SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 1 A pair of secret agents embark upon a dangerous mission to learn all they can about a notorious drug baron. * * * * * * * * * *

The street lights of Monte Carlo streaked past in a haze as the dying embers of the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Excitement was in the air as tourists began to flood the streets, ready to take in Monaco's vibrant Mediterranean nightlife.

The balmy evening heat drifted in through the open window of Mike Rivers' pristine white Lamborghini Gallardo. He breathed deeply, letting the ambience fill his senses. This was how he liked it – immersing himself in the environment, literally feeling the city. He could already feel his pulse beginning to quicken as it always did on the eve of a mission. He thrived on the jeopardy, toeing the line between life and death.

Rivers let his gaze drift upwards as he casually rolled the Lamborghini into the forecourt of Le Grand Casino de Monte Carlo, Monaco's premiere, high rolling casino. The brand new tires gave a short, sharp squeal as he brought the high performance vehicle to a halt outside the main entrance. Immediately he was attended to by a valet who opened the wing-door for him. Rivers stepped out onto the concourse, smoothed his dinner jacket and fastened a button. He reached back into the car to retrieve a briefcase, almost as an after-thought. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the young valet and passed him the keys to the car.

“Drive carefully.”

The young man nodded and slipped into the driver's seat to park the car. The engine hummed as it pulled away.

Although a top of the range sports car and expensive designer suit were not exactly out of the ordinary at Le Grand, Rivers still drew a few stares. He didn't mind. An advantage to being undercover was that you could hide in plain sight. He smiled at two young ladies in shimmering dresses as they walked past, drinking in their slender tanned bodies. Tonight's mission was purely reconnaissance. There would be time enough to indulge a little.

Rivers checked his watch and gave one last look out to the bay. The Mediterranean Sea shone gold with the last few rays of the setting sun. Expensive yachts were lined up in Monaco's bay, each of them owned by some big fish wanting to prove that they were the biggest. Rivers knew which one he had to catch. He turned, adjusted his tie and strode confidently into the lobby of the casino.

* * * * * * * * * *

Special Agent Third-Class Samuel Fields drove the Lamborghini the short distance round to the back of the casino. He had watched Rivers from the rear view mirror as he pulled away. Not for the first time, Sam envied Special Agent First-Class Mike Rivers.

“That's it. You go chase the girls again while I do all the work,” Sam muttered to himself. He revved the engine a few times as he pulled into a parking bay, imagining what it might really be like to put the car through its paces.

Sam turned the ignition off and sighed. He tugged uncomfortably at his valet's uniform. It itched and proved a little too hot given it was the height of summer. He quickly retrieved a case of equipment from a hidden storage compartment behind the passenger seat and stepped out of the vehicle, locking it behind him with a remote.

Sam did not attract too much attention. Staff turnaround was high at Le Grand and the other valets and porters just accepted him as the new guy, offering a pleasant smile or a bonjour at the most. He hurried through the lobby with the case. The hum of the social elite in conversation filled the air, punctuated by the constant rush of water from the fountain that served as a centrepiece. He could feel his nerves getting the better of him as he jabbed at the lift call button.

Sam exhaled noisily once the lift doors had shut behind him and he took several more deep breaths to help calm himself.

This is why you're only Third Class.

Sam wondered how Rivers could always be so calm, no matter what the situation. Even with a gun pressed to his head. Maybe the confidence came with the physicality. Rivers was tall, imposing and well versed in martial arts and shooting. As a tech-support, Sam did not have to fulfil the same requirements. His slender, pale frame revealed too many hours spent behind a computer.

The lift doors chimed open at the tenth floor and Sam exited into a brightly lit corridor, which led to a number of hotel suites. He could only imagine what they each must cost. Fortunately the Agency didn't seem to be running short on money any time soon, as Rivers' latest sports car would attest.

Sam found suite 1006 and let himself in with a key card. The room was large, with twin double beds dominating the main room and a bathroom off to the side. It was tastefully decorated and lit, matching the luxurious interiors of the main casino. He hefted his case onto one of the beds, glad to be rid of its weight, and walked over to the balcony doors. He slid the glass door open and stepped onto the balcony, the dry Mediterranean heat hitting him hard after the air-conditioned coolness of the hotel room. Sam stared up at the stars which had begun to reveal themselves in the darkening sky.

Monaco.

Sam wished he were there on pleasure and not business. His girlfriend Lenore would have loved it there. As it was, the good old U.S. of A had never felt so far away.

Sam went back into the room, pulled the door shut and drew the blinds. He turned his attention to the case. It was jet black, reinforced Kevlar casing, next-generation security lock encryption. He keyed in his security code, swiped his thumb over the fingerprint sensor and popped the lock. Inside were Sam's two laptops, along with micro-cameras, motion sensors, pin-microphones… Everything a good agent could need. He cleared the hotel room's table and began setting up.

“First things first.”

Sam activated his security blanket, a tailored EMP device that killed all Wi-Fi and network communications within a twenty-metre radius. Everything that was, except his own equipment. It ensured no-one could listen in to his communications. Even if someone managed to latch on to a remote monitor on the casino floor, they wouldn't be able to trace it back to him.

As he continued setting up, Sam remembered the case that Rivers had gone in with. It was a level-one access case, same technology as his larger version, but made up to look like a normal briefcase. Sam smiled inwardly. Level-one access meant that it was for First-Class agents only and was coded appropriately. But since Sam had helped design the encryption algorithms, along with half the security systems at the Agency HQ, it seemed a bit of a joke. He could pop the lock if he needed to. Most likely it was a case load of money to trade up for chips on the casino floor, though occasionally the Agency would come up with some new gadget that they wanted Rivers to field test. Most of the time they didn't work, but that was engineers for you. Sam was happy to be left to his computers.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mike Rivers sat at the poker table, both arms resting casually on the green baize. He carefully checked his cards. A full-house. His opponent eyed him cautiously from the opposite end of the table. Rivers stared back, meeting his gaze defiantly.

It had been four hours since he and Fields had arrived. Whilst Sam had set up base in one of the hotel rooms, Rivers had scoped out the casino floor. He’d played some blackjack, some roulette, won some money, lost some money, but all the time getting a feel for the room. Casinos ebbed and flowed and you had to know when to come to a table and when to walk away. Rivers could have won a lot by now, but he purposely restrained himself. The last thing he wanted was for the pit bosses to start keeping tabs on him.

