For King & Country. Chapter 3

For King & Country - Part 3
Cover illustration by Miss K

For King & Country

This is an erotic spy novella set loosely in the James Bond universe, and was originally written on commission back in the 1990s. For more background, please see the intro to chapter 1. It's re-presented here for posterity, despite being highly smelly and cheesy, especially this chapter, which (*warning*) is prime corny shemale tat...

Chapter Three: Tsuruga, Fukui Pref., Japan... Red Fist of Justice Complex ("The House")...

I was frozen to the spot.

Feeling my knees buckle involuntarily, I had to put my hand out to stop going over on my high heels. My mouth opened and closed noiselessly. A hundred different thoughts crowded in at once, fighting for attention, but I felt unable to organise them into any meaningful order. I guess I was, not to put too fine a point on it, fucked.

After what seemed like hours, but must have been scant seconds, Sato fired a challenging "well?" in my direction. I raised my eyes to see her stood there with her hands on her hips, a thin smile snaking across her face. She strode forward deliberately and slapped my face, hard. "You don't do a very good impression of a goldfish, do you?" Tears sprang to my eyes at the shock of the stinging pain. And she laughed, cruelly. A horribly pretty sound.

She nodded to the black-catsuited guards who had gracefully appeared at my side. They lifted me up easily by my elbows. I felt a prick as a needle penetrated my soft buttock and then felt myself being carried out of the controlled area. As a tear-blurred darkness descended over my vision, I saw the twin boys regarding me. Receding into the distance. I tried to speak, to explain, or something, but no words emerged from my m-

When I came to, my first thought was that it had all been a terrible dream.

That fond illusion was rapidly extinguished by the deep ache in my joints and a burning pressure from my bladder. I was literally unable to move a muscle.

I slowly opened my eyes, wincing at the bright light. Whatever they had used to knock me out had left my head feeling like the aftermath of a night of Tequila slammers with the girls from the Vauxhall office. I was in a small, featureless tiled white room with no windows and a single door. I was lying on the floor, trussed like a turkey. Above me was a shower-head. Near my feet a circular drain.

While insensible, I had been very skilfully bound (or should I say mummified) with black silken rope that had left me not an inch of free play. My catsuit had disappeared and beneath the bindings I was butt- naked. The only parts that projected visibly from the silken bundle were my face, breasts and genitalia, which had shrunk dramatically since the onset of the hormone treatment. In as much as a cock and balls could look "feminine", that was what they looked like. By shuffling around, I could see that my cock had been painted red and ominously, it seemed that a thick black marker pen had been used to draw a dotted line around my genitals. A similar marker line ran in the fold underneath each of my small boobs.

I writhed unceremoniously as I tried to ease the pressure on my bladder without shamefully relieving myself. It was impossible and I knew I'd have to wet myself soon, unless help came. I simply wasn't strong enough to break the bonds and if I struggled any further, I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from peeing. It sounds pathetic, but controlling my bladder was the only shred of dignity and hope I felt I could retrieve from this hopeless situation.

As I lay and tried to stop myself from bursting into tears, the full horror of my circumstances hit slowly home. I'd been compromised. My mission was fucked. Worse, I was now in the clutches of that frightening sadist Sato, who knew (or had guessed) that I was Lt. Commander Anthony Pierce under the hormonally assisted feminine curves of Jane Masters. Could I try to outface the accusation? It seemed unlikely that I could do anything but come clean and admit the truth. Perhaps-

I didn't have long to worry as the door sprung open and Sato strode in, followed by two of her catsuited guards. She was provocatively dressed in a one-piece, skin-tight black leather catsuit with impossibly vertiginous heels. Her long, black hair was piled high on her head. She looked obscenely beautiful.

"Well, Commander Pierce, what have you got to say for yourself?" Sato casually leaned forward and flicked my exposed testicles hard with a black-gloved finger. Excruciating pain shot through my groin and I would have creased up immediately had I been able to move an inch. "Not a very impressive piece of equipment, Commander", she sneered. "A trifle sensitive is it?" She bent down and started stroking my balls, which was, if anything, even more unbearable. With a smirk, she rose and turned away.

Unbelievably, I found myself asking her to allow me to go to the toilet. She swung round, slapped me hard in the face again and brought her thigh-booted shin straight into my groin making me scream in agony. "I ask the questions round here. You are Commander Pierce, aren't you?" she whispered in my face, bending down to flick my balls again. This time, I was unable to bear the pressure any more. I let out a wracking sob and relaxed, sending a steady stream of hot, golden urine onto the floor. It began pooling around my buttocks, up my back and soaking my blonde hair.

"You disgusting little worm", Sato hissed, leaning down. I couldn't meet her eye. I had never felt so humiliated in all my life.

"If you can't control yourself," she said, wrinkling her nose, "I'm going to have to make you wear a nappy." She rose. "OK girls, turn on the shower and hose him down with cold water. I can't possibly torture him when he smells so bad." With that Sato almost sensuously ran her fingers over my shrivelled genitalia and leaned in again. "Whatever happens, this pathetic little slug-thing is gone for good. You know that, don't you? Not that that is going to make much difference to anything, as far as you're concerned." With this parting shot she strode out of the door.

The guards untied me and kicked me until I stopped struggling, giggling in their high-pitched Japanese voices. I think I felt a rib go, and a finger as I lifted my hands to fend them off, but I was past caring. When I was still, I lay on my side and watched their high-heeled feet click over to the wall. I heard a a tap being turned and a jet of ice cold water struck my bruised body and aching face. I closed my eyes.

After a while, I thought, "what the hell," and started crying. The cold water washed my tears away and I felt myself floating. Cleaner and colder than I had ever felt. I was in a cold, small, high place on the very edge of myself.

The tap was turned off and I lay, shivering, on the clean, white tile, gasping like a beached fish. The guards left the shower cell.

Some time later - it could have been minutes or hours - I heard the door open again behind me. By this time I felt as though my body was frozen in place. Footsteps approached. I smelt a strangely familiar smell - a perfume. Then felt a sharp jab in my bottom, which took me away into merciful blackness.

I came to trussed even more tightly than before. I was on my front, my arms stretched out behind my back and I couldn't help thinking once again that I must have looked like the family turkey ready for the Christmas meal. With all those hormones swimming inside of me, I guess it was not a bad analogy.

Suddenly through the door appeared a metal contraption that resembled a mobile clothes rail, pushed by the guards (the same ones?) They hoisted me roughly up on it and I felt an excruciating stab of pain from my right chest. They secured my arms with thick leather straps and let my bound legs dangle free. I could only just reach the floor with the tips of my toes, which meant that I was in perpetual agony from my arms, which felt as though they were being wrenched out at the shoulders. One of them forced my mouth open and gagged me with a rubber ball.

I was wheeled out along the corridor. I couldn't help but be aware of my cock, which was embarrassingly and horribly exposed. After an interminable and agonising journey through half-darkened corridors, the contraption rolled to a halt in front of the door to Sato's office. The guard rapped on the door.

It swished open and I saw Sato behind her desk, a faint smile on her face. The guards rolled me forward till I was right in front of her desk. I could not move a muscle, but could hear the guards leaving. Once again, I noticed that naggingly familiar perfume and sensed someone behind me in the corner of the room. I tried to turn my head but it was useless.

With a smile over at the person standing quietly behind me, Sato stood, leaned over her desk and reached to force my mouth open and remove the gag with a loud pop. I ran my tongue round my aching mouth marshalling my reserves. I felt as if my arms were going to pop out of my shoulder sockets any minute, and considered asking her for some relief from the standing frame, but on the whole I thought it better not to risk further scorn. I found that by stretching the tips of my toes out till they reached the floor, I could relieve the strain for short periods of time.

