The day ends

The genuine shock on Milo's face was the last thing the video showed before he turned off his new rose gold phone with a hot pink case. Milo was lying in the master bedroom alone. The group decided that it made the most sense for Milo and Samuel to share a bedroom since they would be sharing a cabin on the cruise. “Hector” (which was Samuel’s new identity) was Paris’s sugar daddy, after all. She had to get used to sharing a space with a man… another man. Milo, or Paris, had to remind himself that even though he didn’t look it and was starting to act like it, he was still a man.

Since it was the first night, Hector/Samuel went easy on his new “roommate” and spent some time in the living room working while Paris/Milo got comfortable and went to sleep.

Milo practiced his new night routine to prepare for bed. He sat with Becks as she helped him apply sweet-smelling lotion to his body and remove his makeup and wig. After cleansing his face, he wore a modest pair of purple pajama shorts and a crop top. Even in the fairly innocent clothes, his body still screamed sex. But rather than look like the slut in the pictures on his new phone, Paris looked like a pornstar role-playing in a “stepsister” fantasy.

Hector/Samuel returned after spending most of his day three towns over, buying new cell phones, laptops, and other devices that could be made untraceable and backlogged so they didn’t look too new. He then met with a contact at the bureau to get the last of the documents with the appropriate images to complete his new team members’ identities. Now that everything was in place, Becks and Paris were as real as anyone could be in our society. They both had active social media pages. Paris had two—one for business and one personal. The personal account had been inactive for almost two years, the same amount of time her business account had been active. Jasper, in all his tech wisdom, used AI and Photoshop to create a bunch of images of Paris and Becks together, dating back to high school. They were retroactively timestamped to look like they were posted in the past as well.

Hector/Samuel looked at the images of Devon/Becks on his phone. He could barely see the woman he loved. He knew she was still there, but this looked like a different person. It wasn’t uncommon for WhitPro participants to experience some psychological side effects. The Agency first noticed this when they started using the tanks. Couples who married before going into hiding would sometimes fall out of love because their partners had changed so much. They were prepared to support the obvious struggles—like a partner no longer looking like their old self. But what the agency didn’t anticipate was how their behaviors and beliefs would change. They brought in psychologists to study the effects, and it was found that some people were treated vastly differently by society. This often led to increased confidence, and sometimes a passive partner would want more control or independence, causing a rift.

He thought maybe that was what this was. She didn’t look like his old love, so maybe his brain simply couldn’t interpret her new appearance. He returned to Devon’s Instagram. The more he tried to compare the two, the more he saw differences—but not quite as he expected. Devon smiled a lot, in almost every picture. He’d never really studied her photos until now. She was smiling and doing fun things, but her eyes looked off. Hector/Samuel also looked at Becks’s social media and noticed she looked different. He couldn’t quite place it, but there seemed to be more light in her eyes.

He liked her new pictures, but if he was honest, he wasn’t attracted to this new girl. She was cute, but she looked too young—too young for him. The more he thought about it, the better he felt. He reasoned that this meant her disguise was working; even he had a hard time thinking of this new woman as his old love.

Speaking of new women, Hector/Samuel looked at Paris’s Instagram page (LastName). There were many pictures of a gorgeous woman applying makeup. This woman had the face of a model and a body built for one thing. She clearly cared about her looks. Every tilt of her head seemed meant to be alluring; as she puckered her lips to apply gloss, it looked like she was craving something else to touch her lips.

Her TikTok was filled with a variety of videos—not many, but enough. This was where Paris truly thrived. Most of the content was just her walking by and waving at the camera. The acts themselves were innocent enough, but with her body, nothing she did could be considered innocent. The more he explored, the more he saw her dancing enticingly in a dark room, her silhouette lit by strategic backlighting. Hector was captivated by her body. He knew who she really was, and part of him cared, but the bigger part just enjoyed the view.

Speaking of bigger parts, Hector also realized his body was reacting—he felt himself adjusting as his pants grew tighter. Milo clicked the link to Paris’s OnlyFans content as he looked around the room. The rest of his team had gone to sleep, so he quietly got up and went to the bathroom, closing the door as he clicked on her more risqué content.

Milo/Paris heard the soft footsteps of someone entering the bathroom. He was scared it was Hector/Samuel coming to join her in bed. Thankfully, it sounded like they were just coming in. She continued scrolling on her phone, taking in all the “content” he had made today. He was giving a lot of attention to her new OnlyFans account. He saw she had about 600 subscribers, which seemed like a lot, but Jasper had told him they were just bots. She had actually been impressed by the scam. Paris/Milo had been told that his account would get about 300 bots to subscribe, making it look like he had a modestly successful account. The bots used the agency’s money to pay for their subscriptions, so the team was essentially paying itself. The profile was live and open for anyone to check out and join.

If he got real resubscriptions, one of the bots would leave, potentially helping the agency raise even more money to fight the syndicate. “He must’ve said 600,” he told himself, scrolling through the page. Maybe it was because he was so sleepy, but Milo was starting to get a little turned on watching Paris on camera. He loved women who knew their place, and Paris acted as if her place was in front of a man, on her knees. Her breath quickened as she watched a video of her in a pool up to her neck. As she slowly walked to the shallow end, it was revealed she was wearing a white T-shirt. Her body emerged from the water, the wet shirt clinging to every curve. Her tits were fully exposed but covered at the same time. Milo wanted to see more until he tried to grab his own cock but nudged his new tits instead.

“There has to be at least one positive out of all this,” he said to himself as his hands moved to his new chest. Milo knew his nipples were more sensitive now, as he had to touch them when taking pictures. But touching them while he was turned on was a whole new experience. Milo loved boobs—how soft they were, how they bounced, how they felt in his mouth. Feeling what it was like to have his own boobs took the experience to a whole new level.

He gently twisted a nipple in his hand and had to bite his lip to stop a moan. He continued watching her new videos, reaching to grab his cock as he saw Paris rub a dildo between her tits, encouraging him to come. He was so frustrated by the prosthetic that he barely thought before entering his fingers into the device. He could feel his trapped cock with his middle and index fingers, and with hurried desperation, he tried to “rub one out.”

Just as he was getting close, he heard the toilet flush. Fear of getting caught took over, and he quickly put his phone in his bedside table, straightened his pajamas, and rolled onto his side. Hector/Samuel entered the room. Paris, pretending to be asleep, didn’t stir as her new “roommate” joined her in bed. She was now more frustrated than ever. Not only did she have an incredible body that was extremely sensitive, but she was also completely turned on and unable to climax before being interrupted. Now she had to lie there, squirming but pretending to sleep.

She was starting to hate Samuel. Samuel was trying to steal his wife. Samuel had tricked him into becoming this girl. Samuel was going to humiliate him by making him act like some brain-dead bimbo. Samuel, the hunky guy all the girls wanted. These thoughts swirled as she finally started to doze off.

“I want to tittyfuck Samuel—I mean, I want to be the one getting titty-fucked, not Samuel,” she thought, then corrected herself as she drifted off. “Man, this sucks