I had drifted into majoring in Chinese and Political Science, and finding myself with no other majors I could jump into I just went full throttle into them. Grad school for International Affairs and internships with the right government organizations followed. Soon enough I found myself positioned to be an analyst, which was as close to a spy as you could get. After all, field work was a fools game—even if I played the part of some foreign businessman I’d stick out.
The CIA sent in three more agents to the college, but all of them were lost, just like Kyle. The director went home, frustrated and upset by the case, only to find a young blonde sitting on his couch.
“Hey bossy!” the blonde purred.
“Who are you? How did you get into my home?”
“It’s me, silly!” she giggled, “Kylie!”
“Oh my God Kyle, look at what they’ve done to you…” he said, approaching the girl.
“I know! Aren’t I sexy? Look at the pussy they gave me, don’t you love it?” she said, sex practically dripping off of her voice as she held her legs high in the air.
“Kyle… what… why are you here?”
“My um… princi… head… umm… the college lady told me to tell you that if you stop sending spies and stuff she’ll let me be yours! Wouldn’t that be so good!”
“Shhh…. let me help you make up your mind boss!” she said, unzipping his pants.
“Honey what’s wrong?” my wife asked.
“Nothing, I uh… I just need some water.” I said, heading to the bathroom.
I looked at myself in the mirror. “Get ahold of yourself, Kyle,” I said. I’ve been investigating this school for a week now and I’ve gotten so caught up. All of my grades are so low and it makes me feel so dumb. I sat down on the toilet and started masturbating, like I have been for almost a week, to the thought of getting an A. It’s become a complete obsession. I’m trying to stay focused on my mission but I can’t if I don’t start getting good grades. It’s time I talk to my director.
— The Next Day —
“Sir, I need to change my disguise,” I said.
“In what way, Kyle?” he asked, confused by my request.
“I’m not very—ehem, sorry, Kylie, she’s not very pretty. I don’t think she’s fitting in at school. The identity needs to dye her hair blonde and perhaps start dressing sluttier,” I said, completely serious.
“Are you sure, Kyle? We wouldn’t want to push you past your comfort zone.”
“No I’m sure, sir, this is important for the mission.”
“Okay, I’ll tell the team.”
When the makeup and latex teams prepared me today they made sure to do a lot better. My hair was a beautiful blonde and my skirt hanged right above my ass, revealing a thong so tight that it disappeared between my crack. I cooed in the mirror as I puffed my hair.
At school the teachers noticed instantly. My grade went up to a C across the board and it made me feel so good! Every time an instructor complimented me I could almost feel the breast forms tingle, and I could imagine juice running down my leg. It all just felt so real. I had to do better. I went to the library and started studying for hours after school everyday. I filled notebooks with techniques on how to give the perfect blowjob and how to walk, talk, and act sexy. However, my grades just wouldn’t go up! I knew I had to speak to my advisor.
“Mrs. Shaw, you look like you’re really starting to fit in,” she said.
“Not really! No matter how hard I try I just can’t get my grades up!” I pouted.
“Maybe that’s because you could never be a real slut if you don’t have a pussy.”
“What? How do you know…?”
“Relax, Kylie! We can fix that for you. All you have to do is call your buddies at the CIA and tell them to give up the investigation, and we can make you into a straight A student in no time.”
I eagerly grabbed the phone without a second thought and sent the message to my director.
Almost twenty girls have gone missing after enrolling into a new two-year private college in town. The CIA wanted to enroll a girl to investigate but it seemed far too risky, so they sent me instead. My name is Kyle, a 26 year old guy, and I’m going undercover as Kylie, a 19 year old girl. After extensive makeup and latex work the team was able to create a totally indistinguishable college girl. I’m supposed to stay low, wear dark clothes, and not really stand out. They’ve sent me in as a sophomore so I’ll already be a year into the program.
The admissions office was beautiful, with lovely ornate furniture and tapestries. I sat in a chair across from the desk of my advisor, making sure to cross my legs so that I would look feminine. I took many classes at the CIA on feminine behavior to make sure I didn’t blow my cover.
“Kylie Shaw,” the advisor said, looking at some papers, “Unfortunately some of these credits you have listed here will not transfer without taking a placement exam.” She peered over the papers at me through her glasses, “Is that acceptable?”
“Of course,” I squeaked.
“Very well, Mrs. Shaw. If you will follow me to the testing room I can get you started right away.”
The tests were ridiculously easy. The math problems were very basic and the english test read at what seemed like a fifth grade level. The final exam, a personality test, was by far the weirdest. The questions asked where a woman’s place was in society, with answers like “Beneath men, equal to men, or above men.” I tried to stick to answers that showed equality. I exited the room, as instructed, and waited in the hallway for my advisor.
“Mrs. Shaw!” she called, “Your scores are ready.”
I entered her room and took a seat.
“Unfortunately you scored too poorly on your placement exams to allow us to transfer any credits.”
“What? That must be a mistake,” I said. How could that be? The tests were so easy!
“Don’t worry, many girls struggle on our tests when they first arrive. We will be enrolling you in some faster-paced ‘core classes’ that will help boost your scores so you can get right back on track next semester.”
— Next Week —
I filed into my first remedial class, forcing myself towards the back of the room. I felt ridiculous, how could I score so lowly? The teacher turned off the lights, put on a video, then quietly exited the room. The video was colorful and vibrant, narrated by an extremely upbeat young woman. She talked a lot about math but I couldn’t focus. The class felt so beneath me. Before I knew it the bell had rang and the class was over. Three hours, gone, and I didn’t even realize it. The teacher gave us homework to take home and I made sure I took a look at it before my next class.
“What is two plus two?” the first question said.
“What an easy one!” I thought, tracing the problem with my pencil. A minute passed however, and I still couldn’t come up with an answer. I continued to trace the problem with my pencil, searching my mind for an answer before I heard the bell ring for my next class. Looks like I might need to pay more attention in that math class.
The next class was very similar to the last. The teacher put on a colorful video and left the room. I tried to watch this video instead of dozing off like the last one. The narrator talked a lot about toys, which sounded like a lot of fun. Everything the narrator said was true and made a lot of sense, I found myself really trusting her. She told the class that girls are toys, and that, sense we’re girls, we must be toys. It kinda sounded wrong but I wasn’t about to argue. Before long the teacher gave us homework and sent us home. Maybe I’d do better on this class’s assignment.
You know what?
Sam is an undercover DEA agent & is working as a secretary for the legitimate arm of Mick Sallyartist criminal enterprise.
There he is, there’s my target.
Captain, I’m not very comfortable about this.
It’s been a year now and nothing. He seems sqeaky clean. Even my handlers given up on contacting me unless i actually find something worthwhile. After yet another boring social event i find myself posing in front of our bedroom mirror.
“You look stunning in that dress, Katrina.” He looked at me coyly.