Going Rogue [Military Man to Rogue Woman TG]

Commissioned by Naur

By TheSpiralledEye

When Jack and his team are sent to take out a mysterious terror cell and retrieve a secret weapon, they have no idea what they’re walking into. The conflict ends with his team captured and Jack in possession of the weapon, a mysterious choker he is compelled to put on. Only for it to transform him into a dark-haired beauty with a mind for revenge, on both the terrorist cell and the government that sent her in. 

~

The sun was rising over the jungle as Jack and his crew packed the Humvee. Despite the early hour, the heat and humidity were already high, and Jack could feel sweat starting to seep into his thick beard. It didn't stop his crew from mucking around, though. It took a certain level of experience and professionalism to act so…unprofessional. Jack smirked and watched as Russo hefted up yet another crate of supplies into the truck, only for Cal to drop a beetle down his shirt. A long line of swears and threats followed as Russo chased poor Cal around the Humvee while Petey watched them both, cackling in delight. 

Russo was six feet and built like a brick wall. Cal was half his size, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer, stupid confidence. Petey, on the other hand, always sat in the middle, taking whoever's side was most beneficial to him at the time and somehow always came out on top. Today was no different; Cal slipped on the thick mud and went tumbling forward, tripping Russo up as well, and soon they were both sweaty and covered in dirt. 

“Wow, covered in muck and we haven’t even started the mission, that’s a new record!” Petey grinned down at them from the Humvee. Instantly united, Cal and Russo both gave him the finger, and he laughed again before offering them both a hand up. Which they both took, and immediately pulled him down to join them in the muck. Jack rolled his eyes; part of him wanted to join the chaos, but he’d just gotten a mission brief over the radio, it was time to be captain.
"Alright, listen up, assholes." His voice cracked through the humid air like a whip. 

"Here’s the deal, some new hotshot mastermind has started a terrorist group and they’re rumoured to be hiding out somewhere in this jungle. We have to find them and take them out before they get too powerful."

“What’s the group?” Petey asked.

“Need to know only, and we don't need to know,” Jack replied, then grinned. “Personally, I think the fact we’re being sent out here to die getting them would mean we do need to know, but try telling that to the suits back home.”

The boys rolled their eyes and got back to packing the Humvee. They’d been through this a thousand times before. The banter, the light-hearted jabs, the teasing, it might have looked odd from the outside, but Jack knew these men inside and out. They were a team. Russo and Cal might give each other shit every second of the day, but they would also give their life to protect the other. That’s all that mattered. Years of missions, failures, victories, and shared moments of chaos had forged an unspoken understanding between them. They were an action crew; they did what they were told and didn't ask questions. That’s why the brass loved them so much. 

"Keep your heads on straight," Jack added, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he scanned the group. "When the brass keep us in the dark, you know this won’t be some quick in-and-out bullshit. The jungle’s got teeth, and they won’t hesitate to bite."

“Won’t hesitate to bite? You been reading poetry or something?” Cal smirked.

“I’m a deeply soulful person,” Jack deadpanned, “Now, hurry up and get the camo gear loaded.”

“Oooh, are we going stealth mode?” Russo grinned, wrapping an arm around Jack’s neck and nooging his head. “Does that mean you’ll cover up the chrome dome?”

Despite the man’s immense strength, Jack slipped out of the hold easily and smirked. 

“That’s Captain Chrome Dome to you, now shut up and pack your gear.”

Jack slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted the rearview mirror, his hands steady on the wheel. The rest of the crew settled in, still teasing each other, but Jack could read between the lines. He saw the way Cal’s eyes scanned the jungle outside for enemies, the way Peter sat with his hand close enough to slip into the trigger if needed and Russo’s fingers twitched. They were on guard, ready. So when they hit the trail, Jack wasn’t worried. They would be ready for whatever the jungle threw at them. They always were.

~

“See, that’s what I’m saying,” Said Russo, “once you get past DD, it's all diminishing returns.”

Cal scoffed. “You’re honestly trying to argue that small boobs are better?”

“No, but women with smaller boobs are better in bed. Big tit ladies get so much dick, they never try. Get a girl with some decent B cups and she’ll knock your socks right off.”

“I don’t give a damn about my socks. Have you ever had a good tit job? You can’t do that with B cups.”

Jack and Petey glance at each other and laughed; Jack was honestly amazed that those two could have the same discussion on so many missions and still find new things to talk about.

“We’d better find them a brothel or something next time we’re in civilisation,” Petey said, “or they might start getting desperate.”

“So long as they get desperate with each other, that’s fine by me.” Jack replied, “Don’t ask, don’t tell and all that.”

“Speaking of don’t tell…” Petey’s face turned serious. “What’s with the lack of mission info? A terrorist group in the middle of the jungle. That’s it? No names, no plans? How are we supposed to plan if we don't know what we’re up against?”

Jack bit his cheek; he didn’t like it either. Mission briefs had been getting shorter lately. They weren't some black ops team; they were a real unit. It felt wrong to go in knowing so little. 

“All they said was it was a terrorist group, and apparently they have some sort of ‘secret weapon’ that absolutely must be retrieved.”

“What kind of weapon?”

“...classified.”

“You’re joking, how are we supposed to retrieve a weapon if we don’t know what it is?”

Jack cleared his throat and put on his very best ‘stuffy general voice. “It will be in a silver briefcase, that is all you need to know. Do not open it under any circumstances.”

Petey snorted at the impression, and Jack grinned. 

“Silver briefcase, sure mate. God forbid these guys have more than one.”

“I hope they do!” Cal interrupted, popping his head between them from the back seat. “I hope they have fifty, and then we can bring them ALL back. Request a chopper and everything to carry them all. Malicious compliance.” 

