Agent 33: Council To Evil

Written By Dammyl1971, Thriller Story

Agent 33 made her way daintily along one of the upper beams of a high-ceiling storage room. Her footsteps didn’t make a sound. Nor did the sweep of her short brown skirt. 33’s pink sleeveless vest almost seemed to float upon her narrow chest, like blossoms upon the boughs of some pretty spring tree. The beam was narrow, but the agent’s every step brimmed with confidence. She wore her brown hair short and spiky, so that in this darkened chamber, the locks were as the silhouettes of murderous knives.

On this mission, the girl’s diminutive build and fresh age were a boon. Silence was of the essence. She was to infiltrate a secure compound along the shores of a tropical city. 33 thought it a fun concept. Easy, but fun.

The girl smiled. Fifteen feet below was a big, dumb goon standing watch over all the crates and shelves. The goon had no clue of the pretty, poisonous flower that stood directly over his head.

About the mission: 33 was to locate a rival agency’s mainframe computer and corrupt its hacking software. And seeing as she was not only athletic and stealthy, but also brilliant at coding, today just wasn’t going to be much of a problem. Especially if all the guards were as farcical as the one below.

Agent 33—known to friends as Suzy Cross—walked the beam like an Olympic gymnast. She came to the far wall and slipped through a clerestory window. The room beyond was slightly better lit. Curiously, it carried the scent of rain. 33 knelt. The hem of her skirt slipped back.

A sharp red fingernail touched the mic of her headset. “Chevron, you copy?”

“Right here, little lady,” a man’s voice came back. “Everything okay?”

The girl almost laughed. “I haven’t even had to breathe hard.” Now her eye spotted the reason for the rainy scent. There was a pool of glimmering water in the room. “Yet,” she added.

“Yet? What’s your status, Suzy?”

She furled her brow at the water. It looked clear...and maybe a little deep. “I’m in some kind of a treatment room for the agency’s water supply. But we’ve got a dead end. There’s a door in here, but I’m not about to walk through it. We need keep things dark, Chev.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” her companion replied. “Any other ways to get closer to the mainframe?”

“One. But it’s going to involve some swimming.”


The bottom of 33’s red lip twisted. “Yeah. How long can I hold my breath?”

Chevron groaned. “At your size? Not forever.”

“There’s some water here. A pool. I’m going to see if it leads anywhere.”

“Holding your breath?”

“The girl doesn’t come equipped with gills.” She stifled a laugh. “I thought you nerdy sidekicks were supposed to be smart.”

“Listen, Suzy, that headset you’ve got doesn’t come with an IP rating—“

“I know. I’ll take it off. And when I get back I’ll bring you up to speed.”

The other’s hesitation was near palpable. “All right,” Chevron allowed. “Just be sure to get your deepest breath. And don’t try to overstay.”

“Copy that, Chev. Over and out.”


The spy’s small, slender body dropped from the beam. 33 let gravity take her. Air lifted the skirt, exposing a series of delicate curves. Her feet hit the floor without a sound. She bent into a crouch and slipped behind what appeared to be two purifying tanks. Here, she removed the headset.

Get ready to hold your breath, girly, get ready to hold your breath!

Curious, 33 drew a deep one: HAAUUHH!

Her tiny chest rose tight with air. The lungs inside felt good and strong. Perky. Less than a year ago she’d been screaming cheers for the boys on her high school football team. You needed good breath control to be on the squad. There were dance moves and kicks and flips.

She let the breath out: PHEW!

Next, 33 took off her shoes, and then her socks. Now the pretty agent’s hands went to the belt of her skirt. She unclipped it. The skirt went loose. She drew a couple of more deep breaths


Leaving her panties on, the girl lifted her vest up over her head. Her rib-cage—a bundle of diaphanous twigs carefully arranged over two pink pockets of air—expanded toward the water. After a moment’s thought, 33 decided to unhook the little red brassiere she wore as well. It fell away from a pair of high, small breasts with tight nipples.

Okay, little girl, ready to show off your lungs? Cool!

Keeping low, 33 slipped from behind the tanks. Once at the edge of the water, she peered down. Sure enough, there was a ledge about ten feet beneath the surface. Beneath that? Who knew.


One of the compound goons received a message from security. The goon stood 6’4” tall. His body was a cliff face of rock solid muscle. He liked—really, really liked—small, pretty girls with too much confidence. He went to the mainframe room. Here, he was able to see the girl through one of the CCTV’s. She was pretty. Bare and beautiful. Good enough to eat raw.

The goon’s enormous cock grew hard against the fabric of his patrol trunks. Other than these, his showman’s body was fully bare. Ready for action. And lots of fun.



Agent 33 dove underwater. She began a series of slow, steady kicks. Her legs scissored open and closed, open and closed. A shadow fell over the scene. This, 33 knew, meant that she was now below the tunnel ceiling. There would be no going up for air if things got dicey.

“NN! MM!”

She could feel it now. Her soft chest starting to hurt for fresh breath. The spunky pair of cheerleading lungs getting tired. 33 gave another kick. Trouble was, she just didn’t have much muscle. Now her arms had begun to ache. Her eyes bulged. A squeal of frenzied, flurried bubbles burst from her lips.

33 stopped swimming. Her hands flew to her mouth in attempt to block another burst of desperate bubbles.

Oh no! Oh no!

The young agent’s diaphragm buckled three times. “NN! NN! NN!” The muscles down there were failing fast. 33 scrambled for the exit...

