A Dirty TASK Needs Doing Pt. 02

The faint whir of stealth engines was the only noise that filled the ready room of the TASK super-jet. S-gene designs on the controls and the engines and the skin made it nearly invisible to radar and the speed it could put out was only matched by the comfort within: Plush seats, comfortable carpet, a TV that went chronically unused because why the fuck would I be watching TV when there was a fine as fuck Amanda to oggle. Not that there was much to see – Amanda was strapped into the pilot chair and was entirely focused on flying us across the Pacific, towards the islands of Japan.

Marcy, meanwhile, was holding her tablet and reading off the mission details, while a small table had been folded out of her swiveling chair. On that table sat several small packages that I itched to pick up and fiddle with. I reached for one and Marcy, one handed, slapped my hand away.

"Pay attention, Kimmy," she said.

I pouted. "If you weren't so freaking cute..."

"You're about to be dropped into a secret base run by one of the most psychopathic countries in the world," Amanda said, looking back over her shoulder. "After literally zero training."

I scoffed. "I don't need training."

Amanda made a masturbatory gesture at me with her free hand as she looked back at her readouts.

"Hey, who almost shot you down in a simulator after just reading a manual?" I grinned. "I'm awesome. This is going to go awesome."

Marcy coughed, then started reading again – her voice pointed. I barely heard her, my eyes dipping to the firm swell of her titties. I could imagine sliding my thick girldick between those pillowy breasts and just fucking her. I had enough length that I was pretty sure that she would be able to slurp at least five or six inches in her mouth while my balls were resting on her belly. I grinned wickedly at the mental image and-

"Kimmy!"

Marcy threw the tablet at my forehead. I caught it quickly and saw that she was glaring at the immense bulge straining against my crotch. I looked down, past my own breasts, then looked up at her, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry."

It wasn't entirely my fault. Before we had zipped off on my first mission, I had gotten my very own suit. It was basically a skintight carbon-fiber interfaced with advanced actuators to turn my already impressive strength up a few levels, with sound absorbing soles on the feet, complete with smart-fabric that could become gripping if I needed to scramble and climb. I looked at my palm, tapping the electrode emitters on each fingertip together, sparking them. Tesla-palm.

Just like Black Widow!

Fuck I could totally go for just bending Scarlett Johansson over a desk and-

"Kimmy!" Marcy shouted.

I started. "What!?"

"Do you even know what the mission is?" she asked, her cheeks flushing.

I sighed, glancing at the tablet for a second. "Yeah," I said. "A North Korean military presence has been detected on an island in the sea of Japan. The North Koreans are denying anything, but TASK has detected EPF. What's an EPF?" I asked, looking at Marcy.

She sighed. "If I show you my tits once I'm done, will you actually listen this time?"

I didn't want to be that easy to manipulate. So, instead of nodding, I just leaned back and grinned at her. "Hey, baby, I'm always listening. I just sometimes get distracted by just how pretty your eyes are," I purred, quietly. My eyes sparkled as I met hers and Marcy flushed, squirming on her seat. She bit her lower lip as Amanda made gagging noises from the cockpit. Coughing, Marcy shook herself.

"Eee, uh, EPF is short for Exotic Particle Flux. Since S-tech is usually one or four steps ahead of baseline technology, we can't give a name to most of the stuff they emit. So, we just slap a generic term on it and figure it out once we get it back to Tabby." Marcy shrugged. "That doesn't mean that they have an S-gene operative working with them. But it does mean that they have at least purchased a bit of S-tech. So, your objective is to identify, destroy or retrieve. If there is an S-gene operative involved, report in and evacuate."

I blinked. "Evacuate!?"

"You're a new agent," Marcy said, her voice serious. "And you're badass, right? Now, imagine someone like you, but who has been doing this for years. If you run into, say, Dr. Doomslaughter or the Ice Queen or anything like that, you'll be in their harem before you can say tiddly winks."

I blinked. "Harem?"

"Like you wouldn't have a harem if you could get away with it," Amanda said, snorting, from the pilot's chair.

I scowled at her. "I...bu..." I spluttered. Damn it, I thought. She's right. Bitch. Fuck I want to just... I wondered if it was possible to seduce Amanda before we got to North Korea. But at that moment, the light in the room went from pale white to red – indicating that we had reached the operation zone. I scowled and hoped that there were going to, at the very least, be some sexy girls in the North Korean base. I could get some strange in a strange land, eh? Ehh? Yeah. I stood up and Marcy stood with me. She patted my shoulders, then gestured to the table.

