Please just don't make me ugly, I thought to myself. I still want to be able to pick up women! It was nearly impossible to sleep. They also didn't allow me to eat any food that night, which suggested I was going to be sedated for the procedure. I spent most of the night running through the various scenarios / possible faces they may outfit me with. Would they give me a big nose? Thicker eyebrows? What about my identifiable teeth (they'd been chipped in a few places from street hockey as a teen)? I finally went to sleep picturing myself as an attractive dark haired man, ready to take out a sexy redhead in his brand new Porsche. Two hours later, the guards were at my door. It was time. I was led to what seemed to be an operating room. There were a half dozen men in scrubs waiting. Seems like a lot of people for this, I thought. At least I wasn't shackled or restrained. I was laid on an operating bed and just as I finally worked up the nerve to ask what look they were going to give me, a cup was placed over my mouth and several seconds later, I faded off to sleep. I awoke nearly 12 hours later, feeling aches but not much pain. I could tell that my face was heavily bandaged, and my jaw was locked in place. I still wasn't restrained but as I went to feel my face, I felt a hand grab mine. "No, not yet," a voice instructed. "We must let it heal. You need to rest now. We will review the updates that have been made after the healing process is complete." I faded back to sleep as I was wheeled into a recovery room. For days, if not weeks, I was confined to the recovery bed as I was fed fluids through a tube, and slept 20 hours or so a day. The other few hours were spent daydreaming about my new identity. There were so many fun options to consider. A whole new life. It was an exciting thought, mostly because my previous one was so dull. Eventually the aches subsided. The jaw lock was removed and I was transitioned to soft food. I wasn't provided a mirror yet so the only change I was aware of so far was the fact they did indeed make some dental changes. I rolled my tongue over my teeth and felt perfection. No more chips. My front teeth felt slightly larger but that wasn't too unexpected since my original teeth were more or less chicklets. These were perfectly straight and felt healthy. They must be veneers, I thought. The face wraps were left on until the final review / reveal and identity briefing, so that I wouldn't touch and prevent any healing. About once a week they would be briefly removed for evaluation, and once to have a photo taken. Finally briefing day arrived. I'd be finding out my identity and seeing my face for the first time. Chapter 3: A New Me I was brought to what I can only describe as a small auditorium with a few dozen rows of seats, only about a dozen of which were occupied. I recognized all the doctors from the operating room, "the Russian", and some men who looked like civilians, who I would later find out were Russian agents who would be watching my every move once I was released to the "real world". There was also a kind looking woman; attractive, but in a matronly looking way. I was led to a table in front of the rows of chairs. My bandages were removed and the various doctors analyzed every inch of my face. I still couldn't see my face but I could tell they were pleased with their work. That's a good thing, I thought. I was told to open my mouth, to smile, to frown. No issues, and happily, no pain. Although I did notice my lips felt a bit puffy. Maybe they were still healing. The doctors returned to their seats, with the final doctor handing me what looked like an inhaler. "You'll need to use this daily for the next two weeks," he instructed. I nodded as he helped me inhale my first dose. There was a large screen pulled down in front, and once everyone was seated, the Russian proceeded with the identity reveal / presentation. "Michael here started with us months ago and his progress has been commendable. To proceed with his future missions, a new identity has been created. You see before you, that new person." There was tepid applause, and the Russian continued. He pressed a button and the next slide came up. Identity: "The person you see before you is no longer Michael. You are looking at the new Ms. Amber Sullivan." A pit formed in my stomach as I looked at the slide. A WASHINGTON DC driver's license was visible on the screen. Amber Sullivan. 5'6", 110 lbs, a date of birth I didn't recognize but would put her (me?) at just about 18 years old. And the image. The image was of a thin, attractive but not over the top, young woman. Surely.... No. There's no... There's no way. I started freaking out. "Ummm this isn't right..." I stopped with a gasp. My voice had increased in pitch. I knew now why the inhaler had made my throat feel weird. "Excuse me Amber," the Russian promptly replied, "but you must save your questions until the end. You will not like the punishment for interrupting this briefing." He called me Amber. This is really happening. I could tell I was sweating now but knew to shut my mouth. The rest of the briefing was a blur to me, as a million things raced through my mind; mainly how the hell I could escape. I remember slides being displayed on location, cover job, etc, but the details slipped past me. "Thank you all for attending, I believe Amber will be an excellent asset for our group" the Russian concluded and released everyone. I was led to a small office to meet with the woman that had been in attendance. "Hello Amber, I've been watching your progress with great interest. My name is... Well you can call me Ms. Mulligan. I'm here to help your transition to a young lady, as clearly you've never been one until this day." I don't know if it was the lack of any real food for weeks, but I broke down. I wasn't a girl. I was a guy. I could tell I still had my dick. What the hell is happening. I buried my head in my hands, feeling my face for the first time. I knew now that the face on the driver's license I'd just seen, was what my face now looked like. "I'm sorry hun, you must be curious what you look like now," she said. She went to her desk and grabbed a handheld mirror and brought it over. "Whenever you're ready". I would never be ready for this, but I had to know for certain. I slowly lifted the mirror and a shocked gasp left my lips as I saw a girl looking back at me. I felt every feature as I looked on. A slimmed feminine nose with an ever so slight upturn at the end, less pronounced brow line but with well-defined eyebrows, a refined/slimmed chin, pronounced cheekbones and ever slightly pouted lips. Of course, there was no makeup, so to me, it felt like I was looking at a "girl next door", albeit a very attractive one. I opened my mouth to examine my teeth and was shocked. Blindingly white, straight and perfect. The kind of teeth you'd see on a news reporter or miss USA. I quickly closed my mouth. I analyzed the rest of my body and was relieved to find I still had my body intact. I felt too skinny though. Ms Mulligan waited patiently as I explored. "Why?" I asked, still in the new high pitch. "That's not for me to say. Identities are selected by a committee based on demand and need. Also, sometimes as punishment. But I assure you, you're in a pretty good situation compared to most who go through this process..." She faded off, clearly bothered when thinking about some of the other cases. "Anyways, I'm here to help you get used to your new self. And to develop habits that will prevent you from blowing your cover," she assured me. And she did exactly that. Over the next several months, I spent nearly 8 hours a day with Ms Mulligan, learning proper female etiquette, mannerisms, walking, female interests, and even the ins and outs of menstruation. According to her, even though I still had my male parts, I must know about Menstruation so I can pretend I experience it when having discussions with other women. There were many sessions on female attire, makeup, shoes, accessories, etc. I learned how to walk in heels, how to carry a purse or clutch, how to match jewelry/outfits, etc. I also learned what I'd missed during the briefing, my cover job. A lame ass job as a server at a high-end steak house. Apparently in Washington, you run the chance of overhearing/seeing information at such establishments. So I was also given several weeks training on taking orders, carrying food (especially while wearing tall pumps/heels), and being flirty/friendly with customers. The daily inhaler sessions were no longer required; apparently my voice would stay in its new high pitch permanently, unless they decided to reverse the process. This was a shitty situation, that could have been worse I supposed. At least they didn't take my cock and balls. I actually found myself masturbating to... Well... Myself. My new face was very attractive, especially after a makeup training session with Ms. Mulligan. One day while masturbating, I'd decided to lay on my stomach to do so; pretending I was fucking a girl underneath me. As I was moving back and forth, I felt my nipples grow sensitive as they brushed the sheet. Within seconds, they grew erect and hard as a rock. A sensation I'd never experienced. I stopped suddenly, freaked out. I rolled over and lay still and after a few minutes the erection subsided. "Phew" I thought. Out of curiosity though, I started massaging them. And again, they grew hard as a rock and I felt a rush of ecstasy course through my entire body. What the fuck. I stopped again. Waited several minutes, and felt around the nipple this time, making sure to avoid the nipple itself. I almost shrieked when I felt a small lump, roughly the size of a half dollar; one under each nipple. I knew for certain I'd never had a lump in my chest; under both nipples no less. Was it cancer? Was it something else? Panicked, I ran to Ms Mulligan's office. "Ms Mulligan there's something wrong. There's something in my chest. It's not supposed to be there. What do I do?" I yelled. "Hmm? Oh let me take a look." She pulled down my sleep gown and massaged around my nipple where I pointed. "Oh this? Did they really not explain this part of the procedure to you?" She let out a sigh, as if she was used to having to be the one to explain this, even though it wasn't her job. "This is supposed to be covered in the post-surgery review but sometimes the doctors avoid it because it causes a commotion," she continued. "What you're feeling is what we here refer to as expanders. I may as well tell you now; you also have one in each butt cheek." I felt the blood drain from my face. "What. The. Fuck. Is an expander?" I inquired, terrified to hear what I knew she was about to say. "It's what it sounds like, unfortunately. I'm quite opposed to them but men are men and I don't get much say around here. How it works is there is a small 'port' if you will, in each of your armpits. Which is where they made the incision to insert the expander. You probably didn't even notice it since the