Sato came round and perched on the edge of the desk so the hem of her pencil skirt rode up above her knees. She pursed her lips in a playful smile. "Well, Commander Pierce," she said, patting me on my cheek, "how typically arrogant of British Intelligence that they should think that they could infiltrate Red Fist with a transvestite". I felt my face break into a red flush. I'd never have considered myself a 'transvestite' but I supposed that, to all intents and purposes, if it looks like a chicken and clucks like a chicken, then it probably is a chicken.

"There's no point in denying it - we know your whole sad story. I could have you snuffed out at an instant, but the children do like you and I'm tempted to keep you on as their tutor. What do you think Commander?" She didn't let me reply and went on, "but there is one problem, Akaguchi-san does not employ men here as you may have noticed." She glanced down, raising an eyebrow. "I am afraid that that miserable appendage is going to have to go. Fortunately we can facilitate your complete transformation into Jane Masters through the medical facilities and staff in this very complex. We'll be able to utilise your female side fully in a very short space of time. I am sure it will prove a delicious irony to have the pleasure of screwing His Majesty's Service whenever we feel like it".

"How did you know?" I said, very quietly.

"Oh, believe me, the disguise is extremely persuasive. In fact, we would probably never have detected the subterfuge." She laughed. "Fortunately, we did have very good advice." And then she nodded at the figure breathing softly behind me and when who duly came round to join Sato and I suddenly realised why I had recognised that perfume. And I also realised with a sickening feeling why I had been so easily compromised, as Dr. Mary Dwyer smiled and softly said, "hello again, Commander Pierce."

For a moment, there was silence. I realised I was expected to react. To cry or something like that. I also realised that I was not going to give them the satisfaction any more. I had given them an unacceptable advantage already by showing weakness, tears. I would not buckle again.

The two of them looked at me. My persecutor. My betrayer. My enemies. By the end of this, they would lie dead by my hand, probably alongside me. I felt clear in my head again, the pain from my shoulders and ribs cutting a razor line to my brain. I was smiling.

The two of them laughed as the guards re-entered and I was efficiently wheeled out of the office into the corridor. As I was taken back to my white cell, I realised that there was an undercurrent to my feeling of excitement. When I realised what it was, I was shocked. I was feeling a tremor at the prospect of truly being used and abused as a woman, especially by Bond. As if all of my life I had secretly envied the role of being Bond's girl. To be fucked and discarded by the most powerful, beautiful men in the world. I felt a thrill that ran down my bound body to my groin and my little cock struggled to attention. I found I had a smile on my face. How perverse.

"You can reach a transcendental state when being tortured. This fact, I'm sure, is drummed into you during your British Intelligence survival training."

Sato circled behind me. I was strung up on my frame, bound with wide, leather straps. The rubber ball gag was again in my mouth. She went on. "The over-zealous torturer can inflict so much pain that the subject goes into a zen-like state where they begin to chase the pain as a starving man chases food, or the addict chases his next fix." She had tied my hair back, painted my face with crude, whorish make-up and forced my legs into black, sheer hold-up stockings and six inch heels, which just failed to reach the ground. Otherwise, I was naked. I was in agony. Starving. Thirsty. Due to the elevation of my arms and my weakness, I was completely unable to move.

"You see, when the subject enters that state, the torturer has lost. That's why I do not often inflict pain on my victims unless I intend to kill them." She went on, heels clicking behind me as she walked. "Torture is a very simple thing, you see. It's not about inflicting pain. Pain is merely a tool. Torture is about deprivation. Deprivation from material necessities, food, water, sleep. Deprivation from personal freedoms. We use torture as a scalpel with which we pare away all the signs of the self. At the bottom point you will no longer have any sense of yourself left. Then you will find it easy to tell me the truth - or to accept new truths."

She looked into my face, removing the gag with her finger and thumb. I ran my swollen tongue round my parched lips, making sure I retained eye contact with her, show no weakness, though I hadn't slept for a couple of days, probably - so hard to keep a sense of time when the light was always bright and guards always came to wake you with their electric nightsticks just as you were dropping off to sleep.

Sato leaned forward and kissed me, sticking her tongue deep into my mouth. I sucked on the moisture there, not wanting to let it go. She pulled away. "Thanks for the drink," I said, in what I hoped was a strong, defiant voice. "You're right about my training though," I went on, trying to massage some feeling back into my face by talking. "It'll take more than a bit of sleep and food deprivation to make me do your bidding, I'm afraid."

Sato was standing watching me, apparently amused, her leather clad arms crossed. "Oh really," she said. "Just exactly how long do you think you have been awake in here?"

"Not long," I tried to shrug. "A couple, three days at most."

Sato smiled, leaning forward to stroke my rouged nipples with the tips of her red nails. I shuddered. "And how to you feel, my brave British agent," she purred.

"Thirsty and tired." I said. "But I'll live." I looked with defiance into her eyes.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, straightening and walking toward the door, "I have such wonderful plans for you." At the door, she turned. "Oh, and by the way, you've actually only been awake for twenty-two hours. I'll come back again when it really has been three days and then let's talk again, shall we?"

She looked up at the hidden camera. "No sleep, no food, no water. 1.25mg scopolamine, every 12 hours." Then turned back to me with a dazzling smile. "See you later, my dear."

Perhaps I lasted for a couple of weeks. Perhaps only a few days. I have no idea. The drugs and the sleep deprivation were hard to resist. I tried to die, but I couldn't. Sato's visits were the only punctuation in my long unrelenting tiredness. I felt as if I was disappearing and leaving a flat, paper version of myself behind. I just wanted to sleep. If I could sleep, it would be OK. I would get up, break out and run down the corridor, killing guards on the way until I got to Sato's office. I'd break her arms, then kiss her and then-

The next time Sato came back, I found that I could not look at her any more because of the hallucinations. Also, my neck did not seem to be working. So I had to speak to her without looking into her face, which I found embarrassing. She told me that I had done very well to remain awake for so long and as a result she was going to let me drink a bit of water as a reward. I think I cried then, but a kind of very painful, dry crying. She put a wet sponge to my mouth and I sucked on it, but could only take a couple of drops before I felt sick. I retched but nothing came out. She asked me if I was tired and I nodded. She said that she would let me have a nice sleep soon. I smiled.

Sato carried on talking to me in a low, and very soothing voice. She told me a lot of things, which sounded confusing, but as she went on I realised how stupid I had been. All this secret agent nonsense I had been filling my head up with was so utterly far fetched. A trivial romance that I had made up to make myself feel more important. It was so clear now.

I'm Jane Masters. I'm twenty-two. I was born a boy but always felt that I should have been a girl. I grew up in Surrey but ran away from home with my sister's clothes on when I was seventeen. For a while I tried to make money as a prostitute in King's Cross to pay for my hormones, but because I was so pretty and talented by the time I was twenty-one, I was spotted by one of the agents from the Red Fist, who said that they would be able to pay me enough to pay for my operation. Lucky or what?

I'm a dancer at one of the Red Fist clubs in town now. My stage name is Jewel because I shine like a diamond. I make a lot in tips because the men love me. I'm having my boobs done this week. I'm SO excited cos I always felt that they were too small! I love dancing because I love making men happy, but soon, I'll have enough to have the whole operation done then I might go home to England, find a nice sweet man who'll love, cherish and protect me, and settle down. I'll be the happiest girl in the world!

"Well done," said Sato quietly. "Sleep now."

I slept.

"Look," says Candy coming off the stage to loud whistles and cheers, "your boyfriend's there again." I peek through the curtain. He is there. The very handsome, tall Japanese boy with the spiky hair. I get a kind of strange, jelly feeling in my knees and up there when Candy calls him my "boyfriend". I know he's a gangster - they all are round here. That's kinda exciting and dangerous...

