“Ready for this?”
“I’m not going to put on the brakes for you,” I replied, glancing over at Alice. She was a nurse who worked in my department, and my best friend.
She laughed. “You’ve never bested me at any of our practice runs. I’m not worried.”
She and I were in a crowd of runners, ready to take on the Great British Marathon. It had been 5 years since the world was introduced to COVID19, and this was one of the first events where everyone was running with their masks off.
“All set?” Boomed a voice over the loudspeaker.
I glanced over at Alice. She was a petite 158cm tall redhead who was decked out in a tight dark green running shirt, a running skirt that barely grazed her mid thigh, compression tights that went to her ankles, and bright baby blue sport shoes. She had a heart rate monitor strapped to her wrist, and small energy drink bottles on both her hips. Her breasts wobbled as she jumped in place to warm up. We were running in the cool English fall.
In contrast, all I had on was a running T-shirt and shorts with zipped pockets barely deep enough to hold my ID and phone. I also had wireless earphones that had been programmed to allow me to talk to Alice even though we got separated.
Many people had remarked over the years that we should be together. Me, a 27 year old sports surgeon who got his start young and had a thriving practice, and her, a young 23 year old just 2 years out of nursing school. But for whatever reason, it never happened. We bonded with running, and this was the second full marathon we were going to attempt together.
“BANG!” We heard the starting gun go off, and the crowd started to trudge along, as it does at the start. I let Alice squeeze ahead as I took a look around. We were running in the heart of Manchester. Roads were blocked off for the event, but as with many events after COVID19, there weren’t many spectators who joined live. The route would take us out of the city and into the countryside before looping back into the Etihad Stadium.
At the 1km mark, Alice had gotten into stride, and she was a full 100m ahead of me. I picked up the speed. My heart was pumping, and I started to get a sweat going.
I started to overtake casual runners as I closed in on her. I recognised a few people from my place of work who waved at me. Ken a skinny tall bloke with glasses, who worked as an internal medicine physician. Derek, who was an orthopaedic surgeon and extremely popular with ladies. I also passed a few nurses who Alice worked with, whose names I couldn’t remember for the life of me.
By the 10km mark, as Alice predicted, she was way ahead of me. “You okay?” I heard her voice through my headphones.
“Yeah, keep it up,” I panted. “It’s a long run. You sure you can sustain that pace?”
“Oh please, I’m just getting… hold on, what the… AAAAAAHHHHH!” Alice screamed as the communication cut off.
I almost broke my stride, before I realised I had to get to her. I sprinted forward, abandoning my race plan to keep my stamina for the end of the run.
Thoughts raced through my head. I didn’t hear an explosion, but I did hear what sounded like tyres screeching before she screamed. It wasn’t long until I saw what it was.
A huge SUV was on the road, headed right through the runners. Runners jumped out of the way, but the driver appeared to be aiming to hit them. It slammed into people running them over. I made a sharp turn to my left, and jumped a fence that was a barrier between the road and a farmhouse. As I watched the car zoom past, I jumped back over the fence to look for Alice.
It didn’t take long to find her. People were groaning and bleeding all over the floor, but Alice’s red hair stood out well against the black road. She was not moving, lying in the middle of the road.
“Alice!” I shouted, kneeling down. “Can you hear me?”
“Dr Kim, what’s happening?” She said, dazed. “Where are we?”
“We were in a marathon, you just got knocked over by a car. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” I looked at the injuries. She was bleeding from her head, and definitely had a broken arm.
“I need to move you,” I said to her.
“Not a good idea. I can’t feel my legs,” she said.
I stopped. I knew, as she did, if she couldn’t feel her legs, she could have spine damage, and moving her without proper support could render her paralysed.
“Okay, okay,” I said, taking off my shirt and using it to apply pressure to her head. “We’ll stay here, I’ll call for help.”
I took out my phone and called 999. There were at least 10 people dead, many others hurt and crying in pain. Volunteers from the run were carrying first aid boxes and running onto the road.