Jack threw back his head and laughed; he could imagine the look on the brass’s faces if they did that. It would be priceless. They approached the area of operations and pulled over, geared up and covered the Humvee before continuing on foot. This was almost the most tense part of any mission; they couldn’t even banter to lighten the mood. The group kept low to the ground, slowly stalking through the dense, damp foliage until the voice of voices made Jack’s ears prick. 

They followed and crested over a small hill, below which was a camp. It was small, almost stereotypical for this sort of affair. Jack had taken out a million rebel camps and terrorist cells just like this in the past. There was just one small difference.

“They’re all chicks?” Cal hissed.

“Equal opportunity terrorists, I guess.” Jack shrugged. 

“I don’t know if the nail polish is really necessary…” Petey smirked, looking through his scope. “I guess women are the same everywhere.”

“I don’t know how I feel about kicking a woman’s ass,” Russo muttered, but Jack shushed them. 

“We’ve got the element of surprise. Let’s go.”

Jack motioned them forward, and they crept up to the semi-circle of army-grade tents before bursting from the undergrowth, Weapons raised.

“Don't move!” Jack barked, but the women in the camp took that to mean move right for them. Jack wasn't scared; they were armed with machetes and knives, but still, he couldn’t risk them getting close. They had no choice; he and the others squeezed their triggers. 

Click. Click.

Nothing.

One of the women stepped forward, lifting a device the size of a canteen. A blinking blue light on top pulsed steadily. She smirked.

“A gun jammer?” Petey gaped, “What?”

Jack had never heard of a device that could jam all kinds of guns simultaneously. Was that the secret weapon? It had to be. He didn't have time to think about it now, though; the women rebels surged forward and attacked. In a matter of seconds, this mission had been flipped on its head, and they were on the back foot. Not good. 

The first terrorist closed the distance with Cal in two steps, flipping over his half-raised rifle and slamming her knee into his chest. He flew backward, wheezing. Russo charged, all brute force and rage, swinging like a wrecking ball, but his opponent ducked low and used his own momentum to slam him into a tree trunk with a bone-rattling crack.

Petey tried to flank, fast on his feet, but one of the women anticipated him. A low sweeping kick knocked him flat. She followed with an elbow to the ribs and a jab to the throat. Petey choked, and his knees gave out. They were running circles around them!

Jack caught a fist coming at his face and twisted the arm, slamming the woman against a tree, but she used the trunk to kick off and wrapped her legs around his neck, flipping him to the ground. He rolled, barely avoiding a stomp that would’ve crushed his skull.

They were good. Too good. Trained. Coordinated. Better than anything Jack had seen in a long time. This was supposed to be some newly formed terrorist cell with delusions of grandeur! Why had their superiors not told them, given them back up, anything? These were no ordinary women; they had to be on something, some experimental drug, it was the only explanation for why they were all so big and tough. White hot anger burned in Jack’s veins; They’d been sent to slaughter. 

He dodged around yet another fist and ran into the nearest tent. Silver briefcase. He didn't know if that jammer was the weapon or whatever drug those fighters had in their system, but he needed it. He needed that silver briefcase so they could get out of here with as much blood still in their bodies as possible. A glint of light caught his eye, and he chuckled; there it was. Jack grabbed the handle and made a run for it, opening his mouth to yell at the others to scatter. 

Crack.

 Pain lanced through his skull. His vision blurred. He stumbled and was vaguely aware of Cal yelling his name through the roar in his ears. The fight blurred, and he staggered backward, disoriented.

His thoughts were fractured; all he could think of was the mission and his team. He needed to get the briefcase away from here. Then the mission would be over, yes, that would work. He ran, case in hand, toward the jungle as it swirled in his vision. 

The last thing Jack saw before the world tilted sideways was a flash of green leaves above and the impression of a bootprint in the mud where he’d fallen.

Then…darkness.

~

When he came to, the sun was on the other side of the sky. Jack’s head throbbed, and he groaned as he pushed himself up. For a moment, he was confused, but then the memories came flashing back, and he looked behind him. He’d managed to get a decent way up the hill before he’d fallen into the thick undergrowth. The camp and his team were gone. Truck tracks, disturbed mud, and one half-collapsed tent were the only signs the site had been there at all. That, and the silver briefcase still in his hands. 

They must have left in a hurry; it was the only explanation he could think of to explain why they hadn’t found him lying here. He stumbled back into the former camp and searched, yelling out for Russo, Cal and Petey. Nobody responded. The ground was rough, but there were no bodies; that gave him hope. His team was alive. 

The protocol for situations like this would be for him to return to base, call in reinforcements and report back, but Jack didn't even entertain the idea. He had the briefcase in hand; the real thing the top dogs wanted. No, if he went back, they’d write his team, his friends, off as MIA, and that would be that. If he was going to get them back, he was going to have to do it himself, by any means necessary. 

Even if that meant using this secret weapon. 

Jack flicked open the briefcase, expecting to see a syringe or another one of those strange jamming devices, but instead, there was a necklace. A choker to be exact, made from a thick black band of ribbon with a dark pink rose in the centre. 

“What?”

He picked it up, and the moment his skin made contact with the soft ribbon, Jack felt the strangest compulsion to put it on. Despite being so dainty, the ribbon easily clasped around his thick neck as if it were made for it. The second the necklace was tight, he felt a wave of apathy wash over him. 

