Undercover Housewives. Part 2 (Cops to MILFs TG Preg)

By FoxFaceStories

An Anonymous Story Tier Prompt Series

Victor and Martin are rookies on a new undercover force that has a major operation underway. Intent on proving themselves, they sign up to help bust a new suburban drug operation, only to find out they need to become attractive undercover housewives to see the mission through! Will they get their bodies back, or will they go native while undercover?

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Part 2: Pretty Little Pictures

The next week of training under Mandy’s tutelage was utterly humiliating, especially for Victor, now Veronica de Kamp. The gorgeous blonde with the very large bust was incandescent with rage at having become a woman. She had previously been a stud, a real ladies man, cocky and overconfident and willing to take on the world. Now she couldn’t even see her own damn feet because her tits were so big, and everywhere she walked, she found herself sashaying her hips automatically. She couldn’t look more like a hot MILF if she tried, and it threw her every time she saw herself in her reflection, or heard her own sweet voice as she spoke, or experienced the pneumatic wobble of her large breasts.

“This sucks!” she complained for the umpteenth time to Mandy, her trainer. “You should be doing this!”

“We already explained why that won’t be the case,” Mandy said, sighing. “Now show me the walk again. You need to stop trying to do a manly strut and just let yourself walk like a woman.”

Veronica groaned. They were in a secret training facility that was effectively just another warehouse, albeit one that had a goddamn change room and dressing table for makeup application. She gestured to Martina Soles, the deeply gorgeous latina woman who had been the pale-faced, Irish-haired Martin just two days ago.

“What about her? You aren’t getting on her case!”

Mandy smirked. “That’s because she’s adjusting faster than you are. Show us, Martina.”

The new latina blushed and walked the length of the warehouse. Sure enough, her hips swayed gently, and she composed herself like a self-assured woman, not that she truly wanted to.

“Ugh, what are you, gay or something?” Veronica said.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Martina replied.

“Trans, then.”

“No!” Martina protested, still getting used to her new hispanic accent. “I’m just . . . wanting this to be over with.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Hey, this was your loco idea, hermana! At least you haven’t changed race and keep thinking in another language, si?"

Veronica sighed. “Fine, whatever. At least you don’t have goddamn F-cups. These tits are way too huge. Why’d you make them so fucking big, Mandy? Or was that Harrigan’s idea?”

“It was neither,” she explained. “It’s just good luck, I suppose. Colour me jealous. Well, actually, I’d like just slightly smaller boobs. Yours are a bit too much for my taste.”

“Lucky you,” Veronica said venomously, but she performed the walk again without any complaint, and this time managed to purge any instinct remaining to keep a manly strut. Instead, her hips pivoted and sashayed, and her bra thankfully kept her boobs from wobbling too much, though with their size there was always a slight wobble. Goddamn, it was weird suddenly having her nipples out there instead of closer to home. Just one of the many shameful things about this new bod.

“Much better!” Mandy proclaimed. “You’re a natural.”

“This is anything but fucking natural.”

“Well, be that as it may, it’s time to look at makeup. Come over here, you two. How are you feeling, Martina? Is the dress alright?”

The lovely latina looked down at the gorgeous yellow dress she was wearing, a fashionable ensemble for an upscale woman around the home. She sighed.

“I would rather pants,” she said.

“You’ll get them, but we need you to get used to dresses.”

Martina could see the logic in it. In truth, she didn’t blame Mandy. This was Victor/Veronica’s fault, as far as she was concerned, though she wasn’t the type to start an argument over it, unlike Veronica. Instead, she moved to the dresser, Veronica mumbling under her breath and following her, while Mandy showed them rack after rack of various makeup utensils.

“Okay, time for an intensive session!” she declared. “Lipstick first for ease, then some lessons on foundation and general skincare. Let’s begin!”