“Help is coming, Alice,” I told her. “You’ll be okay.?
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Thank God I have y…” Her smile turned to horror as she stared upward.
I tried to turn around to see what she was looking at, but the last thing I remember was a loud crashing sound, the feeling of flying through the air, and I was out.
“Dr Kim, wake up,” came a faraway voice.
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything. I tried to speak, but no voice came through.
“He’s not responding,” came another voice, different from the first.
“Don’t we have other candidates?” Yet another voice.
“No,” came the first voice. It sounded male. “He’s the perfect demographic, and he has the skillset we need. He should be awake, we’ve taken off the sedation. His brain is intact. Maybe his spinal cord is severed. Let’s try this.”
Beeps on a computer.
“Dr Kim, no need to speak. You’re hooked up to a linguistic EEG. We can read your brainwaves. If you can hear us, just imagine saying the word ‘Yes’”.
Yes, I thought.
“That’s it!” The second voice. It sounded female.
“Dr Kim, you are in a hospital. You are intubated and severely hurt. We’re going to help you, but before we do, we need you to know that we are going to do a highly experimental procedure, to hopefully restore all your motor and sensory functions. We’ve never tried it before, but we believe it’s your only shot. Do you understand?”
Yes, I thought first. Then I changed it to No. What is it you are trying to do?
“Was that a yes or a no?” Third voice.
“The EEG is imprecise, he must be wanting to form a sentence,” said the first man. “Dr Kim, I’m sure you have questions. You are severely hurt now. You have lost both limbs, your whole stomach, spleen and half your liver after surgery. We can try the conventional treatment route, but you will likely be bedridden, and depend on a feeding tube for a long time. What we are offering is full restoration of body function. Can you consent to that?”
So this was a choice between being crippled versus potentially dead from an experimental treatment. There was no way I was ready to be confined to a bed for my entire life. YES I thought.
“There!” Said the first man. “That’s a firm yes. Okay Dr Kim, we will proceed. We’ll put you back on sedation so you can recover.”
That was all I remembered before I drifted off again.
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything. I tried to speak, but no voice came through.
“He’s not responding,” came another voice, different from the first.
“Don’t we have other candidates?” Yet another voice.
“No,” came the first voice. It sounded male. “He’s the perfect demographic, and he has the skillset we need. He should be awake, we’ve taken off the sedation. His brain is intact. Maybe his spinal cord is severed. Let’s try this.”
Beeps on a computer.
“Dr Kim, no need to speak. You’re hooked up to a linguistic EEG. We can read your brainwaves. If you can hear us, just imagine saying the word ‘Yes’”.
Yes, I thought.
“That’s it!” The second voice. It sounded female.
“Dr Kim, you are in a hospital. You are intubated and severely hurt. We’re going to help you, but before we do, we need you to know that we are going to do a highly experimental procedure, to hopefully restore all your motor and sensory functions. We’ve never tried it before, but we believe it’s your only shot. Do you understand?”
Yes, I thought first. Then I changed it to No. What is it you are trying to do?
“Was that a yes or a no?” Third voice.
“The EEG is imprecise, he must be wanting to form a sentence,” said the first man. “Dr Kim, I’m sure you have questions. You are severely hurt now. You have lost both limbs, your whole stomach, spleen and half your liver after surgery. We can try the conventional treatment route, but you will likely be bedridden, and depend on a feeding tube for a long time. What we are offering is full restoration of body function. Can you consent to that?”
So this was a choice between being crippled versus potentially dead from an experimental treatment. There was no way I was ready to be confined to a bed for my entire life. YES I thought.
“There!” Said the first man. “That’s a firm yes. Okay Dr Kim, we will proceed. We’ll put you back on sedation so you can recover.”
That was all I remembered before I drifted off again.
