Chapter 1 - Hammered and Sickled

Her heart beat quickly in her chest, but outwardly she showed no signs of excitement. She crouched hesitantly, looking at the ceiling above her, listening, watching the hatch at the top of the stairs. She'd slipped in through a supply door on the outside, and was now underneath one of the outermost guard towers. Outside, the snow was steadily falling--when wasn't it snowing out here in the middle of nowhere in Siberia? But it also so happened that the middle of nowhere in Siberia was the perfect place for a secret military base, and her and her partner were infiltrating it to find out just what was going on. They had split up well outside the base, though, and they had to keep radio silence inside, so she couldn't be sure that she was all right--but she had to assume she would be. She was excellent for the job--small, slender, nimble and yet strong in a scrappy, scrawny sort of way. With a careful touch the screws on the vent came off, and she was able to slip up into the ventilation shaft, fitting easily inside the small space. There was a distant light at the end, a supply room inside the main base, which was her goal, slowly edging closer as she crawled through the shaft. But it was getting more difficult to crawl about half way through--was the vent getting smaller? She had to stretch out her legs, keeping her ass low to keep moving...and yet still the passage through the vent was becoming harder.
Jerrie Cyrus bit her lip as she slid into the duct, feeling the icy metal bite against her catsuit-covered flesh. She'd had some pretty heavy winter gear to get here in the first place... But that wouldn't exactly blend in inside the base. Even as she moved in, it still stung her a bit, as did the increasingly narrow passage... Well, what she thought was increasingly narrow. Slinking slowly, silently through the vent, her breasts press up against another vent... An exit, thankfully. The agent can hear murmurs in the room below her... Of course, in Russian. It was only part of her training that she knew the commies' language, and the acoustics of the vent accommodated for the walls' muffling. They were... Just making small talk. She fought back a chuckle when she heard them bring up vodka, but stopped as they heard they were making a new brand... Something to help indoctrinate the populace. Shit, that was worth noting. She unscrewed the screen and dropped down into the room as soon as their voices and footsteps fell out of earshot, finding herself in some sort of office.
With a quick touch, she sorted through the files on the desk, being careful not to move anything too much that someone could notice it was out of place. Normal administrative things--nothing that would be useful to bring back. If she could find more information about the vodka, though, now that would be useful. Her catsuit had been snugly wrapped around her this whole time, so it wasn't much of a difference to feel now how it was slowly shifting on top of her chest, or slipping to accommodate the gradual widening of her hips. She needed to head deeper into the base, to try to find what they were working on. She carefully checked the door before opening it, then walked with a light step along the concrete hall, until freezing, seeing just up ahead of her a small security station, the door open and the guard staring at the bank of flickering monitors with a dull look. Her mind worked quickly, thinking of just how she'd reach in and knock him out to make it look like he'd fallen asleep. Her training came back smoothly to her, even if her body was slightly off-balance.
The agent felt her suit bite into her... Even with whatever the eggheads did to try and make it tolerable, it was still quite stuffy and uncomfortable. Biting her bottom lip as she worked, she found a folder of chemical readouts, a few notes about the vodka, and a few other chemicals... Uncle Sam would surely appreciate getting this. Smiling, Jerrie slid it into a compartment on her catsuit and tried to tug the material out of her ass... It was a bit more skintight that she was used to. Her nimble feet slid softly over the concrete floor, not making a sound as she moved to the security station. As a little trick, she tapped the guard's shoulder to his left, standing to his right and waiting for him to turn his head before she delivered an open-palmed blow to his neck. With a slime, she knew that it would keep him out for a while. The agent crossed his arms around his chest and tilted his ushanka over his eyes. At first, she was a bit offput by how hard it was to maneuver him... But, this grew into a slight... Respect, she assumed. He was quite strapping... No. No, he wasn't. Jerrie took a last look to the monitor bank before moving on, hoping not to catch sight of her friend... Or, even better, seeing one of the feedback loops she tends to set.
For a reason she couldn't explain, she'd been gently biting and sucking on her lips ever since she'd made it into the base. They felt a little dry and chapped--winter weather, low humidity, it was nothing to get concerned about. She pressed them together gently, rubbing her slightly tender lips together as she looked at the map pinned up, with little pins pushed into where each of the monitors pointed to. The Russian chickenscratch was hard to read, but it looked like she could get through a supply closet to a service corridor that would lead her through the barracks, and then outside--the base was constructed in a few separate buildings linked with walkways--and into the central control. First step was just down the hall, a door locked with a lock that gave up after three seconds of her fiddling. She closed it behind her, and looked over the packaged food that was here, brown drab packages of what she translated as 'peanut butter meal paste' and other fairly bland names. And of course, it was just then that her stomach grumbled softly. On one hand, she couldn't stop for too long--on the other hand, she didn't need to be gurgling while she was trying to be silent. Her carefully tied-back brown hair was growing small streaks of blonde, and her brown eyes were growing faintly blueish.