And straight into the massive arms of her captor! She felt her body being forced against another chest, this one much wider and stronger than her own. There came a glimpse of a bald head, a grinning face. Then the man (it had to be a man) pulled her out of the tunnel.

“HUHHHH!” she gasped as they broke the surface. “HUHHH! HUHHHH!”

The man clutched at her breasts. Squeezed them. Pinched them.


“Yeah,” the man said. “Breathe, baby. Come on.”


“Now is that any way to thank a guy who just rescued you?”

Each of his hands was large enough to take hold of her chest and clench until the ribs broke. But pulverization didn’t seem to be part of the goon’s initiative. 33 felt his right hand scurry down over her belly and slither beneath the fabric of her panties.


One of the goon’s wide fingers curled back inside of 33’s tight, smoothly shaven vagina, causing her lungs to snatch another breath.


The goon’s other hand went to her throat and squeezed. “Shut up.”

It wasn’t like 33 had a choice. Now she couldn’t breathe again. The goon was strangling her.


Her puny fists beat at the vice crushing her neck. The goon squeezed harder. Harder and harder. Underwater, a stream of warm urine jetted the goon’s right hand. And still, he kept a lock on her throat. Distantly, the little agent could feel another one of her holes threatening to burst—the one even further down. But before this could happen her tormentor finally let go.

“PLEASE!” she gushed, terrified. The haughty, confident little sprite she’d been just minutes ago had completely flown. “PLEASE! PLEASE!

“Be a good girl,” came the other’s unctuous reply. He had her back pinned against his chest. At any moment he might decide to break every bone she had with a single flex of one arm. “Be a good girl.”

That was how, mere minutes later, 33 found herself out of the water and on her knees. Her panties were gone. Floating somewhere in the deadly underwater passage. She was fully nude. A bare-skinned pixie. The goon’s cock was in her mouth, touching the back of her throat, threatening to force its way deeper.

She had never taken a man in her mouth before. Gagging, 33 tried to work her tongue back and forth beneath his shaft. The goon let out a moan.

“Deeper, girl, deeper.”

“UH!” she choked. “AH!”

Suddenly it hit her that there was still a way to complete this mission. To incapacitate the goon and succeed. She was about to execute the plan when the goon’s cock erupted. Sticky, salty semen—what felt like quarts of it—flooded her throat.


“Oh baby yes!” the goon’s voice dreamily floated. “I’m coming, baby, I’m coming!”

His hands were locked behind her head, denying all escape. She heard him command her to swallow. 33 did. Once, twice. Her throat bobbed. Nothing really wanted to go down. The guy’s seed was too thick. Her eyes shifted to the mainframe computer. Big and blinking. A series of plastic, outdated consoles. A beast all its own.

It was time to act.

Hard as she could, 33 bit down.

The goon’s dream became a nightmare. He gasped. Then he screamed, and beat 33 on back of the head. She held down for a moment longer, released him, and with a spinning kick, knocked him into the water.

His huge body made quite the splash. At the same moment he hit the water, a slow, blocky-looking droid broke through a door at the other end of the room.

DESTROY, the droid’s glass head commanded, pointing a shoulder-mounted cannon directly at the girl. DESTROY. DESTROY.

As the entire room became riddled with ammunition, 33 cart-wheeled backward. Semen dripping from her lips—and down her throat—she dove behind the mainframe. The robot did not stop firing. It blasted the computer to pieces. Sparks flew. Tiny explosions erupted from the screens and keyboards. Smoke floated toward the ceiling.

From a bloody section of water, the goon saw it all. “No!” he screamed. “You stupid piece of junk! Cease fire!”


“Garbage! Idiotic pile of scrap!”

The robot stopped firing. A single panel from the mainframe teetered and fell to the floor. And that was that. Mission accomplished. But 33 wasn’t done yet. She saw a chance to “destroy” one more piece of heavy equipment. Leaping from behind the console, she executed a perfect cheerleader flip between the robot and goon. The robot’s deadly discharge was too slow. Already 33 was out of the scene. The goon got hit instead. His head went boom in a spray of blood.


“Shut up,” the naked agent said.

She sent another spinning kick at the robot’s head, shattering it. More sparks flew. The robot’s cubed body slouched and its lights faded out. Game over.


“Game over,” Chevron’s friendly voice sang. “Game over, girl! Wow!”

Agent 33 sat up. She was on a table, fully dressed. “What?” she muttered, blinking. “What?”

Then she remembered. She was hooked to a simulator. A kind of testing device for her new agency, Shark-Tech. They were recruiting her. Her skills had been in question. Not anymore.

“I...I passed, right?” she asked.

Chevron gathered her into his arms. She took the embrace. Relished it like sunlight after a long rain.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I could make it. I...I couldn’t hold my breath long enough.”


“And then that maniac wanted to rape me.” Suddenly a thought struck her. She pulled back to look at Chevron. “Um...Chev? Did the testers at Shark-Tech, like, see everything? Everything?”

He laughed. “Yes, baby, they did. And they’re mightily impressed. None of our females have ever passed The Water Dance before. It isn’t meant to be passed. It’s a test of mental fortitude.”

“Whoa! Really?”

“Really. You broke their system.”

She smiled. “Oops.”

“You’re the coolest girl ever, Suzy. You know that?”

Seeing the love that shined from Chevron’s eyes, 33 could tell he meant every word. “It has occurred to me from time to time.”

“Want me to carry you upstairs to get your diploma?”

Disconnecting the little thought monitor from around her head, she replied: “Why yes, sir, that sounds nice.”

He swept her, like a princess, off the table, and together they went off to new adventures.

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