He’d finally approached his quarry at one of the prestigious private poker tables. He’d talked his way in, flashing a healthy bag of chips to make it worth his while. Carlos Ramirez had already won big and Rivers had taken the place of his one remaining opponent, an unfortunate Egyptian tycoon who had just been cleaned out.

Carlos Ramirez was a South American drug baron, for want of a better description. He was now classed by the Agency as a significant threat to the world’s socio-economic stability, owning as he did companies and operations all over the world, fuelled by his drug operations and sex-trafficking.

“He has three of a kind. I would fold. Let him get some chips back.”

Sam’s voice came small and tinny to Rivers’ concealed ear receiver. Now that the stakes were bigger, he needed a little help to tip the scales in his favor.

“Fold.”

Ramirez laughed heartily as Rivers threw his cards down. He gleefully raked in the pile of chips that had accumulated in the middle of the table. To his right-hand side stood an immensely tall, well-built man with a shaved head and dark sunglasses — Ramirez’s personal bodyguard known only as Gaul.

“A little too hot for you this time round I think, eh?” Ramirez quipped in his thick Spanish accent, “You win some you lose some.” His black moustache bristled as he took a puff of his Cuban cigar.

It had gone on like this for the last couple of hours with Rivers and Ramirez neck and neck. Neither one coming out in front, at least not for long before the other caught up again. But that was all part of the plan.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam tilted his chair back onto two legs as he surveyed his laptop screens. His network was fully set up now and he had tapped into the casino’s entire CCTV grid. On one screen he had feeds displayed from the private poker suite where Rivers was playing against Carlos Ramirez. He could literally hear and see everything, including a full view of both players’ cards.

On the other screen was Rivers’ contact lens feed showing his viewpoint in both standard and thermo-image views.

For the past couple of hours Rivers had been wooing Ramirez. Psych intel on Ramirez revealed that if he won too easily in poker, he would get disinterested and bored, and start to lose respect for his opponent. Even worse was if he was beaten too quickly. His opponent would invariably meet an unfortunate accident on the way home.

Rivers and Sam used a combination of the knowledge of the cards, plus a gauge of Ramirez’s emotional state using the thermo-image, to determine how Rivers should play, to keep Ramirez in the sweet spot of being both interested and respectful of Rivers. Hence why Sam had instructed Rivers to fold, despite holding a winning hand. Ramirez needed to be pulled back in a little. Sam watched as the false coloring of the thermo-image began to pick up a change in hue in Ramirez, as he settled back into his comfort zone. The angry violets and blues in his face subsiding to gentler oranges and yellows. His ever present cigar was visible on the thermo-image as a spot of pure white light.

“And we’ve got him back.” Sam’s headset relayed his voice to Rivers’ in-ear monitor, a small electronic implant that was imperceptible to anyone except for Rivers.

Just then, something made Sam lean forward, his chair clattering back onto its four legs.

“Hang on a second Rivers, we’ve got someone else coming in.”

Sam watched the camera feeds as the door to the private room opened and a vision in scarlet walked in.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mike Rivers turned in his seat as the door behind him opened and a figure walked in through the smoky gloom of the poker den.

She had to be about 5’4”, though add to that another four inches from her high heeled sandals which clicked across the floor as she made her way around the poker table. Long, wavy blonde hair trailed behind an elfin face beset with hypnotic eyes and full pouty lips. Her breasts, which surely had to be at least a D-cup, spilled out of a dynamite red cocktail dress, which hugged her trim body, flaring out at her feminine hips. Her legs, accentuated by the heels and the short hem of the dress were slender and toned. Rivers’ gaze followed her peachy backside as it twitched its way past him.

“Eyes ahead Rivers, eyes ahead.”

Sam’s voice entered Rivers’ ear reminding him of the contact lenses he wore, feeding his field of vision direct to Sam’s laptop. He wished he could answer back, telling him to get lost, but instead he let his gaze linger on the woman’s shapely breasts as she took her position next to Ramirez. Rivers smiled to himself.

Let’s see what Fields makes of that.

“Very funny, yes they’re outstanding breasts, we get the picture,” Sam chided through the in-ear speaker.

Carlos Ramirez grinned as Rivers took in the vision before him.

“Ha ha, you like, huh?” Ramirez’s left arm encircled the young woman’s waist pulling her into him. She had so far said nothing. “I purchased her two nights ago from an Algerian trafficker. I haven’t even had a chance to try her out yet, if you know what I mean?” Ramirez gave a throaty smoker’s cough as he squeezed the woman’s backside in his large hand. She didn’t react, but just kept smiling serenely and staring at Rivers. “I like you Mister Rivers, and I can tell you are a man of good business and good taste. So what do you want to offer me for her?”

This was it, Rivers thought. After drip-feeding Ramirez his cover story of being a less than honorable businessman himself, the bastard had finally let him in. He just had to keep the conversation going. If Rivers could get a handle on Ramirez’s sex-trafficking it would prove instrumental in taking him down once and for all. Rivers met the woman’s doe-eyed gaze as he replied.

“I’m not looking to buy. In fact, I’m looking for a buyer myself.”

“You have women? Girls? Boys?” Ramirez took a fresh cigar from a case, ran it under his nose.

Rivers nodded. “I need to get rid of them. Do you have any idea what it’s like trafficking and being a United States citizen? I can’t even take a shit without some government agency breathing down my neck.”

“Ha ha ha! I understand your predicament. Lucky for you old Carlos might be in a position to help you.” Ramirez’s face lit up in the gloom as he lit the cigar. He took the smoke down into his lungs, looking up at the woman at his side. “Antoinette! You heard the man, you are not needed here. Go back to the yacht and await my return. Make yourself… available…” Ramirez chuckled as he looked at Rivers. Rivers played along, smirking as best he could. Ramirez gave the woman a hard swat on her backside sending her cluttering forward a few steps. She straightened herself and smoothed her dress, before making her way back outside.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam tapped at his laptop, taking a freeze capture of the woman, enlarging her face into crystal HD resolution. She was beautiful. It was hard to believe she was just another sex-slave. She was healthy, toned, her eyes were bright. No needle marks on her arms, so she wasn’t hooked on drugs like most were. Sam had heard of some children that were born into sex-slave rings, after all pregnancy was common place among female slaves. They would be born and raised to service and pleasure, kept away from civilization and the media so that they never knew that life could be anything else. They fetched handsome prices on the black market and it made sense that Ramirez would choose one such girl for himself.