Closing the door behind her, Jerrie licked her lips once more before spying the packages and cans of food. 'Cow substitute' one package read, containing a brownish-grey disc of meat... She didn't want to know what it was made of... Which was probably a good thing, to those who made it in the first place. Rubbing her stomach and clenching her hand a bit in frustration, she knew she would have to comply with its incessant gurgling. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed patty and the roll, slicing their packaging open with her combat knife and thinking of a way she could explain it to her partner... Or her superiors 'Oh, you found a map of every nuke in the USSR? I was eating a gruel-burger in a closet.'... It didn't sound good. Well, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Closing her blue-flecked eyes, Jerrie took a small, apprehensive bite from the crumby meal... And had to fight to continue it. Ugh, it tasted bland and terrible, like cardboard... But, looks like this was the only things the Ruskies had. What she wouldn't give for some McDonald's... Mmh, well, maybe not them exactly. The burger became the slightest bit more appetizing as she thought that, and her hair began to develop lighter blonde roots.
Jerrie found herself a seat on a crate where she could eat, slowly taking bites of the paltry burger, and slowly biting off a bit more each time. Or, what if she was able to complete her mission with enough time to spare to have a burger? As she ate it, she began to feel that it was like...health food, or something. You didn't want to eat it but you were better off for eating it anyway. It was filling, at least, even if it wasn't tasty. Sweeping a few loose strands of hair from her eyes, Jerrie let out a small sigh of relief, for a few minutes to herself to calm her nerves and refresh her mind. She was feeling particularly good right now, confident and skilled and strong...well, maybe not so much strong, but...hey, she did have a bit of muscle tone. She smiled to herself as she lifted her arms and flexed her biceps. Made sense that this food would be pretty utilitarian, especially if it was military rations. The tight black material of her catsuit was being stretched almost to translucency around what were pert C-cups and a perky ass--as well as tighter overall, as the short girl grew slowly and subtly taller.
Jerrie Cyrus grabs her head, feeling... Off. Her body didn't feel as lithe as before, but... Did feel quite stronger. Maybe that burger was just what she needed? Mmh, it certainly didn't feel like it did anything as bad as she was thinking... Well, anything is better than internal bleeding and projectile vomiting. A bit saddened that her suit didn't have many compartments, she grabbed a packet of powdered potato substitute and stored it away for... Eh, future research. Her toned form felt much better; revitalized... And sexy. Being a secret agent did need her to have a bit of meat on her bones, and she appreciated that... God, she was hot. Shaking her head and trying to clear her thoughts, Jerrie rose and tried to remember her next objective... Ah, yes, vodka and intelligence... Intelligence on vodka, too. Her hands began to rifle through the crate she'd been sitting in, trying to find some of the drink the soldiers were talking about... Ah, here. A clear bottle, labeled in red and yellow exclaimed допить! ... Yeah, this is exactly what she needed.
Exactly what she needed to cool off. One for now, and one for her superiors. She put the bottle to her lips and leaned back, letting it pour down her throat, burning a little at first, but soon sliding down smoothly. Her legs lifted off the ground as she leaned back, then set back down when she sat up, bottle empty and thickening lips gently tingling from the alcohol. Ahh, good. Refreshed, cooled off, and feeling sexy. Not that the last one was necessary...but it was useful. Now, why did she feel like she needed something between her lips? Almost...like...she pushed the dirty thought out of her mind when she found a long cigarette--she put the pack back carefully, then lit the tip and took a small puff. Mmm, if there was one thing the Red Army could get right, it was drugs for their officers. Biceps tensing, D-cups making her suit creak slightly, she took a few pleasing puffs before getting ready to squeeze through the service corridor that'd take her to the barracks.
 She felt a bit worried taking a sip from the bottle, a bit apprehensive... They said it was to help indoctrinate, right? Eh... Well, it probably just relaxed the mind... That was what she needed, was a bit of relaxation... And, it was exactly what she got. The cigarettes only helped her relax more... It was staving off the nerves, was all. After she was finished, she could focus right on what she had to do... Mmh, the barracks would likely be a good place to pick up intel. Maybe some soldiers would be asleep, or out on patrol... Well, it wasn't like she couldn't fend them off, anyway. The tightness of her suit was getting to her now... Every curve of her muscles or increasingly feminine figure was highlighted, providing practically no protection all the while... She might as well continue on nude! ... As enticing as the thought was... She knew she couldn't. Jerrie did, however, cut a hole above her breasts, giving them breathing room and tugging out her long-since destroyed underwear through it... Wait... Ugh, she'd have to find some more. Hell, they had female soldiers... With any luck, they were her size. 
