Spy Swap, Part 13 (Special Agent to Hot Spy Girl TG) (Patreon)

A Commission for Al

Finn Langston is the best of the best, a dashingly handsome secret agent who always saves the world and always gets the girl. But when he is called upon by The Agency to infiltrate the private island of Sebastian Whitlock, a devious playboy industrialist who may be angling for world domination, Finn meets his greatest challenge yet: being turned into a raven-haired spy beauty to seduce Whitlock, and find out what he is planning. But the new and beautiful Fiona may find her cover going far, far deeper than she could have imagined . . .

First Part

Previous Part

Part 13: Octofemme

“Adrian, watch out!” She grabbed him, and using the last reserve of her energy managed to haul him to the side. She threw her Beretta at the grenade, knocking it down between two sections of the console, where it promptly exploded. 

BWOOOM!!

Debris flew everywhere, but they were okay. When Fiona rose to deal with Agent Seven though, her eyes were wide open as she looked around herself. 

“A-Agent One. I’m - my mind is mind again. I - I’m going to kill that bimbo shit!”

She advanced towards a now-terrified Sebastiana, but was halted as the entire structure began to groan, the metal twisting.

“I’m afraid we’ve got bigger concerns right now,” Fiona said. “It seems that grenade blast was the final straw for this tower.”

The entire platform buckled, causing them to slide a moment as it tipped to a twenty degree angle.

“I’ll get Sonya!” Seven called. “There are emergency escape hatches over to your left! Sebastian showed us: they’re in the event of an aerial attack.”
 “Take Sebastiana with you,” Fiona said. “But don’t kill him. He’ll have a lot to talk about.”

Cassandra exhaled. “Fine. You look good by the way, Agent One. I’m sorry you’re stuck like this, but I always did like to swing the door both ways when entering the saloon.”

Oh, I could tell from the way you looked at that charming cat burglar in Vienna.

“Next time, then,” Fiona said. “Come on, Adrian. We’re nearly out of this! Just have to escape a falling tower, alright?”

She grabbed him, helping haul the injured man to where the emergency pods were. She’d never seen anything like them: the interior was plush, with splendid couches with safety harnesses, a fridge and stock of delicious looking supplies - including caviar - as well as a small shelf of classical books.

The man really was pretentious. But I can’t deny his taste.

“Well, looks like we’ll be ejecting in style, Adrian,” she remarked.

Another explosion came from the now-destroyed console, and the tower shook as further flames spread. The sprinkler system activated, but it too was already half-mangled, which only caused the water tanks to disperse to one side alarmingly quickly, speeding up the destruction yet further.

“Um, did you say ejecting?” Adrian asked. “I’m not - well - this might be a bad time to mention this, but I’m afraid of heights.”

“Good!” Fiona said, pushing him back into the couch and strapping him in. She slapped him on the knee. “Because very soon we’ll be on the ground and you won’t have to keep worrying about it.”

She strapped herself in with one buckled motion, checked that Cassandra had gotten Sonya and Sebastiana to their pod, then hit the button to close the door.

“No, I mean I’m really afraid of heights.”
 Fiona laughed. God, he really is quite adorable, isn’t he?

“Well, just hold on tight and try not to scream like a woman. That’s my job.”

She pulled the lever, and then suddenly the enormous capsule rocketed out from the tower. The circular windows inside their little metal bubble gave them a perfect view of the control centre, the pride of Sebastian Whitlock, as it collapsed down upon the facility, crumpling in sections of the roof and falling into the hollow space where the rocket had exited. Everywhere, women were pouring out onto the beach and out of the facility, many of them gathering into groups and hugging one another.

Glad to see you free. Sad that I’m not my male self or I could stay here for weeks without getting bored.

But their concerns were more immediate, because after ejecting several hundred metres sideways like a mad, railless rollercoaster, the pod finally began to succumb to gravity and fall, fall, fall. Adrian clutched her bare thigh tightly and screamed. She screamed with him, though not nearly so . . . ecstastically, as he did. It was only when it seemed like they would be crumpled upon the ocean’s surface that there was a sudden slowing of their descent, the parachutes of the pod activating. They landed with an awkward thud upon the water, whereupon a detaching sound indicated that the parachutes were safely disengaged from the pod. This was followed by the expansion of a rubber exterior ring to keep the pod fully afloat.

“Oh my God, that was by far the worst thing I’ve ever experienced,” Adrian said. “I’m so very glad I don’t have my glasses.”

Fiona chuckled, pulling herself out of the straps and getting Adrian’s off as well.

“Tell me, Adrian, since I keep forgetting to ask. Are you near-sighted or far-sighted.”

“I can see fine up close, hence that lovely hack I performed. Things that are far away, on the other hand -”

She bent over to open the fridge, happy to give him a view of her magnificent rear, particularly since the hem of her already-short gold-sequin skirt was torn suggestively.

“So what you’re saying is that you can still . . . appreciate your immediate surroundings.”

There was a momentary silence before he replied.

“Yes. I can very much appreciate them, in fact.”

She found what she was looking for and withdrew it from the fridge.

