Undercover in a Turkish brothel (Patreon)

Victor, now Valeria, stood in one of the rooms of a brothel in Istanbul. It was one of those free moments when he was alone. The mission obviously dragged on and no one contacted him, and the last message he received was obviously of a humorous nature from one of his colleagues, who at the beginning of the operation said something like “good luck in your new life.” Victor didn’t take it seriously at the time, but now he began to seriously think that everything was really strange. The FBI could not think of such a detailed biography, because after half a year of working as a prostitute, he found out that he even had relatives here, mother, sister, father, who were sure that he had always been their daughter and dissuaded him from working here so, as if it were true. Besides, these photos from Valeria's childhood... it was as if everything was real, he just hoped now that all this was just a well-thought-out plan by the FBI for his undercover operation, which did not bring any information at all. Victor was just a usual whore.

Finally gathering his courage, he made up his mind and clutching the phone with a shaky hand, he dialed the FBI's number, his heart racing with a mix of hope and dread.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation, Agent Johnson speaking."

Victor's voice, heavy with a Turkish accent and intermingled with Turkish words, was barely recognizable: "Merhaba, hello... I am... was Victor. Now Valeria. I... ben... in mission, Turkey. FBI transformation. No contact, birkaç ay... months now. I need to finish mission. Need to go back, America. Become man again."

Agent Johnson's response was curt and surprising for Victor, who did not expect such a reaction at all when he called a secret number intended only for him and for his secret undercover operation: "What? I can't understand a word you're saying "Who is this? Victor? Valeria? Sounds like you're confused, or maybe you're just messing around."

Victor, desperation seeping into his voice, tried again, he had no idea that from the very beginning of his transformation there was no mission, it was a setup from one of his colleagues: “Please, understand. I am FBI agent. Secret mission. I become a woman... a prostitute, this is bad. I'm stuck. I need help!"

Agent Johnson's tone shifted from confusion to rudeness. "Listen, I don't have time for jokes. If you're a prostitute, go serve your clients or whatever you do. Stop wasting my time with this nonsense."

The line went dead. Victor stood motionless while the phone slid through his fingers. He walked slowly to a mirror feeling like his heart was sinking as he stared at his reflection. The only thing that reminded him of his past life as an FBI agent was his face, but even that had now lost his masculine features, although it was a kind of reminder of his past and who she used to be