The small tie that was holding Jerrie's hair back came undone, allowing her lightening hair to fall down around her shoulders as, now naked beneath the catsuit, she began to edge through the corridor filled with pipes, hot and muggy from the steam that some of them carried. She had stuck a few more cigarettes into one of the pockets in her catsuit, because she did rather like the flavor. As she took a careful step around a collection of pipes, scooting her round ass against the wall, she felt the fabric on her breasts snug, and the hole creaked as it stretched a little wider. She shifted herself around, attempting to get a good angle to unhook herself from the protruding bolt, but as she did, there was a louder rip, and s soft snap against her skin. Her tender globes now hung free, the entire front of her catsuit torn all the way down to the hair between her legs. Shit. Stupid American-made catsuit. She straightened herself up, holding her breasts in with a bit of a pout on her lips. Or rather, a bit more of a pout, as they were starting to look naturally thick. Something was wrong, she thought, with two handfuls of tits in front of her, but that feeling was pushed aside by mild frustration. She was always the big-titted, beefy agent back home. She hoped maybe the Red Army made better uniforms to fit their more beautiful operatives. She couldn't hear any footsteps or conversation coming from behind the door to the barracks, but she'd still have to be particularly careful.
 Her fingers curled and her plump lip was nibbled upon to express her rage, rather than crying out in frustration. Her tongue moved around to pronounce the 'd' in дерьмо, rather than going to say 'shit'... It was a force of habit... She'd had to speak Russian a lot lately on the field... She did look the part. Blonde hair, blue eyes, bulked up like she'd had a life of farm work before military service... She was nearly the ideal Russian babe, and it helped that she was part Russian herself. Well... She still did have a few streaks of brown in her hair, and in specks in her eyes. Peering into the barracks, she didn't see anyone... But, looked around the ceiling for a camera. Her partner had been on tech duty, shutting off cameras and such... She always was. Jerrie was just the muscle. Finding one, but seeing the red light denoting power had gone off, she smiled and moved in, still alert as she rifled carefully through the footlockers... Almost immediately, she found an impressively sized bra and panties for her... Generous assets, beneath a bed surrounded by a number of pin-up girls... All generously endowed and bearing powerful builds. 
"Comrade!" a female voice said, and Jerrie nearly jumped, heart pounding...but then she turned to see a woman stripping off her gray PT clothes, stripping down to nothing at all right in front of her. The short-haired blonde woman made Jerrie look like a twig. "Hee hee, am tryink to practice Eenglish. You one of new recruit, da?" she asked. She seemed perfectly happy to talk to Jerrie while the spy was holding the olive drab bra and thong panties in her hands. Jerrie was momentarily speechless at the woman's appearance. You know, sometimes seeing the big Russian girls made her wonder if she was on the right side. Not that she was going to say that to anyone else. The USSR definitely knew how to make girls big. "You come vith me for showerink together?" the Russian woman offered, walking her way with a smile on her lips so big that they made Jerrie tremble in her...well she wasn't wearing anything but if she had boots she'd be trembling in them.
Once more, she kept a strong poker face. "Ai suppose, frient." she responds, lacking any indication of the fear she feels inside. Jerrie doesn't want to seem suspicious by refusing... Hell, why else would a Russian-looking girl be undressing in the barracks of a secret base? Not for her health, that's for sure. With a smile on her plump lips, she decides to use a few objects she'd seen nearby, as well as memories of past ops to fabricate a story for herself... For smalltalk, of course. "Da, Ai am new girl on blok, heheh. Ai come from Samara, to help country. It... Seems ai don't have good as instructor as you, mees." she responds in broken English, this time oddly not having to simulate the accent... It seems natural, moreso than her former one." 
"Ees no problem. Am helpink you to learn!" the woman said, smiling brightly and hooking her hand around Jerrie's waist, tugging her into the shower. Jerrie can still tell that the other woman's accent is thick and badly broken but at the same time, it was a bit harder to mentally correct it. "Shower is much better than in field," she explained, taking her into the communal showers and starting up the hot water. It hurt a little on Jerrie's toes, as the temperature difference made the water feel scalding hot, but she soon grew used to it, while Natalya--that was her name--started to talk to her about where she was from, and how she had joined up. It gave Jerrie time to come up with her own story, so she wouldn't be caught off guard by a question she should have known the answer to. Natalya was quite friendly, helping Jerrie use some of the all-purpose soap-slash-shampoo to clean her skin and her heavy breasts. Natalya gave a few surreptitious looks toward the door, then rested her hands on Jerrie's shoulders. "You vant extra ration? Then suck," she offered, thrusting her breasts in Jerrie's direction. N-not that she was...attracted to Natalya, though she was very pretty. Very strong...the sort of girl Jerrie might want to be like. And to tell the truth...she was a little fascinated by the woman's huge breasts, unable to help a jealous feeling when they were compared to her own double-Ds. 