incision was small and likely made in one of your armpit creases. Anyways, the port is usually disguised as a mole; no one call tell its anything other than that; except you, now that you know of its existence of course." "Basically, it allows the asset to be 'customized' if you will, for each individual mission. Right now, you're unfilled. As you will be normally for your day to day; unless you request otherwise of course. But most of our male to female assets like to stay unfilled," she continued. "Anyways, that port in your armpit is connected to a small thin tube inside your chest, which is then connected to a very small, as you discovered, 'pouch' in your chest under your nipple. That pouch is very flexible and can be expanded, well, as large as desired. Don't worry it will never pop. And they usually start small so as not to stretch the skin too much at first. The reason your nipples are so sensitive is the pouch is directly below your nipple nerve endings. It's just one of the side effects to having the pouches. Although from what I hear, it's a welcome side effect. Anyways, your skin will get used to the expanding and contracting; in fact..." She looked at her datebook. "Well that's convenient, your expander training sessions start next week. It's good we discussed it before you were in for a surprise!" I nearly fainted. So much for keeping my male body. They wanted to turn me into a big titted chick. As I could barely stand, Ms. Mulligan helped me back to my room and I cried myself to sleep, after first exploring and confirming I did in fact have small pen-tip size ports in both armpits, and one under each buttocks, in the crease where the butt cheek meets the leg. As she said, to the naked eye, they looked like nothing else but moles. But I knew their secret. And I was terrified. Chapter 4: A New Me Enhanced It was challenging to focus on my training for the rest of the week. I was supposed to be learning cooking skills. But all I could think of was what they'd buried deep inside my body. I thought the facial surgeries were bad enough. But they had implanted pouches inside of me, one in each "breast" and one in each ass cheek. Ones that they could fill as much as they wanted. The thought of having big tits terrified me. I'd always hoped I could pass as being a guy, especially since I was still attracted to girls, and wanted them to be attracted to me in return. But how would that be possible if they made me look entirely like a woman? Finally, the dreadful day arrived. I was taken to what seemed like a day spa. A relaxing setting. But I was anything but relaxed. I felt like I was in a trance as the doctor sat before me explaining what would happen. "Ms Mulligan advised that she did have a short chat with you about the expanders. I will first explain in more detail what you should expect and hopefully put your mind at ease. There may be some slight discomfort at first due to the stretching of your skin, but be assured it is a mostly pain free process. Especially once we perform several cycles of this process," he advised. Ugh, several cycles. I wanted to cry but I didn't want to appear any more feminine than I had to. "So how it works, is we take this needle and insert it into your injection port. As the needle goes into the port directly, you will not feel any pain. It won't go into your tissue or anything," he showed me the needle he was referring to, and the tube it was connected to. "Then once inserted, we turn on the pump machine here." He motioned to the device connected to the needle and tube. It looked like a small water pump, but had a large clear cylinder affixed to it. Inside the cylinder was a somewhat clear, somewhat murky substance that looked like petroleum jelly. "The pump will be set to a pre-set value as determined by your mission leader. For training purposes we start small and work our way up." He rotated the dial to two. I saw that the dial maxed out around 30. "Since you're new to this, we don't want to tax your body too much, so we'll do one area first, and then once that tissue is responding as needed, we'll switch over to the other set." I could tell he was referring to breasts and ass being two different sets. "We shall begin. You will contain the initial expansion for 24 hours, at which point, we will remove the expansion fluid for 24 hours. Then repeat, back and forth, until we reach the necessary goal." He rubbed a cream over the full area of both of my flat "breasts", which had a cooling sensation. He advised this allowed the skin to be more elastic and be able to return to its original form once the expansion fluid was removed. I was instructed to lay down on the comfortable day spa bed and lay my arms out to each side. I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Seconds later, I felt him steady my left arm, and felt a cool metal rod enter my armpit. I knew the needle was in. My heart was racing. Moments later I heard a soft pumping sound and almost immediately, a warm sensation entered my body, starting at my armpit and slowly working its way down my chest toward my nipple. While that pump was working, he repeated the process on my other armpit. The warm fluid coursed through my chest and I could feel it pooling under my nipple. I was terrified, picturing what I knew was happening. I didn't want to look. But after a few seconds, my curiosity got the best of me and I peeked down. My previously flat chest was starting to bud up, like a pair of mosquito bites. It freaked me out and I immediately shut my eyes again. The pumps continued. I could feel my skin tightening. It was growing uncomfortable. Like something was pushing its way out of my body. Like an alien. Just as I felt they might tear open, the pumps stopped. "Ah ha there we go. Like I said, it stops when it reaches its predefined level. Perfect first session. Again, like I said, you will have this expansion for 24 hours so get used to it. Tomorrow we will remove the expansion, and your skin will return to form. This initial set it small enough that you shouldn't need any special support. Just dress and continue your daily routines as usual. We'll see you tomorrow." The Doctor rubbed some more of the cooling cream over the round mounds on my chest and set me on my way. The medical gown I was wearing ever so slightly protruded in the chest region. I felt sick to my stomach. Back in my room, I finally worked up the nerve to examine my body. I had what looked like a small pair of somewhere between A and B cup breasts. Like a teenage girl who'd just started going through puberty. I had to say, they would have turned me on if they were on anyone else. But this was me. A guy. This wasn't normal. It wasn't right. But I knew I had no recourse. This existence surely was better than a long painful death. I just had to survive long enough to eventually escape and have these devices torn out of me. Eventually I had to ask for new clothing. My loose shirts were causing me fits, constantly rubbing against my nipple nearly causing me to orgasm constantly. Ms Mulligan agreed and had some Camisoles with padded cups delivered. Due to the tight-fitting nature, and the padding, there was no longer any inadvertent rubbing against my overly sensitive nipples. Only if I intentionally wanted to (which, to be honest, I occasionally did; it was hard not to masturbate while looking in the mirror at such a banging body). My loose pants were replaced with tight fitting yoga pants, which I admit, were quite comfortable. The expander training continued. After 24 hours, the doctor hooked up the pump on reverse, into a disposal tank, and drained all the expansion fluid. He was right, the cream allowed my breasts to be so elastic that they returned fully to their previously flat condition. A relief to be sure. Too bad 24 hours later, it was back to the day spa, back to have needles in each armpit, and back to being pumped full of warm squishy fluid. Each session added slightly more. The end of week 2 of expander training was a turning point. Id grown tired of trying to avoid the inevitable by keeping my eyes closed. I watched as the doctor turned the dial to 10/30 and began the pumps. The surge was more intense than I'd grown used to. My breasts quickly reached the "bud" stage and beyond. The skin was again being pushed past a point that it'd grown accustomed to stretching. Before long I had two large mounds on my chest. They seemed to be the shape of softballs cut in half. Again, just as I felt I was being stretched to my limit, the pump stopped and the doctor withdrew the needles. I had two full breasts. There was no confusing me with a guy now. I sat up and felt a great weight pulling me forward. This was by far the largest they'd been, and I was not used to it. "We've reached a point where you're going to start needing support, both to help your back and posture, and to keep downward stretching from occurring. The cream helps with that but we don't like to take chances," he advised as he handed me a medical style bra. "Don't worry, we have more attractive options waiting for you in your room." He seemed to sneer. Creep. It was strange walking back to my room with these... Appendages sticking out in front of me. The bra helped a bit, but they still bounced slightly as I walked. How would I ever get used to this, I thought. Hopefully I wouldn't. My back was already tired by the time I got back to my room. The medical bra felt two sizes too small, as it was cutting into my skin. I quickly removed it and the two large melons fell out. I felt like they were going to pull me down. I got my balance and walked over to the mirror, feeling them bounce with every step. Holy shit, I thought, as I viewed them straight on for the first time. My guess was they were about a C cup. I explored them further. They were surprisingly soft and squishy for not being natural. I'd been with girls with implants, as well as natural breasts, and while they didn't feel like some of the hard silicone implants I'd fondled, I could also tell ever so slightly that they weren't natural. But still, they were warm, pliable, and had an amazing bounce to them. They were also extremely perky (I'd always hated saggy breasts; these stood at attention, which looked amazing). I fell asleep after fondling them while jacking off. I woke up the next morning with cum in my underwear and a sore back. I'd apparently slept on my side and the weight of the breasts had thrown off my balance. Ugh these suck. I can't wait to get drained later, I thought. And drained I was. Back to being flat. It was a weight off my chest; literally. Unfortunately, the sessions continued. I was told they would continue until I reached my specified max capacity. I was told each asset had a different capacity based on their anticipated missions as well as performance / obedience to that point. But still, they didn't want to leave much to chance down the road, so the expansions continued. Much further. Nearly every day my back was sore, as the expansions grew