"He's not my boyfriend," I whisper, feeling shy, giving Candy a little punch in her arm. But he's very nice looking and he always puts money in my thong, which has my name, "Jewel" in rhinestones down the front.

Then Mr Yahata announces me and the crowd roars. I'm so proud cos they always give me the best cheer. It's cos I'm blonde and tall, and since I had my new boobs done, I'm really big up there too. I love it when men look at me. It makes me so horny I feel like I'm going to cum right there. I love dancing. Soon I'm going to be a real girl, too. I'm so-o-o lucky!

I sway onto the stage to the music and begin to bump along, spinning and grinding round the pole. My inch-long jewelled nails sparkle in the spotlights. All my piercings with the rhinestones make me glitter like a diamond.

I do a couple of dips on the pole, spreading my long legs and wiggling the silver tassly bits on my nipples and the crowd goes mad. They are shouting "Jew-el! Jew-el!! JEW-EL!!" and I think I'm going to go mad too! Then I stride down the catwalk and they run to me, shoving money with their sweaty hands into the band of my thong.

At the end of the runway he is waiting for me. I feel all hot suddenly and I stop at the end to dance for him. His eyes are all over me and I can tell he is hot too. He is suddenly much, much bigger up front! I turn and walk away as the music fades. But I have to see him later. I hope he comes round the back and asks for me.

Later, me and Candy are having some vodka and some speed in our dressing room. I feel all giggly as I'm quite a bit drunk. My side hurts from when that punter hit me a few weeks ago but I feel really horny and I'm kind of pretending to grope her and stuff. She's my best friend. She's from Singapore. I like her.

Then one of the newer girls comes in and says something, like someone's looking for me. My heart jumps and I get all fluttery. Candy looks at me with a smile, then gets up to leave, patting me on my arm with a wink. I go over to the mirror and quickly fix my make-up. Someone knocks on my door.

"Come in." I say and then I have to cough as my voice sounds all shaky and croaky. The door opens. My face must have really fell, cos the red-haired woman who came in looks all worried. She comes over and sits down. I know who she is. I think she's called Trish and she's one of the pilots from the house. I find them scary because they're very hard.

She asks me what's happened to me, calling me "Jane" like she knows me, and I say nothing, I'm fine. Then I ask her what she wants and she tries to get me to come with her because she's worried about me dancing in this place, and I tell her that it's none of her business and I get all upset and start screaming then Mr Yahata and Candy come back in and throw her out but it's too late because I'm really upset and I'm crying and nothing's right.

Later on, back in my uniform catsuit, I decide to walk for a bit before getting the bus back to the house. It's very dark, but when I leave the club, I can see him standing there. He lights a ciggy and offers me one. We smoke for a bit, and while I'm smoking he starts stroking me on my bare back. He's just a little bit taller than me, which is unusual for a Japanese so I have to look up a little to let him kiss me.

"Why are you trembling?" He says in a surprisingly soft voice. I am crushed up against him and I can feel something hard and metal in his suit. A gun. "I'm scared", I whisper, in the littlest voice.

"Don't be. I won't hurt you." I think he will if he finds out my secret in my pants. But I can't help it. You see, I'm addicted to sucking cock and they pay me well for it because I'm so talented. All the men in this town know that. He kisses me again, then beckons me to his car, a big, silver Mercedes. We get in the back, and he undoes his trousers.

My jewelled nails tickle his hard cock in his pants. He moans. I pull the pants down and I stick my pretty tongue out and begin my happy meal. Meat lolly and cream. Mmmm...

He zips himself up and hands me a wad of notes. "Take me home now," I say, quietly.

In my bedroom high up in the house, I'm crying. I really fancied that tall spiky-haired boy but instead my muddled old head went all automatic on me and I gave him a blowjob for money instead of talking to him.

Now I'm just a cocksucker whore to him. But even if we could talk, why would a good-looking young gangster want to talk to a little airhead like me, anyway. I'm his quick bang. And I can't even do that properly because of what I have in my panties. I cry myself to sleep.

The next day, I see Trish again, looking at me in the canteen. But I ignore her. That night I give my young gangster head again in the backstage area. Then I dance some more to forget.

"Jewel-chan," he says, "I think I'd like to see more of you." And my face lights up.

We're sitting in the back of his car, two weeks later. It's parked up looking at the night-time harbour and my heart is pounding. I've just finished wiping his cum off my face and fixing my make-up. I put my hand on his thigh. "I'd like that too," I whisper.

"You bring me luck," he says, taking my hand. "Whenever you suck me off, I feel stronger and better. I figure that if you stick with me, my career's going to seriously go places."

That wasn't quite what I wanted, but-

"You know," he goes on, " I'll make sure you're comfortable and everything, but I want you to stop going with other guys and only go with me, right?"

"Of course, honey," I say quietly, smiling, but crying inside.

My life gets really comfortable after that. My gangster is definitely going places and I'm the top dancer in the top club in Fukui. I find I don't have to do any thinking at all any more. I just let my man take me with him on his journey. I just have to look pretty on his arm and suck him off whenever he asks. It's a simple life. I never see him unless I'm summoned, and he only summons me if he needs me to accompany him or if he needs a blowjob. He gives me an apartment on a beach and an endless supply of gorgeous clothes and things.

Most nights, I don't even go back to the Red Fist house on the hill anymore, and I see less and less of the girls. Candy was moved to another club and I never see her again.

Three months pass.

I'm doing some grocery shopping in the supermarket. I'm feeling kind of nervous today for some reason. I'm wearing a very brief leopard halter top that shows off my brown, trim tummy and my lovely, yummy, tanned cleavage, over which my softly permed, long, blonde curls tumble very prettily. I also have on some very short white PVC hotpants and some nice strappy stiletto sandals that my gangster bought me. They make my brown legs look ve-e-ry long. That means that men's eyes pop out when they see me and women just look annoyed. Just like I like it!

I've got this hot new frosted pink lipstick on that tastes yummy like bubble gum, and I'm just refreshing my lip gloss in the household detergents aisle when I realise why I feel nervous. I see this man watching me in the mirror of my compact.

For some reason, he looks really familiar, though I can't place him. Something about a train. My silly mind's so fuzzy. I can hardly remember anything if it happened longer than a few months ago. Gosh, I'm so dizzy! He's a kind of shabby looking middle-aged Japanese man. Nothing special. But suddenly it seems to me that he has been following me all day. Or maybe weeks. I'm really scared. But I try to behave normally and take my shopping to the till. I look around as I put my shopping in the bags but he seems to have disappeared.

Out in the car park, I see him again. He's waiting at the opposite end of the lot, smoking a cigarette. I hurry into my little car and drive off, getting my cellular phone out. I sit in the traffic in an agony of indecision. I'm not supposed to call my gangster - he's supposed to call me. But I'm really scared. I get so distracted that I almost cause an accident and I have to pull over. I switch the engine off and burst into tears.

After a while, I compose myself and decide that I'm OK. I look in the mirror but there is no sign of the man. Maybe I imagined it, or he just fancied me. Yes. That would be it.

I take a deep breath and pull out into the coastbound traffic.

Back at the flat, I put the aircon on and start to run myself a bubble bath to start getting ready for work tonight. I strip off my clothes (it doesn't take long) and pad around the cool flat in my sandals, with my little cock hanging out, cellphone in my hand, debating whether I should ring my gangster.

After a few minutes of agonising, I decide that I don't want to make him angry, so I put the cellphone back on its charger and go and have a nice, hot bath.