 The secret agent was quite reserved in the shower, trying to bar her breasts and furred mound from view for a while as the she tried to get used to the temperature... But, she couldn't help but expose herself as she worked with Natalya to wash her... God, her hands felt so good on her. So powerful... She closed her legs, trying to hide the slight bit of arousal she was feeling for the enemy... Enemy? It was a bit hard to consider the c-... Russians enemies... Rather, just another people with another idea. Parts of which were right, compared to home... As she listened to the busty Russian's story, she gave brief responses like "Mmh." and "Da.", getting used to speaking the language as her own constructed backstory began to fall in place... Somehow, it felt a bit homey to her, rather than growing up out in Chicago. Afterward, she introduced herself as Julya, not wanting to stray far from her name; using it as a basis. Her grab was unexpected, as she moved away from the humid air of the shower and near the fairly-warm, dry barracks... But her offer was, moreso. The ration... She must've meant the bland stuff from the closet... Maybe they didn't have much? Well... A new recruit wouldn't know if they did or not... So, rather than chance it, the ration she offered became more and more appetizing... And Natalya's breasts even moreso. "Da, comrade." she responded, leaning over slightly, planting her lips upon the girl's breast, just outside of her nipple. "I vill~" Purring as she did so, her plump lips kissed around the wide love-pillows, playing around before wrapping around her nipple, nibbling slightly and suckling hungrily.
Natalya moaned softly, gently pulling the snowy-blonde, pale, blue-eyed beauty in front of her against her breasts. As Jul--Jerrie sucked, it felt...right, in some way for her to be doing this. She couldn't help her eyes going wide, though, as a splash of warm, sweet milk fell onto her tongue. God, what were they feeding these girls!? But she sucked...and sucked, and felt her lips pleasantly warm against the firm flesh of Natalya's nipple. Mmmm...god, what were they feeding them? She had to get some of that for herself...must have been in the rations. Glorious Soviet technology...she was allowed to appreciate what the enemy was doing, right? Natalya pulled her back before she really wanted to leave her breast, and smiled down at the girl she thought was a new recruit. She dried off with one of the towels while Natalya went to her footlocker, and pulled out a brownish packet of food that had 'steak' stamped on the side. Well 'стейк' but having spent half of her youth in Russia, it came more naturally to her than English. She tossed the packet and a razor onto the bed that was 'Julya's'. "Do not forget, star is part of uniform too," she said, reaching down and patting between her legs, drawing Jerrie's eyes to the little star of pubic hair that was left, the rest shaved bare. Jerrie felt relieved, enough that she could take the time to get dressed like one of these soldiers (they had to be an elite unit, she thought) to help her blend in. Which had been the plan all along, of course, as the busty, strong blonde wasn't all that stealthy.
Yeah... She was allowed to appreciate what they were doing, and what they made. Worse foes than the Russians had made things that are nigh-worshiped in the states. It was a bit tough for her there, she thought as she cut open the packet of стейк, nibbling on the bland meat... If this was what they were feeding the musclebound beauty she'd just fed from, she'd eagerly sit through how bland it was. Being a natural-born Russian was a bit controversial back home, but it was eagerly waved off when they found her not to be communist. After that issue was out of the way, she was a token part of the agency, being both a wall of a woman as it is and being able to blend in perfectly with the 'Commies' as they called them. Jerrie didn't mind the insults to her proud people, though, as long as the pay was good... But it was still an issue. Looking to the razor, she was confused until Natalya brought up the 'uniform'... Spying the better half of a trench coat on the bed, in addition to an ushanka, she understood. It was... Awkward, shaving and cutting around her thatch of hair, trimming it short and shaped like a star... Just like Natalya... And hopefully, like the other girls who occupied the beds around her. Soonafter, she found herself slipping on the furred, comfy coat, as well as the ushanka and a pair of earrings. However... There were no bottoms to be found. "Eh, comrade... Vere are de pants?" she asked, digging around in 'her' footlocker.
She ate while she got dressed, and she could feel the energy swelling into her, making her body swell, in fact. Her face was being gently reshaped; sharper, higher cheekbones, more angular and yet holding a certain undeniable sort of...classical beauty. Even if you weren't one for her muscles, or her breasts, it was hard not to like her face, especially with her thick red lips slowly being curled together by their continually growing pout. "Pants? Thong is there, boots are in closet. Pants is not part of uniform for us, remember?" she asked, chuckling and shaking her head. The bra was supportive, but the tiny little thong with its tall straps felt like it was barely covering anything, and in fact left her star completely visible when she wore them. She could almost swear she could see the outline of her swollen clit against the thong, if she peered over her breasts. Jerrie blushed, both at having been revealed to know less than she should have, and at the thought of walking around so exposed. Natalya was leaving now, so she had the barracks to herself again as she went to get the boots, and found herself staring at thigh-high green platform boots with ankle-breaking heels, each stamped on the toe with a red star. Jerrie hesitated a little, loving the soft comfort of the fur-lined coat but...were these really uniform boots? Well, she couldn't go around barefoot, especially if she had to go outside.
