HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

"...nd now, that should've done the trick... Hello."

Her mascara-laden eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, confused. Disoriented for a moment.

"I... sorry, what?"

"That's it. You're back now."

A man sat across the table, suit and tie and close-cropped hair. Very proper. As she glanced down, she saw her own appearance with a start. A uniform, low cut top and scandalously short skirt revealing a great deal of her pantyhose-clad legs. A little upside-down name tag that read "Cindy", poking through strands of bleach-blonde hair.

"Oh!" More blinking. "I'm back?"

"Yes. How are you doing, agent?"

She took a couple moments to compose herself, memories all lining up in a big rush. The nightclub, the cover, the task she'd been given several months prior.

"I... uh, yes! Doing well, sir. I've worked at the club with no suspicion whatsoever. I've seen very little activity from the group, the last movement was about a month ago."

"Last month?" The suited man nodded, sipping the last of his coffee. "That matches our reports too."

"Yes, sir. Since then all the figures have avoided visiting the club. Are they in hiding?"

He clasped his hands and shrugged. "Hiding... Not so much. We believe they've fled the country, taking their key members out of the picture before we got too close."

"... Fled? What?" Her eyes widened, glancing furtively around the half-busy bar area. Other waitresses strutted to and fro, patrons enjoying the 'view' as they went. It made her shudder a little when she knew she was one of them, and even enjoyed the attention when her 'cover' was in place...

"Does that mean... we don't need to keep watching the club?"

"At this time, they've severed all their business dealings and handed over ownership quietly to a legitimate party. So... no, probably not."

She breathed a sigh of relief, a hand to her chest. "Oh, that's good. I can finally take off this suit, right?"

"Oh?" The man raised an eyebrow, the most emotion he'd shown all night. "You aren't comfortable as a beautiful waitress?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, the amount of groping, the stares... this thong riding up my ass?! Hell no. I've had enough of this particular cover. I'm quite ready to be a dude again!"

The man didn't say anything for a few moments, swirling his coffee back and forth.

"Okay, so, uhm. Right. When's the debriefing, sir?" The agent leaned forward resuming something of a professional demeanour.

"Well, that's what we're doing now, isn't it?"

"R-right, but I mean, when can I be let out of this suit?" She squirmed, the vivid realism of her skin still hard to get used to. "With the mission moving elsewhere..."

'She' was clearly eager to leave, to hang up her heels and not have to wiggle her ass for tips anymore. To not be stuck inside of such an unashamedly curvy figure, the flawless smooth skin that had been sealed up for over half a year at this point, the perfect disguise paired with an attitude to match. Good thing he remembered everything she did, or she wouldn't be much use as a spy.

"... Hm." He mused, gears turning in his head. "Seems a waste to up and leave now, what with your recent 'promotion'?"

"What?" She looked down at her tag again. It had a little star on it. "Oh. No, that's fine! Cin... uh, I can delegate her work before she leaves, in fact I'm quite happy you showed up before anyone actually, uh, 'requested her services'."

She rubbed her hands in embarrassment, shuddering to think of how she'd have to smile and 'entertain' the higher-paying clientele, on request. The kind of entertainment that would take place backstage, back in the private rooms with perfume and velvet-lined beds. The kind that the 'cover' persona had all too eagerly accepted a wage-bump to perform.

"S-so, yeah. Let's go, shall we? I'll text the manager something, an-"

"No, I don't think so."

She froze. "Uhhhh.... w-what?"

"You'll stay as an asset, should the suspects return to business here."

"B-but..." Her nylon-covered knees rubbed together, anxious. Her voice came as a strained whisper. "I want out! I can't take being Ci... being her any longer!"

He smiled, and it wasn't a warm or comforting smile. In fact she'd never seen him smile before, so this was something that sent a shiver down her back.

"No, you've embedded nicely into your cover persona, and your suit is performing very well. You'll stay as Cindy until we decide otherwise."

"N-nngh..." As soon as he spoke her name, she gasped. Her grasp on her identity began to loosen, after only just getting it back. "No! Come on, please!"

"Now now. Cindy, you have to behave."

Before she could react, run away or plug her ears or yell, it was too late. She clasped her head, swaying on the spot. Her painted nails gleamed pink as she breathed, as her skin stuck tight and immovable, an internal struggle lasting for only a moment.

"Gnnh... I... wh..."

"Shhhh, it's okay." That smile of his lingered, the glint in his eyes the only overt display of control and manipulation. "You're back now."

"I'm... oh!"

And she was. Her voice regained that cheery bounce, just like her bust. Like nothing had happened. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must've drifted off! What can I do for you, sir?"

He leaned back, palms on the table. This wasn't officially sanctioned, wasn't part of the mission, but nonetheless he had his needs... "Hm. Cindy. How much for some time in the lounge with you...?"

"Oh, yes!" She beamed a winning smile at him, her heels clacking as she stood up with enthusiasm. "Right this way, sir!"