Pain. Searing pain all over me. That was the first thing I remembered when I slowly regained consciousness. Pain would envelop me, and I would feel my heart racing, but the pain would then reduce, and I would slip out of consciousness again. After this happened a few times, I realised that doctors were probably trying to reduce my sedation to wake me up, but put me back on sedation when they realised I couldn’t take the pain.
Finally after what seemed like months, I started to feel some sensation in my hands. I could feel the bedsheets around me. I could feel when nurses came to adjust my pillow. I could feel them give me a sponge bath on occasion. I felt sensations I never felt before in my life on my chest, but I didn’t know what they were, because my eyes still wouldn’t open.
Next, my hearing came back. I heard the beeping of lab equipment and the chatter of nurses. Aside from the usual idle nurses conversation, I also heard very advanced bioengineering words being used like “splicing DNA” and “telomere prolongation”. I took genetics classes during my medical degree many years ago, but I couldn’t imagine what they could be talking about.
At last, a week later, I was able to open my eyes. The first thing I saw was a middle age lady in a biohazard suit staring at me. She smiled, and went to get a doctor.
An hour later, I was surrounded by a whole host of doctors around my bed. I still had a tube in my throat that connected me to a ventilator, so I couldn’t speak. I just stared at them confused as the doctors looked at each other. I didn’t recognise any of them. Come to think of it, I didn’t recognise the room.
Typical ICU cubicles which house ventilated patients are typically no larger than your average business hotel room, but this place that I was in was a massive circular room surrounded by glass panels with monitors beyond the glass. I didn’t see another patient in the room. This didn’t look like a hospital.
“Let’s begin,” said a male voice, who I vaguely recognised as the third voice that I heard when I was briefly conscious.
“Yes sir,” said another man in a labcoat. He turned towards me. “Dr Kim, we are so happy you’re awake. Now, as you can see, we are not in a hospital anymore. We are in the Middleton Institute for Innovation. We are going to extubate you soon so you can talk, but for now, we just need you to listen.
I nodded slowly, careful not to dislodge any tubes or monitors. It felt like I was covered in the stuff.
“I am Dr Morris, and this is Agent James,” he said, pointing at a man in a suit, who was the third voice. “We were the ones who spoke to you briefly 2 months ago.”
2 months! I thought to myself. That was a long time to be in ICU by any standard.
“I’ll recap what happened to you, and it may be easier if we just show you,” he said, indicating that I should look straight up. A projection came up on the ceiling, and pictures flashed through.
“During what we now know as the British Marathon Massacre, a vehicle rolled through the road, killing 102 people and leaving a further 241 injured. Following the vehicle coming through, a drone strike took place, dropping 6 explosives through the crowd as first responders rushed to the scene. As of this point, we still don’t know who was responsible for this event. The driver of the vehicle is at large, after escaping into the crowd.”
He flashed pictures of the incident, people injured and lying on the road, houses burning around them. I couldn’t believe something like this could happen in a big city.
“While medical teams treated the injured, one of the first to the scene was Agent James. He is also a doctor, and he easily identified you because of the ID in your pocket. After you were transported to the hospital and stabilised, he recognised that you were uniquely qualified for this procedure, to save your life using a combination of genetic modification and surgical techniques.”
I saw pictures of my body on the screen, bloodied, organs exposed, legs amputated at the hips. It was almost too much.
“As you can tell, you would not have much quality of life from conventional methods,” said Agent James suddenly.
“Thank you Agent,” said Dr Morris. “I’ll continue. The procedure involved essentially generating a new body for you. This technique, strangely enough was first pioneered by a cosmetic laboratory in South Korea, where extreme cosmetic surgery is not uncommon. We recently acquired this technology, and combining it with our ability to alter DNA, we were able to - in essence, use viral vectors to alter your DNA completely and regenerate your lost organs and limbs. Your existing viable organs like your brain and heart also have their DNA changed, but they are essentially your own.”
Okay, I thought to myself, still reeling from all the information. So they modified my DNA and used surgeries to fit my old body into this new one that they generated. Very science fiction, but I knew I now had legs and arms. I should be able to live a relatively normal life.