‘Intensive’ was the right way to describe the week that followed. It was more like a total boot camp than the ‘female getaway’ Mandy joked about it being. They had to learn everything about their new lives and the expectations upon their bodies and roles. Such lessons ranged from mastering makeup to dealing with feminine hygiene (Martina just about fainted when confronted with the prospect of wearing pads, while Veronica began a shouting match), to remembering to cross their legs and not ‘manspread’ in public places. Veronica hated having to deal with her hair, though Martina had it harder due to its length. Clothing was another thing; they had to learn their sizes and body types, and work at putting on bras naturally, and even bikinis. The neighbourhood was just forty minutes from a lovely beach, necessitating the pair of them getting comfortable in such wears.

“Can’t I have a goddamn bikini that doesn’t make my tits wobble with each step!” Veronica whined.

Mandy chuckled at this. “Sorry, Von, but with a rack like that, no bikini on earth will be robust enough!”

They also had childcare lessons, practising with dummy babies. This was perhaps the most humiliating lesson, except for the one where they had to figure out how to insert a tampon. That was because it required them to learn how to change diapers, burp their children, how to speak in a high, feminine ‘baby voice.’ Martina was doubly annoyed; she was expected to talk to her child in both Spanish and English. And, of course, there was the looming threat of the next injection. Mandy had informed them about this.

“As I said, you will be breastfeeding, so before the mission starts there’ll be one more injection to get your milk flowing. You may both go up a cup size, just a heads up.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Veronica screeched.

“We’re already so big,” Martina said, cupping her DD breasts.

“Please, you wish you had my problems!”

Of course, Veronica and Martina both knew that they couldn’t escape the mission. Harrigan had made it clear; the only way to turn back was to succeed in this undercover operation, and that meant becoming single ladies with babies they were taking care of, all to infiltrate the mysteriously hidden drug operation in the neighbourhood. The Bliss drug trade had to be stopped, and their chief wanted results. If they failed to get them, well, they might end up being a pair of female cops for good. And neither wanted that, especially since Martina wasn’t even her Caucasian self anymore, and Veronica’s breasts were each the size of overly-large cantaloupes!

So they trained. They learned. They suffered the humiliation of figuring out how to stand and walk in heels and how to do their hair and what things to say and how to act in order to convince members of the neighbourhood that they were a pair of lovely single mothers on the hunt for some delicious silver-haired foxes to become their husbands and help raise their babies. They were ‘desperate housewives to be’, as Mandy put it, keen to become hitched again and therefore the exact kind of person the Bliss dealer would target; someone who would want to remain beautiful and fertile, and have a servile man made suggestible by his own concoction of Bliss extract. The only comfort Martina found was in studying the file notes extensively, going over the various suspects and individuals of the neighbourhood.

There was Mr and Mrs Hetty, the wealthy golf-playing WASPy couple with several children.

There were the Andersons, art dealers who had been there for two years and were expecting their third child.

There was Mr Li and his wife, both Chinese-Americans. She was a stay-at-home mom while he worked in a corporate banking career.

And lastly, in their immediate vicinity, there was the Rodriquez family, composed of two couples who lived beside one another, with large flocks of children themselves.

There were many others, but Martina felt that these were a solid start, at least. Each was beautiful, ranging from their late twenties to their late thirties, and all had children or were expecting children. Harrigan had been right: getting in required them to carry the scent of Bliss in their bodies, and to pose as young mothers. It was exactly the kind of position that would allow them to flourish in their investigation. But when she told it like that to Veronica, the buxom blonde scowled.

“Still doesn’t make it fair that they stole my freaking dick, does it?”

Martina sighed with her. “No, it really doesn’t. But we still need to solve this case.”

“Fine, fine! Give me the files and I’ll do a read up as well. God, our prep better be near the end, I swear.”

It was, though there were still some details that needed to be ironed out. Both women were given their new IDs and qualifications. They were both currently jobless, receiving ‘alimony’ from their ex-husbands, but both were socialising and clearly looking for a man in their life. They received full wardrobes, and to Veronica’s despair hers even had some very sexy lingerie. Mandy blushed a little at that.

“You’ll remember in your files that you’re meant to be a little . . . flirtatious.”

“Goddamn it. Fuck this! I’m not wearing that strappy little dress! And especially not any lingerie!”

Meanwhile, Martinez got a variety of stylish, flowing dresses that made her look like the very image of elegance. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, though it certainly made her go red in the cheeks.

