A Briefing at SSR?

Peggy Carter hated this part of her job, the paperwork needed to do anything in the war was astounding. Need a tank for the front? That’s some paperwork. Needing to call in an airstrike to send Hydra forces back to hell? Paperwork. Deploying a fresh set of blankets to refugees? Yu guessed it, paperwork.

Of course all the men in the SSR never had to worry about this, all they had to do was charge into battle and let some dame with two weeks of typing school under her belt worry about the cost. Peggy rolled her eyes every time she had to do one of these and lug the large amount of papers to Col. Philips office. Howard Stark would be there, probably make a comment on if the shortages meant her skirt would get tighter. She sighed.

Shockingly, Peggy didn’t feel the constraints of her uniform today. Compared to men and their suits, Agent Carter always felt she was squeezing her body into places it shouldn’t be. Every morning a struggle to place her ample breasts into their container for the day. A bra that was a bit too small, before sliding into stockings and a wool jacket that always itched. But today Peggy Carter felt free. Her breasts comfortable, the slight breeze of the drafty base calming her nerves.

“I was trained to be a soldier, not some…low level bureaucrat,” Peggy thought to herself. She moved to the large office were the meeting would be held but noticed more people looking at her than usual, even stranger was the lack of clacking her heels usually made. In her mind Peggy thought she had put on her flats today, not recognizing the sound of bare feet hitting against the wood floors of SSR command.

“All right boys, let's talk about the frontline today, we received some new information that would be…very interesting for Captain Rogers and his team,” Peggy began as she dropped the files down to the desk of the facility. She hadn’t notice the wide eyes of Stark and Philips yet as dropped her papers and prepared to give her presentation on where front line funding needed to go. She expected a heated debate today, a snarky Stark comment, and another denied request to join Captain Rogers out on the field. Instead all she heard was murmurs and shock.

“Boys? What’s got your tongue today? Don’t tell me, I got some of the catsup from the cafeteria on my tie?” Peggy asked. She still hadn’t lived down the time she presented a plan to Churchill himself with a stain on the breast of her white shirt, but Doris knew how to make a mean burger with what she had.

“Margret,” Col. Philips said sharply. “Your dress is unbecoming”

“What?” Peggy asked.

“You’re free as a jaybird Agent Carter, and I just lost a bet,” Stark mumbled.

“My dre-” Peggy Carter looked down and saw nothing but her own skin. Her plump breasts freed from their prison, her tight stomach even curved down to a well maintained patch of brown hair that covered her delightful pussy. Even the boys behind her could see a beautiful round bottom, large yet firm that had always been hidden behind the wool skirts and nylon stockings.

“No, no, no,” Peggy mumbled to herself as she dropped to the ground, her breasts squishing against her thighs as she balled up, naked as the day she was born. Any chance she had at being taken seriously, any chance of the frontlines, would be gone. And instead her legacy instead of stopping Hitler and Hydra would be the streaker of the SSR, just another dame loved for showing off the goods.

“AHHHHHH!” Peggy Carter yelled out as she woke from her dream.

The agent had wrapped herself in her blanket by the fire, the rough fabric against her skin a reminder that she was starkers after her emergency landing in the pond. Slowly she looked down at her feet, she had left her wet wool socks on, and overlooked in her rush to feel warm. She peeled them off with her feet before huddling in her blanket one more time.

“Naked at high command, that’s a schoolgirl’s dream Margret, a schoolgirl’s dream,” she muttered before picking herself up and moving towards the bathroom of the boathouse. As she entered she noticed a large mirror, Peggy quickly looked around to make sure she was truly alone. Judging by how no one disturbed her sleep, she felt she was safe. But still…you always wanted to be careful.

The blanket dropped to the floor as Peggy took in her form. Her breasts were still annoyingly big, her stomach toned, but with a little softness, and her bush still massive from over four months of being unable to shave. Peggy Carter had never really loved her body. It was squishy and cumbersome, always in the way of being a soldier. Even in her dreams she had made subtle alterations as she turned around and looked at her backside.

“Still a mighty bum,” Peggy mumbled as the large backside was firm, but was still what many soldiers said behind her back a “plump” pair. She would prove them all wrong, when she took out this target she would be hailed a hero, and maybe even placed back with Steve on the front.

“Steve,” Peggy mumbled to herself as her hands drifted down to her bush, slowly grazing the folds and lips of her pussy as her mind drifted to the one man that treated her like she was: a soldier. She pictured his kind blue eyes and soft voice, and for a moment debated taking a brief moment of pleasure for herself.

CRASH!

The sound of glass breaking snapped Peggy back to reality as the agent grabbed her blanket and wrapped it around herself. Somebody else was in the boathouse and all Peggy Carter had was her wits…and a blanket.