“There was a catch,” said Dr Morris, slowly. “Because the technology from South Korea was from a cosmetic company, they only had female data. To save you quickly, we had to use the data we had available. We didn’t have time to come up with a new frame and look. As a result…”
The next picture that flashed on the ceiling showed a petite young Korean lady in a hospital bed still intubated, with long black hair which rested below her shoulders, and whose outline of large breasts were still visible under the thin hospital sheet. She looked scared and confused, mirroring how I felt. It dawned on me as Dr Morris said it.
“Dr Kim, you are now a woman.”
Finally after what seemed like months, I started to feel some sensation in my hands. I could feel the bedsheets around me. I could feel when nurses came to adjust my pillow. I could feel them give me a sponge bath on occasion. I felt sensations I never felt before in my life on my chest, but I didn’t know what they were, because my eyes still wouldn’t open.
Next, my hearing came back. I heard the beeping of lab equipment and the chatter of nurses. Aside from the usual idle nurses conversation, I also heard very advanced bioengineering words being used like “splicing DNA” and “telomere prolongation”. I took genetics classes during my medical degree many years ago, but I couldn’t imagine what they could be talking about.
At last, a week later, I was able to open my eyes. The first thing I saw was a middle age lady in a biohazard suit staring at me. She smiled, and went to get a doctor.
An hour later, I was surrounded by a whole host of doctors around my bed. I still had a tube in my throat that connected me to a ventilator, so I couldn’t speak. I just stared at them confused as the doctors looked at each other. I didn’t recognise any of them. Come to think of it, I didn’t recognise the room.
Typical ICU cubicles which house ventilated patients are typically no larger than your average business hotel room, but this place that I was in was a massive circular room surrounded by glass panels with monitors beyond the glass. I didn’t see another patient in the room. This didn’t look like a hospital.
“Let’s begin,” said a male voice, who I vaguely recognised as the third voice that I heard when I was briefly conscious.
“Yes sir,” said another man in a labcoat. He turned towards me. “Dr Kim, we are so happy you’re awake. Now, as you can see, we are not in a hospital anymore. We are in the Middleton Institute for Innovation. We are going to extubate you soon so you can talk, but for now, we just need you to listen.
I nodded slowly, careful not to dislodge any tubes or monitors. It felt like I was covered in the stuff.
“I am Dr Morris, and this is Agent James,” he said, pointing at a man in a suit, who was the third voice. “We were the ones who spoke to you briefly 2 months ago.”
2 months! I thought to myself. That was a long time to be in ICU by any standard.
“I’ll recap what happened to you, and it may be easier if we just show you,” he said, indicating that I should look straight up. A projection came up on the ceiling, and pictures flashed through.
“During what we now know as the British Marathon Massacre, a vehicle rolled through the road, killing 102 people and leaving a further 241 injured. Following the vehicle coming through, a drone strike took place, dropping 6 explosives through the crowd as first responders rushed to the scene. As of this point, we still don’t know who was responsible for this event. The driver of the vehicle is at large, after escaping into the crowd.”
He flashed pictures of the incident, people injured and lying on the road, houses burning around them. I couldn’t believe something like this could happen in a big city.
“While medical teams treated the injured, one of the first to the scene was Agent James. He is also a doctor, and he easily identified you because of the ID in your pocket. After you were transported to the hospital and stabilised, he recognised that you were uniquely qualified for this procedure, to save your life using a combination of genetic modification and surgical techniques.”
I saw pictures of my body on the screen, bloodied, organs exposed, legs amputated at the hips. It was almost too much.
“As you can tell, you would not have much quality of life from conventional methods,” said Agent James suddenly.
“Thank you Agent,” said Dr Morris. “I’ll continue. The procedure involved essentially generating a new body for you. This technique, strangely enough was first pioneered by a cosmetic laboratory in South Korea, where extreme cosmetic surgery is not uncommon. We recently acquired this technology, and combining it with our ability to alter DNA, we were able to - in essence, use viral vectors to alter your DNA completely and regenerate your lost organs and limbs. Your existing viable organs like your brain and heart also have their DNA changed, but they are essentially your own.”