"Before you jump, your tools. These are smart bombs – they can blow off a lock or cause a distraction. Here's a collar-mic and earbud. Put them on now! This is a smart lockpick. And finally, this?" she lifted up a small bottle of pills. "Water soluble feminization pills."

I blinked. "Pardon?"

Marcy turned bright red. "W-Well, S-gene agents are better at seducing women, so...if you need to, y-you know...get information..."

"I turn a dude into a girl," I said, grinning with delight. "Seduce her. Fuck her. Then get the information!?"

"Only as a last resort!" Marcy squeaked.

"I love this job," I purred, looking at the pill vial. I tucked it into my pocket, rolled my shoulders to get the kinks out of my back, then walked to the rear end of the super-jet. Once I was standing there, Marcy looked at me seriously.

"Remember," she said. "This isn't just a mission – it's a test. If you donk this up..."

I saluted at her, grinning as I cocked my hips slightly. I enjoyed the way how, even while trying to be serious and commanding, Marcy's eyes still flickered along my body with a quick, eager glance. She flushed even more and just pressed the launch button. The floor under me opened and I fell about ten feet straight down into ice cold water. The transition was shocking, and it managed to make my wood go from 'hammer nails' to 'hiding tiny' in about five seconds. I hadn't realized the plane was so freaking close to the water! But then I kicked up and quietly slipped my face from the waves. I blinked and looked around.

The superjet was already gone, silently rocketing upwards into the pitch black sky. The minute or so in red light had kicked my night vision on and so, using the pale illumination of the moon and the lights of the island I had been dropped near, I was able to orient myself. That glance at the tablet had shown me the map of the island, and I thought to myself as I kicked towards the shore: Where best to infiltrate? The map had been taken via satellite imaging and heat sensor, so there were big gaps. I figured the safest place to start was the cliffs near the docks that led into the base itself.

As I swam closer, I saw the docks: They were large, imposing looking hunks of steel that thrust into the oceans. Several cargo ships – not the big honking huge ones that you saw in America, but just smaller ones that were being unloaded by men in black and gold jumpsuits. That made my brow furrow as I came to the rocky cliffside. My fingertips grabbed onto a thin seam of rock and I silently tugged myself from the water, the hydraphobic coating on my suit meaning the water simply wicked off by my body as I slipped free of the water. No drops or drips. I molded myself to the stone, my feet braced against it, then shoved off. I leaped, then landed on the dock, my feet making quiet pips as I landed.

I rolled, quickly, to crouch up behind a set of large canisters. I frowned, sniffing at them. They smelled like...well, they smelled like machine oil. But under that was a distinct scent of cinnamon. Peeking past it, I could see the men at work. They were Koreans, but they weren't in DPRK uniforms. Those were definitely skin tight jumpsuits, complete with fancy caps and gloves. They carried the canisters off the ship, stacking them on dollies, which were then pushed towards the base. I rubbed my chin, then whispered into my collar mic.

"They're not wearing DPRK uniforms."

"Oh dear," Marcy said into my ear-bud. "Colors?"

"Black and gold," I murmured.

"They're working for Lady Chaos then," Marcy said. "Okay, we're getting out of here."

"Marcy, Marcy," I purred as a man ambled towards where I stood – looking like he was checking the canisters over. "We don't know if Lady Chaos is here. I need to keep scouting. One moment." I stepped from around the cover. The man gaped at me. He looked at my full breasts, at my flat belly, and at the bulge of my member – even soft, it was quite noticeable in my suit. I beamed at him.

"Jelly?" I asked.

Then I karate chopped him in the throat, grabbed his head and slammed it into the canister. He sprawled, knocked out cold, and I knelt down, humming softly. Soon, I was dressed in his gear, wincing slightly at the tightness of my chest. I had borrowed his under-shirt and tied it across my chest so I looked more boyish. From a distance. If you squinted. I adjusted my hat on my head, ducked my head forward, and started into the docks – and thus, into the base.