 As Natalya corrected her on her mistake, J-... She rubbed her head and laughed it off. "What I ment, of courz." she chuckled. The thong was... Wide, she gave it that; wide enough to hug her wide thighs tightly... Not to mention her cameltoed cunt. The star-shaped patch of hair was left exposed, showed off as her privates are covered with a thin, though tough strip of material. It was strong, as was anything worth making! American-made stuff, though she... Liked the country, was crap. Her flimsy little catsuit could barely hold her in! It was a joke of an outfit, anyway... But, she was still apprehensive about this properly made one. Her shapely, toned legs slid into the tight boots and, though they were a snug fit, were quite easy to walk on... She didn't know that it was because of her slowly arching feet, but she was fully capable of walking in them. The red star glinted in the artificial light, reminding her of her purpose here... Yes, to infiltrate. Not wanting to seem out of place, Julya smoothed out and adjusted every bit of decorum on her uniform, talking heavy steps down the hallway Natalya walked out of.
She felt faintly dizzy--not overwhelmingly so, but just enough that it left her head feeling faintly fuzzy, kind of like the ushanka she'd stuffed over her blonde hair wrapped up into a bun to keep it neat and tidy. She was trying to keep from moaning from the feeling of the fur slowly brushing along her breasts around her bra, and to keep herself from getting wet at the strutting stride her boots pushed her into. Her gorgeous boots. This was the sort of uniform that suited someone in the military. Of course they'd never listen to her back in America, but... As she was coming to the door that lead out to the walkway from this station to the central command, she spotted another security station, with another man sitting there--she knew she couldn't leave the station without a pass, and the lock for the door was inside the station. An impulse to knock him out flared up for a few seconds...then as her eyelashes thickened and her icy blue eyes glistened, she licked her growing lips, another plan coming to mind...
Julya, Jerrie... The split identities within her were beginning to blur, clouding her thoughts, but thought didn't matter, right now... It was just her training that did. Speaking in perfect Russian, that which she'd spoken her entire life, the agent pressed her leather-clad hand over her plump lips, the same color as the star dotting both his and her ushanka. <"Oh, no... I seem to have forgotten my pass in the barracks... Ah, I must get through!"> she says sultrily, fanning her eyelashes, noticing the man's surprise to see her... The sweat beading up on his forehead, the dilating pupils... All noting his arousal. <"There must be... Some way I can~"> Julya purrs as she wraps her legs around him in his chair, rubbing her barely-covered, wet lips against his fatigue-covered crotch. Little did she know, but in addition to the more... Natural-looking, human changes that were still working around her body, there were a few keyed to the agents who's outfit she now wore. A pheromone was being excreted from her sweat glands; a natural, powerful, and fast-acting aphrodisiac that had gotten the soldier beneath her hard as a rock almost as soon as she walked in. The kiss she plants upon him works just as well, working against him like the changes were against Jerrie.
 <"If someone sees you, I could...uh..."> the guard began to say, then trailed off, soon slipping under her spell. Julya wondered why so many people seemed to go all mushy when she talked to them--it seemed like only her superiors and the other girls in the program could keep their head on when talking to her. Not that she minded, though. Especially when there was a handsome, hard-working citizen beneath her with a cock that was ready to burst. She slipped down onto her knees, hidden just behind the bank of computer screens from the outside, and it felt perfectly natural and right for her lips to wrap around his cock right down to the base, and suck, and suck, just like she'd practiced with Comrade Natalya. Her thoughts grew fuzzier as she sucked down a spray of precum, though a few things remained firm, ingrained in her mind by the program--like her sultry broken English, and loyalty, of course. She just wasn't entirely sure loyalty to whom, right now. As she pulled off his cock, sucking up the last bits of cum, her lips seemed to have swollen to a truly...normal size they'd always been, and her breasts were no better, being...just as big as they had been before. Lips not closing in the center, breasts jiggling in front of her even despite the firm bra trying to hold them steady. It was all normal, da? As she strode out toward the door, her gloved hand patted one of the pockets of her coat, getting an intense craving for a cigarette. Really, she would have gone for anything to stick in her mouth, but cigarette is what her mind first snapped to.
Licking the last, salty beads of cum from her lips, Julya eagerly replaced the guard's dick with a long cigarette. Ah, der%u02B9mo. Where was her lighter...? Ah, there. A golden zippo with a sickle on the base, and the star on the top. Even her thoughts, her internal monologue became heavily accented English, before it became entirely Russian... As she was accustomed. Speaking other languages, it was necessary, and some were quite smitten at her sultry voice... But, it was difficult to break away from habits birthed young. Stepping past the gate... Julya wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be doing... Being productive, yes, but doing what... Ooh, she wished she could ask her friend... Her friend? Another infiltrator... As she walked, her sexy gait gave off rhythmic, hard footprints, the same as the other agents passing her with a quick exchange of "Добрый вечер." She walked and drew in lungfulls of fragrant, delicious smoke from her cigarette, the fog slowly beginning to lift from her head. [21:23 PM]No matches found.