Finally, after lessons in female shaving and skincare and socialising language and female hygiene and bra-fittings and so on and so forth, finally the moment came: the day when the pair would be introduced to their babies. Neither woman was keen, though at least Martina had some academic interest. She’d always wanted to have a family, so she tried to think that at least this would give her some kind of experience, strange as it was.

“Here they are,” Mandy said, pushing a pair of strollers in with some help from a caretaker. “Your new babies. Don’t worry, you can come on over. They’re awake but peaceful, and ready to meet their new mommies.”

Martina approached awkwardly. Becoming a woman hadn’t exactly helped with her social skills, and she was more interested in solving the case than in meeting a baby. Still, she knew this part of her charge, and so she peaked into the carriage to see a rather adorable little Hispanic baby with bronze skin and little dark curls just beginning to grow out. She blinked a few times. It was odd, but she felt a strange . . . connection to this child. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it was there.

“Hello, you,” she said.

The baby smiled, then made something like a giggling sound. It made her nipples tense a little, especially when the baby reached up for her.

“Meet little Gabriel,” Mandy said. “You can pick him up if you like.”

Martina reached in but hesitated. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just hold him like we trained you.”

She did so. The real thing felt a lot stranger, but in a few moments little Gabriel was comfortable in her arms. He was a very cute child in a little onesie, looking up at her like she’d hung the moon. Martina found it hard not to smile.

Veronica, meanwhile, was aghast. “I thought you were joking about the twins!” she said, gesturing at the double-pram.

“Not at all,” Mandy said. “One aspect of bless is extra fertility, so this is a good way to ensure the believability of your story, both of you having come into contact with Bliss and wanting more. Why do you think you’ve got such big hooters?”

Veronica cringed. “I am not breastfeeding,” she said.

“Actually, you’ll have to,” Mandy added. “Erin and Esther here will need your milk. Besides, look at them! Both adorable blondes, like you!”

Veronica grumbled. “It’s not gonna happen. If I have to pretend to be a mom then whatever, I’ll fucking deal since you’ve got me over a barrel. But there’s no universe where - owie!”

The fact that she’d proclaimed ‘owie’ was embarrassing, but she whirred on the spot and chose anger instead, because Many had just gotten her with a needle, and then stabbed Martina gently in the arm with a spare.

“Hey!” Martina said. “What gives?”

“The final injection,” Mandy said, as promised. “The effects should start soon.”

Both women rubbed their arms. “What effects?” they said as one.

Mandy just smiled. “Let’s get you organised to head to Wystemere Lane, shall we? It’s time for this undercover housewives operation to finally begin. Well, prospective housewives, at least.”

But Veronica was adamant. Her nipples were starting to throb, and her breasts were feeling . . . warm. Warmer than usual.

“What goddamn effects?” she said, cupping her chest.

“You’ll see.”

***

“Mandy said we should be smiling as we approach our new houses,” Martina reminded her partner as they wheeled their prams along the sidewalk of Wystemere Lane.

Veronica put on the fakest grin she’d ever seen, her teeth gritted and furious.

“Oh, really? We should be smiling about this? I’m a fucking MILF and my tits are full with milk! Ngh! Stop here, I need to feed. Again.”

Martina was glad, because she too needed to express. The effects of the injection were clear; they had started to lactate just hours after the serum had been applied, and in Veronica’s case it was quite prodigious. A good thing too, because golden-haired Esther and Erin were very hungry little babies, and to her utter humiliation she now needed to breastfeed, lest her boobs feel like they were going to explode.

“Ahh,” she moaned, both her babies latching at her breasts now that she’d unbuttoned the front of her dress. “That’s better. Fuck me, this shit is crazy.”

“It’s not really crazy,” Martina said, taking some time to feed Gabriel, who took a little longer to latch. Her milk flowed and she sighed. It really was strangely cathartic, though her analytical mind was trying to make sense of the emotions it gave her. “It’s science. Crazy loco science, you can argue, but-”

“I don’t want to hear it. No offence, partner, but you’re such a nerd.”