His sense of justice, his fury at his superiors, his worry for this team; it all vanished. Leaving him vaguely exhausted and directionless. Without any better options, he wandered over to the half-collapsed tent and found a half-buried sleeping bag. Jack flopped himself down on it unceremoniously and felt his eyelids droop; he was so sleepy. Maybe it was the hit to his head; normally, he would have forced himself awake, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

His eyes slipped closed, only to blink open again, but everything was off. Somehow, he knew he was dreaming; the world had gone fuzzy at the edges. From the haze, a figure approached; a woman with dark hair that covered half her face, black, Gothic make-up and spiralling tattoos covering her muscular arms. She looked down at Jack with a grin. 

“Want the power to get your friends back?” She asked, offering a hand. “We could work together.”

Without thinking, he reached up to take her hand; of course, he wanted to find and avenge his team. Just as their fingers brushed, the world snapped into focus and Jack realised the sun was rising; he was awake, still reaching for the phantom figure. 

“What a dream…” he muttered, rolling over to get up. 

As he stood, Jack felt his brow furrow; the world looked…odd. Like he was taller, almost a foot taller. He looked down at himself and found, to his shock, that he was taller. Who the hell had a growth spurt, overnight, in their thirties? That wasn’t the only change, either; those runic swirls that had decorated the arms of the woman in his dreams were now on him. He stretched out his limbs, examining and tracing the shapes with fascination. 

They were real tattoos. How was that possible? It wasn’t like he could sleep through somebody tattooing his skin; they didn’t ache either, and there was no telltale redness at the edges that always came with fresh tats. These looked like they’d been done years ago. On some level, Jack knew he should have been concerned, maybe even panicked, but that apathy, while slowly fading, was still present. 

He shrugged it off and started to look around what remained of the campsite. Because of his little nap, he was now a full day behind his team. Idiot. Jack bit his lip and felt it swell beneath his teeth. How was he going to find his time? 

“This never would have happened if they’d told us what was happening.” He muttered, running a hand over his bald head and feeling hair there prickle in response as it grew. Part of him registered the change, but the other was still focused on how unjust this was. 

They’d been sent on a dangerous mission before, but things had gotten so much worse lately. Now, his team was gone, and it was all the government's fault for sending them here. His blood burned with righteous anger, and he curled his hands into fists. The calluses on his fingers, from years of handling weapons, smoothed, and he held them up in confusion, watching in real time as they changed shape, becoming more delicate and dexterous. 

Jack swallowed nervously and felt something different. There was no bob in his throat, no Adam’s apple to move up and down. He smoothed one of his newly transformed hands over his neck, and not only did he find his Adam’s apple was missing, but there was no beard, not even any stubble. His hands felt…odd as they moved over his skin, and Jack instantly flashed back to his last time on leave, visiting an old friend with benefits. His hands felt like a woman’s. 

“The choker!”

His hands brushed the soft fabric of the rose decal. This was it, the secret weapon they’d been sent here to retrieve. That explained why all those fighters had been women; they must have been wearing one of these. Had they all been men in a former life? 

Jack groaned as he felt his muscles start to stretch and warp, changing shape. Not just becoming more feminine, but oddly stronger too. If you’d asked him a few days ago, he would have said becoming a woman would have made him weaker, but he felt just the opposite. 

His legs smoothed, becoming more shapely, yet still athletic and strong. He imagined a set of heels strapped to his feet, with razor-sharp heels perfect for kicking and stabbing opponents. A smile formed across his now plush lips; perhaps this would help. He and his team had underestimated those women; now, people would do the same to him, and they would pay for it. 

That in mind, Jack didn't fight it when his hips started to stretch and his waist cinched; in fact, he laughed, then moaned in delight, feeling his body reshape itself. His chest began to swell, and with no bra to support them, his heavy breasts had no choice but to sit against his chest like beautiful teardrops. His as was swelling to match; it should have been emasculating, horrifying even, but it wasn’t. Jack embraced his new self. 

Or rather, her new self. 

She stretched, feeling her spine stretch and pop as the last of the changes took hold. She had only existed in this body for a few seconds, and yet she felt right at home, and that righteous anger at what had happened to her team came roaring back. She would get her revenge, both on that terrorist group that took them and the government officials who sent them here unprepared. 

She took a moment to examine herself, running her fingers over the uniform and feeling where it now hung loose or pressed tightly. It didn't fit very well; she’d have to do something about that when she got to civilisation. She took a step, her very first step as a woman and felt her confidence and sexual aura expand as she made her way back to the hidden Humvee and jumped into the driver's seat. 

She reached up and adjusted the mirror, seeing her new eyes reflected back at her for the first time. She could only see one; the other was hidden behind her dark hair, but the one that was visible was dark and framed by even darker lashes. There was something mysterious, but also dangerous, about her gaze. Despite all the training and skill, she had never been the sort of person who could strike fear into the hearts of men with a single look. Now, she was. 

“Alright, Jackie.” She whispered, “Let’s get my team.”

~

She was probably quite the sight, walking the streets of the slum district in a pair of combat boots, tight black pants, a leather jacket and bandoliers. The clothing shop she’d come across had served her nicely, that and the gear left over in the Humvee. Technically, it all belonged to the government, but she’d decided to liberate it for her campaign. The locals stared at her as she walked past, flicking the rose at her throat idly as she sashayed down the narrow streets. 

Pickpockets eyed her up, seeing the expensive-looking outfit and pale skin as signs of an easy mark. Perhaps some arrogant foreigner with more money than sense, a thief's favourite target. Then they would spit the gun in her holster and the knife at her hip and think better. 

She’d been tracking rumours the last few days, keeping her ears to the ground for any news of a mysterious group of women. They had led her here, to a shady bar built into the side of a crowded street. The sign wasn't turned on, but the door was open. The place couldn’t be a more obvious front if it tried. The question was, what sort of front, and would she find her men inside? 