I come out of the bathroom in a robe patting my hair dry and almost jump out of my skin. The man is sitting there in my nice armchair. Next to him is that woman, Trish.

"D-d-don't kill me." I stutter, backing away to the kitchenette.

"Commander Pierce," says the man. "What is your status? Have you been compromised?"

I suddenly realise he's speaking in English. He's talking nonsense, but in English.

"Wh-wh-what? I don't understand. Please, my boyfriend is a gangster. He'll-"

"As surmised," he says to Trish, who nods. "He is brainwashed. Probable chemical component maintaining the fugue state."

"Is there something we can do for her... I mean, him?" asks Trish.

While the two mad people are having their mad conversation, I have managed to put my hands on a large fish knife in the kitchenette. Keeping it behind my back, I edge forward. "Look, I don't know what this is about, b- but you can't just come into people's houses like this."

The man looks up. "Just a minute", he says to Trish, then he raises a small gun. He pulls the trigger, and before I can scream, I feel this blow, like someone's punched me on my exposed upper chest. I look down and can't believe what I s-

"He's coming round." A woman's voice.

I tried to open my eyes, but the light was so bright that I had to shut them again immediately. "Oh, just a minute," said the voice, which had an Australian accent. "Shibata-san said that you'd be sensitive to bright light." I heard footsteps walking away then the sound of drapes being drawn.

Cautiously, I tried again. This time, the room was dark, the pain duller. Trish was leaning over me, smiling, with the small Japanese man behind her. Suddenly, I remembered him, from that train as I first arrived here so long ago. Then I remembered the house, my mission, Sato, the twins. I remembered room 497, being betrayed, captured, beaten and tortured. I remembered-


I sat up and lifted my robe aside, looking at my breasts. They were huge. I'd been a B cup, these must be a D, at least. Then images of baring them in front of leering men, glitter, rhinestones and every single cock that I'd had in my mouth over the last few months overcame me. I scrambled up and ran to the toilet, where I spewed up my guts into the bowl.

Trish was sitting with her arm around me as I sipped a weak camomile tea.

"It must have been the water in the club, or something," I said quietly.

Shibata nodded. "It seems likely that the drug that was maintaining your programming was being administered in that place. Fortunately, antidote is commonly available. After I tranquillised you, we were able to inject you with it." He nodded again. "As British Intelligence contact in this territory, I was naturally worried about the condition of the mission when I saw... state that you were in..." He tailed off.

Trish cut in: "I think Shibata-san made contact with me when he saw me trying to reach you. Could have knocked me off my stool with a feather when he told me you were a bloke, darlin'." She stopped and I managed a weak smile. "Still, since then Mr Shibata and I have been planning your rescue."

"It is major risk for me to break cover in this way," said Shibata, "but seemed only solution to your problem, Commander Pierce."

I nodded and took a deep breath. "Now what?" But I knew anyway.

"Mission parameters are greatly enhanced by this development, Commander," said Shibata. "Now you have opportunity to double-bluff Red Fist in new guise as dancer, "Jewel". Your objectives may now be speedily executed and mission concluded to His Majesty and world community's advantage."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

I couldn't believe how much I had changed in the months that I had been Jewel. Sure, I'd had a good figure before, but now I had the taut, tanned body of a high-class lap dancer. I was leaner, my tummy flatter and more defined, my navel pierced and jewelled, my ass and hips bigger in comparison to my tiny trim waist, my legs impossibly long and toned. The breasts still shocked me. The implants the Fist had given me made me big and busty, the nipples long, shapely and turned upwards just so. My long neck and my beautiful face were now framed by chest length hair, honey blonde with platinum highlights in a tumbling wave that contrasted with my rather severe straight bob of a few months back. I'd obviously spent time on the beach, as I was a deep, gold tan all over, cinammon skin, except for a triangular shape at my crotch and two lighter patches at my boobs. Fuck, a bikini tan. That always used to turn me on so much when I had been Anthony Pierce.

God, I was hot. I could see just why I was the most popular dancer at the club. Any man would pay good money to see this body dance, and more. Yet there in the closely trimmed blonde thatch at my groin was nestled the little lie. My dainty tiny morsel of a cock, all pert and lost in my ravishing femininity. It was quite literally all that remained of Lieutenant Commander Anthony Pierce. The rest was all Jewel. Cocksucking dance queen of the Kitty Club.

I tore myself from the full-length mirror, glancing for a moment at the exquisite jade butterfly tattoo in the small of my back, then pulled on my restraining G-string. Cock all gone. I didn't need a bra for the stupidly tiny green dress I pulled on. Then I sprayed some Coco on and slipped into a pair of cork-heeled wedges. A short car journey and I'd be in the club to shake and grind in front of a roomful of drunken men.

I was more frightened than before any mission.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the lounge. I crept to the connecting door and peered through, acutely aware that I was unarmed and I might have to fight in a micro mini and 5-inch wedge heels. I smelt smoke.

There on my sofa was the gangster, a cigarette between his sneering lips. He was looking handsome in a black fitted suit and open-necked black shirt. His shades were pushed back on top of his expertly waxed spiky quiff. I remembered first seeing him on that train, how he'd smiled at me over his sleeping girlfriend's shoulder. He'd changed since then too, grown in measure, in stature. I think I'd even back then felt a spark from this dangerous man who boasted to me about his kills.

He was here for a blowjob.

My heart was pounding but I would have to get through this somehow. I opened the door. "Hi daddy," I said in my schoolgirl voice that I knew he liked so much.

"Does daddy have a treat for Jewel?" I went on, walking over and snuggling up to him. He put one of his skinny arms around me and smiled, looking down at the erection in his Gucci trousers.

"Come on baby. I need you to do me," he said in a menacing whisper. I suppressed a shudder and bent down, breathing onto the mound in his crotch to warm him up. He began to breathe heavily. "Daddy has a meat lolly for Jewel," I simpered, and cupped my palm around it. "It's so big!"

Then I used my other hand to tease open the fly, tickling him with my jewelled nails. I was breathing hard now too, and it suddenly struck me how much I actually enjoyed doing this, being the submissive little sweet- smelling jewelled plaything of a man who had the power of life over me. That made me think of Bond, and his very tasty cock and I got even more excited. Seems that Commander Pierce had gone AWOL in more senses than just the physical.

I teased his cock free and he moaned as I breathed softly on the tip, where precum was glistening. Then I began to lick the helmet, making little delighted noises which turned him and me on even more. The salt tang of his precum was so delightful that I began to forget who I was and started sucking him in earnest, starting shallow then teasing him deep into my throat without missing a breath. Such a useful talent for a pleasure girl. Oh, how I loved to have a hot cock filling my throat! All that power at the mercy of all the little muscles in my mouth and gullet.

Very soon he was grunting and bucking, mashing my pretty face into his crotch with both hands. I was lost too, my nose buried in his musky place, oh my God he was going to-

A torrent of salty cream hit the back of my throat. I pulled back so that I could taste it all and I kept sucking and sucking until he was spent and empty, and I rolled on my back looking dreamily up at his handsome, lean face. He looked amazed.

"Jewel-chan. That was fucking fantastic," he breathed. "The best time yet. You're so hot, baby, I don't think I'll ever get tired of you."

I smiled up at him, licking the semen off my pretty lips. "Daddy, you never will."

I think it was there, lying contentedly in the lap of a killer, with his spunk still jewelling my chin, that I knew for sure that I would most likely never be a man again. Or should that be, never want to be a man again.

The next day, as was my right, I returned to the Red Fist house on the hill. All the dancers, all the hostesses, all the prostitutes in the town were Red Fist employees. The local economy operated in this way. The town a whore, pimped by the massive criminal brute that was the Red Fist of Justice. No questions were asked. That was how it worked. Who was I to argue? I simply had a job to do. I'd decided the plan as had danced last night, my jewelled body in the lights burning as bright as the thoughts dancing like quicksilver through my head.

