Seanday Shorts: Observe and Report, Pt1

It was a new technology, a tool for undercover work--for norms, those who weren't lucky enough to have a 'talent'.

I'd been working for S.C.A.R.P. for the past six years, one of just a handful of agents plucked from the real world to work for the agency.

My next assignment read like a holiday; no danger, no killing, just observation. But even so, being a professional there was no time to relax.

Flipping through the paperwork I familiarised myself with the assignment. S.C.A.R.P. had developed a process for creating skin-suits. A way to copy someone's physical identity--I chuckled, that would upset the shape-shifters. The skinsuits would give the ability for regular operatives to go under cover, relieving the pressure on the team.

I skimmed over the details but stopped when I noticed the skinsuits flaws: they needed operatives of approximately the same build and they didn't give the wearers any memories or skills of the originals. Although there was a note about a neural link to the originals.

A couple of pages on I found the details for my part. It described a partnership with similar agencies in the Britain who would be testing out the suits, and in return they would share their neural technology.

The senior developer was going out to join the small team already setup, and escorted by a soldier who would act as a nontechnical assistant. This was my first hop, British intelligence had no idea the skills S.C.A.R.P. agents had. I was to use this soldier to get into the country undetected, from there I was to engage one of the British agents testing the suits. The brief explained that the agency wanted accurate feedback from the agent, but reading between the lines I knew they didn't trust the British and just wanted their own man on the inside.

I handed the brief back and followed my handler. "That's your man," he told me pointing at a soldier.

He was at a counter, checking in some gear. He wasn't heavy built, but tall and lean. His shirt suggested a sinewy strength of a swimmer. The profile said he was twenty-four; his name was Seth Stanchik.

Stanchik lifted his kit bag easily onto the counter, then returned the webbing, and the rest of his kit. As the store man checked off the items, I made my way across the room. Stanchik had an impressive physique broad shoulders that left his shirt tight under his arms and then dropped loose around his narrow waist.

The store man glanced at me and pushed a clipboard towards Stanchik. "Sign here, and here."

As the soldier leaned on the counter, I stepped forward and into his body. He let out a groan and slumped forward, the store man grabbed his shoulders holding him steady as I forced myself into his torso, arms and finally his head.

I groaned in an unfamiliar voice and refocused on the clipboard. The store man pointed at a dotted line, "Last one here." I signed Stanchik's name and compared it with the other one--exactly the same.

Straightening up I stretched to my new full height and took a deep breath. "Anything else?" I asked.

"No, you're good to go, soldier," the store man replied with a wink.

"Thank you, sir," I replied knowing he was one of my shapeshifting counterparts brought in to assist if necessary.

As I walked back to the barracks I wrestled with Stanchik's memories; he was a good soldier and wasn't prepared to give up without a struggle. A valiant effort, but I was more experienced. By the time I'd reached the room he shared with seven others I knew everything--not even his mom would be able to tell I was in control.

"Hey Stanchik, got a new assignment?" a soldier asked as he laid on a bed.

"Hey Reynolds," I replied pulling his name from Stanchik's memory, "Yeah, but you know I can't talk about it. Be away for the next seven days."

"Pfft, lucky fucker. Hear you're heading to Britain."

I shook my head. "Don't push it Reynolds." I looked at 'my' bed, a kit bag ready packed. Dress shirt and pants laid out. Sitting, I pulled off my boots and socks, unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it to the floor. Reynolds was watching me, as I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants. "Enjoying the view?"

He said nothing, but noticing the silence replied, "Fuck you!" before turning over.

Grabbing a towel, I headed out in my underwear. "Need to get cleaned up before I leave."

In the showers, I reviewed my borrowed body, lean and athletic. Large plate like pecs pulled at my shoulders creating a slight hunched stance. I turned to the left and right admiring my powerful back. I traced my hand down my torso, which tapered down to a narrow waist.

I slipped out of my underwear and patted at my new dick, long and uncut nestling in a trimmed bush. I knew all this from Stanchik's memories even down to the mole on his back, but it's always interesting to explore a new body and that's exactly what I did in the shower.

Ten minutes later I was walking back to my room, towel around my waist. At my bed I finished drying myself off, ignoring Reynolds watching me intently. With a smirk, I put a foot on the bed and started to dry my thighs paying attention to my balls and dick. I heard a grunt from behind me and turned to see Reynolds with his hands down his pants jerking off.

"I know what you like Reynolds," I told him. "You want a taste before I go?"

Reynolds licked his lips. "You serious?"

I grinned. "Once only offer, take it or leave it."

Reynolds jumped to his feet and with a few step fell at my feet. I pushed him away teasing him as I walked to the chair and sat down with the soldier shuffled along the floor following me. I spread my legs watching Reynolds's eyes transfixed on my hardening dick bobbing in front of his face.

END OF PART ONE.