larger and larger. Finally, I was told, this was it. My last day of breast expansion training. I couldn't wait for it to be over so I quickly laid down to get it over with. Needles in, dials turned, pumps on. My skin was so used to the stretching at this point I didn't really feel much for the first few minutes, aside from the warm fluid flowing through my chest. The warm fluid was so relaxing that I almost dozed off but the stretching sensation returned, as expected, and stirred me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes and jumped. It felt like I was looking down at two large water balloons being filled by a hose. I could start to see some of my veins as the skin was straining to contain the ever-expanding pouches. I felt a huge weight on my chest as if someone was pushing down on my ribs. My nipples were also on fire with excitement as the expanders pressed hard on my nipples nerve endings from the inside. I grabbed onto the side of the table but it wasn't enough. I couldn't stop it. The sensations in my nipples were too intense and a wave of euphoria washed over me and I began cuming. Hard. I could feel the throbbing in my tight yoga pants and came over and over. Finally, the pumps stopped and the needles were removed. "Feel free to take a few moments to collect yourself," the doctor advised, obviously seeing the cum soaking through the crotch of my pants. I wanted to give a snarky reply, but he was right. I needed a minute. I took deep breaths, which was challenging due to these massive weights pushing down on my ribs / lungs. When I felt ready, I nodded. He helped me sit up, which was again, a challenge due to my weak abs and these huge jugs. He helped affix a sturdy bra to hold the expanded breasts in place, and I was wheeled in a wheelchair back to my room. I briefly tried to stand up back in my room but nearly toppled forward. I laid in bed the rest of the day, sometimes staring at these huge balloons affixed to my chest, and sometimes wondering if just being alive was worth THIS existence. The ass expanders worked in practically the same manner. Luckily my breasts were drained, so I was back to my flat self. I was laid on my stomach with my ass sticking up. Same as before, cold metal needles were inserted into the ports below my ass, and the pumps were turned on. Started small, and each cycle, grew larger. By the midpoint, I knew I looked ridiculous, a skinny flat chick with large round ass. And it was weird to sit. It felt like I was sitting on a pillow. But I wasn't; it was now my ass. In the mirror, it was actually quite impressive. My ass looked like a girl that worked out her glutes obsessively. Firm, perky, and round. I knew if I'd come across a girl like that in the real world, I would've tried to get into her pants. Unfortunately, now I was literally in her pants. We completed the full cycle (luckily my ass wasn't expanded to quite as obscene a level as my breasts had been), but unfortunately, unlike the breasts, they decided they didn't want a full drain for my ass. After all, I did have a boyish butt naturally. So, they drained it down to a 5/30. I now had a small supple ass that surely looked squeezable to any passing man. It looked perky and lifted. It didn't help that they hadn't provided me with much of a wardrobe aside from camis and yoga pants, of which left nothing to the imagination. Chapter 5: The Time Has Come I'd lost track of how long it'd been since I'd signed my life over to these foreign agents; they'd not allowed use of a calendar, and I'd been too busy to try to track days myself. But finally the training was complete, at least for now. I'd learned more in the last however many months than I felt I'd learned in my entire life. This included: cooking skills, modern female fashion, makeup skills, how to accessorize (they'd pierced my ears, much to my protests), hairstyling, dancing, speaking, modern female interests (music, movies, etc), extensive training for walking in heels (pumps, wedges, platforms, etc; humiliating I know), how to flirt with men to achieve a goal, and many more topics. I was instructed my diet was to remain fixed. No more unhealthy food. I was to be vegetarian and to limit carbs. Alcohol was to be limited to liquor and mixed drinks; no beer. Refusal to follow the guidance would prompt severe consequences up to and including extermination. I'd also heard rumors they would chop off your manhood if you don't follow the guidelines. Seeing as my end goal was to escape and return to life as a man, I was intent on making sure that wouldn't happen. The one thing they'd never messed with much was hair. They'd allowed it to stay short, although did insist that I maintain / condition it well. They'd apparently just photo edited my picture to include longer hair for my license image. But as I was about to be reintroduced to the real world, wigs and short hair were no longer an option. As they were preparing my final travel arrangements and living situation, I was put on a strict hair regime. I was to shower twice a day; use a specific body wash everywhere but my eyes/eyebrows, crotch, and hair; and to use a specific shampoo / conditioner for my hair. Both the body wash and shampoo left tingling sensations on contact, but I'd soon find out, for very different reasons. Within days, my body / skin was smooth as silk. No hair, no stubble. With the exception of my privates. I was told that I would need to learn to maintain that as to ensure I have to deal with SOME of what women deal with. They recommended waxing, which I rolled my eyes to. While the body hair had fallen away, the opposite had happened to my head. My previously boring straight short hair had given way to long locks with loose waves/curls at the end. The kinds of waves/loose curls that most girls spent hours trying to achieve with rollers and curlers, would be mine, naturally. I could style it differently if needed of course, including straightening, but any time I'd shower, it would return to this style. I had to admit, it was attractive. I actually enjoying feeling the loose curls dance along the small of my back. For a brief moment, I considered that maybe this wasn't so bad. But I snapped myself back to reality. I was a guy. Not a pansy / sissy. The thought of other guys checking ME out, as I knew I would've if I were in their place, was nauseating. A few final touches were added, like a cream that was rubbed across my lash line, nightly, leading to permanently long, luscious eyelashes (it looked like I was wearing mascara or false lashes at all times), and nail bed injections that ensured my nails would grow long and strong. And long they grew. Ugh. Each procedure caused me additional concern that returning to life as a guy would be more and more challenging. But I hadn't given up hope. It was time. I was given two large pink suitcases filled with my first month's wardrobe and accessories, and flown via private jet to Washington DC. I received my final briefing at an undisclosed office in the back of a strip mall, where I was given the location of my new apartment, and the restaurant where I'd be working. I was also given a cell phone that I would be contacted on for special missions. I was dropped off at my apartment, and was not impressed. The area seemed... Okay. But not as glamorous as I'd hoped. It was also not within walking distance of the restaurant so I would be relegated to using the subway. I'd been advised the only money I'd receive was from whatever money I made at the restaurant and the occasional stipend from side missions, depending on performance. If I wanted to improve my situation financially, I'd have to impress in one way or another. I lugged my suitcases up to my second story apartment (which was a challenge due to my new feminine physique; the vegetarian diet had demolished my muscles). I began unpacking. I'd been given casual lounge clothing (yoga pants, camis, off shoulder loose t-shirts), work clothing (pencil skirts, fitted black blouses, and tall black pumps), and numerous outfits for going "out on the town", which included some miniskirts, crop tops, sundresses, some tight low rise jeans, some high waist jeans, capris, etc. Seemingly something for every occasion. And of course, a couple evening gowns and cocktail dresses. It was Washington DC after all. I rolled my eyes when I got to the underwear. I didn't need bras in my current flat state, but they made sure to pack some of various sizes. Thinking of needing them made me cringe. There were panties, thongs (which I had learned were important for hiding underwear lines in tight fitting clothing), and stockings of various colors. Shoes included high heel pumps, tall wedge sandles, platform heels, and I was disappointed to see just a single pair of (pink, ugh) sneakers. I knew, based on my briefing, that my apartment was bugged for both video and sound, but had no luck finding any of the devices. After a long day of travel, I didn't have the energy to search much anyways. I passed out on the lumpy couch. I was instructed to start my new job the following day, so that's what I did. Being a high scale restaurant, it didn't open until dinner time, so I had plenty of time to get ready. I read my work instructions and followed as required. Women servers must wear black skirt with blouse or dress, black hosiery, black shoes, and hair must be put up. I slipped on one of the black thongs, tucking my package down and out of the way as I'd been trained to do. I pulled up the black stockings that had been provided and attached them to the accompanying garter belt. Next was the black skirt which I slipped up past my rounded ass cheeks. When I zipped it up the back it clung to the curves for dear life. Sigh. I realized my flat chest would look weird considering my rounded ass; I looked off balance. Boyish up top, and feminine down low. I searched through the bags once more and found a significantly padded bra seemingly designed just for this situation. They really did anticipate everything, I thought. I slipped it on and clipped it together in the back. I pulled the black blouse on, which fit just right around the small mounds of the padded bra. I didn't want to admit it to myself but I felt incredibly feminine. I checked the time and saw that I should probably leave especially since I was new to subway riding. I put some finishing touches on my makeup, slipped on my black pumps, grabbed my purse and strolled out the door. I hurried across the street to the subway station, and as I reached it, it hit me. I was in public, as a woman, for the first time ever. That fact stayed with me as I made my way underground and realized how much more "noticed" I was compared to when I was a guy. Sometimes it was a casual smile, sometimes a quick glance then look away; there were even some uncomfortable stares. It was made worse by the fact that I no longer felt I could stick up for myself if worst came to worst. I used to feel I could take anyone on. I had never been "buff" but I'd