I developed the plan in my mind while shaking my breasts and bum at the sweating punters to the pounding music in the small, tacky nightclub with the sticky floors. Hands reached out from the audience to grope me and thrust notes in my waistband and I drifted, working out the mechanics of how I would bring the Red Fist down. I whirled round and round the pole and strode up and down the runway in my silver stilettoes as I worked out how exactly I'd make my way back into the house, the restricted zone, get the mission information back to MI6 in Vauxhall, unlock the secret of room 497 and put an end to Sato. I knew by now that there was little likelihood of escaping alive, although I reckoned that if I managed to get back to town, I might be able to organise something through the vague notion of involving the gangster and/or Shibata. Escape was a secondary consideration to me now, though. The only drive was to complete my mission. No one said anything about getting out alive.

As I danced and polished my plan like the dazzling Jewel I'd become, I began to think that Sato had done me a favour. She was right - the process of torture had stripped away my Self. Washed my identity away like a leaf fallen into a cold, clear stream in a mountain pass. But what was left was not Jewel, airhead shemale whore, as Sato had intended, but something far harder and shinier. Jewel was the chrysalis, a transitional stage that I had inhabited while the metamorphosis initiated by my brutalisation had taken place. I had now emerged from the chrysalis the very essence of a cold, perfect, ruthless super-spy. Pierce was gone - just another identity to be worn then discarded. A mask. Jewel too, a brief pupal half-life. What is revealed when the last mask of humanity is removed? I knew the answer now. The primal, female essence of the killer that I had now become. Faceless, graceful, and quite deadly. I was ready.

The house was before me as the shuttle bus pulled up the hillside path. Alongside me were fellow catsuited young women, pawns in the Red Fist's game. The bus pulled up at the massive iron gates and a laser scanned the identity bar on the windshield. The gates creaked open. It was a hot, clear day, the sky a dazzling azure that blended to a pitiless cobalt blue as it merged with the sea far below us. No wind at all, and humid. The aircon in the bus barely compensating. The bus rumbled up the final switchbacks and I contemplated the house, taking in the layout of the grotesque building, the location of the airstrip cut into the hillside.

Soon the bus pulled into the shade of the carport and the string of girls debarked, me included, blending seamlessly among the crowd of ravishing showgirls - blondes, brunettes, redheads. What was Akaguchi up to, gathering all these Western women around him? And where was Akaguchi himself? Would I get a go at him or had Sato disposed of him already? The nanite transmitter signature in our blood passed us through the security system than we all dispersed our different ways, some giggling and happy, others seemingly thoughful. I made my way quickly up to Habitation 4 and my room.

From my room, I called Trish. After a few minutes, she knocked on my door and I let her in. She was wearing a stunning, yellow, off the shoulder asymmetric swimsuit, her straight red hair tied back in a perky ponytail. She grinned as she saw my admiring reaction "Day off," she said.

I sat her down on the bed and knelt down next to her, looking into her eyes. "Look," I said. "I need you to get out of here. It's going to get very dangerous very fast if things go according to plan and I don't want you getting hurt. Not after what you did for me."

Her bottom lip stuck out. "I can look after myself, sugar."

I grasped her hands in mine, looking into her blue eyes. "Please. You don't know what you're mixed up in. Just find a way to get out of here." I stood and walked over to the window, looking out at the bright blue sky. "I dunno - go down to the town - get Shibata to find you passage to the UK. But for my sake, please go. You're my friend Trish. I've lost too many in my life so far."

She looked up at me from the bed. For all her brassy attitude and model looks, she looked very vulnerable at that moment. What was it with me and redheads? First Christine, then bloody Mary Dwyer, now her.

"OK," she said presently, smiling sadly. "For your sake..."

She pursed her lips, reaching into the small blue purse around her shoulder and pulling out a smartcard. "Here," she said, handing it to me. "You might need this." I raised an inquiring eyebrow. "It's the pass key to flight deck 7. Just in case you can fly an aircraft and need to make a fast escape, Ms. Superspy," she said, grinning.

"Thanks," I said, palming the card. "Look, you'd better go."

She got up. "Will you get in touch?" she said softly, putting her hand on my arm. "Y'know, after all this?"

"Of course I will," I said. I didn't want to tell her that I probably wouldn't even survive the day.

"OK honey," she said, leaning in and pecking me on the cheek. She turned to walk away, then paused, looking back at me over her shoulder.

"Will you become a man again?" she asked in a very quiet voice. "Could you?"

I didn't speak for a very long time.

When I answered, my voice was shaking. "I... I can't answer that question... I don't..." I looked down at the ground, unable to go on. Trish walked back over to me, putting her arms around me, hugging me tight.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just that I've never met anyone like you. I fancied you from the moment we first met, but I knew that there was something... different with you from the other girls." She was stroking my back now, and whispering into my ear, "all I'm saying, Jane, is don't worry about what you look like. You'll find someone who'll care for you whoever you seem to be."

I pulled back so that I could look into her face. She looked back, smiling, then leaned her face nearer. I let myself kiss her, and felt myself melting away as her lipstick mingled with mine. Trish started unzipping my catsuit as her lively tongue explored the inside of my mouth.

I stepped out of the catsuit and stood naked except for my thong and my high-heeled sandals as Trish peeled off her swimsuit to reveal her beautiful body. I bent down to unstrap the shoes and she said, "don't - you look kinda sexy like that." I could feel something stirring in my groin and reached eagerly down to pull down my panties, releasing my little cock. Trish sighed with happiness as it popped free, clapping her hands together. "Oh, you are such a treat for a girl who goes both ways!" she breathed, stepping up to me. Her warm hand crept down and started to play with me as our breasts touched. I gasped and closed my eyes as our nipples started to rub together, electric sensation, oh... and I could definitely feel something happening below...

I lay myself back on the bed and arched my back as Trish's talented mouth started to suck and nibble on my erect nipples, which had blown up to the size of jelly beans. Then she moved down and started to nuzzle my pubic area, blowing warm air over my cock, which was continuing to grow as I writhed and fondled my large breasts and teased and tweaked my amazingly sensitive nipples.

I arched my head back like a porno actress and saw us in my dresser mirror, two beautiful women, lithe, tall and big bosomed, intertwined on the bed, sweating in the midday heat, the redhead with her face buried in the blonde's groin, the blonde with her head arched back, eyes half shut, glossy mouth open in an 'O' of ecstasy. The image captivated me and I couldn't tear myself away as Trish sucked my penis deep into her moist mouth and sucked, and teased, and sucked, and nibbled and-

I turned my body around and worked my face down to Trish's warm, musky crotch as she worked my cock and happily buried my nose in the familiar smell of a wet pussy, licking and pulling at her engorged nub. We were so hot... After a very short while, Trish began to scream and buck and soon I felt a glorious warmness spreading from my breasts down to my groin. Here it comes. Here it-

Afterwards we lay in each other's arms for a few precious moments, and then I watched as she dressed and left, with a smile and a sad little wave.

I lay there for a while, then got up and looked at myself in the mirror. The familiar, gorgeous, naked blonde smiled back at me, as I bent down to remove my heels. They were killing my feet. I padded into the shower and went over my plan again as the hot water jetted into my pores, massaging my still sensitive nipples.

I emerged dripping from the shower and dried off, picking up my catsuit and sandals off the floor and stuffing them in the wardrobe. I drew the blinds and waited for my eyes to acclimatise to the gloom. Then I went over to my desk tablet and after a bit of nosing round the local network, managed to disable the lights and set off an intruder alarm for my room. Quickly, I powered down the tablet and lay down half-in, half-out of the bathroom so that it would look as though I was unconscious or dead when someone came in. I lay there with my eyes half open and breathed shallowly and evenly, waiting.

