Russian Undercover (1 of 2)

He was ready. In peak physical condition. This would be the most challenging mission of his entire life, but for Russia, he would do anything. Unknown to those stupid Americans, the Cold War had never really ended, and under Putin, more and more resources had been funneled to secret programs and missions designed to undermine America’s position both at home and abroad. Now, Andrei would be undergoing a brand new program of deep cover. With the help of a strange new drug, which could alter the physical nature of an individual, and mental programs designed to help him assimilate seamlessly with American culture, he would be the first of many Russian spies planted right in America’s communities, ready to strike at first notice.

Today was the day. He had few friends and family to say goodbye to, which was part of the reason he’d been chosen for this mission. Still, he looked forward to fucking a string of American bimbos once he got settled into his new life–after all, women had never really been able to resist a physique like his. The doctors told him to strip, attached a series of contraptions to him, along with a thick helmet, but before anything could happen, he passed out in darkness.

He awoke on a double bed, in some room he’d never seen before. The doctors had told him that the next time he woke, he would be in America, his new memories fitting seamlessly on top of his Russian past. Indeed, hi name, now, was Andy, he lived in Cleveland, Ohio, where he worked at a call center a few streets away from his apartment. He was amazed–he could still recall his old self, but the new memories and thoughts appeared even faster. He tested a few sentences, and found himself speaking in flawless American English, with a slight midwestern accent, of course. But then he looked down at his body…and was overcome with shock.

Sure, Americans were well known for their obesity, but Andy had never imagined he might actually be made fat in this process. He looked at his new body in the mirror, disgusted at the hair covering his big gut, and the stubble coating his face. The apartment was a bit of a mess as well–he’d have to fix this. He wouldn’t make much at his new job, but he’d be able to afford a gym membership at least. Still, he checked the time, and realized he needed to leave in fifteen minutes to make it to his job on time for his first day. Cleaning up could wait–he threw on some clothes scarfed down some food, and headed out into the first day of his American life.

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