Alicia arrived on site, with her choice of civilian clothing for this mission as to not stand out from the crowd. She was wearing a black tank top that left her stomach exposed, with jeans that had been turned into denim shorts with a very short cut off. Overall, the look was a bit too revealing for what she would be comfortable with, but being an agent meant having to wear something like this, if only once in awhile.
In front of her, in a dilapidated state and covered by several layers of graffiti, stood the unassuming building that was the entrance to the underground city. It looked exactly how it should have, for the express purpose of not standing out. A simple concrete wall with a small door leading into darkness. The only thing distinguishing it from any other building around here were the two thugs stationed at either side of the doorway, both armed with handguns.
The young woman walked up to them, and one stepped forward.
"What's a cute little thing like you doing here?" he asked her, leering. "You don't belong here."
Swallowing any reaction that might have come to mind, she simply replied with the password: "Mars for the rich."
The man snorted. "Didn't expect someone like you to know about that. Well, go on through."
He opened the door for her, and she went inside. There was a hallway beyond the door, which led downwards into dimness. The stairs felt as if they went on forever. She followed it until she finally came across another pair of men, who also stopped her.
"Password," they said in unison.
Alicia repeated the phrase, and they let her pass. Past their second door of security, everything opened up in a breathtaking view of the undercity. It was very literal: A massive, subterranean cavern, carved out by shanty-towns built on top of each other. Yellow lights on wires danced between rickety shack roofs and crumbling walls, illuminating the cavity of the world below. It was quite the sight.
A voice behind her spoke up. "It's quite the view, isn't it? That's everyone's first reaction."
She turned around to see one of the thugs who had let her in, along with his partner. He had a green mohawk and wore a leather jacket, while the other sported brown hair and glasses. Both men were smiling at her.
"I'm sorry, I don't see why you're following me," she said, trying to keep calm. "I've already given you the password."
"Yeah, but you're quite shit. You really think a clean gal wearing some skimpy shit and gawking at our city is going to fool us?"
"I am not interested in your city!" she snapped back. "I just want to get to my destination."
"And where's that?"
"Doesn't a criminal have the right to privacy?"
The mohawk guy sighed. "They can't be sending their best. You are terrible at this."
"Wanna try the new gear on her?" his partner asked.
A nauseating worry grew in Alicia's stomach. What did they mean by 'gear'? Her eyes scanned the surroundings. She could certainly bolt, and hide in this amalgamation of shacks and buildings.
"Yeah, I wanna," the mohawk guy said, still looking at her. He raised his gun which was now more apparently oddly shaped than she had noticed. "You'll love it, little miss coppie."
He didn't need to raise it far, giving her no time to react. A sound of feather whistling through the air was heard, and she felt a dart enter her thigh. Alicia quickly turned and dashed through crowds of crooks and felons, shouting and stomping of the guards drowning out through the hub-bub of commerce. In a lower part of the cavernous city, more and more of the rusted dwellings seemed unoccupied, so she dashed into one, hoping that there would be enough space to duck in before whatever payload she felt coursing through her took effect. The warmth in her thigh spread throughout her body as she crouched inside a hut, listening for any signs of pursuit.
As she listened beside the entrance, she left her body... changing. It wasn't painful, the warmness all throughout her body felt nice, like lying in a hot bath. But something else was happening too, and she first noticed when she looked down at her exposed stomach. Where once was a lean, athletic physique, now her skin was now pudgy, her stomach fattening up and out like a fertile sow. In fact, more and more of her body was changing as she watched.
Her expression changed to one of anger as she felt her muscles fade on her legs, replaced by growing, overly-thick thighs of soft, fat flesh. Her chest filled out, becoming less defined and more rounded, her breasts swelling up to an obscene size. Her ass swelled up too, her hips widening out even further, as if they were assuming the form of an overly-reproductive breeding machine. Her denim shorts and tank top struggled to hide their new assets, with the shorts peeking bushy pubes out from the sides, and the tank-top sporting an obscene underboob, with oversized nipples pushing against its fabric.
"Shit! Fucking assholes! What the hell did they shoot me with?" she gritted to herself, noticing her voice had become even more feminine, like a high pitched girl's.
But perhaps worst of all, was the hormones. Not only had the fertility dart given her the body of an impossibly procreant woman with perfect breeding conditions, but the hormones of one ran through her. She could feel them working within her, giving her a weird new nagging need: To get knocked up. And fast.
She cursed again, wondering what she should do next as the changes finalized. She was stuck in the belly of this shanty, surrounded by criminals, with an overly slutty soon-to-be-mommy body that betrayed her senses with aches for sex and pregnancy, what her body was now unnaturally attuned for.