The other men were unloading the canisters into the base itself – half of them were heading down one corridor, while the other half were heading down another. The corridors had been cut into the very rock of the island, but someone had plated them with white panels and added glowing lights to the ceiling. It felt very 'evil base'-ey. But the thing that clinched it was the woman who was overseeing the whole operation – standing in the intersection and directing people to go this way or that.

She screamed Heavy to me. Not the big bad, but the big bad's big bad hammer. She was tall and muscular, with olive-brown skin, raven black hair, and a themed costume. In this case, she was wearing a red leather vest, thick rubber gloves which both had sleek nozzles attached to their backs, while thin cables attached the nozzles to a pair of canisters that were strapped to her thighs, which themselves were clad in a skintight red set of legging. She had a cigar chomped in her mouth and her hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail.

She glared down at the men walking by, smoke trailing from her cigar. Just standing there, she managed to keep everyone working hard. I decided to follow the people heading left, as I remembered from the satellite map that there was a pretty big heat flare that way. As I walked, I whispered as quietly as I could into my throat mic: "Big muscly amazonian girl with flamethrower gloves. Ring any bell?"

"That's Lady Chaos' prime minion, Hot."

"Hot?"

"Just Hot," Marcy said as I came to the doorway leading into the room with the heat signature.

Ah.

There we go.

The chamber was filled with machinery components and slaves. The slaves were easily recognized by their scrawny build and the plain clothes, the furtive expressions on their faces. They looked like they were following from directions – snapping machines together and welding parts together from memory and rote practice rather than any understanding. Me, I didn't follow what they were doing. That in and of itself made me think one thing: S-Tech. I did spot a lot of power couplings and lase-arrays, the kind of machines you'd use to make a big honking laser. Or, more accurately, lots of tiny lasers that would be fired simultaneously. Death ray satellite? Possible, but if it was meant for space, I wasn't sure why it was being built here and not in orbit. Easier to launch lots of tiny things than one big one.

Then several of the canister pushers walked past me, wordlessly rolling their loads on dollies to the empty space in the room. A slave stumbled nearby and the man pushing the dollie knelt beside him. I furrowed my brow and saw the slave being helped to his feet. Okay, that was weird. I walked slowly forward, trying to look like I belonged, and perked my ears.

"Don't worry, grandfather," the man whispered. Then, looking back, he saw me. He frowned, slightly. I reappraised him quickly. No. Her. She was definitely a girl, but she had dressed herself like the other men in the base, in the same skintight jumpsuit that I had stolen. Like me, her breasts had been bound flat, but I was sure that she needed way less binding than me. She glanced back, and saw that the rest of the convoy bringing the containers had peeled off and left the room from the far door. Seeing that, she pulled a sleek pistol from her hip and aimed it at me. "Who are you?"

I raised my hands, slowly, grinning slightly. "On your side, I'm betting..." I walked forward, keeping my voice soft. "TASK."

Her brow furrowed and she swore. In English. "Fuck." She holstered her pistol. "SKIT."

I did a quick check through of all the intelligence organizations I knew. "South Korean Intelligence Task Force?" I paused. "Why the fuck is every organization given an acronym that comes out into a verb? Like HARM?"

"Don't ask me," the woman tucked the pistol back into her holster. She looked back at the slave, who was looking at the two of us with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "I'm here to rescue several South Korean citizens who are being held. We thought this was a smuggler's cove, not..."

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head as I stepped over to one of the canisters.

"Psst," Marcy whispered in my ear. "Kimmy, if you can get me a shot of her face, I can check her against registries."

"How do I do that?" I whispered, softly, as I grabbed onto the lid of the canister. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching (other than Miss SKIT and her 'grandfather', though I was pretty sure she had just used the honorific. But then again, for all I knew, one of her missing South Koreans was her grandfather. More to figure out later.) Sliding the canister fully open, I saw that it contained a big, bubbly blue goop. I cocked my head. "Huh."

"What is it?" The girl asked.

"Amanda is getting a camera drone near one of the windows. Get her near it, we can check her."

"I don't know," I said. "It's a blue bubbly goopy thing."

"Uhhh..." Marcy paused. "No, nothing on the list for S-tech on that. Get a sample."

