Stan goes to work

American Dad – Possession Story Chapter 4: Stan Goes to Work

Stan (in Francine’s body) adjusted the too-tight red blouse and short black skirt one last time, took a deep breath, and drove Francine’s minivan to the CIA headquarters. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally wandering back to squeeze Francine’s breasts, muttering to himself.

“Focus, Stan. You’re still a red-blooded American man. These are just… temporary tactical assets.”

He pulled up to the security gate. The two guards stared as the curvy woman in the revealing outfit stepped out of the car.

“Ma’am, this is a restricted area. ID please,” one guard said.

Stan patted Francine’s purse, then realized he didn’t have his own badge. “It’s me, Stan Smith! I’m in my wife’s body right now. Roger’s stupid machine did this. Just let me through.”

The guards laughed. “Nice try, lady. No ID, no entry.”

Stan sighed, looked around to make sure no one else was watching, then pulled the blouse down just enough to flash them Francine’s breasts.

“See? These are my wife’s. I’m Stan! Let me in before I write you up for insubordination!”

The guards’ jaws dropped. After a stunned pause, they waved him through, one of them muttering, “Best day at the gate ever…”

Inside the office, Stan’s CIA buddies immediately swarmed “Francine.”

“Whoa, Smith’s wife is looking fine today!” one said, eyes locked on her chest.

Another wolf-whistled. “Damn, Francine, you come to surprise your husband? Those tits look incredible in that top.”

Stan (in Francine’s body) puffed out his chest instinctively, then caught himself. “Guys, it’s me! Stan! I’m in Francine’s body. Stop staring at my wife’s… my… assets!”

The guys laughed. “Sure you are, ‘Stan.’ Prove it.”

Frustrated, Stan pulled the blouse down again and let them get a good look, even giving them a quick grope of Francine’s breasts himself to emphasize the point.

“See? These are my wife’s. I know every inch of this body. Now stop hitting on me!”

The guys finally believed him, bursting into laughter and slapping him on the back (and occasionally the ass).

Bullock stepped out of his office, eyes immediately locking onto “Francine.”

“Smith… your wife is looking particularly… patriotic today,” Bullock said, voice low. “My office. Now. We need to do a thorough cavity search to make sure you’re not harboring any secret listening devices in that magnificent body.”

Stan’s face went pale. “Sir, that’s highly inappropriate—”

Bullock grinned. “Protocol, Smith. Get in here.”