Jackie stood in the doorway and smiled at the long shadow she cast into the room. It was a filthy place; a bar that hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in thirty years, if that. Her hips swayed as she sauntered up to the bar. The burly men sitting in the corner watched her with hungry eyes, and she smiled at them the way a cat smiles at a mouse.  

“Just try it.” She whispered and smirked when they all turned away as she sat herself up on the barstool. 

The seat clearly wasn’t built with women in mind; the seat was so small her ass hung off the sides slightly, which only made it look more prominent. The bartender looked her up and down and put down the glass he was polishing. 

“Think you’re in the wrong place.”

“I tend to be in the wrong place; I like it.” Jackie leaned forward and bared her throat to the man. “See any other women wearing one of these?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, “On every street corner. Tacky shit.”

His voice was rough and dismissive, but Jackie could see the look in his eyes; the flash of fear he tried to hide. He had seen these before; what’s more, he knew what they could do. 

“Oh,” Jackie pouted in mock offence, “You would me, but no. I think we both know this is more than a little flower.”

She reached over and grabbed the bottle of scotch from behind the bar and took a swig. 

“Now, I figure there are two ways this can go down. Either you tell me where I can find some of my…sisters, and I’m on my way, and you have plausible deniability. Or, we do this the hard way, I kick your ass, get what I came here for and make it known who told me.”

The bartender laughed.

“You think you could take me on?”

“Oh yes.”

“All of us?”
The three men from the corner stood up, and Jackie winked confidently. 

“Gang bangs are my specialty.” She purred teasingly, “I’m surprised, none of you seem the type to be into men, though.” 

That was all it took. She ducked as the bartender threw a punch. Men were so fragile if you insulted their sexuality, so easy to manipulate; how had he never noticed that before? The three men ran up behind her, but she spun easily, jamming her sharp heel into the gut of one before twisting around and punching the next in the throat. The third stumbled back in shock, clearly not expecting a proper fight. Jackei flew at him, jumping off the bar and squeezing his face between her thighs. 

Jackie could feel him trying to scream between her legs, and she shivered; she could feel his hot breath through her jeans, but she didn't let it distract her. The same couldn’t be said of him, though. She was easily able to twist her body to the side, using her strong thighs to throw him to the ground. To think, she’d always thought that move looked fake in movies. 

The bartender launched himself over the bartop, and she expertly dodged, arching her back around him and going for her knife. A few kicks and jabs later, the threat was entirely neutralised; the three men from the back were unconscious, and she was seated across the bartender's chest, blade at his throat. 

“Now, let’s try this again.” She whispered, leaning in close and showing off her choker once more. “Where can I find the gang responsible for this?”

“They came through yesterday.” The bartender groaned, spitting some blood on the floor. “Their leader, Carmen…she was furious about something, said she was heading back to their manufacturer. They went out there to test their new weapon.”

Now that was interesting. 

“Did she have any men with her?” 

“I don’t know, I just exchanged their weapons, I didn’t look in the truck.”

“Exchanged weapons? So that’s what this place was, a gun bank.”

Most gangs had one, or access to one, these days. Now that the police were able to match bullets to the guns that fired them, people had to be more careful. They would take a gun they’d used and trade it in, grabbing another to replace it. Soon enough, a gun could have a dozen guns, and a dozen users attached to it, making finding the original killer all the harder. 

“Why do you need to know?” The bartender asked, “Ain’t you one of hers?”

Jackie grinned and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth.

“I don’t belong to anybody, sweetheart. Now, after all the trouble you caused me, I think you owe me a few new weapons.”

~

Russo leaned back against the wall of the concrete room that they were forced to call home. A wall of thick metal bars kept them separate from the rest of the compound. He’d lost count of the days since they woke up here. Cal had come to once or twice in the truck, but had not been able to tell how long or far they had been travelling. The thump in Russo’s head told him they’d been drugged to make sure they had no idea where they were being taken. Jack wasn’t here. Which could mean only two things: Either he was dead, impossible, or he was planning their rescue. 

Jack was a mean bastard; there was no way he’d die to those bitches. So rescue it was. More than once, the tall, olive-skinned woman with the dark red hair had come: Carmen, they called her. She tried to tell them they’re precious leader was dead and that soon, they would serve her. Cal had given her some choice words for even suggesting it, but she was unfazed. She’d had their necks measured for something; Russo half expected her to come in here with dog collars and a lead to play out some weird sex fantasy, thankfully, she didn’t. 

Russo stayed silent, letting his bulk do the talking for him. It didn't matter what Carmen said, what lies she spun; he knew the truth: Jack was coming to rescue them. He heard the whispers filter in from the other rooms. ‘O Fantasma’, a mysterious figure raising hell, trying to find Carmen and her little group. It could only be Jack. 

“Are we seriously just going to sit here until they put a bullet in our brains?” Petey asked, and Russo nodded.

“They won't kill us, if they wanted to, they would have. No, they clearly want us for something.”

“She thinks we’ll work for her?” Petey snorted, “Fat chance.”

“Can’t be worse than working for the assholes who sent us here,” Cal said darkly, and Russo gave him a look. “What? It’s true, they could have told us more about what we were up against!”

“It don’t matter now.” Russo said seriously, “You’ve been hearing what I hear, Jack is coming to get us. So we need to sit tight and gather as much intel as we can on this weird, all-lady group.”

“It sounds like they are making something, the weapon?”

“Must be. Here’s hoping we can figure out what it is.”

Russo sat back against the wall and held a finger to his lips, and one of the women walked in. She was holding another one of the chokers that matched theirs, and she opened the cage and pointed her pistol at Petey.

“Come.”

“Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist, sweetheart.”