Okay, I thought to myself, still reeling from all the information. So they modified my DNA and used surgeries to fit my old body into this new one that they generated. Very science fiction, but I knew I now had legs and arms. I should be able to live a relatively normal life.
“There was a catch,” said Dr Morris, slowly. “Because the technology from South Korea was from a cosmetic company, they only had female data. To save you quickly, we had to use the data we had available. We didn’t have time to come up with a new frame and look. As a result…”
The next picture that flashed on the ceiling showed a petite young Korean lady in a hospital bed still intubated, with long black hair which rested below her shoulders, and whose outline of large breasts were still visible under the thin hospital sheet. She looked scared and confused, mirroring how I felt. It dawned on me as Dr Morris said it.
“Dr Kim, you are now a woman.”
If not for the tube in my mouth, I would have been hyperventilating. My heart pounded against my chest, and I tried to move my arms to remove my breathing tube. Dr Morris held my right hand.
“Dr Kim, this is understandably a shock. I will explain more about it down the line, and we have Agent Morris and a wonderful team to walk you through this slowly. But you need to relax, okay? You are safe, and you will get used to this. If you calm down, I will extubate you, and we can talk about this.”
I was full of questions. What made me a good candidate? What did they mean I have the skills they needed before? They may have needed to put me into a female body, but why did I look like I came out of a Japanese romance novel? What happened to Alice?
After a while, I realised the best way to get answers was to calm down and get this breathing tube out of my mouth so I could talk. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my heart rate which was beating uncontrollably. At last, I looked at Dr Morris and nodded.
I gagged as nurses removed the breathing tube, and coughed. Even my cough sounded different. A nurse raised the head of my bed, so I was sitting up. I could now look everyone in the eye.
Dr Morris looked away, and I noticed Agent James turn around embarrassed as well. I frowned, but then realised that the sheet covering my breasts had slid off. I let out a yell, which sounded like a teenage girl’s squeal, and tried to cover myself.
“We’ll errr… Let you get dressed, shall we?” Said Dr Morris, as he and Agent James walked out.
“I’m Nurse Im,” said a young nurse to my left. “I’m your personal rehabilitation nurse. I’ll help you dress.” She pulled some curtains around the bed so we would be alone.
She brought me a light green hospital gown, and 2 sets of bras and panties. “I’m not sure what your size is, so let’s see what fits.” She quipped.
“Wait, please,” I said to her. I stopped suddenly, surprised at my own voice. It sounded incredibly young and girly. “This is a lot to take in.”
“Of course it is,” she said, pulling up a chair. “You want to talk about it first?”
I thought about this for a moment. I was in a female body now. It would make sense for me to open up to a lady first.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I started.
“Sure,” she replied, taking a seat and putting the clothes on her lap. She was wearing a white nurses top which clung tightly to her moderately sized (compared to mine) breasts and small waist. A flowing matching white skirt reached to her knees, and she was wearing white pantyhose with white heels to match.
“How long have I been here?”
“I don’t know for sure, because I was brought on 2 weeks ago. But it says you were transferred from Manchester Hospital 2 days after your first surgery.”
“This doesn’t look like a research lab. What is this place?”
She looked slightly uncomfortable at this question. “I think Agent Fields should answer that particular question.”
“Okay, then a simple one, if you don’t mind. Why didn’t you dress me before I woke up?”
“Oh!” She said, surprised. “I just imagined that if I were stuck with a new body, I would like to have a look at it, before I put some clothes on.”
I realised I hadn’t taken had a chance to look at myself. “It’s that okay?” I asked her.
“Of course!” She laughed. “It’s your body. Should I fetch a mirror?”
I nodded. She walked off, while I peeled off the bedsheet to have a look. The act of lifting my arms took more effort than I imagined. I guess not working your muscles in 2 months would do that to you.
