Spy Swap, Part 2 (Special Agent to Hot Spy Girl TG) (Patreon)

Beware, there wil be James Bond references galore!

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Al

Finn Langston is the best of the best, a dashingly handsome secret agent who always saves the world and always gets the girl. But when he is called upon by The Agency to infiltrate the private island of Sebastian Whitlock, a devious playboy industrialist who may be angling for world domination, Finn meets his greatest challenge yet: being turned into a raven-haired spy beauty to seduce Whitlock, and find out what he is planning. But the new and beautiful Fiona may find her cover going far, far deeper than she could have imagined . . .

First Part

Part 2: To Womanhood, with Love

To hell with this job. If this is how the Agency repays me after all my hard work saving the world. I deserve some time off. A raise. A nice yacht near a tropical beach. A date with Miss Esperanz again, that sultry INTERPOL minx.

These were the thoughts that occupied Agent One’s mind as he stepped into the pod and disrobed. Wrench was, at least, very clinical about this, passing each article of clothing to a loyal adjutant who had been vetted and sworn to secrecy over this matter. Finn Langston couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that said individual was a woman. She was young and surprisingly pretty, and kept looking at Finn with an expression that was sympathetic. Pitying. He tried to be stoic and maintain his composure, and when the pod glass closed he was thankful for the misted glass that covered his lower half from view.

Not that I’ve got anything to be ashamed of down there. Well, not yet. Surely this gadgetry can’t work? Wrench has pulled off some amazing things before, and Chang was a brilliantly evil mind, but turning into a woman . . .

But deep down, the secret agent knew that if A was serious about it, and Wrench was looking confident, then they were on the level. This was really happening. The Agency’s number one agent and number one womaniser was about to become a woman.

“How long will this take?” he asked, again keeping his face serious.

Wrench was behind a panel, and A was by his side. A couple of other engineers and scientists were adjusting various levels and checking gauges alongside the Tiresias’ Cradle.

“It should be no longer than a few minutes once started, Agent One,” Wrench said. “Do try to keep still while you’re in there. I’d hate to give you a second head.”

“I don’t know, I’ve rather enjoyed getting a second head while away on-”

“Oh please, Agent One, be serious for once in your life! Besides, you’ll be the woman in that scenario for this mission, so best not mention it at all, hmm?”

Damn. He’s got me there.

Finn shut his trap. A green light turned on. Steam vented from the machine upon the cold grates beneath it. The interior of the capsule was not warm, but it wasn’t freezing either. Soon, however, he was starting to sweat.

“Is it starting?”

“Just about,” Wrench said.

“You’re doing a brave thing, Mr Langston,” A said, using his name for such rare occasions as this. “We’re all very proud of you. Rest assured we’ll turn you back once the mission is complete, and this entire operation will be classified for decades to come.”

“Centuries would be preferred, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Very good, Agent One. Be ready.”

Finn took a deep breath, glanced at Wrench. The portly inventor nodded, indicating his own signal to an assistant, who pressed a button near the machine. Suddenly, various mechanisms within began to whir and shift.

“It’s starting,” Wrench said. “Keep still.”

“T-trying,” Finn said, gritting his teeth. Already, he felt strange. The pod inside was getting warmer, and various chemicals and mists were being poured into the chamber in gaseous form. Two needles injected into his wrists, pumping him with some unknown serum. He winced - he’d never been good with needles. A helmet of sorts - more like a circular crown dotted with microchips - descended to fall over his head. The secret agent grunted as it pulsed against his forehead, passing information directly to his brain somehow, not that he could understand it.

“Nghhh,” he grunted, trying to keep control of himself. “Can d-definitely feel something.”

“Try not to talk, Agent One,” A said, though his voice was far away. The machine was loud now, various components spinning, and strange lights were bathing over Finn’s naked form.

“Hard n-not to Wrench, when you can feel - ahhh!”

The sensations suddenly became overwhelming. The light turned a vibrant, crimson red, emanating over Finn’s form as if it were radiation. His cells lit up, and the power of the machine’s energy poured through them. Finn had never before felt like this, not even after that atomic scare back in Laos. He tried to stay still but found himself squirming, his body overcome by whatever chemical, gaseous, and light-based properties were transforming it.

“All on schedule, Agent One,” came A’s voice over the speaker. “At least according to our Wrench. You should start to feel some changes soon.”

Just marvellous. This isn’t even the good bit.

He quickly regretted that thought, because the so-called ‘good bit’ started mere seconds later. Finn felt compelled to take a deep breath, and when he released his entire body seemed to shrink inwards a little. His shoulders pulled in, his muscular pectorals flattened. His abs, strong and developed from years of work in the field, began to melt away. Not completely, thank God, but enough so that his figure became much more taut, much more . . . svelte. Yes, svelte was the right word. He liked it when applied to women, however, instead of himself.

“There’s th-the change,” he muttered to himself. He tensed. His nipples pulsed, throbbing a little. He wasn’t looking forward to that bit, but he had no choice in the matter by that point: they expanded all the same, becoming a little bit pinker and certainly bigger. A set of respectable and attractive areolas developed around them, made all the easier to see by the fact that his body hair was falling off of his chest and to the pod chamber floor. He’d rather liked his chest hair - so had many a woman, particularly that Lady Tanaka during the mission to Japan - but now he was almost entirely bereft of it. It came off of his legs and arms as well, and his shaved face lost its closed shave as even the roots pushed themselves out from his skin.