“Antoinette,” Sam mused to himself, typing in her name and uploading her image to the Agency search database. He found himself transfixed by her image. He felt like there was something going on behind those blue eyes.

Suddenly there was a hard knock at the hotel room door. Sam was startled and instantly felt his heart beat hammering in his chest. It was probably just Rivers, but he couldn’t help but picture Carlos Ramirez out there, a gun in his hand, ready to blow him away. The knock came again, more forcefully this time and Sam jumped. He quickly tapped into his laptop and brought up the CCTV camera to the corridor outside. He exhaled slowly. It was Rivers. He and Ramirez had adjourned their game until later so that they could take a break.

“What took you so long?” Rivers strode into the room, loosening his tie.

“Sorry, I just had to check. There are criminals in this building you know,” Sam said as he checked that the lock to the room was secure again.

“Criminals? That’s a polite way of putting it,” Rivers laughed, flopping down onto one of the beds, exhausted from the concentration needed over the last few hours. He looked over, seeing the image of the blonde woman from earlier still displayed on Sam’s laptop. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I almost wish I had bought her. I sure wouldn’t mind a few rounds with her.”

Sam screwed up his face. Rivers’ humor was in bad taste.

“You’re incorrigible. Who knows what this woman has been through?”

“Has the search turned up anything yet?”

“No, nothing.”

“I didn’t think so. You’re wasting your time with her. We need to focus on Ramirez.”

Sam thought that Rivers seemed to be overly dismissive. He knew as well as he did to pursue any avenue or lead. He sat back down onto his chair and glanced at the laptop screen.

Search results: 0

“So far we’ve got him eating out of our palm,” Rivers continued, “Another session and I’m sure we’ll be able to get out of him where his sex-trafficking operation is located.” Rivers laced his fingers behind his head as he lay back on the bed. Again Sam envied how calm and controlled he seemed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers emerged from the bathroom having freshened up and pulled on a fresh shirt that he’d laid out on the bed. He checked himself in the mirror, as he often did, smoothing his dark hair.

“I’ve got an hour before I’m due back at the table. How about we head downstairs to the bar, see if we can’t line up some sexy Mediterranean ass for later.”

Sam sighed. Rivers’ appetite for danger was matched only by his appetite for women. He’d literally jeopardized missions before by allowing himself to get distracted by the fairer sex.

“No I’m fine, you go ahead.”

Rivers turned from the mirror, still buttoning his shirt. He looked at Sam despairingly.

“Oh yes, that’s right your girlfriend. Lenore right?”

“Yeah.”

Sam watched as Rivers patted some aftershave to his cheeks. He looked back at Sam from the mirror.

“How’s that working out for you? Did the Agency check go through okay?”

“Well, ah…” Sam hesitated.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t check her in! Come on, you know the rules.”

As an agent Sam was required to submit any new partner’s details to the Agency for a thorough background check. A full report would then come back detailing where she went to school, ex-boyfriends, hobbies, what she liked to eat… Ultimately killing the whole getting-to-know-you part of the relationship. He did understand the security behind it all given they were part of the country’s most covert intelligence agency. But still…

“I’ll get round to it. I will…”

Rivers raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Make sure you do. I don’t know why you want to tie yourself down to one person anyway. You’re young and there’s a whole menu out there to order from. Wouldn’t you prefer to dine on something different every night?”

“You know, one day your womanizing is gonna turn around and bite you on the ass.”

“Hmm, sounds kinky, I look forward to it.” Rivers slipped his jacket back on and patted Sam on the shoulder. “See you in sixty.”

* * * * * * * * * *

After the hotel room door had clicked shut, Sam settled back into his chair. He clicked through some of the CCTV channels but decided he would take a break. He tore open a cereal bar and bit into it.

His conversation with Rivers had just made him miss home even more. Lenore had recently moved into his apartment, and he could really use her company right now. It was easy enough for Rivers to play the field, but Sam counted himself lucky if a woman even looked twice at him. Lenore was so stunning that he couldn't believe his luck when they had met in a bar and begun to hit it off.

Sam ran his right hand through his sandy-colored hair, which hung loose and wavy over his forehead.

He needed a haircut.

A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. Sam swallowed his mouthful of cereal bar as he got up and unlatched the door.

“What did you forget this time?”

Sam stopped. What he saw made him take a step back.

* * * * * * * * * *

A hand thrust forward squarely onto Sam’s chest with surprising force, pushing him backwards until he hit the nearest bed, falling back onto it.

Two high-heeled feet clipped slowly inside, legs walking one in front of the other. Sam’s gaze drifted up over feminine curves to a bright red dress and a familiar face.

“Antoinette?” he whispered in shock, as she closed the door behind them.

“Mister Fields,” she began, her soft voice revealing a French accent, “You and I are about to take a little trip together.”

A smile formed at her ruby red lips as she pointed a gun straight at Sam. Sam’s heartbeat hammered through his skull. He held up his hands as if it would protect him from a bullet.

Antoinette stalked over to him in her heels, a sly look on her face. She grabbed his wrist.

“Get up!”

Sam got to his feet, his legs trembling. The silencer barrel of her small handgun jabbed into his ribs. A voice then came from the doorway making them both look up.

“Not so fast, honey!”

Rivers stood in the doorway, tall, confident, in control. He aimed his own silenced pistol squarely back at Antoinette. Sam felt her quickly shift position behind him, using him as a human shield, the gun still sharp against his side.

“Rivers! Back off man, she’s got a gun!” Sam found himself wailing desperately.

Rivers slowly stepped through into the room, holding up a finger to silence him. He kicked the door shut behind him to keep the situation contained.

“Back off! I will put him down! Lower your gun American!” Antoinette threatened.

Sam watched as Rivers raised his gun and took aim.

“Not if I put your down first.”

The last thing Sam heard was a shot being fired.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness, catching fleeting glimpses of the room around him. A sudden sense of urgency overcame him, as if he was underwater and he knew he had to get to the surface or else drown.

Sam’s back arched as he inhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open. The world coalesced around him and he found himself lying on one of the beds of the hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. He slowly turned his head. The street lights filtered in through the blinds of the window on the far wall. A car horn howled as it sought its way through the traffic outside.