Russo and Cal watched him carefully. There were two more women with guns trained on them; they couldn’t risk a rush for the door. They could only watch as Petey followed them out. Hours passed, and there was no gunshot. If they wanted to execute them, they would have heard. It was a classic tactic: take prisoners one at a time, then have them listen to the gunshots, knowing they could be next. That didn’t happen, though; instead, there was just more silence.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Cal asked, sliding down next to Russo by the wall. “What did they do to him?”

“I don’t know, but it could be you next.”

“No way, it’ll be you. I’m too charming, they’ll want me around as long as possible.” 

Russo snorted, and Cal grinned. Humour could get them through. Suddenly, a new face appeared. She was a tall, leggy blonde with the same choker as the rest of them. She looked down at Russo and Cal sitting at the back of their cage and smiled. The smile made Russo’s skin crawl; it was almost pitying.

“Oh, you two will be so wonderful. I can’t wait for you to join us.”

“Join you?” Cal said. “Lady, you’ve been popping pills if you think that’s going to happen.”

“That’s what I thought too, Cal.” She said softly, kneeling down to be on their eye level. She gripped the bars and leaned forward, moaning a little as the bars pressed against her breasts. Russo felt his cock twitch, but he forced it down; if this was some sort of seduction, he wasn’t falling for it. 

“How do you know my name?” Cal asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“It’s me. Petey.” The woman smiled, batting her eyelashes. “But I think I will go by Patricia from now on.”

Russo rolled his eyes.

“You’re insane.”

“That’s what I said when they put this on me.” She pressed a hand to her choker. “But then I felt it, and I changed. I wonder if Jake did as well. Poor thing, it was still a prototype; it didn't have an obedience chip installed. Not like mine, mine has shown me just how wonderful Carmen is. She’ll show you, too.”

Patricia held up another choker, a little metal flower hanging from it. Russo felt fear well up in his chest. There was no way this was real, but there was something about the glassy look to Patricia’s eyes that made him nervous.

“Come, let’s see what you’ll become.”

~

It had been a few days since her one-woman assault on the weapons bank, and it had exactly the effect she’d intended. Whispers of her, O Fantasma, were already slipping through the underworld of Brazil. People talked about her in hushed corners and darkened bars. That sort of soft power meant she didn't even need to use violence to get answers half the time, and thanks to the bank, she had all the weapons she needed for the other half. 

She was following breadcrumbs, putting together the clues that all led back to Carmen and, hopefully, her team. Their truck had gone into the slums, then disappeared. She’d found it at an impound, already stripped and half rebuilt for some other lowlife to use. But inside, she’d found something interesting the cleanup crew had missed. A tiny microchip.

It could have been nothing, but a nagging instinct in her gut told her it was important. It wasn't the sort of thing low-level gangsters could help her with, though. No, she needed to aim higher. So she traded her combat gear for a dark dress made of glittering fabric with enough ruched fabric to hide the shape of her gun and knives strapped to her thighs. 

The dark streets and back alleys disappeared as she made her way up town, to where the high rollers and big gang leaders liked to live large. The casino in this town was basically a glorified gang hideaway, neutral ground where all the high-ranking members could drink, whore and drug the night away. Importantly, that meant their lieutenants and assistants as well. Namely, their “scientists”. Most of them were drug engineers, but a few, according to her sources, worked for electronics and computer companies by day and moonlighted for gangs, providing them with all sorts of goodies for the right fee.

Jackie stepped inside and watched as the doorman’s eyes dipped to her exposed cleavage. She had been working for days straight, and the stress of trying to find her team was slowly getting to her. Those hungry eyes raking over her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Back when she and her crew were together, they would often celebrate a mission well done by finding some women who liked men in uniform. Maybe when this was done, she could do the same.  

The first thing she did was circle the casino floor, slowly, occasionally stopping to play a game so nobody would realise what she was doing. There were a number of beautiful and powerful women here, but none of them struck her as Carmen. They were all hanging off a man, wives, girlfriends, mistresses; none of them had the air of a leader. So Jackie set her sights on her next target, somebody who could identify that computer chip. The last few days of intelligence gathering paid off when she spotted just the man she needed: Gabriel Souza. 

He was a handsome, tanned man with dark curly hair and green eyes. A computer engineer with Brazil’s largest tech innovator who lived well above his pay cheque. Jackie slipped herself into the stool next to him at the roulette table and watched as he downed three whiskey sodas. He was smiling widely, betting dangerously; it was the perfect time to strike, while his mind was pliable. 

“I hear you know a lot about computers,” Jackie said eventually, looking at the man through her dark fringe. 

“A bit.” He smiled, “Why, do you like men with big brains?”

“I like men with big…somethings.” She chuckled. “I have something you might be interested in, if you’ll follow me?”

It was almost too easy. He threaded his fingers through hers and followed her outside like an obedient dog. When they stepped onto the private balcony overlooking the city, Jackie locked the doors behind them and reached for her knife, ready to switch gears, only to find Gabriel moving before her. He didn't reach for a weapon, but her hip and before she could stop him, his lips were on hers. 

The kiss made her body burn with desire hot enough to eclipse her need for revenge, if only for a moment. She gasped, her mouth opening, and his tongue pressed inside. She was tempted to keep going, but then she remembered her team and stepped back. 

“What? Turning coy?” Gabriel teased.

Jackie shook her head and held out the chip and her knife. “I need you to tell me what this is, and where it's made.”

Gabriel sighed and looked disappointed. 

“And here I was thinking you were looking for fun.” His teasing smile dropped slightly as he eyed the chip. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t help you.”

Jackie thrust the knife under his chin and whispered low.

“Don’t sweetheart me, and don’t lie either. I am as deadly as I am pretty.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I can’t.” He whispered, “She’ll kill me.”

“So you know her, this is Carmen’s, isn’t it? What does it do? What’s it for?”