“Nghhh,” he groaned, barely suppressing a louder noise. It wasn’t torture; he could deal with torture and certainly had across the years. No, this was something far worse. This was . . . alien. Foreign. Discomforting. His body was betraying him, and this was further emphasised by the changes to his bone structure that followed:

His pelvis changed shape, expanding outwards to provide a wider set of hips. The kind of lovely hips he’s caressed more than once on his missions.

His limbs shortened, as did his spine. That last bit was briefly alarming, but after skipping a heartbeat he managed to calm. It made sense. He was six-foot-one, and most women were never that height without sticking out. He was to be an infiltrator. Instead, his height fell to five-foot-seven at his best estimate; considerably shorter, though still a little above average for a woman. The long legs helped with that, he supposed; his thighs thickened and his calves became more shapely, while his feet daintified all on their own.

“Well, talk about walking a mile in new shoes,” he quipped, though the quip fell quite short as he adjusted on his new feet. His voice sounded all wrong.

Shit, he thought to himself. I didn’t even think of the voice. Adam’s apple is already shrinking.

He touched it, cringing at the way it had flattened. He couldn’t see his own reflection in the misted glass due to the various gases, but he could feel his face starting to change shape as well. Of course his face would change: his ribcage had already shrunk down, his waist was in the middle of pulling inwards. He was about to possess quite the delectable hourglass figure, so why not a pretty face too? 

Wrench better not have gone overboard on the lips. After all the cracks and quips I’ve given him in the past, I wouldn’t put it past - Mhmm!”

He had gone over-the-top on the lips, it seemed, because all of a sudden Finn had some stunners. Even as they blew up, his jaw reshaped, cracking uncomfortably before altering to a new, softer configuration. His hair was gone almost everywhere else, but it cascaded down from his scalp, becoming thick and lovely, though luckily keeping its raven-dark colouring. He gasped, voice now sounding much more feminine. There was a strange pleasure building in the agent’s form, and not one that he wanted to acknowledge.

“Nearly done, Agent One!” came Wrench’s voice.

“G-good! Getting h-hot in here!”

There was a flurry of hushed comments outside the pod, but Finn’s focus was already elsewhere. His chest was beginning to push outwards, the flesh pooling there and giving way to pressure. At the same time, his member began to withdraw slowly. He resisted the urge to touch it, to try and pull it back out and leap from the chamber. He was in too deep now, and it was best to keep up appearances, even as he changed his own. 

“Ahhh . . .  mhmm . . . ohhhh.”

His voice grew ever more feminine, maintaining a borderline sexual rasp to it even as it developed a honeyed sweetness as well. He’d tangled with more than one femme fatale in his time, but now he was sounding like the most sultry among them. He swallowed, trying to hide the odd sexual bliss of these final changes. Still, he couldn’t help but cup his developing breasts and admire their sensitivity.

“Are you alright, Agent One?” came A’s voice.

“F-fine. Just having a little bit of - ahhh - reaction here.”

Thankfully, A offered no further comment. Finn groaned again, biting his soft lip as his new breasts expanded yet further. They overflowed his palms, becoming full and lovely, even bigger than most he’d actually had the pleasure of caressing. Soon they were ripe and perfect, teardrop shaped just as he liked them, and weighing on his figure in a way he’d never imagined.

Breasts. I have breasts. The things I do for - ahhhh!

Of course, the other development happened. He had to cup his new breasts just to see it due to them blocking off his lower view. His waist stopped pinching inwards, but his main concern was his penis. It withdrew entirely into his body, swallowed up alongside his testicles. The feeling was utterly alien, and accompanying it was a strange, foreign orgasm that caused him to shudder and press his dainty hands against the glass.

“Ohhhhhhhh . . . God. Ahhhhh . . .”

His breasts, warm and flushed and full, squashed against the glass too. He’d had women make that pose in the shower as they made love, but now he was treating his boss and the science team to that very sight as his transition to womanhood completed. His cock disappeared entirely, and the embarrassing orgasm continued as his feminine folds formed, and a new organ grew into existence beneath his stomach. An extra layer of fat thickened his form in all the right places - especially his hips and behind - and then the changes were done. He stood there, panting against the glass, his breasts jiggling with each shift. The smallest trace of a reflection showed through the glass, revealing perhaps the most deliciously attractive woman Finn Langston had ever seen. She was voluptuous, intelligent, beautiful, with full lips and perfect eyebrows. Her eyes were piercing, her wavy black hair shining and luscious. She radiated brilliance, danger, and sex. God, she oozed sex.

And that’s me, the new woman thought. One final pulse from the headband rearranged some final neurons, and the last insult was delivered.

I’m Fiona Langston now, she thought. And this stupid machine has me even thinking of myself as a woman.

The pod hissed open, revealing her form to the room, naked and glorious.

“Seems like it was a success, Agent One!” Wrench said, smiling smugly.

Finn, now Fiona, raised an eyebrow as she covered her large breasts with her forearms. “I’ll put in a good review, Wrench,” she said in her sultry soprano voice. “For now, perhaps I could get a towel? A mirror would be nice too. Oh, and somewhere private to scream. I’d like to scream a little before we get the mission started.”

To Be Continued . . .