Sam’s head slumped back to the soft comfort of the pillow, sending long hair trailing across his face. He absently brushed it aside as he gathered his thoughts.

Antoinette... The gun... Rivers…

His mind recalled snapshots of what had happened, like pages in a flick book. Sam quickly turned to face the bed beside his to find Rivers lying there unconscious. He could just make out his partner’s shallow chest movements. Sam rubbed at his throbbing head.

Tranquilizer.

With effort, Sam raised his body from the bed, swinging his legs to the side so he could sit up. His long blonde hair trailed after him, falling across his bare shoulders and back.

What?

Sam grasped at the hair, tracing it along its full, long length, right down to its tip. He felt it tug sharply at his scalp as it pulled taught. He let it go, his attention now drawn to his hands. He held them both out in front of him, flexing foreign slender digits. Most noticeable however, were his long fingernails, each painted a bright scarlet color.

Sam crossed his hands over one another, feeling his small wrists with each, then sliding up to feel his bare arms and shoulders. He shuddered as his mind rebelled against what he was both seeing and feeling. It was then that he looked down.

Down at his body...

And yet not his body…

Sam’s vision blazed with red - the bright red of the garment that he wore. A garment that moulded itself to his body, following the inward curve of his small waist, the outward curve of his hips and…

His breasts.

Sam watched as his breasts heaved with his breathing, swelling and rising beneath his low cut dress.

His breasts…

Sam began to hyper-ventilate, the room beginning to fold around him as he grew dizzy. He pushed himself from the bed, trying to stand. He stumbled as he missed his footing, his legs feeling like they were mismatched and not of the same length. He groped at his right ankle, unclipping a shoe, discarding it. Barefoot now, he struggled to make it over to the mirror on the far wall, which seemed to spiral away from him the closer he got.

His small hands gripped the edge of the table and he felt his way around it, finally making it to the mirror. Stars appeared at the edge of his vision, closing in. His head grew light and he fell, but not before he saw her.

There, deep in the mirror, looking back at him.

Antoinette.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey. Wake up.”

Sam felt himself returning to the world, hearing a familiar voice. He subconsciously used it as a life-line, focusing on the words as he came to.

“Open your eyes, that’s it.”

Sam’s head nodded a few times and he woke. Mike Rivers stood over him, awake now, but dishevelled, as if he had been in a struggle.

Only he was pointing a gun straight at Sam.

Sam breathed in, his eyes opening wide. He found himself lying on his side where he had fallen, just in front of the mirror. He recoiled from the gun, sliding over into the corner, his pulse quickening.

“Stay where you are!” Rivers spoke forcefully.

Sam looked up, shaking, finally managing to utter something.

“I’m going to be sick.”

Rivers flexed his grip on the gun and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He glanced over to the bathroom and back.

“Ah, okay… go. But don’t try anything.”

Sam bolted past Rivers, a migraine searing through his skull. As he moved his body responded in unfamiliar ways, in particular a heavy slapping against his chest. He skidded into the bathroom, pulled up the toilet seat and wretched, holding his long hair to one side.

His hair…

It all came back to him. His body. The mirror. Sam coughed a few times and pushed himself away from the toilet. He was kneeling, his bare legs cold against the tiled bathroom floor. His dress had ridden up a little and he tugged it down as much as he could. His cleavage swelled with his quick shallow breaths. He looked up to see Rivers had followed him in, a gun still trained on him, though he looked awkward, not knowing whether to be concerned or not.

“Alright, you can start talking now. Where’s Fields? What have you done with him?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam’s voice came dry and raspy to his throat. It was pitched higher than he was used to.

“Sam Fields, the agent I was with! Where is he?”

Sam looked down despairingly again at his feminine body, his hair falling past his shoulders to drape around his face.

“Rivers… Mike… Listen… It’s me… I’m Sam!” As Sam spoke with his unfamiliar vocal chords, he detected a strange nuance to his speech which he couldn’t yet place.

“Oh, the lady likes jokes huh? Well believe me, this gun pointed at you is no joke.” Rivers renewed his aim for emphasis. Sam gripped the sides of the bathroom sink and pulled himself to his feet. “Easy,” Rivers warned, following his movements carefully with the gun.

Sam came face to face with his reflection once more as he stood up. Bright blue eyes looked back at him, long mascaraed eye lashes fluttering as he blinked. His red-lipstick covered lips hung open in disbelief as he took in the image of his heart shaped face, framed by waves of blonde hair.

“I don’t know how it happened… or why… but somehow… I’m in her body!” Sam stammered. He fully expected Rivers to laugh in his face and pistol-whip him, or whatever it was called. Instead he seemed willing to hear him out.

“Prove it.”

Sam closed his eyes and concentrated, shutting himself away from the surrealism of the world around him.

“Three years ago, when I was first assigned to you,” Sam began, “Your first words to me. Do you remember? I do. You said keep up”.

Sam kept his eyes closed as he searched his memory. “Two years ago, we were playing basketball at the Agency gymnasium. We ran into each other and you knocked me out cold.”

“One year ago, that mission in Germany. You had to seduce that 67-year old countess. You made me swear never to tell anyone about what you had to do to her that night.”

“Okay,” Rivers piped up at last.

“Two months ago, you gave me a watch for my birthday. You didn’t tell me when you gave it to me, but you’d had it inscribed on the back. It said, stay lucky.”

“Sam.”

Sam opened his eyes to his name. He looked at the reflection of Rivers behind him in the mirror. He had lowered his gun.

“Some luck, huh?” Rivers said.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam stood alone in the bathroom, facing off once more against the ever present reflection of Antoinette that stared back at him from the mirror. After Rivers had finally believed what had happened to him, he had asked for some privacy. He had rinsed his mouth out and splashed water over his face, feeling the softness of his cheeks, devoid of any hint of the stubble that he had felt there since adolescence.

He had looked at himself from all angles, beholding the graceful curves of his female figure - the swell of his hip and buttocks, the line of his smooth hairless legs. He had looked down at his cleavage, pulling out his dress until he was able to see the two thick nipples of each naked breast. He had even raised the hem of his dress up over his hips, briefly catching sight of a red thong stretched tight over a perfectly flat crotch.

He was female.

He was Antoinette.

But where was Antoinette? Where was his body?

