A Tight Squeeze

“How does Stev-Captain Rogers do it,” Peggy Carter thought to herself as she dredged herself across the wintery plains of the German countryside. She shivered with every step as her usually rosy skin turned pale. “Well to be fair Margret his uniform usually has long sleeves and insulated, but you’d know that if you didn’t drive your jeep off a cliff and burn your jacket in the process.”

She cursed under her breath as the snowy forrest became more rocky, her boots keeping her balanced on the uneven ground as even in the cold Peggy Carter sweat and ached. Her white t-shirt had already became near transparent, her navel and nipples visible through the thin white fabric as she wondered why the hell in the world she had said no to the wool sweaters SSR provided for their winter missions.

Of course Peggy knew the reason as she felt her bum squeezing against the wool pants that she had selected herself. The army didn’t have field uniforms for women, and even if they did, the tailors at SSR facilities were mostly men, and she couldn’t risk stripping down to her skivvies. There were many prying eyes in those bases, with bets on Peggy Carter’s form. She had seen some of them herself. Things like cup size, pubic hair, what color of underwear she had on were all popular lines at the cantine.

“Finally,” Peggy muttered as the forrest cleared and the rocky terrain had led to a cavern opening. One dead Hydra agent, a broken bra, destroyed jeep, and a burnt jacket later, she had made it to the next step of her journey. She unstrapped her pack, her breasts feeling relief after being squished in from all the straps, as Agent Carter pulled out a flashlight and proceeded to enter the cavern.

Wolfgang Castle had been built on top of this maze of rock and dirt, Peggy had studied the plans and knew which way through to get to her target. She pulled her torch from the pack, lighting the way before strapping on her backpack once more.

The rocks and caverns were constantly changing as the agent kept making her way through them, the dust and dirt in the air invigorating to Peggy. Since she was a young girl she had always dreamed of exploring, climbing the hills and boulders of the British countryside. Her mother always chastising the girl who came back with her hair messy, dress torn, and hands bruised and dirty from breaking falls.

“If only you could see me now mother,” Peggy mumbled as she began to bend down a bit. The tunnel from SSR intel was supposed to be just large enough for a soldier to slip through and enter the wine cellar from above. The dossier said nothing about an increasingly cramped tunnel that **** the agent to bend down further and further.

There was a reason why SSR never liked sending Agent Carter on missions. Missions were developed for men, and their proportions. No dame could do the grueling physical activities that was required for the occasional black ops mission. But the Howling Commandos were fighting elsewhere, and the Allies weren’t going to pass on a chance at killing Hitler. So as Peggy Carter looked ahead she could see a downhill slope and an increasingly tightening tunnel and looked down at herself for a moment, her shirt dripping in sweat, pants with slight scuffs and small tears, and boots that felt like second feet to her.

She kept the flashlight on before grabbing a lighter from her bag and removing her revolver from her sock. The dim flame not as strong as the flashlight, but Peggy needed the room if she was going to do what needed to be done. She tossed the pack down the tunnel, hearing a thud but no voices. The wine cellar, as SSR had predicted, had been sealed from the inside, all Peggy had to do was squeeze on through.

“Deep breaths Margret, deep breaths,” Peggy said before laying on her stomach and begging the crawl through the tiny cavern tunnel. Her bottom wiggled about, her plump rear moving in tandem with her strong shoulders against the stone floor. Her hair was becoming frizzier and blocking her eyes as she crawled towards the cellar. The rocks and gravel below her continuing to widen some of the rips of her olive pants as she continued her journey.

“Come on, we’re not giving up now,” Peggy panted as she kept the flame and gun in front of her. She could feel the rocks and gravel above her move as she moved. The risk of a cave in was likely, and the last thing the agent wanted was to be buried alive mere feet away from the start of her first ever mission. “We move, we always move!”

In her rush to exit the tunnel, Peggy Carter paid no attention to her t-shirt, the bright white slowly becoming a dirtier brown with each **** crawl. Tears formed as the fabric continued to be caught on the rocks. What once was a t-shirt had slowly become more and more of a half-shirt, her soft but toned midriff exposed. Any use the shirt had as a bra was gone now.

“Light! Light!” Peggy thought to herself as she could see the cellar ahead, her body aching from the crawl, her mind more focused on the mission than her state of dress as a large rumble could be heard from above. “Shit! Shit!” Peggy yelled as she crawled to beat the cave in her plight created. She had managed to get most of her upper body out and into the cellar, the rocks and rubbles collapsing around her thighs and boots.

“I’m not losing this mission because of some…natural accident,” Peggy muttered. Her thighs could move under the loose soil, but her feet were trapped by the rocks…at least her boots were.

Peggy bit her lip. She always loved the feeling of boots, large clonking shoes that let her explore and fight better than any pair of heels would ever serve her. But they were standing between her and her target, and Peggy had come too far to give up. She was in a castle, with many servants and guests, someone would have a size seven for her to slip on.

Agent Carter lifted her arms, her biceps straining as her feet slipped out from her boots, the tight leather holding on to her socks as the barefooted, half-shirt agent had finally arrived at Wolfgang Castle.