been able to hold my own. But now, my arms were weak, my legs were weak and I just generally felt fragile. I quickened my pace, paid my fare, and got on the subway car headed to the restaurant district. I kept my head down, and clutched my purse tight, with my legs crossed. I could feel eyes all over me. It was a weird and unfamiliar sensation. It didn't help that my shapely legs were so prominently displayed by these tall 4-inch heels. I felt nauseous, and my stop came just in time. I rushed off the train, quickly exited the station and nearly ran to the restaurant one block over. I entered the employee entrance in the back and as soon as I saw some of the other girls, I panicked. I'd forgotten to put my hair up. One of the girls, a sweet looking brunette, must have recognized I was the new girl, and rushed over. "Don't worry, it happens to all of us from time to time. Here come with me, I have some clips we can use," She escorted me to the employee lounge, and sat me down in a comfortable chair. "My name is Sophie by the way, it's nice to meet you," she said kindly. "Amber," I responded, and shook her hand with a smile. "Wow you have a beautiful smile," she said staring at my mouth. I could feel myself blushing. No one had ever complimented my teeth or smile. "Thanks," I said sheepishly. She helped get my hair into a stylish updo and introduced me to the staff. They were all quite kind and helpful. For the first few days I just shadowed and learned the procedures and layout of the restaurant. I did occasionally recognize a congressman from time to time; ones I'd seen on TV before. But I had to build my cover before I was going to risk being caught snooping around for info. My "look" for work also required some dark rimmed glasses. I actually had perfect vision, but these prescription-free glasses would help keep my restaurant personna separate from that of any missions I would eventually go on. The pay at the restaurant was good, but I soon learned that Washington was expensive as shit. I barely had enough money to pay my rent and have money left over. Luckily my clothing was fully supplied by the Russian group, but beyond that, I was struggling. They must have sensed that fact because finally on Friday, one of my days off, the mission phone rang. "You have an envelope under your door. You are to immediately report to the address contained within, for mission briefing and preparation." The caller hung up. Sure enough, a yellow envelope had been slipped under the door. I opened it and it contained only an address; no other information. I knew I needed to follow orders for now, so I grabbed a clutch and headed out the door. I didn't have time to check subway routes so I hailed a cab and provided the address. 25 minutes later I arrived. It looked like a business complex. I walked in the door and was immediately greeted by a security guard. "Amber Sullivan, right this way," he instructed. It was still weird being called a different name. I was led to a back office and instructed to wait for further orders. I sat there for 10 minutes until finally the door opened. "Good afternoon Amber, my name is Vlad Yusson. I will be briefing you on your mission and likely be your contact for future missions as well. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the ramifications if you fail to fully follow mission guidance?" he inquired. I gulped. This couldn't be good, for him to lead with that... But I nodded. I knew what was at stake. "Good. Now, most of your missions will consist of escorting high-level politicians or diplomats. Getting close to them. Learning information, or perhaps just being there to further a blackmail situation. You'll understand more, as we go." "Escort? As in..." I tepidly inquired. "As in accompany these individuals and do whatever is required, based on mission guidance. It may require intimacy; it may just be going out to dinner. Each mission will be a different situation. Don't worry, missions take a lot of planning and preparation, so these will not occur often," he assured. "This first mission is on the blackmail side of things. You will leverage your acting skills, as you were trained prior to coming to town. Your role will be that of a high school girl, on the... Erm.. Younger side. There is a diplomat here who has a taste for such delicacies. We can use that to our advantage." He slipped me a packet of information; my cover character for the weekend. My name would be Bella, and I was running away from home. I would just happen upon this diplomats door and ask for help. So on and so on. There was a note that the mission could include intimacy. This gave me pause and I inquired what that meant? I did have a dick after all, wouldn't that spoil things? "Don't worry, if you tell him you're on your period he will avoid that area. He's known to try to pretend his acquaintances have not reached the age of getting periods yet." Disgusting, I thought to myself. I wanted to take this guy down already. "Okay, tomorrow is mission-go, so you will start preparation here and stay the night. And we'll get underway in the morning." I nodded and was led down the hall to a door labeled "Mission Prep." Inside the room were numerous walk-in closets with all types of apparel. There was also a spa bed in the room, similar to the one in the training center. Oh no, I thought. A doctor entered the room and saw me staring at the bed and pump machines. "Oh don't worry, this mission is actually pretty tame. You don't need much work. But even still, go ahead and lay down." I sighed, but followed his instruction. That familiar feeling returned. Cold metal needles entered my armpits, and the pumps were turned on. Luckily they shut off just a short time later. I looked down and noticed my breasts had expanded slightly. They looked like small round mounds. Back to a young girl just starting to undergo puberty. They were still just large enough to justify a bra, unfortunately. I was given a sleep nighty and instructed to practice my younger "age". I was given a manual to read about how to act the age of my character (15) and fell asleep reading it. I woke up to a knock at the door. Final mission prep was underway. I was given a training bra to contain my small breasts, and outfitted with a common local private school girl outfit. Knee high socks, a plaid skirt (cut ever so slightly higher above the knee than usual) and a cute white blouse underneath a Grey sweater. My small mounds were evident. The sweater and blouse were just a touch too short, so a sliver of my midriff was showing. I was given a pair of Mary Jane shoes and my hair was put into distinct pigtails. My natural loose curls really sealed the ensemble. I was outfitted with a pair of large white pearl earrings, and a charm bracelet. Looking in the mirror, I was shocked. Between the thin build, budding breasts, cute pigtails and outfit, I really did look like a 15-year-old girl, if not younger. It felt... Weird, and a bit disturbing. I was given a small pink backpack, with various food and other items (apparently items a runaway girl would bring), and sent on my way. To make it seem more realistic I was forced to walk 10 miles to the diplomats house. It worked. I was exhausted and ready to collapse by the time I got there. I quickly approached the door and knocked, more feebly than I'd hoped. It was enough. A short time later, an older gentleman opened the door. His eyes quickly danced and grew bright. "Well hello little one, how may I help you?" he asked with a smile. He was probably in his mid-60s. Perhaps once attractive, time had definitely caught up to him. He had a bit of a belly, and was balding in the back. Not someone I really wanted to spend much time with. But alas. "Yes sir, hi, ummm (I'd learned to say 'um' and 'like' a lot), I can't go back home. My mom and dad abuse me and I need to get away. I'm really tired, do you, umm, have any water I can have?" I asked, not even needing to fake my exhaustion. "Well of course sweetie! Come on in." He invited me in and guided me to a seat on a nice leather sofa. He left the room and brought me back a glass of water. I quickly guzzled it down. We spent the next hour or so chatting about my fake life, and his real one. His wife had divorced him awhile back (surprise surprise) so he was a bit lonely now. But he was "happy to have some company". He invited me to stay with him for the night. I knew based on my briefing I was to accept. I would need to spend one night here, and then tomorrow the mission would be complete. One night, how bad can it be...? He let me watch TV for awhile. I watched shows I assumed young girls watched these days. He seemed to enjoy even watching me do that. He made us dinner and offered, if not insisted, on sharing some wine with me. "just a little though" since I was so young (to him, a little was two glasses apparently). I didn't complain, it felt good to loosen up a bit. Although at my new lower weight, two glasses of wine hit pretty hard. After dinner he said I could borrow one of his ex wife's old nightgowns; she had been a short/petite lady so it might fit. He brought it to the guest bedroom where I waited while sitting on the bed. However, instead of handing it to me and leaving, he set it over on the dresser and came over to sit down on the bed next to me. He began explaining how nice it was to be able to help someone in need. And that maybe he could pay back the favor. He placed his hand on my knee right where the knee high stocking ended, and slowly crept it up towards the bottom of my skirt. I quickly closed my thighs together. "I'm sorry, I have my period," I knew to say. "Oh... That's too bad." I could sense his true disappointment. "Hmm well maybe you could do a favor for me since I did one for you by feeding you and letting you stay the night." This was getting increasingly uncomfortable. But I knew I also had a mission, and one that would likely screw over this asshole. Little did he know that I'd opened the bedroom curtain ever so slightly, so that there was a clear view from outside. I continued to play the part. "I don't know, you're nice and all, but maybe I should just go to sleep," I feigned innocence. "Nonsense, just a little longer, let's enjoy each other's company." This time he moved his hand off my knee and brought it to me face. He cradled my chin and jaw with his old hand, stared into my eyes, and then went in. It took everything in my willpower to not gag as his lips touched mine. The idea of kissing a man was disgusting. Much less this man. But I continued to play along as his other hand made its way to my breast. He rubbed it, sending shivers down my spine. They were still sensitive from the implant pushing against the nipples. I continued to act like I didn't know what to do, and he seemed to like that. Keeping me distracted with kisses, he began removing my sweater. Then my blouse. Soon I was left wearing my skirt, stockings, and the training bra. Soon the bra was off too, and my small mounds dropped