“Um, not that I don’t appreciate the marvellous sight before me, Agent One-”

“Please, call me Fiona Goodchest,” she said, sliding next to him again, her indeed very good chest thrust out for him to admire her bountiful cleavage.

Adrian swallowed. “It’s just, I noticed that our escape pod’s radio is functioning. We’re out of range of his cloak, it seems. That means we can radio in my government and your Agency.”

He went to touch the radio, but instead Fiona just placed a glass in his hand, then her own, and brought out the drink she had taken.

“Mhmm, Octofemme. A bit on the nose but looks like a good vintage.”

Adrian was baffled. “Fiona, are you listening to me? We can get a signal out, finally.”

“Oh, we can leave that to Agents Thirty-Nine and Seven, I’m sure. They’re just a few hundred metres that way and seem to be doing well. For now, I say we celebrate with a drink.”

“I would have thought you’d want to get home.”

Oh, Adrian. Flirtatious right up until you’ve got her right before you. I always was the lead seducer, I suppose.

She shifted, and to Agent Spiros’s surprise she planted her legs on either side of him, facing him so that her large boobs were right near his face. She lowered herself a little, spreading her thighs suggestively so that his own hardness was very much evidence against her excited womanhood.

“Please, Adrian,” she said, flipping her hair to one side in that manner she had appreciated in so many women. “You and I are currently off the coast of Paradise, in warm tropical waters, with everything we could ever need right around us. And it looks like this couch can fold out to a very, very comfortable bed. I say we have a drink, enjoy some caviars, and savour a little bit of well-earned paradise. What do you say?”

She pressed her lovely chest further against him. The handsome, nerdy Greek agent’s eyes roamed south over her ‘hills’ for a few moments, then a few more, and when his eyes finally met hers again, the man smiled, suddenly more confident.

“Cheers to paradise then,” he said, raising a glass.

“Cheers,” she said, clinking her own against them.

They didn’t drink much, of course, because not long after they were on the unfolded bed, her upon him, and he ravishing her. Fiona gasped as his strong hands caressed her soft form, gripped her peachy rear, and she moaned long and high when he squeezed her breasts and played with her nipples. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before, but what little remained of the mental conditioning from her own Tiresias Cradle experience in his sub-lair had remained with her, being a separate program to what was undone by Adrian. She still thought of herself as Fiona Goodchest, still felt strangely comfortable in her female form, and she was definitely possessing a strong instinct for how to be the perfect lover.

But then again I always was the perfect lover, she thought.

“You know, this is the best mission I’ve ever been on,” Adrian said, between bouts of kissing her lips and her buxom bare chest.

“It’s not over yet, Agent Spiros,” she cooed, prying apart his shirt buttons and beginning to unbuckle his belt. “We still need to make sure it ends with an appropriate . . . climax.”

“Damn, is it wrong of me to say I’m glad you’re staying this way?”

She giggled softly. “Only if you don’t do your duties, Agent.”

And with that, she placed herself fully upon him, gasping as he entered her, and she began to ride him, absorbing the foreign-yet-wonderful sensation of being penetrated by a man.

“Ohhhhh, Adrian!” she cried.

***

It was hours later, and after quite a bit of lovemaking, that the radio activated.

‘Agent One! Agent One, this is A! Do you hear me? This is A! We have your radio signal, can you please respond? Agents Thirty-Seven and Nine have contacted us. They have Sebastian Whitlock in custody. We are sending ships to pick you up and deal with the Arcadian situation. Do you read me?’

Fiona smirked to herself as she lounged, her perfect body naked against Adrian. She played with his chest hairs, knowing now how appealing it was for women to do that.

“Should we respond?” Adrian murmured, head resting on his pillow.

Fiona sighed, stroking his chest lovingly. Her hair was a mess from all the wonderful introductions she’d had to the world of female sexuality, but she didn’t mind. 

“I suppose they will need details on the island,” she said. “Poor Denise Christmas will be realising she’s stuck as an attractive woman for life, along with many other former men. And the women all looking like supermodels.”

“Including you.”

She smirked. “I think I’m okay with it. This was my biggest mission, and I pulled it off in style as a woman.”

“And finished it with a climax.”

She caressed her left breast and kissed him on the cheek. “Multiple climaxes, as I’m sure you’ll recall.”

“And quite vocal about it too.”

“Blame Whitlock for that. A bit of prima donna programming on his part, though you didn’t mind at all.”

He was starting to get hard against her, and she didn’t mind that either.

“So, radio?” he suggested, voice flat.

But Fiona just bit her lip, reached over, and turned the radio off. She grabbed the wine bottle of Octofemme, the name of which was printed on the side of the pod, apparently, and rested back in bed against her lover.

“They’ll come find us,” she said. “Besides, it’s A’s fault I’m stuck like this, so he can go to hell. Let’s enjoy some time off, drink some more of this fine vintage, and have some more fun together.”

“What kind of fun do you suggest?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. We’re both field agents. Let me just have a play around with your gun for a while.”

And with that, they were back under the covers together, the radio forgotten.

The End

FIONA GOODCHEST WILL RETURN IN . . . A VIEW TO A KILLER BOD