* * * * * * * * * *

“I keep expecting to wake up any minute.” Sam shook his head as he made his way back into the room. His wide hips rolled as he walked and his heavy breasts bobbed under his dress, constantly reminding him of his predicament. Rivers was lying back on one of the beds and sat up with a start as Sam walked in. Sam stopped and rubbed at his throat. It was smooth with no sign of his usual Adam’s apple. “My voice,” he began.

“I know, it didn’t seem the right time to point it out earlier, but I noticed it too,” Rivers said, his eyes drifting over Sam’s body.

“French? I have a fucking French accent?”

Rivers laughed, but quickly apologised, “Sorry, but it’s pretty funny hearing you swear sounding like that.”

“Fuck you,” Sam retorted without malice, “I don’t even know any French.” He stretched his jaw, wondering why he couldn’t shake off the accent.

“Are you sure? Try. Maybe you can now.”

Sam closed his eyes and thought for a moment, “Bonjour, Je m’appelle Sam.” He paused and then shrugged his bare shoulders. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Rivers smiled, “Well that sounded convincing at least. It looks like your body is just used to talking that way.”

“This isn’t my body!” Sam gestured to himself, irritated with the sound of his voice, “My body is out there! Somewhere...” He pointed to the door.

“Yes, we have to assume that Antoinette is in possession of your body.”

Sam shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t imagine why she would want to take his body. Hell, he would take a good old fashioned kidnap over this. He walked over to the table where his laptops had been set up. Aside from some left over loose cables, the equipment had all been taken. He ran his manicured hand over the table’s surface. So much for any chance of checking the CCTV footage.

“What happened earlier? The last I remember you were pointing a gun.” Sam recalled the fear he had felt when Antoinette had jabbed the gun into his side. He closed his eyes. “Then… there was a shot.”

“She fired,” Rivers began, “Put you down with a tranq. I… kind of didn’t see that coming... I hesitated.”

Sam detected a small amount of uncertainty in Rivers’ voice. Maybe he was human after all.

“She was fast. Real fast,” Rivers continued, “She got off another shot and I went down.” He rubbed at his shoulder.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, his wide hips splaying beneath his tight red dress. He went quiet. He could feel Rivers watching him closely as he struggled to take it all in. Finally, he spoke, “How has she done this? I mean, I wouldn’t have thought something like this was possible.”

“Actually, and I probably shouldn’t even be saying this, the Agency has been researching into something similar. Last I heard was that transference of consciousness was theoretically possible. It looks like someone has beaten us to it and actually developed the technology.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why is the Agency researching something like that?”

“Think about it Sam, it’s the ultimate in espionage — literally becoming someone else.”

“Rivers, when Antoinette came in the room. She… she called me by name. She knew who I was. She must know about the Agency.” Sam could feel his long hair tickling the slope of his breasts. He flicked it back over his shoulders.

“I know.” Rivers rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I think we’re going to have to call this one in. I’m going to have to contact HQ.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam looked out over the balcony of the tenth floor hotel room. It was now around 1.30 in the morning and the moon was out in full, reflecting off of the waters of the Mediterranean. The lights of Monte Carlo twinkled below and in the distance he could hear music and laughter.

The air was still warm enough, but he rubbed at his shoulders anyway, more from the exposure of his current state of dress than anything else. What faint breeze there was wafted coolly about his thighs, reaching up under his dress.

Sam could hear Rivers’ voice as a murmur coming from the hotel room. Any call to Agency HQ had to be made by a First-Class agent in private, and then only from their own Agency-supplied encrypted cell phone. Rivers had told Sam to wait outside and had slid the balcony door shut behind him.

The fresh air had done him good, and his aching head had all but subsided, but he felt exhausted. He didn’t know whether it was his own tiredness or Antoinette’s that he was feeling. Probably both, he reflected. Body and soul.

Sam looked out once more to the bay and its fleet of expensive yachts. One of them belonged to Carlos Ramirez. Perhaps he was on board right now, with Antoinette and his stolen body, clinking their beer bottles together and laughing. Sam tightened his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. He looked back, eager for Rivers to finish so that they could get going and find his missing body.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat perched on the edge of the hotel room table, folding his arms under his large breasts as he listened to what Rivers had to say. Rivers paced as he spoke and Sam found himself having to crane his neck to look up at him. Even standing up straight, Sam had to be a good ten inches shorter than Rivers now.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Rivers began, “HQ have given the go ahead for me to pursue Antoinette and to bring her in. They’re understandably concerned about the body of one of their agents falling into enemy hands.”

“That’s great!” Sam interrupted, “We should leave now, before she gets too far.”

“Hold on. I said me...”

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me I’m being side-lined!” Sam could hear his French accent coming through thicker with his exasperation. “That’s my body she’s got out there. I can still help… I mean, I may be a woman now, but I’m not useless!”

Rivers held up his hands, “Nobody’s saying you’re useless. In fact, you’ve been given a mission of your own.”

Sam paused, “Mission? What mission?” He knew that Third-Class agents didn’t just get given their own assignment like that. They were always seconded to a First or Second-class agent. Even a Second-Class would only be given an objective of his own if the Agency thought they were ready to take the next step up the ladder.

Rivers continued, “They want us to use your… situation… to our advantage.” Sam noticed Rivers drop his gaze to Sam’s chest as he spoke, making it clear which situation he was referring to. Sam instinctively draped a protective arm across his cleavage. “They want you to infiltrate Carlos Ramirez’s yacht.”

Sam was confused, “But isn’t that where we both should be looking anyway? Antoinette is working for Ramirez isn’t she?”

Rivers shook his head, “HQ believe she’s working for another organization...”

“How do they know that? When I ran a database search earlier, it came up with nothing.”

Rivers sighed, “Fields, believe it or not there are some things that a Third-Class agent is not privy to.”

Sam felt his cheeks flush red at Rivers’ condescension.

“You’re going to have to trust me in this. Ramirez is probably as much in the dark about Antoinette as we are."

"Probably?"

"If we can get you onto his yacht, he won’t know any different. You can travel with him, spend some time gaining his trust, see what you can learn about his operations. Antoinette has spent the last two days with Ramirez. She may have left some clues behind as to what she had planned as well.”