 Her lips, puckering around the cigarette, finally ceased their growth, with her mouth dominating her face, and clearly meant to give people ideas on just what she could do with it. Her breasts were likewise meant to induce immediately sexual thoughts, always pushed out on display--and the same was true for every other piece of her. She was a sexual machine for the Motherland and she loved it. But there was a reason why she was heading to see command...oh, yes! The infiltrator! She didn't know how she knew about it, but she knew the exact route she was planning to take, and they'd be able to capture her easily. And she didn't even have to fuck anyone for the information! Which was, admittedly, kind of sad.
 
 
As Jerrie has moved into the eastward ducts, Tina had taken the westward ones. Unlike her, she hadn't felt the ducts begin to constrict immediately, and had no idea of the changes that were being forced through her partner. Like she'd thought; Jerrie was the physical one. Even as slim and scrawny as she was, what little muscle she showed packed a punch. Though Jerrie wasn't exclusively the brawn... Tina was surely the brains. You gave her any system or code made between now and the dawn of computing, and it was her bitch in less than an hour. She was cocky and a bit abrasive, but the sassy raven-haired girl knew what she was doing when Jerrie had her back. A few unconscious guards and defunct cameras lay in her path by the time Julya reached her superior officer... Causing a great deal of worry and confusion for the tech-savvy agent. Protocol dictated that she was to immediately get the holy hell out of there if they knew of their presence... But there was no way Jerrie was gonna get left behind on her watch. Making a break through the facility, Tina scanned the corridors for any sign of her friend... Not knowing that she was the busty commie rearing up for a knockout blow behind her.
Tina came to about as violently as she went out--coughing, spluttering, something pouring along the sides of her mouth. "Leetle too stronk for you?" a voice asked in a teasing purr, and as Tina forced her eyes open, she saw a striped mass in front of her. As the pain from the back of her head slowly faded to a dull throb, the stripes resolved themselves into the tiger-stripes of a Soviet tigress, clearly one of high rank, looking at Tina with a dangerous grin on her fangs. Tina jerked immediately out of instinct, but her hand stayed exactly where it was. The catsuited girl was strapped into a chair that was reclined back slightly, with an ominous set of machinery up above her, trailing off into the edges of her vision where she couldn't twist her head around to see. "Ai am sure you vill get used to eet," the tigress said, setting the bottle of vodka in her hand down on a tray beside her. "You and your comrade, you are here to lean vhat we are doink, da?"
Trying to maneuver her head so she can wipe the acrid liquid from the corners of her mouth, the defiant agent spits at the tigress, her rank be damned. "Nah, just thought we'd get a lil' R n' R out in scenic Siberia." she responds sarcastically, shooting a glare at her captor. Carefully, without straining her wrists and ankles, she measures how much room she has within her restraints... Ugh, not much. An inch, maybe two. The machinery around her... Looks foreign, she knows that much. Nothin' even she's familiar with... Christ alive, what were they doing here? Heh... That's exactly what she was trying to find out. Regardless of the exoticism of the other equipment, one thing stands out for her: the bottle of vodka, reading much the same on its bottle... Albeit in the native script. "Tryin' to get me hammered? Sorry, dollface. I don't put out 'till the third date, no buts about it."
"Hammered? No, but hammer and sickled, yes," the tigress said coolly, moving to her side and looming over her, her chin barely poking out between the tigress's breasts. "You vill be doink vhatever I vant very soon I am thinkink." She smiled, and reached out with a paw to press some switch that she couldn't see. Her arm started to sting, and she glanced down to see that above where she was bolted down against the chair, a pair of needles had been jabbed into her veins and taped in place. She gritted her teeth against the pain, sitting it out with a stoic toughness--but her jaw grew loose, sliding open so that she could let out a few soft pants. "American clothes are so fleemsy," the tigress said offhand, before sinking her claws into Tina's catsuit and tearing out the crotch.
Turning her own word-play around on her? Eh, she could give the girl credit, at least. Still, this was a situation she knew she couldn't snark her way out of, but she could damn sure try to put on that she wasn't afraid... Easy, as she truly wasn't. What were they gonna do, torture her? Part of her training was solely to resist it. They even gave her a bit of hypnotherapy to help! It'd hurt like hell and she'd squeal like a stuck pig, but she wouldn't break... She knew that. "I'll be what? Speak up, can't hear you kitty." she says, trying to avoid the twinge of worry she received when the tigress said that. Tina yelped as the needles jabbed at her... Oh, god... They wouldn't up and kill her. would they? No, that would've happened a while ago. They... Were poisoning her. The pain it sent into her was odd... Like sticking your hand in hot or chilly water without looking, not knowing if your hand was burning or freezing... That, but with pain and pleasure. She chuckled and groaned softly, trying to kick up her knee to get the woman away from her crotch. "H-hey! G-get... Stoppit... I-I'm sure there's another pussy for you t-to play with somewhere around here."