“You should know you’re wearing…wait, yours doesn’t have a chip, does it?”

His eyes dipped to her throat, and Jackie made the connection. “This chip belongs in the choker? What does it do?”

“I can’t…”

Jackie pressed the knife a little harder; any more and it would cut skin. Her skin was still burning from that kiss, and an idea formed: there were other ways of persuasion open to her now. Perhaps she could give them a try and help release some stress at the same time. Two birds, one stone. Jackie pressed herself against his chest harder, lowering the knife just a little so that their lips could brush. 

“Are you sure you can’t tell me?”

“I…uh…”

“I can be very persuasive.”

She slipped the clip back into her bra and gripped his hips, walking him back against the stone bench next to the balcony railing. 

“I shouldn’t…” He whispered, but his hands came to grip her hips, and Jackie slowly, deliberately stepped out of her panties and let them fall to the ground. Her long dress still hid most of her body, but the slit up her leg meant his fingers could slip inside to touch bare skin. Gabriel’s fingers found the holsters strapped around her thigh, and he chuckled.

“Dangerous woman.”

“Dangerous and beautiful.” 

Then she kissed him, but this time, she was in control. Gabriel shuddered beneath her, angling his head up so that she could lead him. He was wrapped around her finger, and the power sent a thrill through her. A few more touches, and he would do anything for her. Jackie had never felt so in control in her entire life. 

She rested in his lap and slowly undid his fly, running her fingers up the length of his cock as it came free. Gabirle clutched her shoulders, trying to force her down onto it, but Jackie stayed firm, letting the tip brush her folds. 

“Now…what does that chip do?” she purred, running her nails through his hair. 

“It…goes in the necklaces,” Gabriel replied slowly, and she rewarded him with another kiss.

“Good boy, but what else?” She rolled her hips against him, spreading her wetness along his cock without letting it slip inside. “I need more than that if you’re going to be rewarded.”

Gabriel tensed; there was fear in his eyes, but it was clear he desired Jackie more than he feared Carmen. 

“Obdience.” He whispered, “The chip can be programmed so that whoever wears it is loyal to her.”

Fury burned in Jackie’s blood. That was the weapon; the chokers would transform anybody who wore them into loyal, female soldiers of Carmen. This was missing its chip; it was sitting in her bra now instead of around her neck. That was why she still had her free will unlike Gabriel, who was trembling with need.

“Please.”

“I think you’ve earned it.”

Jackie sank down, taking the full length inside her and gasped. No amount of preparation could have prepared her for the feeling. It was so hot and intense, feeling a man inside her, feeling him stretch her walls; it was utterly delicious. Even more delicious was the moan Gabriel made, desperate and hot. He gripped her hips hard, trying to make her rise up, but Jackie held herself in place, and only when it looked like Gabriel was ready to beg did she rise, achingly slowly. She waited until just the tip was inside, then sank back down and repeated the motion, riding him slowly so she could savour the feeling and Gabriel’s desperate sounds. 

“Oh fuck…” He whimpered.

Jackie grinned and squeezed him, biting her lip at the sensation it caused. She rose and fell, rolling her hips and squeezing him rhythmically as she slowly increased her pace. Gabriel’s breathing was coming short and fast; she knew that sound, he was on the edge. So she stopped. 

“Oh…oh God…”

Jackie waited a moment, then started again, teasing him to the edge only to stop at the last minute. Gabriel was a mess, his hips thrust upwards, desperate for that bit of extra friction that would push him over the edge, but Jackie didn't let him. She milked him for her own pleasure, letting it build over time as she revelled in the power she had over this man. Until finally, she found herself on the edge.

“Kiss me.” She ordered, and Gabriel obeyed without question, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw out a whimper and send her over the edge. The orgasm crashed through her, and she continued to ride him, finally letting him cum. He practically screamed into her mouth, and Jackie smiled; he would never cum that hard again. He’d spend the rest of his life chasing the high she’d given him, unable to forget her. 

As soon as her orgasm faded, Jackie dismounted, leaving Gabriel slack-jawed and blinking in surprise. She slipped back into her panties and gave him a smile.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” He stammered, still sitting there in shock with his fly open. 

“One final thing,” Jackie whispered, leaning in close. “If you could tell me where Carmen gets these things made, I might even come back and reward you again.”

“A factory on the southern side of the city. That’s all I know.”

No hesitation now. Who knew breaking a man could be so easy, not to mention pleasurable. 

“Thank you, maybe I’ll see you again,” Jackie whispered.

She patted his face condescendingly and turned on her heels to leave, hips swaying. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, and she smiled, an idea forming. If she stuck around in this town, like this, perhaps he could be useful to her in the future. 

~

Russo was alone. Patricia had taken Cal hours ago and returned with another woman calling herself by his name. They said something about having to wait for another chip to be ready, but they were so excited for him to join them. Russo had spat at their feet. He had no idea what sort of sick, twisted game this was, but he wasn’t playing. 

“It’s time.”

Patricia and Cal were standing there, along with another woman. She had dark reddish brown hair and thick dark lips that stood out against her olive skin. Notably, she wore no choker and radiated danger. There was something striking about her, and Russo immediately thought of one of those poisonous, brightly coloured jungle frogs that warn people of their danger. Carmen. The mysterious leader he’d heard so much about. 

“Come along, dear.” She cooed as both Cal and Patricia raised their guns to him. “Don't worry, dears, those won't be necessary for long.”

Patricia and Cal looked guilty, fat lips pouting.

“Sorry, Russo, but it’s for your own good,” Cal whispered as they walked him out of the room and forced him into a chair. Russo ignored them both and steeled himself; if it was going to be torture, so be it. He was strong; he’d never break. 