Not a minute later, I heard someone at the door. It opened and I heard a set of footsteps come in. My visitor tried the light switch with no result, then I heard the footsteps come into the room, then pause. I guess the guard had seen my naked legs projecting from the bathroom doorway.

The footsteps padded right over to me, but I waited and waited. I heard breathing, the rustle of movement. Then a gloved hand on my face.

I snapped my eyes open and exploded off the floor, hitting the guard with the braced heel of my palm to the underside of her jaw as she bent over me. She went over like a shapely sack of spuds. I leapt over her prone body as she struggled to bring her sidearm to bear and landed lightly behind her. Taking her helmeted head from behind in both arms, I twisted and heard the satisfying crack of the neck breaking. She went limp in my arms.

I dragged her over to the tablet and powered it up, pulling her sightless face to the screen. I held her eye open and logged in using her retinal scan. Then I disabled the intruder alert and logged a short error report saying (as the guard) that I had investigated and found nothing unusual.

Turning away from the computer tablet, I quickly stripped the guard of her uniform and put it on myself. Luckily she was quite tall and the neoprene stretched nicely to fit my curves. I tied my long blonde hair up in a bun and concealed it in the bulbous helmet which was loaded with a suite of sensor apparatus. The black gloves and combat boots completed the ensemble. I picked up the flechette gun and checked the load on the digital display mounted above the handgrip. It was full. Good.

A quick recce of the various belt pouches on my black shiny guard's catsuit revealed three more loads of ammo, some computer data slugs, a lipstick (Clinique Berry Buff). I also found three ampoules of clear liquid with tiny bubbles suspended in it, each with a disposable compressed air hypo head. If this was the "access all areas" nanoliquid that had given me entry to the restricted zone previously, then my plan was right on track.

But was I going to chance it? Was I fuck.

I opened the blinds and the door. Blinking in the light, I stepped onto the balcony, looking quickly around. There was quite a lot of activity around the building. Probably too risky to try and dump the guard's body over the balcony into the thick forest below right now. Never mind. I went back in and dragged the corpse under my bed. I wouldn't be around long enough for them to discover it.

Then I went back to the tablet and did a quick search of the personnel records for the location of the working quarters of a certain Irish doctor. A red-headed doctor with whom I had a few words to exchange and who would, I hoped, be the passport to the next phase of my agenda.

Dr Mary Dwyer came out of her office on the seventeenth floor in workout clothes, her flaming hair tied back in a loose ponytail. I followed her along the bustling main corridor. There was a small refectory opposite the gymnasium from where I could keep an eye on her. It was awkward because I couldn't, for obvious reasons, remove my helmet so I must have looked rather strange as I sat and quietly sipped some fruit juice through a straw.

She worked out for forty-five minutes then emerged, toweling sweat off her pretty, freckled face. The face I'd made the mistake of trusting. I got up and followed her again as she walked towards the bank of lifts at the end of the floor. As I walked, I got some looks from some of the throng of male technicians on their lunch-breaks. I guess I must have stood out from the other guards a little bit as I was taller and, shall we say, bigger up top than most, and my body must have looked absolutely spectacular in the form fitting black neoprene catsuit.

She got into a lift with some other women and I squeezed in next to her. I could have quite easily killed her there and then.

We alighted on floor 4 and I followed her to her room. She went in and the door clicked shut behind her. I went to the door and listened. After a few seconds, I heard the shower running. To get into the room, I needed to use the dead guard's retinal scan again. You really don't want to know how I accomplished this. It's far too revolting. Let's just say that the key to the door had been in the guard's head and was now squishing about in one of my belt pouches. I unlocked the door. Ugh.

She was in the shower with her back to the door, rinsing soap off her pale, toned body. I'd fancied her, back in that Bicester half-way house. As Anthony Pierce, I'd laid awake fantasising about having her after she'd made me back into a man. I smiled bitterly. No such luck. My train had come so far off the rails that it wasn't even remotely funny. I stepped into the bathroom as she turned the water off.

"Does my bum look big in this?" I said.

She whirled with a little scream.

I raised my gun and motioned for her to be quiet, removing my helmet with my free hand. "Hello Mary," I said, smiling. "We meet again," I went on, slipping into a corny movie villain accent, "but this time, the advantage is mine."

She stood there, covering her rather small breasts and gingery pubes as best she could. "H-how did you get in?" she asked in her Irish lilt.

I shrugged, "Let's just say that I have an eye from a beautiful woman." I gestured with the gun for her to come out into her bedroom. She looked over at her bath towel. I picked it up, but instead of passing it to her, I threw it onto the sodden floor by the shower, where it began to soak up the cooling water. She looked venomously at me then led me out of the bathroom.

I motioned that she should lie face down on the floor with her hands behind her back. I picked up the remote for the roomsystem and turned the aircon right up. "I'm rather warm," I said, "aren't you?"

A cold blast of air hit us and Mary immediately started to shiver, the drops of water on her body evaporating slowly in the icy atmosphere. Goose pimples came up on her back and her teeth started chattering. I sat on the bed next to her prone body and jammed the barrel of the flechette gun into the back of her head. She went rigid.

"This gun fires six kinds of round." I said. "At the moment, it's set to fire normal anti-personnel flechettes. If I pull the trigger, hundreds of tiny explosive darts will emerge at supersonic velocity from the pepperholes in the barrel that's pressed against your skull. Messy, but very effective in close quarters combat. I'm afraid you'd have more than a bad hair day, Mary."

"Wh-what do you want," she said in a ghost of a whisper, through clenched and chattering teeth.

"What's in Room 497?" I asked.

There was a pause.

"I don't know," she replied.

I flicked the arming switch. The gun emitted a chime and clicked and whirred as it loaded rounds into the breech mechanism. I heard her start to sob, quietly. "I hope you're not lying to me, Mary."

"I swear I don't know what's in there. No one's allowed there. I haven't even seen Sato go near there. Please. I don't want to die. I'm telling you the truth. Please, Anthony!"

I stiffened at the mention of that name. I looked down at her shivering, naked body and felt nothing. Aroused neither by the sight of her beautiful curves, nor by the power I had over her.

I felt nothing.

I shrugged and pulled the gun away. She didn't know. I turned the aircon down and opened the windows to let some of the afternoon heat into the room. "Sit up." I said.

She sat, leaning against the bed and wrapping her arms around herself. I sat down next to her. "Why, Mary?"

She sniffed, rubbing her tears away with the back of one hand. "It's very complicated," she said, voice barely above a whisper. I was silent and she took a deep shuddering breath before going on. "It's my father. He was in the Service all his life. He was pretty mixed up, I suppose. A Catholic from Derry, the Bogside. He grew up during The Troubles but married an English girl, joined Her Majesty's Service. What a mess of confusion for a boy from the bogs..."

She stopped for a while, looking out at the blue sky.

"He was one of the first into Baghdad during the first Gulf conflict back in the nineties. I was four, almost five and my mammy wouldn't tell me where my da was. But he was part of a covert cell in Saddam's fortress city sending back targeting telemetry for the cruise attacks. That was where he and his group were infected by a retrovirus. No one knew whether it was one of ours or one of theirs. But I don't think that Iraq had bioweaponry back then. He started to develop symptoms of a progressive degenerative disease ten years later. I was already working for the Service while working on my doctorate and I watched him turning into a living corpse before my eyes. Ma went off the rails. She left us. I tried to get compensation but the government wouldn't listen. Terrible thing was he was locked away in there. I could see the pain in his eyes. But the body had become a useless instrument. I was working for the government bastards that had put my father into this state and then turned their back.