“We shouldn’t call each other partner, remember? We’re best friends who are becoming neighbours.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

They were both dressed impeccably. The delivery trucks were already on their way to their new homes, and they themselves were taking a little tour of the neighbourhood before arriving at 16 and 18 Wystemere Lane, where they would now live. Harrigan had given them an update through Mandy that they could expect an update from their previous mole, an officer who had gone undercover but had, apparently, ‘failed and failed big time.’ They weren’t sure exactly what that meant, but this agent was supposedly male and would greet them from across the street with the statement ‘What a fine evening it is to have new neighbours, wouldn’t you say?’

Finally, the nursing break ended. An embarrassed Veronica put her babies back down, both heading into sleep once more, and the pair continued to stroll through the high-class neighbourhood looking like a pair of stylish and very yummy mommies. It didn’t hurt that their asses swayed, both wearing lovely breastfeeding dresses that pulled tight against their figures while leaving enough to the imagination. Veronica was in blue, and Martina was in bright yellow, and the pair conversed idly about what to expect when it came to their operation.

“Just so long as I don’t have to wear a fucking G-up bra much longer,” Veronica whined.

“I thought you were an F-cup?”

“I was, but I’m bigger thanks to this goddamn milk. What are you?”

“An E-cup now,” Martina said. “My hips are the big thing. And my culo.”

“Yeah, that’s an ass I’d love to fuck if I hadn’t been turned into a woman. Shit, I’m not even sure if I’m into women in this body.”

Martina gulped. She didn’t like the sound of that.

Thankfully, they could both cast that thought aside as they reached their houses. They were rather lovely; suburban yet expansive, and very modern and chic. It was irritating to say the least that they finally had houses instead of crippling mortgages, but the only way to keep them was to go undercover as attractive mid-thirties single moms. The delivery trucks were already there, the men organising the furniture into the house as Mandy had already instructed. It was very . . . decorative. Not in keeping with Martina’s usual minimalist style at all, or the usual mess that Veronica would leave all around her apartment.

“Here we are,” Veronica said, pulling her pram to a stop and folding her arms beneath her hefty bosom. “This is going to be . . . neighbour.”

Martina nodded. She tried to focus her brain on the puzzle-solving element instead of the awkwardness of her new body, gender, and race. There were things to do. People to investigate. A conspiracy board to set up. But before she could arrange her thoughts properly, a voice called out.

“Well, hello there, neighbours!”

They turned. A rather beautiful black woman wearing a flowing green maternity dress was waving at them from across the street. Her hair was in gorgeously long black braids, and her smile was wide as the day was long.

“Oh, uh, hola!” Martina yelled, waving back.

“Hey,” Veronica said, without waving. 

“You’re the two new birds in the neighbourhood, huh? And you’ve got some pretty little babies there, huh?”

She waddled over to them, much to the irritation of Veronica, who really didn’t want social contact right now. Her belly was large, almost to the end of the third trimester to look at her. She puffed a little as she stopped.

“I’m Ariana Lackey,” she said. “Your friend across the street! Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Si,” Martina said, unsure of what else to say. She took the woman’s hand and shook it lightly. “And, uh, congratulations.”

The woman looked down. “Ah, of course! Still getting used to this. That’s my husband at work for you. Really wanted us to settle down. Twins, of course.”

“Same,” Veronica said, voice laced with venom.

“And what beautiful little girls they are! I didn’t catch your names?”

“Martina Soles.”

“Veronica de Kamp.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” Adriana Lackey said. “What a fine evening it is to have new neighbours, wouldn’t you say?”

The two paused at that, their eyes suddenly wide.

“Y-you’re the contact?” Martina said. “But you - you were a man, and you’re gravida!”

“Shh,” Ariana said, putting a finger up to her lips. “There are eyes and ears everywhere. Come with me, and laugh as we talk. You never know who is listening in Wystemere Lane. Now come and have some tea with me, won’t you?”

She waddled back to her home, gesturing for them to follow. Unsure of what else to do, the pair followed, shocked that their male contact had somehow become a very pregnant woman and housewife to boot. It filled the pair with a sense of anxiousness, especially because of what they saw next. Every house in the neighbourhood now had someone by the window or out on the porch staring at them as they headed to Ariana’s home.

Every. Single. One.

To Be Continued . . .