He expected needles, maybe exposed wires or a hammer, but instead, both Patricia and Cal took a step back, and Carmen held out the choker. She clipped it around his thick neck with ease, and he huffed. A shock collar, perhaps? Carmen stepped back and said nothing, and Russo felt his patience wearing thin.

“Aren’t you going to question me?”

“It’s your job to do the questioning, honey, about who you are and where your loyalties lie.”

Russo huffed. He knew who he was and where his loyalties were. They were with Jack and his government. Well, except for the last one, they had been using them as disposable on the last few missions. Not that he was questioning them, he’d never…well, maybe a little. 

A strange wave of dizziness washed over him, and he blinked up at Carmen. There really was something alluring about her. A strange apparition appeared behind her, another woman who was there and not there at the same time. She was tall, like him, with the same olive skin and dark hair, but hers cascaded down her back, and she wore lipstick that was red as blood. She smiled at him.

“Aren’t you sick of being sent to die for a government that doesn’t care? Wouldn’t you rather do something meaningful?”

Russo’s mouth was dry; she was so beautiful, so strong. He was hit with the strangest feelings; he didn't want her, he wanted…to be her. 

“Take my hand, let me in, and together, with Carmen, we will make this world bend to our will.”

Russo blinked, his whole body felt hot and his hand flexed, trying to break the bindings to take this strange woman’s deal. His eyes were heavy, and they fell closed for what felt like a split second. When he blinked them open again, the woman was sitting in his lap, holding his face. 

“Let’s go.”

She leaned forward, and suddenly, she was gone, and Russo’s head jerked up; had he fallen asleep? His body was tingling, the coker around his neck drawing tighter, but instead of choking him, it seemed to shrink and reshape his neck. His Adam’s apple melted back into his throat, and from there, the rest of the changes came. Russo felt his hips widening and chest growing, and yet, he felt no panic. Only a growing sense of excitement. He felt knowledge flowing into him, and with it came certainty: that this was the right thing, Carmen was right, he did want this, he knew exactly who he was supposed to be now. A she, a woman warrior, loyal to Carmen and her cause. 

A shiver of delight ran through her as the last of her masculinity was washed away. Her stretch and size remained, but now she was curvy, her swelling ass pushed her up in the chair, and her retrained struggled against her growing breasts. Carmen smiled and reached out to cup her face lovingly; Russo leaned into the touch. 

“There you are.” She cooed.

“Here I am.”

“That obedience chip is doing wonders.” Carmen said, “Now, free yourself.”

The old Russo would have rolled his eyes, but this one knew better. If Carmen ordered it, it must be done. So she flexed, pulling at the restraints until they snapped and she could stand. The old Russo had been strapped to that chair, unable to free himself. Thanks to Carmen, she had the strength. Cal and Patricia embraced her, and she held her friends close. This was the best thing that had ever happened to them. 

“If only Jack were here.” Russo sighed.

“Oh, don’t worry, he will be.” Carmen grinned.

“You’re going to find him?” Petey gasped in delight.

“No, he will find us. If my ears in the underworld are any indication, he’ll be here very soon.”

“And you’ll show him the way?” Russo said, “He’ll understand?”

“Once we get a chip in his choker, he’ll be just like you three and the rest of my girls.”

Russo beamed; she couldn’t wait.

~

The sky was dark, a moonless night. The perfect night for a quiet, silent assault. Jackie moved like the shadow she’d been nicknamed after, weapons slung across her hips and back, ready for a fight. 

Her boots barely made a sound on the wet concrete as she crouched behind a rusted fuel barrel. The warehouse loomed ahead, the one that housed Carmen’s factory, and if her sources were right, Carmen herself. The outside was dilapidated, a deliberate ruse. According to the man she’d beaten half to death yesterday, the inside was a highly secure facility, but Carmen’s numbers were still small. It took time to make those chips; Jackie had to strike before her gang got too big to handle on her own. 

The two guards posted at the entrance of the warehouse didn’t notice her until she was already moving. The first guard, a lanky woman with an automatic rifle slung across her back, turned just a moment too late. Jakie slammed the butt of her knife down against the woman’s temple, sending her tumbling to the ground. The second guard, a few feet away, turned, eyes wide, mouth opened, ready to raise the alarm. With a speed that was almost unnatural, Jackie closed the distance and knocked her out as well. 

“Hang on, boys, I’m coming.”

Without hesitation, she moved to the steel door and slid it open, her combat knife now gripped tightly in one hand. The door clicked open with a soft groan, revealing the dimly lit interior of the warehouse. Just like her source said, it was more like a factory, and behind all the machinery and computers was a series of halls and offices. 

Another guard came into view, a woman holding a radio, her back turned. With swift, practised grace, Jackie closed the distance, and another body fell unconscious to the floor, and the woman dropped without a sound. And yet, the alarm blared and the lights came on. The glint of a security camera taunted her, and Jackie took out a pistol and shot it out. Not that it mattered now as three women, three she recognised from the camp in the jungle, ran into the room. 

Jackie smirked; she was ready for them this time. She had mastered her new body; she knew how to balance on her heels, how to raise her legs high for the perfect kicks and exactly where to strike. The three women dropped like sacks of potatoes, but no time to celebrate. 

“Carmen? Show yourself! Where’s my team?”

“Why, right here.”

The gantry door above her opened, and out stepped a woman with olive skin and cold, dead eyes, and behind her…three other women, all wearing her chokers. Jaxckie raised her pistol, but that didn’t stop them from moving. Slowly, they descended the stairs as a group, stepping out onto the factory floor. They were women now, but Jackie knew who they were. Russo’s eyes were the same, Cal’s cocky grin the same shape and Petey couldn’t have been his own sister. 