out. He relocated his kisses from my mouth, to my neck, to my breast. He stuck an entire breast into his mouth and sucked on it hard and deep. They were small enough to do that after all. I couldn't help but moan. My nipples were incredibly sensitive and I'd never felt someone suck on them before. He must have taken that has a hint that I was enjoying it, because he guided my hands to his crotch "hint hint". The thought made me sick, but I knew the Russians were getting photos and video from outside. This, molesting a teenager, would ruin him. Which I was fine with. So, I played along. I unzipped his jeans and out flung an old wrinkly penis. Ugh. This can't be worth it. But I was already all in. No going back. I tried to lean him back on the bed so as to get a good view for the Russians outside, but he had other plans. Instead, he pushed me to the floor, kneeling me in front of him. Both his body and the bed were now blocking the view from the window! No! If I'm doing this, it's for a purpose, I thought. I tried to get up but to no avail. He pushed me back down and grasped my pigtails tight. "You're not going to just be a tease are you? After I let you into my home?" He was clearly getting agitated. "No but please it's more comfortable on the bed," I pleaded, feeling as if I was going to legitimately cry. "Too bad. You're staying right there." His demeanor had changed from kind to sexually frustrated. He pulled my pigtails until my face was inches from his hard cock. I couldn't do it. Not if it wasn't even going to be on film. I closed my mouth and eyes. What happened next shocked me. SMACK. A hard object hit me in the cheek so hard it stung. My eyes flew open, what the fuck! I looked and saw him holding his cock in one hand while grasping both my pigtails with the other. "Are you going to open?" he yelled. "Mm mmm." I shook my head, keeping my jaw clenched shut. This time I saw it coming. He smacked me hard in the cheek with his cock. It felt like being beaten in the face by a rod. I began to tear up. But he didn't stop. Another smack. And another. Until I couldn't hold it in anymore and I let out a wail. That's all he needed. As soon as I opened my mouth, he shoved his cock inside. I tried to pull back but he grasped both pigtails tight at the base and used them to guide my face back and forth with his cock buried deep inside my mouth. I tried as hard as I could to wiggle free but my new body was so weak that I was stuck. I began to gag but that didn't stop him. Harder and harder he fucked my throat until I felt I couldn't breath, then he finally pulled out. "Are you going to be a good girl or do you need to be punished some more?" he asked. I shook my head, implying I would be good. He nodded and let me suck him off without as much force. I could feel it building up until finally he pulled his cock out and held my face under it. I felt the wet sticky warm substance that I was all too familiar with, hit my face. My eyes, my nose, my lips, even my hair, were covered in his semen. I couldn't help but sob. I was humiliated. This disgusting pervert had just sprayed cum on me and I couldn't do anything about it. It stung my eyes, and the smell made me gag. He threw my sweater to me and instructed me to wipe off. I gladly did so. He had me put on the satin nightgown and crawl into bed. I cried myself to sleep. I woke up the next morning terrified, but his kind personna had returned. He made me breakfast and offered to let me stay a few more days. Fuck that. My job was done. As soon as I had a chance, I slipped out and ran the 10 miles back to the drop location as fast as I possibly could. All I could hope for was that they got enough images to screw him for life. I was returned to the briefing building / room for a debriefing. I was right. They had all the photos they needed of him kissing me and fondling my breasts. The photos clearly showed an older man molesting what appeared to be a very young school girl with pigtails (even though I was technically 18 years old, and thus, legal, he wouldn't see it that way). And, of course everything that happened below the waist was not seen or captured. They didn't ask, and I didn't tell. I was still humiliated. My breast expanders were deflated back to flat, I was given a change of clothes, and returned to my apartment. I was allowed to keep the jewelry. Yay.... Apparently, after a mission, I was allowed two full days off from work to recover. And I needed it. I must have showered 4 times a day, trying to get rid of the smell of cum from my nostrils. I'm sure it was gone, but it seemed to linger. I couldn't rid myself of the memory. Finally, by my second day off, I recognized there was no use dwelling on what had happened. I needed to focus on the future. So that's what I did. It helped I'd received an envelope with a couple hundred dollars cash under the door, as payment for a successful mission. It felt like dirty money, but I knew it'd help with the rent so I took it without a second thought. I spent the next couple months mastering my server job. I'd begun to learn the names of several big wig politicians and slowly eased my way into their comfort zone. With every meal, they slowly revealed more and more about their families, their job, etc. I also noticed that many of them were pigs; their tipping habits seemed to directly coincide with the size of the rack of their server. I could tell they liked me and my friendly / flirty personality, but I still never got the big tips that the busty girls got. It was frustrating, and I, for a brief second, wondered if I should request my expanders be filled long term. Oh, hell no, I quickly concluded. 2 months after my first mission, a new envelope arrived under my door. The same address as last time. To arrive this afternoon. I grabbed a quick bite, gathered my things, and went out the door. I knew this meant more money, and this time I'd be prepared to defend myself from unwelcome advances. As before, I was taken to the briefing room and given the details of the mission. I was to accompany a lobbyist for a pharmaceutical company to a banquet dinner and gathering. There was no mention of intimacy this time. I breathed a sigh of relief. My role would be purely information gathering. I would more or less be arm candy for this lobbyist, and learn the names and responsibilities of some of the big-name players in the pharmaceutical world. I could manage this. I was also told that because my last mission was such a success, I would receive a bonus payment if this one went according to plan. I was led to the mission prep room again. The banquet would be tomorrow, but like last time, they wanted me to have a night to get used to my new body. I was laid on the bed, arms out, as I'd grown accustomed to. Metal needles inserted and pumps turned on. I don't know why I'd assumed I'd be getting the small mounds again, but I was wrong. I expected the pumps to stop at that point, but they didn't. They continued. I closed my eyes as the warm fluid pushed into my chest and expanded me. I could feel the skin stretching; not painful, just... Tight. Finally, as my chest began to feel heavy, the pumps stopped and the metal needles were removed. I looked down and saw two grapefruit sized breasts looking back at me. Not the largest I'd endured during my training, but they were definitely... Impressive. I groaned and began to stand up to leave but the doctor wagged his finger. "Not done quite yet" he advised. I was motioned back to the table but told to lay on my stomach. I whimpered, as I knew what this meant. I laid flat on the bed, with my new large breasts squished down underneath me. It wasn't exactly comfortable. It felt like I was laying on top of two large gym balls. I felt the metal needles enter below my ass cheeks and the pumps were turned on. Luckily, they turned off only moments later. I peeked back and saw they had only been inflated a bit. Nothing outrageous. My ass cheeks actually looked great; the kind I used to love fucking. I spent the rest of the evening in a private room, trying to get used to the weight of my chest, which I estimated to be a full D size. My ass cheeks were also full and it was a strange sensation any time I sat down. But I was getting used to it. Slowly. The next morning I was to workout for two hours to make sure I was nice and toned for the mission. Even with a tight sports bra, it was difficult to keep my breasts from bouncing up and down while I jogged on the treadmill. Sigh. The rest of the day would be spent in mission prep; dress/makeup/hair/etc. This would be a formal banquet event, so I had to look the part. First was the nails. I'd been instructed to keep my nails long for work, so I had. This time they neatly trimmed and shaped the nails to have more of a square end, and painted a soft lavender color. My hands immediately looked five times as feminine. Next was makeup. My lips were slightly pumped with fillers that I was told would only last a couple days. My face was, well it felt like it was being painted. They even used an airbrush. Foundation, blush, heavy but respectable eye shadow, and dark mascara applied to my already long lashes. I felt like I was wearing a mask. Next was hair. It was parted and pulled over to the side like I'd seen many young wealthy women wear before. I felt like I was in someone else's body, but this was me. Next it was time to get dressed. Several assistants helped pull a dress up from the floor, up over my rounded ass and large breasts. It was an off- shoulder dress, so I slipped my arms through and the fabric rested just at the upper part of my arms. One assistant pulled it tight around my body while the other zipped it up snug in the back. I felt like a sausage stuffed into a casing. The deep lavender colored dress hugged every part of my body, except where it began flaring out just above the knees,until it reached the ground. My deep cleavage was prominently displayed, but tastefully, thank God. I was outfitted with a pair of dangly diamond earrings and a gorgeous diamond necklace. I swear the entire outfit must have cost thousands. It was time for mission-go. I was given a pair of extremely tall stiletto heels and ushered into a long black limousine. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection on the car window. What I saw was a beautiful woman. A pure 10/10. An absolute change from the 15-year- old I'd looked like months ago. I looked maybe 22, 23 years old and a knockout. The kind of woman every man wants to be with, and every woman wants to be. My heart raced thinking about the fact that this was me, Michael. No wait, I can't use that name anymore. Amber. Ugh. I arrived at the lobbyists house, which was behind a gated wall. He took my well-manicured hand and helped me out of the limo. Kissing the top of my hand as he did so. "Hello miss, my name is Gregory. I appreciate you accompanying me tonight." It was clear he was used to hiring high end escorts for such occasions. I smiled and nodded, and allowed him to escort me into the foyer of his home. We had a glass of wine while we waited for his car to be pulled around. Minutes later, it was ready, and we got into his beautiful Bentley. I'd only ever seen one from the outside. Now I was in one. I could get used to this... I thought. We arrived at the banquet and I was relieved to see I wasn't alone. Many of the men there had very attractive wives or, I assumed, girlfriends/escorts. I still felt eyes all over me, but at least I wasn't the only one they were gawking at. I spent a good amount of time in the ladies room listening to the various gossip, of which there was plenty. I was introduced to, and made mental notes, of dozens of high-end politicians and lobbyists. A few were handsy with me, one being so bold as to "accidentally" brush my breasts with his hand. But I stayed on mission. For the meal, I ate a small salad and left the bread / steaks for the men. It was challenging, as I loved meat and missed it dearly. But I knew "they" were probably watching. I had to follow their rules. As the night went on, my back grew weary. I wasn't used to carrying around such large melons on my chest for this long. I went to the ladies lounge and saw I wasn't the only one. The lounge had several fainting couches like women used back in the day. Screw it, I said. I went over and leaned back onto one, taking a deep sigh. It felt amazing to relax for a few moments. I chatted with some of the other girls, getting as much info on their men as possible, without seeming to pry. I knew I'd be missed soon so I made a quick joke about my guy missing seeing my tits, which got a bunch of laughs, and slipped out of the lounge. There were some speeches given, which were boring to me. Gregory held my hand in his lap and kept me close. It's was strange being close to a man like that. I would have much rather be close to some of the girls in the lounge. But at the same time, it was comforting. Knowing I was fully protected and had no real responsibilities. At least this personna didn't anyways. It seemed like an easy life. Suddenly everyone applauded the end of the final speech, and the banquet was over. I'd gathered much intelligence over the course of the evening, and looked forward to being debriefed and deflated. These tits were causing me fits. I just wanted to lay down. As expected, there was no intimacy, thank God. My black limo was waiting back at his house. I gave him a soft peck on the cheek which I could tell he appreciated, and we said our goodbyes. It was late, probably midnight by the time we got back to the debriefing room, but not wanting to lose any information, they interviewed me immediately. I provided all the information that I'd learned and an hour later we were done. I expected to be taken to deflation but was told it was too late and the doctor had gone home. Ughhhh. They provided me a night gown that would fit my huge tits and swollen ass, and I slept as best I could with the heavy weights pushing down on my chest. The next morning the doctor finally showed up, hooked me up to the machines, and drained all the pouches. I almost tipped over backwards when I stood up. No more weight pulling me forward. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was returned to my apartment. And as expected, days later, received an envelope under my door. $1000. Holy shit. These missions were degrading and I was frustrated about being forced to be a girl. But... Damn. I'd never seen this kind of money in my life. I was becoming addicted to it. Eventually, I was proving effective enough with my missions, that they scaled back my restaurant hours. Which was fine with me; the missions were paying five times as much as the serving job. Maybe that was their goal all along... Make me do a job that paid for less than the mission, so I'd want to keep doing missions if for anything than to be able to afford my living expenses. Well if so, it was working. There were a few small-scale missions like dressing incognito and walking around museums, eavesdropping on other patrons, or going to sporting events, with seats behind foreign officials, listening in or planting bugs. Plantings bugs was the easiest. I was amazed how little that men minded having someone bump into them, when that someone was a distractingly attractive young woman. This next mission did give me pause. The briefing advised I would be attending a pool party at a local private pool club. The party was being hosted by visiting Saudi royals, and they were inviting dozens of attractive young women to more or less, just party and swim. They liked having eye candy to look at. The fact that I wouldn't be there alone made me feel somewhat more comfortable, but still, they were known for occasionally getting handsy. As usual, the party would be the next day, so today would be prep and studying. My expanders were hooked up and I was filled. At both ends. Luckily neither my tits or ass were filled too much. My tits filled to a nice full C cup, and my ass just enough to round out and look firm/perky. My body looked like that of a hot college coed on spring break. One whose parents had gotten her implants for her 18th birthday... I spent the evening in a bra and panties as I studied the pamphlet of information on the Saudi royals who would be in attendance. Supposedly there was going to be an unknown subject attending and I was to try to identify that person. Swim, party, and watch for an unidentified individual. Easy enough. The next day I was woken early to get ready, as the pool party would begin around 1pm. I was given a tanning session so I wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb with my paler skin. A nice deep tan, which made my blindingly white teeth really stand out. I was made up with water proof makeup. Nothing excessive but enough to accentuate my features. My hair was done in a flirty top ponytail with loose curls at the end. Almost like a cheerleader would have. I was handed a bag with a swimsuit top and towel, being advised I'd need to put the top on once I got there. Luckily, because of my... Unique situation down below... I was dressed into my swim bottoms right there. An assistant helped me tuck my balls up inside my body, and pulled my flaccid penis down and back, taping it in place with a special medical grade tape. The tight swim bottoms were pulled up and released with a snap. They were so tight that there was no risk of them coming down or revealing my secret. For the trip, I was put into a Jean skirt and crop top, with a pair of tall wedge sandals. I was dropped off at a beautiful hotel / resort on the outskirt of town. When I arrived to the pool area, there was a large party hall attached. Lots of lounge rooms and changing areas. I groaned when I saw that all the private rooms were roped off. The girls were being instructed to change right there in the common room. Well here goes nothing. I put my bag down, slipped off my Jean skirt, and pulled off my top. I felt eyes turn my direction and stare. Yeah yeah, take it all in creeps, I thought to myself. I pulled my hot pink swim top onto my protruding breasts and tied it tight in the back. I had to adjust it a few times to keep my areolas and nipples from showing (they'd been "kind" enough to give me what I felt was a size too small). But finally, I felt comfortable enough to go out to the pool area. I had to admit, it was an impressive gathering. These were some of the most attractive women I'd seen in awhile, and they were all in skimpy bathing suits. If my dick wasn't taped so securely, I'm sure I'd have had a raging boner right now. I found a lounge chair with a good view of the entire party, put on my oversize sunglasses and laid down. I sipped on fruity cocktails and soaked in some sun while I analyzed the attendees, recognizing most from the dossier I had studied. Finally, I noticed a small group of men walking through the pool area. The group contained 1 man who looked to be of Eastern European descent. The only person not in the dossier. He must be the subject I needed to identify. I noticed they were going through and selecting girls to join them in the party hall. They'd discuss something amongst themselves, approach a girl and point to the party hall. They were clearly choosing the most attractive girls. The girls gladly walked to the hall once chosen. This was my chance. I waited until I was in their line of site, slowly rose from my lounge chair and "accidentally" dropped my towel on the ground. I turned my back to them and slowly bent over to retrieve it, with my round ass presented in their direction. I wasn't sure if they'd seen it, so I laid the towel back down, slowly sat on the chair and swung my thin legs back up; still wearing the tall wedges that made my legs look even longer than usual. I adjusted my position so that my bikini top pulled up ever so slightly, and the bottom of my round breasts began peeking out underneath. I closed my eyes and pretended to sunbathe. It worked. Within moments I felt a tap on my shoulder and one of the Saudis whispered in my ears that they'd like me to join them in the party hall. I feigned surprise, nodded, and rose from my chair. I swiftly walked to the hall, knowing they were watching my ass cheeks rise and fall in sequence, with every step. When I entered the hall, I was led to a back room. A private lounge area. It was large; large enough for probably 30 people. There were at least a couple dozen girls. I must have been one of the last selections, as the group of men from the pool entered the room and the door was shut. My heart was racing, but there's safety in numbers right? There were about 6 Saudis and the unidentified man. Each man took 2-3 girls and sat in what I could only describe as large beanbag chairs. Large enough for several people to relax together, albeit a bit too close for my comfort. We'd chat, flirt and some of the girls would "play with" each other, to the enjoyment of the men. Every so often we'd be rotated to a new man. Finally, I made it to the European. He'd been drinking for hours now and was not careful at all with the information he discussed. I was able to get his name, his occupation (he was in the oil import / export business), and quite a bit more than I'd wanted to hear, like what he would do to me if we were alone. Yuck. After an hour or two, the men grouped together to have a discussion. They were mostly drunk and laughed like fools at something one of them suggested. Moments later, a handful of the girls were sent out of the room, given a handful of cash as they left. Wow. Unfortunately, I wasn't selected. About 8 of us girls remained. "Let's have a little fun," the lead man said. He pulled out a suitcase of opened it. It was filled with $100 bills. "You girls will be able to split some of this; all you need to do is have fun with each other." We were instructed there would be no sex but instead, they wanted us to "play" in the middle of the room. There was a large plush shag rug with more than enough