Agent Y

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain this!” I shouted at Bill, my partner on the force, trying to block his exit with my arms outstretched.  “This…this…silly weak female body!  How will this help the mission?  And since when do FBI agents get forced gender changes?!”

Bill shrugged apologetically.  “It’s what the Director wanted.  I had no say in this, and I’m sorry.  You are now in a perfect position to penetrate Hernando Diaz’s cartel, as his willing nubile slave---although, in fact, you may be the one being penetrated before this mission is over.  If it’s any consolation, I think that you are beautiful.  My kind of girl.” 

My heart swelled at that moment, and for a moment I wanted to grasp Bill and kiss him, but my male mind balked.  I’d better watch the hormone balance from now on.  I was wearing a gossamer flimsy shirt that barely covered my new tits, and it didn’t help that my “boy shorts” actually hugged me in all the right places and reminded me that I was no longer a boy.  My new hair tickled in all the wrong places.  But Bill was right, there was no solution until I resolved this case against a dangerous drug dealer and his coterie.  I dropped my arms and decided to accept my new fate as Yasmina, a blonde beauty with no past and no memory. 

“Ok, we’re on a clear channel.  Director, she’s on: let’s call her Agent Y for now.  Agent Y, how do you feel?  Ready for action?” 

“I’m ready to jump into bed and suck you dry, Bill.  Come see me?” 

“Umm, Director, sorry; Agent Y is under stress.  I’ll report in a few hours.”