Looking down, I could hardly see anything past my breasts, which felt enormous on my small frame. As a man, I was 175cm, just below 6 feet, so not a giant by any means. But in this body, every part of my body looked like it had been shortened by a quarter. My hands and fingers were small and dainty. My feet looked like they wouldn’t fit anything bigger than a size 4. My couldn’t see my belly, but it felt flat and not flabby.
But I kept coming back to the huge mounds on my chest, which even felt heavy as I breathed. 2 pink nipples stretched straight forward in the cold room. I put my hands on my breasts, and squeezed. They were soft, yet dense, and had no sag at all on them. The squeeze brought a sensation like I was zapped with a small current of electricity. I couldn’t tell if I was horny or cold. Everything felt different.
Nurse Im pushed in a full length mirror, and I gasped at the sight. I had a perfect flat tummy with a small waist, which further emphasised my large bosom. My face had very delicate features. Small mouth, a cute nose, and large hazel eyes. Someone had shaped my eyebrows, because they looked like something out of a beauty magazine. I was wearing a light shade of pink lipstick. Dark straight black hair fell past my shoulders, just below my shoulder blades.
“Stunning, huh?” Said Nurse Im. “You’ll be popular. Not sure if that will be the case with girls though. Everyone will be jealous of you”
I blushed a little.
Nurse Im then helped me put on a silky pair of panties, which easily slid up my hairless legs, to rest on my hairless groin and butt. In fact, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any hair below the eyebrows. Perks of being genetically engineered. She slid the loops of a similarly silky white bra through my arms, over my chest, and buckled it behind me. She had to do this twice, because the first one didn’t fit.
“32E,” she said. “I’ll bring you shopping for more later.” The bra was padded and wired, and pushed my breasts together, which produced impressive cleavage. The effect in the mirror was wild. I looked like a teenager’s wet dream.
The hospital gown was pretty standard. Nurse Im helped me put it on, and settled me back into bed where I was finally presentable. It was time for the men to come back in.
Agent James stepped forward first, all business. “I’m Agent James with the MI6. Now that you are safe and stable, it is safe to inform you that we chose you to save out of many other casualties because we need your help. We believe that the people behind the massacre were agents from North Korea, but we cannot prove it yet. We have traced their location to the southern USA. We would like you to infiltrate their operation and find out the motive behind the attack.”
I paused. “You think North Koreans who are based in the USA, sent some men to England to commit a massacre?”
“That’s correct.”
“That seems far fetched, by any stretch of imagination. Isn’t USA hostile towards North Korea? Couldn’t they just be using a VPN?”
“Don’t insult our intelligence, Miss Bae. We have more intelligence on this than anyone else in the world. I don’t claim to understand the mind of terrorists, but we need to hunt them down.”
I sighed, then sat up straight. “What did you just call me?”
Agent James handed me a paper bag, and a tablet computer. “Your new identity. You are no longer Dr Kim Jung Hyun. You are now Miss Bae Na Eun.”
Inside the bag were 2 passports, an English one and a South Korean one. It also had multiple identity cards, which identified me as various professions from a nurse, to a flight attendant, to a pharmaceutical sales rep. None of them had pictures on them.
“Take a picture on the tablet, and assign it to your passports and IDs. They will appear immediately. We need you to go undercover, discover who the perpetrators are, and we will take it from there. Of course, we will compensate you for your trouble. We will cover all your living and travel expenses, secure you a job at a place of your choosing after the mission, and provide you 1 million pounds cash upon completion.”
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
“Then after you are rehabilitated, you are on your own. With your current identity, you will not be able to access your own accounts or work. Unfortunately, you will be out on the streets.”
“That’s bullshit! That’s blackmail!”
“We are more than happy to provide compensation, but like I said, we need you Miss Bae.”
I paused. “Why me?”
“You are a Korean, fluent in English, with no significant family ties. You have medical expertise, which may come in useful. We also found out that you have experience working as a makeup artist. You have the ability to come up with the perfect disguise. You are well suited to infiltrate them.”