room for all of us. On the one hand, I wanted to escape, fearing my secret may get revealed. On the other, I was being told to make out and play with a bunch of the hottest chick's I'd ever seen, and I'd be paid money to do so. Luckily my mind was made up for me. One of the girls, a platinum blonde with huge fake tits, pulled me into the center of the room. She immediately pulled me close and began making out with me. The other girls followed suit and before long there was 8 girls making out and feeling each other up. The men sat at the perimeter drinking, joking, and taking it all in. Stacy, the girl who had led me into the center, was amazing. Unlike my tits that felt mostly natural, hers were clearly implants. They were solid. But they turned me on, as she guided my hand to them. I rubbed them firmly while we continued making out. She laid me down on the rug and slowly moved her lips from being locked with mine, down to my neck and then slowly moved aside my bikini with her teeth. She ever so lightly licked at my nipples, causing a rush of ecstasy to fill my body. She sensed the effect she'd had. She began pinching my other nipple, while sucking harder on the one in her mouth. Luckily the other girls moaning in the room covered up mine because I could not contain myself. My whole body shuddered as she tweaked and teased my nipples which were stretched tight from my expanders. Stacy continued kissing and massaging my tits as I moaned with pleasure and before I knew it, another girl came over and lowered her tits into my face. Hers were natural. And plump. She buried my face into her soft melons and rubbed then together. I slipped my tongue out and she ran her nipple over it. She then replaced her nipple with her tongue and before long I was making out with this busty brunette while still having my nipples pleasured. The men were hooting and hollering, clearly enjoying the show. I noticed a few of the other girls were Scissoring and I hoped the men were hooting at that... It was pretty hot after all. After what seemed like an hour of playing with tits and making out with hot babes, the men were about ready to pass out drunk. The leader, who apparently wasn't drinking, ended the show. It was time for us to leave. He grabbed wads of cash from the suitcase and stuffed it into our bikini tops. I felt like a cheap stripper, which was humiliating, but at the same time.... holy shit that was a lot of cash. I was already brainstorming how I was going to spend it. When we got to the pool area is was clear the party was over. We were escorted to the exit, thanked for our time, and shuttled off to our awaiting vehicle/drivers. My head was spinning. I'd gotten the identity/ information I was instructed to, but so much more had happened. It was a lot to process. Making out with chicks, for cash, wasn't that bad, I thought. Unfortunately, not all missions were as easily swallowed. Months after the pool party I was assigned a mission that would bring me back to my reality. A reminder that this wasn't all smiles and rainbows. A local politicians son was known as a womanizer, despite being only 20 years old. The politician was a hard-line anti-Russian congressman. He needed to be dealt with, or so I was told. His son, Chad, had an upcoming 21-year birthday party. Word was, he'd been searching for a stripper for his party. He also had a fetish for trannies. The Russians made sure he found their "service". In previous missions, I'd almost always been dressed in classy or everyday clothing (with the exception of unique situations like the school girl mission). This one was different. I had to pass as a career stripper. It started with the expanders. They swapped out the normal expansion fluid with a new tank. This time, as it flowed into my body, it felt... Thicker. It felt like it was solidifying inside my body. I was filled to about a D cup, but it felt heavier than I'd grown used to. I reached down to examine them, and realized why. They were firm, not squishy like usual. They still bounced up and down because the expanders were above the muscle, but it felt like I had two grapefruits stuck inside my chest. Round and firm. Like a stripper, or pornstar. I received a full set of long square French nails (again, like a pornstar). My hair was done half down, half up in a top ponytail. Dark eyeshadow and mascara. Large silver hoop earrings. Tall white platform heels. A short miniskirt and a crop top. I was given an overcoat so as not to get too much attention at the hotel. The plan was to attend the party at a high-end hotel, in one of the suites that the Russians had already bugged for video. The expectation was that I'd dance/strip for the congressman son, knowing that he'd probably get handsy and possibly violent. I pushed back when I heard that fact, but was told that they would be standing by and make entry if things got out of hand. By the end, the Russians would have video evidence of the congressman son physically abusing a stripper. It would give them leverage. I was scared, I had to admit. I felt cheap and disgusting. I just wanted this evening to be over. I was driven to the hotel and escorted to a back door. I took an elevator to the top floor where I was assured the party was underway. I took a deep breath and knocked on the suite door as I'd been instructed "Rap. Rap. Rap rap rap." "She's here bro!" I heard someone yell back into the room. The door was pulled open and a young man wearing a button-down shirt, and dress slacks, greeted me. "Dayum! You're hotter than I expected!" Yay me.... "Thanks hun, should I come in?" I asked in a sweet voice, while wanting to puke. He motioned me in and took my jacket. The rest of his friends, about 6 other guys, jaws dropped when they saw me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I didn't blame them. I would've been glad to have a chick this hot standing in front of me. But I didn't want it to BE me. I felt like a piece of meat being dangled in front of a pack of hyenas. It was clear they'd been drinking for hours. Most were absolutely hammered. Let's get this over with, I thought. "Here have a drink." Chad brought me a glass of what looked like bourbon. I needed something to calm my nerves anyways. He grinned as I drank it quickly. "Let's get this party started!" he yelled, joined in by the rest of his "gang". They put on some loud party music and threw themselves on the couch. I guess it was my cue. I had received some basic strip training during my initial training period, never expecting to actually use it, but here I was. Luckily they were so drunk that technique probably didn't even matter. After dancing for the group for awhile, I began a lap dance for him. He was already getting more hands and I had to push away his hands several times. He especially kept reaching under my skirt. It was my belief he did intentionally hire a "tranny" and wanted to touch my dick. The idea of a guy touching my dick was nauseating so I kept pushing him away. His friends were loving the show too. Every so often they'd reach over and grab a tit. I was starting to get... Tired. Which was strange. It was late, but it wasn't that late. Maybe I drank too much. But I'd only had one drink didn't I? Was it two? I couldn't remember anymore. My eyes slowly started getting droopy. "Umm I don't feel well I'm going to use the restroom," I quietly stated. "Don't worry babe we got you" Chad replied, holding me upright on his lap. He turned me around so I was facing away from him. My energy was draining and I laid back towards him. His lips locked onto my neck and he began sucking hard, while reached around with his hands and grabbed each of my tits massaging them. From that point on everything was blurry. I remember hands all over my body. I remember being supported upright despite having no energy. I remember my skirt and panties being removed; I remember feeling terrified about them seeing my dick. I blacked out. I woke up the next morning to an empty suite. My tits were sore. My jaw was sore. I had scratch marks on my ass cheeks and my asshole felt like it was on fire. I looked around and saw there was blood on the sheets and cum stains seemingly everywhere. I felt something sticky leaking out of my asshole, reached down and was horrified by what I saw. It was a mix of cum and blood. What. The fuck. It felt like a nightmare that I wasn't waking up from. I took a long long shower trying to get all the semen and blood off my body. I was shaking. Partially fear, partially pain, and partially anger. I was promised that the Russians would enter the room if things got out of control. Clearly, they never did. I had to get out of that room. It terrified me. I looked for my clothes; my skirt was on the floor, but my crop top had been torn open and was wadded up in the corner, covered in cum. They must have used it to wipe their dicks, I realized. I threw on my push up bra, strapped on my heels, and grabbed the hotel robe. As I'd hoped, the car was waiting for me in the back. I was happy/lucky that I didn't encounter anyone in the hall. I yelled in anger at everyone I saw. At the driver, at the debriefer. Anyone. I wanted answers. I'd been defiled, and they didn't do anything to stop it. Finally once I'd calmed down, the debriefing agent calmly stated: "We were monitoring the situation, and it took a turn that we could not pass up. You helped us acquire better evidence than we ever could have hoped. Here take a look." I felt sick thinking about watching what had happened to me last night. But at the same time, I had to know. The video, which contained multiple angles, started with everything I could recall. Arriving, stripping/dancing, lap dance. It also included something that happened prior to my arrival. Chad spiking the drink he'd eventually give me. He'd drugged me. It made sense now. And they had it on tape. The video continued as it reached the point where I'd began to lose recollection. I was still on Chad's lap, leaned back. I was still moving up on and down so I apparently hadn't passed out entirely, even though I wasn't in control of my actions. He was massaging my tits and kissing my neck and then briefly gave a thumbs up to his buddies. Two of his buddies got off the couch and approached me. They pulled down my skirt and yanked it off over my feet, which were still strapped into the tall platform heels. Next they began tugging at my panties, which were on super tight, to hide my dick. That didn't dissuade them. After spending a few moments trying to get them off, one whipped out a knife and quickly slit the panties open on the side. From there they slid off easily. It must have been from the nipple stimulation, or maybe the drugs, but the video showed my dick swing up erect almost immediately. Chad's buddies laughed at it, smacking it a few times. Chad pushed me forward so my head was now leaned forward over the floor, and my ass was right over his crotch. I felt sick watching as video-me was grinding on his cock through his pants. But then