"Oh, but Ai not interested in play with pussy. I want play with puppy," the tigress said, turning a small dial as a hatch raised up between Tina's legs. A black splotch was spreading across Tina's nose, visible to her eyes if she crossed them a bit, and her tongue hung out slightly as she snuck in a few warm pants. From the hatch extended a thick, smooth, and undecorated metal shaft. The very utilitarian aesthetic made it fit right in with the rest of the machine. "But thees...thees want to play with pussy," the tigress said, then switched it on. Tina couldn't help but cringe at the cold sensation--though it was warming up from the warmth of her own body. It rocked slowly, buzzing gently, making an uncomfortably pleasing sensation gently resonate throughout her body. Her breaths were coming faster, sweat beginning to break out across her body--followed by itching, followed by wispy but thickening tufts of black and white fur.
Giving the woman credit was the last thing on her mind, this time... Rather, she was trying to find out what in the hell she meant by puppy. "P-puppy?" she asked from behind gritted teeth. "Y-ya lost m-..." Tina tries to say, but trails off... At the sight of the smooth, steel shaft sliding ever closer to her snatch. "Oho, god no." Finally voicing her discontent, she tried to think of something to turn her off... God, that was easy. Nuns. After the buzzing began, that was voided. A-ah... Mailmen? Another buzz, followed by her beginning to pant. "N-no... Sh-shit. Whaddaya w-want from me?" she asked, falling her hands into fists, her skin feeling oddly... Thick. Sweat trickled down her forehead and past her blackening nose, drawing her attention to it... In addition to the growing hair on her body. "O-oh... Jesus... What in the hell is happening!?" she shouts to the tigress, looking awfully comfortable watching her get fucked and tortured.
"I want play with puppy, so Ai am makink puppy," the tigress said with a broad, bright grin. Tina could feel her nails twisting around, curling and growing longer--more dangerous, but bound down tightly to the chair and unable to do much damage even if she tried. Her hands and feet felt like they were getting puffy with paw pads, and her nose was too big, sticking out too far from her face. With a paw, the tigress pushed Tina's head back into a small clamp that clicked down over her forehead, holding it in place. She was staring up at a screen, and a click sounded behind her as a projector turned on. A picture of the Red Army--the shaft inside of her buzzed more powerfully, making her toes curl and a gasp rise up in her throat. The stars and stripes, and a jolt arched along her body from the clamp against her forehead to the shaft in her pussy. This was just the sort of thing she'd been trained to resist! But then the tigress grabbed her...her muzzle and stuffed the neck of the bottle between her fangs, pouring it forcibly down her throat--the liquor loosened her tight determination and began to chip at her powerful will.
Though her eyes were zoned out and her tongue was lolling out as she panted, Tina could still see every image that was pumping sheer pleasure into her, and in return giving every image pleasure... The red star was damn-near as erotic as seein' one of the male operatives with his shirt off... Yeah, she was a horny little bitch inside, but that never got out from behind her dominant, big bitch personality... But, both were being fed into the lusts growing inside of her for the commies... God, they sure were fucking up her body and sexuality... But, hell, she still knew that she fought for the USA... But even that began to waver as the second bottle was forced into her thick, black lips, cutting off her response of "B-blow it out your ass!" Ugh... Being called puppy was even getting her turned on... L-like a bitch in heat... Panting and docile once more, she nursed, parched from the bottle and was forced to continue watching and feeling the slideshow and drugs change her.
There was a soft 'pop' of suction as the tigress pulled the empty bottle of vodka from her lips, and her tongue darted out to lap up the drops that remained. USA or USSR, she knew that she liked it now. Especially after it started appearing in the slideshow--clicking by a little too fast to think about each one now, but long enough that she could recognize each. And the pleasure she got when seeing the picture of the vodka meant that she started to link that to Russia, and if she liked vodka, well, she probably liked everything else that was giving her pleasure. Wait, no! Her eyes were fluttering back a little, no longer focusing on the images, as her inner confusion began to take over. The tigress's grin grew, and Tina was brought back to reality by a new stinging in her arm. They were pumping more into her? Hadn't they already done enough? Her soft canine panting grew heavier, though, as she felt her body starting to swell--whatever chemicals were being pumped into her, they were packing weight on around her hips and her chest. And...the perverse thing was she was starting to enjoy the feeling.