“Jack?” Russo asked, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“That’s great! So you’re here to join us?”

“Work for her? Not in your life.” Jackie spat on the floor, “What have you done to them, you witch?”

“Just showed them who they should really be loyal to.”

“It’s those chips! You brainwashed them!”

Carmen laughed coldly. “Oh, please, you were all brainwashed, going out to die for the good of your corrupt government, just like all soldiers. I am making a better world.”

“You can’t seriously believe that, you’re just building wealth and power for yourself.”

Carmen shrugged. “I didn't say it was a better world for everybody. This world is corrupt and disgraceful; I may as well make my short stay here as good as it can be. Case in point, I let it leak that my girls were out there with their weapon, I even let it be known that the choker could transform men, and what did your government do? Sent you right to me, just to test out the rumour.”

“She’s right, Jack.” Cal insisted, “Do you really want to go back to licking the boots of the people who sent us here to die? They must have known how strong Carmen and her gang were.”

Jackie lowered her gun slightly; they were right, but not all right. 

“I’m not exchanging one tyrant for another.” She said smoothly, raising the gun again. 

“A shame, I was hoping we could do this the easy way.”

Carmen clicked her fingers, and Jackie’s former teammates leapt into action. She dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding Russo’s strong arms as she tried to bear hug her. 

“This is for your own good, Jack!” Cal insisted, “Once you get the obedience chip, you’ll see!”

“Come, be our sister again!” Petey begged as Jackie kicked her in the stomach. 

It felt wrong fighting them, but she couldn’t risk getting that chip. She was already a slave to revenge and her new libido; she refused to add Carmen to that list. Petey expertly raised a leg and kicked the pistol from her hands. Jackie didn’t flinch; she wasn’t going to shoot her team anyway. 

Instead, she lunged for Petey’s neck, wrapping her fingers around her delicate neck and grabbed for the choker; she could see it, hidden among the delicate petals of the flower at its centre, the chip. Russo’s firm hands gripped her shoulder to pull her off, but Jackie was too quick; she yanked the chip free. There was a sputter of sparks and Petey blinked; still female, still as strong and beautiful as she had been a second ago, but the ferver in her eyes was gone. 

Russo dragged Jackie up and threw her across the room; she slammed into the ground hard and felt the wind knocked from her lungs. But it was worth it to see Petey staggering to her feet and fixing Carmen with a furious look. 

“You bitch!” She cried.

“Patricia!” Cal gasped, horrified. 

“Jack is right, oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

Russo and Cal weren’t listening through; they were already advancing on Jackie while Carmen cursed, running for the discarded obedience chip, but Petey, Patricia apparently, crushed it underfoot. 

“That’s for brainwashing me,” She sneered before kicking her leg up and slamming it into Carmen’s nose. “And that’s just because I wanted to.”

Cal cried out in horror and ran to Carmen’s aid, only for Patricia to grab her by the neck and rip out her obedience chip as well. Cal blinked, then grimaced.

“Oh hell no.” 

Carmen’s eyes went wide. All of a sudden, her loyal followers were turning on her, and she was vastly outnumbered. She didn't even have the increased speed, strength and flexibility of the choker to aid her. But she still had Russo, and that was a problem. Bigger, stronger and fast to boot, Russo swept her arm across Petey and Cal, sending them sprawling to the floor. 

“How could you betray us?” She cried, “Carmen, what should we do?”

“Kill them!” She spat, “We can make more.” 

At that, Russo froze, and Jackie smiled. That chip was capable of instilling loyalty, but it wasn't perfect, it seemed. She and her team had been through hell together; they’d fought side by side too many times to ever truly turn their backs on one of their own. When Russo had been fighting to bring her into the fold, that was one thing, but now that she’d been told to kill him…no obedience chip in the world could make Russo do that. 

For a moment, she froze, and time seemed to stand still. Patricia, Cal and Jackie all stood tense, ready to dodge out of the way if need be. There was a small spart from Russo’s neck, and then she turned, punching Carmen right in the face. She went down like a sack of bricks, and Jackie couldn’t help but smirk; in the end, she’d been pathetic. Russo reached up to her neck and pulled out the obedience chip and crushed it between her thumb and forefinger, before throwing her huge arms around Jackie.

“Good to see you, boss man, uh, boss lady?”

They all laughed. 

“Well, I hope you all had a nice little holiday, because I am back and I am going to be drilling your asses twice as hard for getting yourselves captured.”

“Uh, didn’t you get knocked out and wander off into the jungle?” Cal teased, Jackie smacked her. 

Jackie felt a weight in her chest lift; she had her team back, and they’d immediately fallen back into their old ways. The world felt right at last. And yet, that indignant rage still burned in her chest, he need for control and revenge. 

“Are we going to take these off?” Cal asked after a moment, pulling at her choker with a reluctant look on her face. 

A quick glance at Jackie’s team told her none of them really wanted to give up their new bodies. Neither did she. She certainly didn’t want to go back to taking orders from higher-ups either. Carmen had been right about one thing: this world was rotten, might as well take what they could or themselves. 

“They’re ours now.” Jackie nodded, looking over at the factory machines, “All ours. We’re going to carve out a nice little niche for ourselves, I think.”

The rest of her team grinned, then a moan echoed through the open door, the guards she’d knocked out. 

“What about them?”

“A few adjustments to the obedience chips should do the trick.” Jackie smiled, “If they were happy serving Carmen, I am sure they’ll be happy serving us.”

She walked over to the machinery and picked up a completed choker, dangling it between her fingers. She thought of th emen she’d met along her journey, the bartender, his meathead friends, Gabriel…

“And I think I know where to start with expanding our numbers.