I patted at my pockets, and found that the goon had had a ziplock baggie full of nuts and berries tucked into his pocket. I held it out and soon, the slaves had gotten their hands on a snack. Carefully, I scooped up a tiny bit of the goop into the bag, using the side of the container to wipe the baggie clean before sealing it. I hadn't filled it to bulging. Rather, I had just gotten a tiny bit inside, so that when I wrapped the bag up and pocketed it, I should be safe even in a scuffle.

"I'm going to need that sample," Miss SKIT said.

"TASK handles S-gene stuff," I said, sticking my nose in the air.

"TASK is barely competent to handle the stuff it does try and do," Miss SKIT said, leaning forward. "Half your agents can't go five sentences without hitting on someone."

I smirked. "Well, when they're as pretty as you, it's hard to resist." I winked at her, purring. The girl's cheeks flushed – her dusky, golden brown skin letting her blush with the most adorable hue. She looked aside, scowling.

"See?"

"It worked, didn't it?" I slid my hand on her hip. She squirmed – then jerked her head up. "Hear that?"

More people were coming towards the room – and from their heavy, stomping footfalls, I was pretty sure they weren't bringing in more goop. I took her hand and jerked her after me. Within a few bounds, I had gotten the two of us into cover behind a piece of machinery. The slaves watched mutely, then went back to their duty. As they teetered off, I tugged Miss SKIT against me. My arm slid along her belly and my other arm wrapped around her shoulders. I held her there – and I had a good reason too. The machine we were hiding behind was pretty skinny. If we tried to stand beside one another, both of us would be visible.

...also, it let me grind against her gently.

"My name's Soo Jung," she whispered, her voice husky as her pert, athletic rump started to grind against my hardening shaft. Then her eyes widened and her mouth opened in an inaudible gasp. Not because Hot and two heavily armored goons stomped into the room with guns and flamethrowers drawn. That was kind of expected, honestly.

Nah. I think she had just realized how much girlmeat I was packing.

"Kimmy," I purred in her ear. I took a moment to glance at the machine we were hiding behind. Now that I was close, it was pretty easy to piece together what it was for.

"They're here somewhere," Hot said, her cigar jumping as she spoke. She clicked the pilot lights on her wrist mounted flamethrowers on. Her eyes skimmed slowly around the room, looking for where we might have hidden. "Find them. Slaves, you leave." She jerked her chin. The slaves hurriedly left.

My arm across Soo's belly shifted down slightly and my hand crept to the zipper of her jumpsuit, hidden underneath a thin fold of silky fabric. I tugged it open with delicious slowness as the goons started to check the right quadrant of the room, their guns leading the way as they walked past wide eyed slaves. Soo bit her lower lip hard as my fingers caressed along the edge of her plain, unadorned sports panties. Then my fingers slipped under and I found she shaved herself down to a very tiny patch of fuzz right above the cutest Asian pussy I had fingerbanged in the past two days. And she had some pretty steep competition. My fingers crooked and slipped into her and Soo shuddered, her teeth biting her lower lip. Her nipples peeked out, hard enough to show through breast binding meant to make her look like a boy and her jumpsuit.

"You're nice and wet, Soo," I whispered in her ear as my thumb found her clit, my fingers working quickly as I rocked my hips.

"W-We're...being hunted," she hissed, her eyes closing. "We...shou-ahh!" She bit down on her lip again. Her lithe, utterly delicious body wriggled and writhed, but the most insistant motion was her hips, bucking and rocking against my skilled little fingers. I nuzzled at her neck, watching past the machine at the thugs as they stomped past another hiding spot after another hiding spot, checking each one with the same quick, jerky motions. Hot remained in the back, watching over everything while puffing her cigar.

Soo quivered against me, her eyes closing tight as she hung her head forward. Her spine arched and a verrrry soft little moan escaped her lips as she came and came hard. Her juices sluiced along my palm and dampened her jumpsuit leggings. Good thing they were already black. Her sex almost squeezed my fingers out of her, and I withdrew my hand with a slow, wicked grin. I kissed her neck, whispering hotly in her ear.

"Thanks, baby."

The two goons had turned at the noise, their rifles lifted up. One of them stepped to the side. The other stepped slightly to the other side, but then hopped a few more feet to the right. Slightly out of place, but, eh. It'll still work. I grinned, then stepped around the machine, licking some of Soo's delicious pussy juice off my fingertips. The goons swung their guns to face me and I grinned, lifting my hands up.