Sam felt his shoulders drop at what Rivers was suggesting. “Rivers… Even if you're right about her... I can’t do this! I… I’m not ready. I can’t do something like that on my own.” Sam could feel his voice wavering, his eyes beginning to glisten. Rivers clasped his feminine shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Yes you can, you just need to take a breath and relax. You can do this.” Rivers brought Sam forward from the table, slowly turning him until he faced the mirror. “Look at you,” Rivers said from over his shoulder, “Ramirez would never guess you weren’t really Antoinette. I mean, I’m having trouble enough myself.”

Sam gazed into his blue eyed reflection, then down at the contours of his feminine body. Rivers was right. Ramirez would totally believe that he was Antoinette.

And that was exactly what he was afraid of.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers dropped the four inch high heeled sandals at Sam’s feet. “Here, put these on.” He watched as Sam picked them up, holding them slightly away from himself like they were a pair of dead rats.

“You cannot be serious,” Sam protested as he sat on the edge of one of the beds. Rivers smiled at his sexy French accent, as he reached into the wardrobe and pulled a crisp new suit from its shrink-wrap.

“Fields, you just said so yourself, we need to get out there quick so that Antoinette doesn’t have too much of a head start. Plus we don’t know whether Ramirez will hang around now that I’ve stood him up for the next round of our poker game.”

“I’m not going to be able to stand up in these, let alone walk!”

“What are you going to do, wear my shoes?” Rivers watched as Sam looked down at his small feet, flexing his toes with their scarlet nail polish.

“I guess not,” Sam decided, arranging the feminine foot wear on the floor beside him.

As Rivers changed into his suit, he could not take his eyes off of Sam. He was leant right over as he slipped each of his feet into Antoinette’s red sandals, affording Rivers an unrestricted view of his breasts beneath his low cut cocktail dress.

He has absolutely no idea, Rivers mused to himself. He still couldn’t get used to the idea that it was actually his partner trapped inside that gorgeous blonde’s body. The body that he’d longed to fuck ever since he’d first caught eyes of her in the poker den. Even now, with all that had happened, he couldn’t eliminate the urges he felt. He had tried hard not to make it obvious, but he knew that Sam had caught him looking a few times. He turned away as he felt his boxer shorts twitch, and quickly slipped into his new suit pants.

“How do I look?”

Rivers turned back around at the sound of Sam's voice to see him standing there, ringing his hands nervously, his smooth slender legs now perfectly accentuated by his four-inch high-heeled sandals. A gruff murmur of appreciation escaped Rivers’ lips.

“Can you walk?”

Rivers watched as Sam took a couple of bambi-steps forward and then toppled. Rivers caught him just in time, feeling Sam's large breasts crushing between their bodies. Rivers looked down. Sam’s face looked beautifully innocent, like a little girl lost in the woods. He coughed to break the silence and helped Sam back to his feet. He watched as he took a couple more steps and managed this time not to fall.

“Ready?” Rivers asked, pulling on his jacket. Rivers was afraid that Sam had been right earlier when he said he wasn’t ready for the mission. Given what had just happened to him, and what would be expected of him now, it was a lot to ask.

Sam walked uneasily to the far side of the room, then back again, holding his arms wide beside him. Rivers noticed that Sam’s backside was also more pleasingly accentuated in the heels. “Ready,” Sam said at last, unconvincingly.

Rivers had between now and the time it took to drive to the waterfront to get Sam ready. He knew that he was about to make himself very unpopular.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam eased his way down the brightly lit corridor outside the hotel room. His hands felt along the wall for support as he walked, in what felt like, a towering pair of red high-heeled sandals. Rivers walked slowly a couple of steps behind, presumably to catch him if he fell again.

“Here, take my arm, you look like a blind woman.” Rivers offered Sam the crook of his elbow. Sam looked up, weighed up his options, and decided to take him up on the offer.

Sam felt dwarfed next to Rivers, even in his heels. He held Rivers’ arm with both hands as he was escorted to the elevators. He felt enormously self-conscious away from the relative privacy of the hotel room.

The wait for the elevator was excruciating. Sam could feel his tummy turning itself in knots and he wondered if he was going to be sick again. When it finally arrived, he hurried inside ahead of Rivers, his heels clicking on the metallic floor.

The elevator hummed as it made its slow descent. “Okay Sam, when we get downstairs, people are going to see you. Men are going to look at you. Act natural and hold onto me. We’re just a couple going out for a walk okay?”

Sam felt Rivers’ arm slip around his small waist, pulling him closer. Sam immediately felt uncomfortable and wriggled free. Rivers held up his hands innocently. “Relax! Fields, listen, you need to calm down. You can do this. Just play along.” This time when Rivers’ arm slipped round, Sam let it stay there, though he’d never felt so uncomfortable.

* * * * * * * * * *

The elevator doors parted with a chime and Sam and Rivers were greeted by a wall of noise. The foyer bustled with people enjoying the late night gambling that would run on throughout the early hours. Sam felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, instantly losing his bearings and forgetting which way it was to the parking bays. He felt Rivers’ arm pushing against his lower back, ushering him out. Immediately Sam’s heels echoed out across the marble floor.

He heard Rivers’ voice close to his ear, “Stay calm. Keep focused.”

They walked together swiftly, Sam wanting to spend as little time in the large, brightly lit lobby as was possible. It seemed everywhere he looked men were walking past, some with a woman on their arm, others on their own, some in groups. All of them looked over at him with that same look, like he was a food parcel that had just been parachuted into a starving village. He felt humiliated. He lowered his head, letting his long blonde hair curtain around his face.

Sam finally recognised the door to the parking bay and quickened his pace. He left the safety of Rivers’ arm and clacked on ahead.

When Sam realised that Rivers had not followed, he stopped and swivelled round. Rivers stood there, hands casually resting in his pants pockets.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

“What?” Sam whispered incredulously, hurrying back over, his breasts bobbing merrily under his dress. “What are you playing at? Let’s just get in the car and go, before I change my mind about this whole thing.”

“Trust me, let’s go get a drink. It’ll be good for you, I promise.” Rivers turned and headed towards the lobby bar. Sam was forced to take small hurried steps to keep up. “You’re doing pretty good in those heels now, don’t you think?”

Sam looked down suddenly, realising that he’d been walking unassisted, his bare legs slipping confidently one in front of the other. He hadn’t even thought anything of it! He’d just… walked. Sam winced with pain as his left ankle suddenly buckled beneath him.