"Then I started hearing about the studies that Professor Lime was doing in Cambridge. Especially the way that he was using nanite systems to create control links between the brain and prosthetic organs. How he'd enabled blind animals to "see", amputees to control limbs. NanoCybernetics. I began to think that perhaps such therapy could be designed that would unlock my father's torment. I tried to contact Lime but he'd disappeared. Defected to the Red Fist. With you. How fucking ironic...

"Soon after that I heard from The Fist. They convinced me that they had made significant advances in Lime's techniques since his defection. In return for working as their mole in the service, they'd treat my father. Give him back his dignity. Of course I agreed. Your reinsertion just happened to coincide with all this. Obviously, I had to let the Fist know about you."

She turned her head to look at me. "I'm sorry," she said softly, putting her warm hand on my thigh. I pulled away.

"What do they want with me? Why go to all this trouble?" I asked.

"I don't know, Anthony. Do you really think that they tell me anything? To be honest, I think it's just that psycho Sato getting her sadistic jollies. You're right about Room 497 though. That's where the solution is. I've thought about it a lot. But nothing makes sense."

"You can say that again," I said sarcastically.

"Do you know what the most ironic thing is?" she said, her voice trembling. More tears were coming to her green eyes. " My father died a week after I arrived in Japan. It was all for nothing. Nothing." Her head fell and she shook with the force of her tears.

I stood and watched her, feeling angry and cold. She recovered a bit and looked up at me. "I fell in love with you," she said. "Even as we were changing you into Jane Masters, as you became this smooth, unmasculine thing, I used to fantasise about us together. I fell in love with the man inside the woman. Anthony, I-"

"Shut up. Don't. Don't do this. It's not right." I didn't know what I felt now. Suddenly I realised I was crying. I raised my gun.

She looked up again. "Are you going to kill me?" she said in a very quiet voice. "I-I don't want to die. But it would be the right thing. I know. Are you going to kill me?" she repeated.

My hand was shaking. "Everyone dies today," I said softly. "But not yet."

As we walked the corridor towards the restricted area, Mary confirmed to me that the ampoules in my belt pouch contained the colloidal nanoliquid that allowed access to the forbidden zone. "Each dose lasts 24 hours," she said.

"You better be right about this," I replied, injecting myself in the neck. "You're going to be right with me so it's slice and dice for the both of us if you're playing games." She nodded, her face pale but set.

Soon, we were at the entrance to the restricted area. "How many will be in the control room?" I asked in a low voice. Mary shrugged. "Three, four technical staff at most. No guards usually." I nodded, drawing my gun. I peered into the red lit corridor with the door at the end leading into the control area. Where everything had come unravelled.

I indicated to Mary that she should go ahead of me and we entered the corridor. At the door, she showed her eye to the retinal scanner and it opened up.

Inside, the room looked very different. It was brightly lit and a lot of the clutter seemed to have been cleared away since the first time I'd been in here. There were several geeks in the room and they looked up and gawped at me but soon went back to their work when they saw Mary. I sat down at a console away from the others and motioned for her to sit down next to me.

Opening a text editor window, I typed, "I DON'T WANT TO KILL THESE MEN. WHAT ARE THEY DOING IN HERE?" Mary leaned over and typed in reply, "PROBABLY PLAYING SECOND LIFE OR SOMETHING. I'LL GET RID OF THEM IF YOU WANT." I looked at her quizzically as she keyed some commands into the terminal. Over on the other side of the room, I heard a pager bleep. One of the technicians got up, looking at his PDA. He said something quietly to his nearest colleague and they both left the room. I leaned over, blocking her from the keyboard. "THEY'D BETTER NOT BE GETTING HELP OR YOU'RE DEAD!!" I actually typed two exclamation marks.

Mary shrugged. "THEY'RE NOT," she typed, issuing another set of commands. This time, the pager command got rid of the remaining three techs.

I quickly got up and looked round the corner to make sure they were gone, then went back to Mary. "Do you want to be tied up or shall I stun you?" I asked. She shrugged again, her eyes blank. I couldn't read her at all. She had either given up or she was up to something. I found some lengths of networking cable and quickly and securely tied her to one of the chairs, gagging her with a piece of her clothing stuffed in her mouth.

Then I quickly stripped off the guard uniform and helmet, untying my hair. Underneath, I was wearing a very brief white Gucci bikini with gold chain links that looked sensational against my deep tan. I rummaged in the beach bag I had retrieved from my room and got a pair of gold wedge mules and slipped them on. Very quickly, I freshened and tarted up my make-up. If all went to plan, Jewel was going to be walking out of here very much alive along the winding beach path. As I liberally applied gloss to my plump lips, I caught Mary's eyes on me and looked away quickly.

When I was happy with my appearance, I sat down at the terminal and got to work. First of all, I called up the video netstation server and opened up several security camera feeds as windows on my screen. One for the corridor outside this room, one more for the three banks of lift doors on this floor. I was also curious about Sato so I managed to locate a feed from outside her office on the schematic. Finally, the front entrance of the building so I could monitor arrivals and departures. I lined the camera windows up on the top half of the screen so I could scan them quickly every now and then.

I had decided while formulating this plan (which was going to the letter so far) that I could not afford to spend a long time rooting around the network this time round. The most important thing was that Vauxhall got access to some data to analyse. What I did was this. I knew the layout of the security firewall around the Fist's core systems pretty well from my previous visits. It was actually quite simple to add a small range of machines in Vauxhall to the inside of the Red Fist firewall. It was actually eight PCs in my cryptology lab back there. Once that was done, I popped a short encrypted message onto one of my colleagues' desktops back in Vauxhall and closed the session. The message read, "I've left the window open. Don't forget to shut it when you leave."

My deputy, Needham, would pick up this message and, having traced it back to here, suddenly realize that the whole Red Fist network was available to them at the highest security level. I hoped that this would give them enough information to start to bring this organisation down. If they closed the hole quickly enough, no one would even know that the breach had occurred. I could picture Needham now, coffee in hand, cigarette in mouth, looking gobsmacked at what I'd done. Mind you, he'd be pretty surprised by how I looked as well...

I hoped he would realise that my message also meant that the MI6 network was wide open to Red Fist as well. The only difference was that the Fist didn't know it. It was a calculated risk but Needham was a good man. Thorough. He'd know what was going on. Once he'd taken a snapshot of the data, he'd close the loophole.

I got up and walked over to the connecting door to the corridor that led to Room 497. I remembered the sense of foreboding I'd felt before and my heart started to pound. Steeling myself, I looked through. The corridor was brightly lit. At the end, the door to room 497. The room itself was in darkness. No repeat of the eerie blue light spilling through the window. I realised I was holding my breath. I exhaled.

I went back to the console to check the CCTV feeds. My mouth dropped at what I saw. The spiky hair and tall frame was unmistakable. As was the trademark black suit and the shades pushed on top of the hair. My heart began to pound with a chaotic mixture of fear and excitement. My gangster was walking down the corridor towards this room, carrying a large black suitcase in his hand.

I had a split second to decide what to do. Quickly, I opened the door of a storage cupboard in the far wall and untied Mary, bundling her into it. I followed, easing the door shut behind me, making sure that she could see my gun clearly, just in case she decided to try anything. Through slats in the door, we could both see what was going on in the room outside.

A few seconds passed, then the gangster entered the room. He looked around, then locked the door behind him. My heart fluttered with excitement on seeing him, but I tried to stay calm, collecting myself by breathing evenly. Behind me, I felt Mary shift and I turned my head to shoot her a warning glare. Then I turned back.