Whether drunk or just suggestible, it was beginning to show in Tina. "N-no, c-cut... Sh-shtopit..." she slurred and stammered, confused. She liked... Vodka. And the pleasure was telling her that she liked vodka. The pleasure told her that she liked Russia... Well, if it was true about the Vodka... Ugh, it was getting so hard to think! The swelling, multiplying fat and muscle in her breasts and hips made it even worse, the trapped spy beginning to shake her head... But her icy blue eyes never left the projector as the buzzing contraption kept forcing pleasure through her every time a panda carrying an AK-47 or a bottle of vodka showed up... The song playing in the room also began to work against her language, subliminally trying to implant a healthy Russian accent... How happy she'll be when that becomes apparent. "Gg-... D-don' wanna be a shexky hushky... L-lemmie go..."
"Da, you do. Een fact, is all you want," the tigress told her. That thick accent she had felt more familiar to Tina's ears--and to make sure she was getting the effects, the tigress slipped a pair of thick headphones over her ears, so she could hear nothing but the song playing right against her skull. As the tough wall was coming crumbling down, what Tina really felt like she wanted was to be some sort of...object. She wanted people to think about her when they thought about what was sexy. She wanted to be something to be admired, and the chemicals making her body grow were doing just that. She wanted to grope and feel the weight of her own chest--well at least the tigress was there to do it. Her hair was growing out and quite thickly too, a shimmering, silky black mess of curls. Tina sucked down the third bottle of vodka offered to her, and strangely, she actually became more lucid--because as she was changing, she was starting to hold her alcohol better. Just because she was slurring her words less didn't mean she was saying them right, though...
As her thoughts became less and less muddled with alcohol, she believed the effects to be wearing off... Hah! That was the hard part then, right? She... Was home free... Right? Between panting and moaning along with the positive reinforcement from the tigress and the machine, Tina could hardly hear herself say "I-I... A-ai vant...? V-vant to be... Sexy girl. Most sexy..." she cooed in the thick, thickening accent. She still felt it, deep within her... A desire to be objectified... That, and a growing sexual high from seeing the hammer in sickle did not bode well... Or did it? The vodka spilled down her throat like liquid honey, tasting wonderfully to Tina, the singe at the back of her throat and the warmth it provided in the Siberian tundra, and above that, the torture chamber, were very much welcome. "Ehehe~ Ai am such boozehound..." she said, cute, for her dialect.
"Eef you vant more, just say," the tigress said, purring happily as she watched the girl slipping further and further from her defiant position. That desire deep inside of her was growing, especially with the way her body ached pleasantly as it grew--wonderful tingles trailing across her nipples, delightful feelings coursing around her hips and straight into her pussy, where the shaft was still pounding away. "Ai haff proposition for you, puppy," the tigress said, tweaking one of her swollen nipples and making her squirm and whimper. "Ai let you stay in machine longer...you become mascot for new vodka campaign." The tigress showed her a small illustration, an example that had been drawn up with a smiling husky girl winking as she sipped from a bottle of vodka. Tina imagined some muscled, sweaty factory worker hunched over, staring at a poster of her as he stroked--oh god she was cumming! A guttural noise of pleasure left her throat as her juices dripped down around the metallic shaft, the rush of ecstasy from that one thought just too much to control.
Her world went white for a moment or two, drowning out everything but the earphones, the tigress, and the pleasure... The mind-blowing pleasure. Her entire body tensed and went limp, splashing the metal shaft with her hot juices all as she screamed, yipped, and overall came. Whatever defiance she had left within her was now splattered between the table, the metal cock still working at her puffy pussy, and her thigh fur. Panting and gathering herself, her mind was slowly replacing her fight with curiosity... If she was left in this thing for as long as she had been, again? She'd be completely overwritten by this... Th-this poster girl. Whatever her worries were, her mouth shakily said "Da.", reiterating with "Y-yes... Da, y-yes, da...~ M-more... I v-vish to be... Vodka girl... Vant to be sexier... More poster matriel, more... People vant vodka, people vant me...~" she murmured almost incomprehensibly on the table... The indecisiveness of her mind was easily being accounted for by her body.
The earphones came off once she had a fine thick accent in addition to her perfect Russian. She could feel her worries slowly blasted away by the pleasure the machine was giving her. All of her worries about using the machine more were soothed and brushed away. She needed to be sexier after all. She needed everyone to want her. And that was it, nothing else was necessary. Not her thick-walled will, not her memories of working for the US--none of it. She was the poster girl...and she loved vodka. That was the limit of what she retained after hitting her second orgasm, and screaming in absolute delight as all of those other memories were washed away. They'd all interfere with what she wanted to do: be the sexiest and have every man in Russia drooling over her and her vodka. As soon as one of her hands was free, the vapid husky's paw shot out, grasping an unopened bottle of vodka and gulping it down while she was being unlocked from the machine. Her tongue flopped out and her tail began wagging happily as she gulped down her favorite drink of all time.