“Woah, there we go,” Rivers grinned as he caught Sam’s arm.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat on a stool at the bar; nervously toying with the hem of his red dress, wishing it was longer. He clamped his legs tightly together, feeling the predatory eyes about him. The hum of people in conversation surrounded him.

“Here we go, two Vodka Martinis.” Sam watched as Rivers set the drinks down beside them and took up a stool next to his.

“Oh, we think we’re James Bond now do we?” Sam quipped, taking a quick sip of his drink. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call hurrying out the door. Can’t we just go?”

“In a moment, just… have a drink.” Rivers motioned with his glass.

Sam took another gulp, drinking quickly with his nerves, his eyes darting left and right. Rivers seemed to sense this and tried to keep the conversation going.

“So, what’s with those heels, huh? There was no stopping you back there!” Rivers smiled.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered, giving some thought to the matter. “It’s like, when I stopped thinking about it, my body seemed to know what to do and took over.” Sam crossed his legs as he spoke, smoothing his dress back over them.

“Like your accent as well, perhaps? It looks like there are some things that your body is just used to doing. Parts of the brain that instinctively know all this stuff.”

“Maybe.” Sam took another nervous drink. Looking around, he accidently met the gaze of a young bartender who smiled back at him. He quickly looked away, feeling himself blush.

“You know, Sam. There’s going to be other things that your body is used to doing. Things that you won’t be so used to.”

Sam felt Rivers’ left hand rest on his thigh. He flinched, uncrossing his legs again, looking around for who might be looking at them. Glasses clinked as they were set down on the bar counter.

“Shhh, don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re just having a quiet drink with your boyfriend. There’s nothing wrong with his hand being on your leg.”

“Mike, please…” Sam squirmed on his barstool, but Rivers’ hand remained on his thigh. A roar of laughter came from a group of men in the corner, who were sharing a private joke.

“Smile.”

“What?”

“You’re having a drink with your boyfriend. You’re enjoying yourself! Smile!”

Sam’s lipstick covered lips quivered. He bit his lip.

“Close your eyes.”

Sam could feel his eyes beginning to glisten.

“Close them,” Rivers said more deliberately.

Sam nervously swallowed and closed his eyes.

It was then that Sam felt Rivers’ lips covering his own, kissing him. It lasted only a second but it felt like an eternity. At the same time Rivers’ left hand squeezed his thigh.

The bar stool scraped against the polished floor as Sam pushed away and got up. He fought the urge to sob as he ran to the nearest bathroom, his high heels clicking loudly. Nearly everyone at the bar turned to watch.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam pulled the lid down on the toilet and locked the cubicle door behind him. He slumped down holding his head in his hands. His long blonde hair hung down around him. He gripped it in his hands, pulling it harshly out of frustration.

He looked down again at his body; his breasts, his tiny waist, his hips, his legs. Throughout it all, he’d tried his best to hold it together, but he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He’d had enough. He growled through gritted teeth as he hammered his fists against the walls of the cubicle, stamping his heels on the floor.

Why him? Why hadn’t this happen to Rivers? Surely, he would have been a better choice for Antoinette to swap with? Sam rubbed at his hands which now hurt.

And the Agency, acting like nothing had happened, putting him on a mission straight into the lion’s den. What did they expect from him?

He drew a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. Sam unlatched the cubicle and walked over to the sinks, running the taps to splash water into his face.

“You know why I did that don’t you?” Sam looked up at the mirror to see Rivers leaning against the far wall behind him. Sam didn’t answer, and busied himself with washing his hands. He knew full well that Rivers had been testing him.

“Carlos Ramirez bought Antoinette two days ago,” Rivers continued, “You get that don’t you? As far as he is concerned, you’re his property. If you behave the way you just did with him? He’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

Sam looked deep into the sink, losing himself as he watched the water swirl into the plug hole. He felt Rivers grasp his wrist, turning him around to look at him.

“Fields… Sam. The Agency needs you to do this, and that means I need you to do this. Do you realise how many people out there are suffering right now because of what Ramirez is doing? How many women? How many children? What you find out on that yacht could bring him down once and for all.”

Sam raised his head, looking Rivers in the eye as he continued, “I need you to reach inside yourself. Meditate, medicate, masturbate… do whatever you need to do to cope with this. And if it ever gets too much? Just think of me with that 67 year-old countess.”

Sam blustered a quick laugh out, his lips parting in a smile as he rubbed at a moist eye.

“Hey, there’s that smile I was looking for earlier! Huh?”

Sam did smile. He had felt embarrassed at showing weakness in front of Rivers. He stood up straight, sniffing as he straightened his scarlet dress. He would try and be strong. He was still an agent. He would survive it.

They were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. A small old man with glasses and a boot lace tie looked up at them both.

“Excuse me lady, but this is the men’s room.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The street lights blurred into one as Rivers expertly wound the Lamborghini through the steep streets of Monaco. He glanced over occasionally to Sam who was staring blankly out of the passenger window. He hadn’t said anything since getting in the car, but Rivers had left him alone. He could sense that some soul searching was going on.

Rivers took the car for a slow drive past the waterfront before turning up a side road. He pulled the car up by the kerb and killed the engine. Rivers set the variable-tint windows to blackout and the interior of the car lit up with a ghostly red glow.

“Okay you’re looking for the Oro del Diablo,” Rivers rolled his eyes, "Devil’s Gold. Original.” He handed a picture of the yacht to Sam. It should be moored on pier nine. It’s a Jennings-Class personal super-yacht, so you’ll definitely be travelling in style. Efficient engine, long range. He could probably get halfway round the world in that thing. It’s not too big either, so crew compliment should be small.”

Rivers sorted through some more photographs. “Carlos Ramirez, obviously,” he said handing over the first picture. He glanced over at Sam, watching as he silently studied it, stroking his blonde hair away from his feminine face.

“This is Maria Ramirez, his wife,” Rivers continued, handing the next picture over.

“He’s married?” Sam asked, breaking his silence at last.

“Which means she’s probably just as devious as he is, so watch yourself.” Rivers handed a final photograph to Sam. “And this meat-head is their personal bodyguard, Gaul, who we saw back at the casino.”

“I’m sure he’s charming,” Sam said, handing all the pictures back to Rivers.

Rivers looked at Sam for a moment, studied his flawless, elfin face, his expressive blue eyes, his bee-stung ruby red lips.