Fortunately, the gangster had put his case down away from the console I'd been using. I couldn't remember if I'd shut things down properly. What was he up to? He had opened the case up and was rummaging in it. Then he began to undress, hanging his suit neatly on a hanger that he got out of the suitcase. He then unbuttoned his black silk shirt, removed his sunglasses from his head, and finally removed his socks and boxers, fully revealing his beautiful, toned butt. Turn around... I thought to myself, becoming aroused despite myself, that familiar, lovely warm feeling coursing through my groin and breasts at the thought of that luscious cock between my velvety lips. I squirmed, trying to put the thoughts out of my head.

He folded all his clothes neatly and then sat down. I got a good glimpse of his cock from the side then, and smiled.

Now I could see not that the inside of the lid of the case was a mirror, with lights around it. Like a make-up mirror. And he was starting to put foundation on his face, with deft, practised strokes. What the...?

Then I started to notice other strange things. How hairless his legs were. And not just his legs - the armpits too and the rest of his muscular, lean body. He had no body hair at all, except above his semi-erect penis. And that was neatly shaved into a small, feminine triangle. And his toenails were painted a bright red. I was standing there mouth agape and almost let the door to my hiding place creak open, I was utterly stunned. He was a transvestite.

Like me, I thought, ruefully as I watched him finish applying his foundation. He then reached into the suitcase and got out a pair of flesh coloured breastforms, which he glued onto his chest and held there for several seconds. He then started to blend some thick-looking make-up around the edges of the breasts and over his upper torso and neck, blending the tone in with the foundation on his face. Soon, there was very little to show that the breasts were not part of his natural anatomy. He admired them in the mirror, striking glamour girl poses. Jesus, he was really getting off on this. His cock was now fully erect. I was getting pretty hot too, watching him, as he got a beautiful black, boned silk bustier out of his case and slipped himself sensuously into it. The wired lace cups pushed the false breasts up and together, giving him a spectacular cleavage. He looked in total ecstasy as he adjusted the cups and fondled himself. My God. This reverse striptease was turning me on totally. I felt like I was going to burst!

The bustier had six suspender straps hanging down, and next he got a pair of sheer, black, seamed stockings out of the case and rolled them up his lovely, smooth, toned legs till they were encased in black gossamer, fastening the clips deftly. He then set to applying the rest of his makeup. First the eyes, dusky, black and dramatic, in stark contrast to the porcelain paleness of his flawless skin. Just a hint of blusher on the cheeks, then the lips, full, red and glossy, set in a familiar, loathed permanent half-smile...

Oh, now I know you...

As he set to gluing the long, clear false nails on his hand and painting them a matching red, I felt a tremendous mixture of desire, anger, confusion and anxiety well up inside me. This beguiling creature with the spiky, punky hair and the angelic face set on the long, athletic body had ensnared me, tortured me, seduced and enslaved me. First as a woman, then as a man. Finally as this half man, half woman chimera.

Sato stood and stretched, luxuriating in his divine, his devilish beauty.

"Turn around," I said in a shaky, small voice, gun raised, emerging from my closet.

Sato raised his head, then turned slowly, letting his long, black wig drop >from his hands. "Well, well," he purred in his low, male gangster's voice. I shuddered, hearing that voice come from those luscious red lips. "If it isn't Little Red Riding Hood..." The cruel smile was there again after the momentary surprise that had crossed his face. He had now slipped on a pair of spike-heeled black leather ankle boots and had a black leather catsuit in his hands as he advanced towards me.

"S-stay there," I said, unable to keep my hands from shaking on the barrel of the gun, or my eyes from wandering down to that erect cock nestling shockingly amidst all the alluring female signs of his costume.

"What's the matter, my little Jewel?" he went on. "Not so keen on another man muscling in on your territory? You're not the only one who can play girls' games." But he stayed still, keeping one eye on my gun. I was careful to keep my distance. "How about one for old times?" he whispered, nodding down at his cock. "Come on, Jewel-chan. Daddy wants some pleasure..." The words sounded obscene coming from his pretty red lips.

"Shut up." I said, cocking the gun, which emitted its beep and whine. Indicators lit up along the barrel indicating it was fully primed. "I ought to kill you now."

"Yes," said Sato, sneering as he slipped into the black bodysuit, which squeaked and stretched tofit his form perfectly, except for that incongruous bump in his groin. "You ought to. But you've become a weak woman, Commander Pierce. Look at you, in your little white fuck me swimsuit and your fuck me sandals with your fuck me tan and your fuck me blonde bimbo curls. All you're good for is sucking cock and being punished. I'm a survivor. Don't forget that. I survive and escape, just like I escaped from the Aum-Shinri-Kyo dressed as a girl when the police raided us fifteen years ago. A survivor. Not like you, you little victim. I bet Bond likes having you around as his doormat. Does he tell you that you're good? He says that to all his bitches. But they never stick around somehow. Tomorrow, when he finds out about your death, you'll be just another notch in that Aston Martin gearstick. Used, discarded, forgotten. A pathetic shemale whore impaled on His Majesty's S-"

"SHUT UP!!" I said again. In a red mist, I began to squeeze the trigger.

Suddenly, I noticed movement behind me. Mary had emerged from the closet and was leaning over a computer console stabbing commands into the keyboard. I whirled the gun and she looked up. She still had her gag in her mouth. For a moment her eyes locked on mine, wide in mute fear, then in resignation.

I pulled the trigger.

There was a hissing report as a payload of flechettes left the barrel, then Mary's head exploded, projecting its own red, sticky payload over the wall and computer console. I watched as her headless body crumpled, ever so slowly, and collapsed to the floor.

I heard Sato's voice say, "Oh well done," right behind me and I turned instinctively to block his fist with my wrist. My gun went clattering off somewhere behind. Sato pressed his attack, fists flying. His karate style was Shotokan, pure - deadly but possible to predict - if you were fast enough. I blocked and blocked but could gain no advantage and was soon pressed back against the row of consoles. Sato leapt gracefully up above me onto the bank of desks and brought his right foot up in a high, straight-leg kick, the arms wide in the winter crane form. I anticipated and let my body go soft as the kick connected with my chin, using the momentum to flip myself back and up to join Sato on the desking.

For a second, we faced each other. Then I noticed him lose focus slightly and realised he was looking to the connecting door. At that moment I attacked, pushing him back with a fierce series of punches and kicks until he was teetering on the edge of the table, blocking me whist maintaining balance with the soles of his spike heels, which projected over the edge. Incredible strength and balance.

Finally, a side-foot trip overbalanced him and he fell, cursing, to the floor, a lithe creature of leather and spikes brought down. Without waiting, I leapt sideways over the bank of computers to where my gun had fallen, landing and scooping the weapon up, snapping it up and about only to see Sato disappearing down the corridor that led to room 497. Gasping with rage and excitement, I gave chase, wrenching the door open and launching a volley of shots after him. He dropped to the floor, phenomenal reactions, and they detonated noisily on the door to room 497. Suddenly I felt a wrench in my head and saw that the blue light was back, pulsing quietly in the window.

Sato scrambled to his feet and reached the door, opening it by punching a command sequence on the security panel. He went through and the door started to close. With a yell, I sprinted down the corridor, dropping the gun as I scrambled through the dwindling gap.

I smelt the zing of ozone and was enveloped in the tranquil pulse of the blue light.

"AH, MISS JANE!" boomed a voice that seemed to resonate from all about me, "WE WERE WONDERING WHEN THE NEXT LESSON WOULD BE." I looked up and around. I was in room 497. And I knew then that the world was insane and it was beyond saving.

Jane Masters will return in CHAPTER FOUR

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