something changed. Video-me must have realized something was off because she suddenly stopped. A brief pause, and looked around. She looked down and saw her cock was out. She panicked and tried to get up. Not so fast. Chad grabbed her, my, shoulders and pushed me back down. I stumbled forward trying to get away but clearly had no energy. An audible, "No... Please..." was heard. "Bring her over here," Chad instructed. He sat on the couch, and pulled down his pants with his erect penis standing straight up. His buddies carried me over to him. It was clear I was almost passed out. I wasn't able to put up a fight at all as they slowly lowered my body over his dick. Again, I was facing away from him, toward the camera. A great view of my large round tits, and now my respectable erect dick. They continued lowering me down until his dick rested at the edge of my asshole. He nodded and they pushed me down the rest of the way. I didn't even have the energy to yell. I just moaned. Not in a pleasurable way. A defeated way. For the next four minutes of the video, he thrust his dick in and out of my asshole. My round tits bounced up and down with each thrust, as did my erect penis. My large silver hoop earrings swayed. I hoped that was the end of it, but I wasn't so lucky. The video then showed me being pushed to the floor onto my hands and knees. He kneeled behind me and continued ramming my asshole. Thrust after thrust. Now my big tits swayed back and forth beneath me. The video showed me almost collapsing down, but being caught by one of his buddies who lifted my face up and began making out with it. Moments later, his mouth was replaced with a dick. His dick. He began fucking my mouth while Chad fucked my ass. Each thrust from Chad pushed my body, and mouth toward his buddy, and his buddy's dick further down my throat. Watching this video was making me gag, but I couldn't turn away. His buddy clearly reached climax and thrust his dick as far down my throat as he could and released his seed. It was clear that I had no energy left in me at all as I succumbed and allowed my throat to be pumped full of his semen. My body collapsed to the ground. I'd officially passed out. Unfortunately, that didn't stop them. I was lifted up and laid on my back, on a dining table, my large hard breasts sticking straight up toward the ceiling. My dick had gone flaccid. They tried slapping me in the face and tits to wake me up, to no avail. Clearly, they didn't care. They positioned me at the end of the table, taking turns fucking my asshole. They were brutal, and hard. Grabbing my hips and thrusting with as much force as they could muster. One by one they finished inside of me, leaving lubrication for the next one. Every so often, one of them would massage my tits, getting a kick out of the fact that every time my tits were massaged my dick would get erect. Once all his buddies had finished their turn, the birthday boy, Chad, got to close the deal. At that point my asshole was filled with the cum of 6 guys. Chad took his erect penis, pushed it deep into my asshole and slowly drew it out. It was clearly dripping with semen. What he did next made me feel like puking as I watched the video. His buddy turned my head so my face was towards the edge of the table (and luckily, or unluckily (?) towards the view of the camera). Chad then took his semen covered cock and slowly rubbed it all around my pouty lips until my lips were covered in semen. He looked at his buddies. "Do it! Do it! Do it!" they chanted. He smiled, and pushed his cock slowly past my lips into my mouth and down my throat. My body still didn't move. I was that far gone. He closed my lips around his cock, tight, and slowly withdrew it, until it was out. His cock was clean. No more semen... Which means.... Oh God. This time I couldn't stop it. I ran to the corner of the room and puked in the garbage can. My mouth had contained the semen of 6 men all at the same time. Semen that had previously been in my ass. I puked again. Once I regained my composure, I returned to the table. The video continued. As Chad had yet to finish, it was that time. He wanted something new though. He had his buddies flip me face down on the table so that I was laying on my stomach and tits. My tits were so solid that my upper body was elevated a good 8+ inches off the table. His buddies poked at my tits as Chad took my ass cheeks in his hands and began to ram my ass. The video angle changed to a top down view which showed the semen of the 6 other guys leaking out with every thrust of Chad's cock inside my hole. He was also smacking my ass cheeks with his hand with nearly every thrust. That explains the red marks, I realized. Finally, with one final deep thrust, he came, pumping even more seed into my already full ass. When he withdrew his cock, it was covered in pinkish semen. Which I realized was a combination of blood and cum. They lifted me off the table, threw me on the bed, gathered their things and left. I was raging mad. "As you can see, we have, on video, Chad drugging and raping a transexual stripper. That's all kind of bad. We can use this to great benefit," the debriefer said. I got it. I did. It would work. But it wasn't worth it. I stormed off. I was at the point where I felt I'd rather die than live with what happened. That is, until they brought me my compensation. It included a letter. "We understand your previous mission did not go according to plan, and for that, we are compensating you accordingly," it stated. In the envelope was cash, as usual. But woah... $10,000. I'd never seen that much cash at once in my lifetime, and here it was. Mine. For one night. I still wasn't sure if it was worth it but it sure made the sting go away. As time went on, I grew more and more addicted to the money and the material goods. I realized that being a young attractive woman had far more perks and benefits than being a short scrawny guy. Any night of the week, I could go out on the town and drink for free. Just sit at a bar, cross my legs, and wait. Sure, I had to endure a few minutes of short conversation but sometimes that led to more "things". Like riding in exotic cars, or being showered in gifts. I never became intimate with anyone but I'd be lying if I denied leading men on to achieve my own selfish goals. Eventually the Russians allowed me to quit my server job, as I was performing well enough in missions that the other job was no longer necessary. This led to having much more free time to myself. I ended up bored more often than I wanted to and tried to come up with ways to get more "stuff". I wanted a nicer car, a better apartment, etc. I looked at the girls who got all the high-end stuff for "free" and saw one glaring difference between them and myself. They were real women. With curves, and a pussy. I wasn't ready to lose my manhood yet, but I already had the pouches inside my chest. Why not put them to use? I could always get them deflated again one day, right? After my next mission debriefing, I made the request. I wanted them inflated semi permanently. Surprisingly, they saw no issue with it. So back onto the table I went. I'd given it some thought; I want them big enough that I stand out from the crowd but not too big that they get in the way. I showed the doctor some photos of pornstars I thought were a good size. He nodded and dialed the pumps to a 16/30. I looked down to watch the last of my flat chest disappear. My breasts stretched and became full. The pumps stopped right as my breasts reached exactly what I'd asked for. A nice full D cup. I knew these would turn heads, and not be too obtrusive, or so I hoped. It did take getting used to. Normally I only had expanded breasts for a day or two at most. Now, by the end of the first week, I was wondering if I made the wrong decision. It was the little things. Like not being able to see my stomach or my zipper on my pants, knocking things over when I turned, and of course, the now overly sensitive nipples were driving me mad. A slight breeze across them would send shivers down my spine. And they were always erect. Which I realized most guys enjoyed seeing anytime I went somewhere without a bra. But everyday tasks were definitely more challenging. I'd reach for an item on an upper grocery store shelf, and knock over something on the shelf at chest level. Or try to reach around the front of my body to reach an itch on my back, only to be obstructed by two large breasts. I even almost burned my tit by standing near the stove, apparently with my tit hanging over the open flame. But little by little, I realized the perks outweighed the inconveniences. Men would hold doors for me. I was ushered to the front of lines. I was given way more free things than I ever expected. One man even pumped my gas for my car, with his own credit card! I was definitely hooked, though I did occasionally contemplate what my end goal was. I'm still a guy. Am I just doing this for money? Do I really want this life? Or do I want to get out, and back to being the real me? At this point, I wasn't sure if I even knew who the real me was. The missions continued. Why wouldn't they? They were getting great intel, and I was making a shit-ton of money. They offered to have my manhood removed, but while I enjoyed making all this money, I was still, inside, a man. I was attracted to women. Giving men attention, blowjobs, and on occasion, my asshole, was not something I enjoyed. So I turned it down. My end goal was to make enough money that I could be set for life; to escape the Russians, pay some doctor to reverse all these surgeries, and retire to some island where no one would ever find me. And I'd damn well be sure to find some chick(s) that are as hot as I am right now. As I write this though, I'm still stuck. I've tested the Russians; trying to get off their radar for a bit just to see how well they can track. But no matter what, they always locate me. I've assumed at this point that they've installed trackers inside my body. I don't know what to do. I'm sick of being fucked in the ass by dudes. Sick of being arm-candy to some pretentious politician. But for now, that's my life. Maybe one day I'll escape and update you on what I've been up to. I've even contemplated being resigned to my fate as an attractive woman; let them take my manhood, find a rich dude and just be a housewife. But I'm not at that point yet. Do I continue doing missions? Being at the beck and call of these Russians who clearly find me and my body disposable; to be fucked and abused at whim? Do I try to escape, to hopefully return to life as a man? Do I accept my womanly fate and try to find a way to settle down (if they'll let me)? Maybe you can let me know what you think I should do. And maybe, down the road, I'll write another entry about what's happened to me since making said decision. If you have any advice about the next step I should take, please leave a review so I can evaluate the best option! For now... I need to prepare for another mission...