“Let’s do this.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam Fields would never have been ready. Not for this. He just had to do it, before he thought about it too much and ran off to find another corner to hide in. He watched as Rivers came round to his side of the car and opened the door, swinging it upwards. The salty sea air swept into the car.

The Lamborghini was sat so low to the sidewalk that Sam had to use Rivers’ help to get out, especially in his tight dress and heels. Once he was pulled out, he tugged once more at the hem of his dress, which scarcely covered his rounded buttocks.

“Nice thong,” Rivers commented, “You need to watch how you get out of cars in the future.”

Sam felt his face flush red. He had been aware of his underwear constantly, its string riding up between his buttocks, but he had tried his best to avoid thinking too much of what was done there now.

Sam drew a deep breath, looking up at Rivers. His long hair picked up in the breeze. “Mike… My body…”

“I’ll find her. I’ll get your body back.”

“Okay... Well, I guess this is it then,” Sam turned and began to walk away, his high heels clicking on the sidewalk, his legs gracefully swinging one in front of the other. He heard Rivers call after him and turned.

“Sam… Stay lucky.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam made his way across the street, his arms folded in front of him to ward off the breeze which had begun to pick up force the closer he got to the bay. Some late night revellers were staggering back to their hotel in the distance. Somewhere he heard a bottle smash.

The wooden deck of pier nine thudded under his feet as he made his way up. He could already see the Oro del Diablo up ahead, its white hull reflecting the lamp lights that ran along the pier. There was no turning back now. He wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

His fingers found the railing of the yacht’s gangway, and he carefully stepped across. Below him, the inky blackness of the sea lapped at the underside of the ship. A light appeared before him, dazzling him. He held his hand across his face as he heard footsteps approach.

As the torch was lowered, Sam blinked a few times, his vision gradually adjusting. A shadow loomed before him, threatening even to block out the Moon, so it seemed. A huge, hulk of a figure, a sentinel, stood between him and the yacht’s deck.

It was Gaul, Ramirez’s bodyguard. He stood seven foot tall, his tailor-made suit straining with his muscular build. Even in the darkness, he wore his sunglasses so as to betray as little emotion as possible.

Sam swallowed hard, then gasped, as Gaul suddenly and forcefully gripped his arm. Gaul’s hand was large and his thick fingers encircled his entire arm with ease. He turned, silently heading back in to the boat, and Sam had little choice but to mince after him in rapid small steps to match the man’s larger strides.

Gaul’s grip was strong and hurt his arm. Sam heard his feminine voice groaning with the pain. He was dragged into the bowels of the boat, deep below the deck, down a narrow corridor. Sam tried to recall as much as he could about his surroundings, remembering the way back out and up to the deck if needed.

A door was opened and Gaul, silently and impassively, threw Sam in. He fell to the floor with a cry, watching as Gaul slammed the door shut. He heard the sound of a heavy bolt sliding and then Gaul’s heavy footsteps disappearing back up the corridor.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam brought himself back to his feet and rubbed at his painful right calf.

“Some welcome that was.”

He looked around at his surroundings. He was in a bedroom. A king-sized bed dominated the room, the covers immaculately made up with a plush white duvet. Large pine wardrobes and drawer units were set into the walls and recessed ceiling lights cast a muted glow down into the room. There were no windows and off to one side it looked like there was an en suite bathroom. The gentle sway of the yacht on the water created a disconcerting sensation. He went to the door, working the handle and pushing with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

He opened a couple of the wardrobes. In one there hung various expensive dresses, tops and skirts. In another were racks upon racks of women’s shoes, most of them with heels as tall as the ones he was wearing. It looked as though this was Antoinette’s personal room. He was a little relieved. He’d feared that he might be expected to share a room with Ramirez. He still wasn’t quite sure what the arrangement was with Antoinette, given that Ramirez’s wife was on board.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and reached down to his ankles, unstrapping each of his high heels and pulling them off with a sigh of relief. Despite his rapid adjustment to high-heeled walking, his feet were still very sore and he rubbed at the soles of each of his small feet.

Sam was exhausted and yearned for the soft comfort of the bed. He didn’t know if anyone would be coming for him tonight, or if he would be able to get away with a few hours of sleep, but it no longer felt like he had a choice in the matter. His borrowed body had finally given up.

With effort, Sam pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the free-standing full length mirror that stood in the corner of the room. The carpet felt soft and deep under his bare feet. He looked at his reflection. He looked a lot more dishevelled than he’d realised. His long hair was now straggly and he had lost much of his makeup from washing his face earlier. His dress was crumpled and a spaghetti strap had slipped from his shoulder. Despite all this, Antoinette had an alluring natural beauty that shone through.

Sam turned and looked over his shoulder into the mirror, looking for the zip at the back of his dress. He saw just how rounded and feminine his buttocks were now. He struggled with the combination of his long fingernails and the tiny zipper, but managed to pull it all the way down. The figure hugging cocktail dress had cups built into the bust, to support a woman’s breasts without the need for an additional bra. The sudden release of pressure on his chest felt good.

Sam watched his reflection as the dress slid down his body, needing a little persuading to clear his wide hips. He gasped as the dress puddled at his feet.

In the mirror, his breasts rose and fell with his breathing. They seemed very large for his size, but still firm and pert. His nipples were thick and pink with large aureole. He instinctively cupped them, feeling their weight in his small hands. He pinched at his nipples and instantly regretted it as he misjudged their sensitivity. His hands left his breasts and traced the outline if his small waist and his perfectly flat stomach. He felt the way his waist flared out to join the curve of his hips. Between his legs was the small triangle of his lacy thong. It was stretched tight and snug against a disturbingly flat crotch.

His manhood.

Gone.

Sam would have left the underwear on if it hadn’t been for the irritation of the thong between his buttocks. He hooked his thumbs into the elasticated waist band and slid them down. They peeled off of him, like a second layer of skin. He shook them off of his ankles and looked back at himself in the mirror. A small, neatly trimmed strip of blonde hair sat above the beginnings of a vertical slit that disappeared further between his legs.

His womanhood.

Sam did not know if he was a man with the body of a woman, or a woman with the mind of a man. His whole being, his whole identity was in turmoil.

But the turmoil belonged to another day. Not now. Sam peeled back the bed covers and slid naked between the sheets. He fell asleep almost immediately.

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

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