“That was a temporary job so I had money for my first year of medical school before my scholarship kicked in!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “So you gave me a body with these proportions to seduce my way in. I’m surprised I don’t have an ID tag for a strip club.”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Bae,” he smirked. “Strippers don’t carry ID tags.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “When do I need to go?”
“We expect your rehabilitation to be complete in 2 weeks, minimum,” said Agent James, with a sideways glance at Dr Morris, who nodded. “So in due time, we will be back to brief you on further details. Good luck Miss Bae.”
He turned and left.
“Dr Kim, this is understandably a shock. I will explain more about it down the line, and we have Agent Morris and a wonderful team to walk you through this slowly. But you need to relax, okay? You are safe, and you will get used to this. If you calm down, I will extubate you, and we can talk about this.”
I was full of questions. What made me a good candidate? What did they mean I have the skills they needed before? They may have needed to put me into a female body, but why did I look like I came out of a Japanese romance novel? What happened to Alice?
After a while, I realised the best way to get answers was to calm down and get this breathing tube out of my mouth so I could talk. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my heart rate which was beating uncontrollably. At last, I looked at Dr Morris and nodded.
I gagged as nurses removed the breathing tube, and coughed. Even my cough sounded different. A nurse raised the head of my bed, so I was sitting up. I could now look everyone in the eye.
Dr Morris looked away, and I noticed Agent James turn around embarrassed as well. I frowned, but then realised that the sheet covering my breasts had slid off. I let out a yell, which sounded like a teenage girl’s squeal, and tried to cover myself.
“We’ll errr… Let you get dressed, shall we?” Said Dr Morris, as he and Agent James walked out.
“I’m Nurse Im,” said a young nurse to my left. “I’m your personal rehabilitation nurse. I’ll help you dress.” She pulled some curtains around the bed so we would be alone.
She brought me a light green hospital gown, and 2 sets of bras and panties. “I’m not sure what your size is, so let’s see what fits.” She quipped.
“Wait, please,” I said to her. I stopped suddenly, surprised at my own voice. It sounded incredibly young and girly. “This is a lot to take in.”
“Of course it is,” she said, pulling up a chair. “You want to talk about it first?”
I thought about this for a moment. I was in a female body now. It would make sense for me to open up to a lady first.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I started.
“Sure,” she replied, taking a seat and putting the clothes on her lap. She was wearing a white nurses top which clung tightly to her moderately sized (compared to mine) breasts and small waist. A flowing matching white skirt reached to her knees, and she was wearing white pantyhose with white heels to match.
“How long have I been here?”
“I don’t know for sure, because I was brought on 2 weeks ago. But it says you were transferred from Manchester Hospital 2 days after your first surgery.”
“This doesn’t look like a research lab. What is this place?”
She looked slightly uncomfortable at this question. “I think Agent Fields should answer that particular question.”
“Okay, then a simple one, if you don’t mind. Why didn’t you dress me before I woke up?”
“Oh!” She said, surprised. “I just imagined that if I were stuck with a new body, I would like to have a look at it, before I put some clothes on.”
I realised I hadn’t taken had a chance to look at myself. “It’s that okay?” I asked her.
“Of course!” She laughed. “It’s your body. Should I fetch a mirror?”
I nodded. She walked off, while I peeled off the bedsheet to have a look. The act of lifting my arms took more effort than I imagined. I guess not working your muscles in 2 months would do that to you.
Looking down, I could hardly see anything past my breasts, which felt enormous on my small frame. As a man, I was 175cm, just below 6 feet, so not a giant by any means. But in this body, every part of my body looked like it had been shortened by a quarter. My hands and fingers were small and dainty. My feet looked like they wouldn’t fit anything bigger than a size 4. My couldn’t see my belly, but it felt flat and not flabby.
But I kept coming back to the huge mounds on my chest, which even felt heavy as I breathed. 2 pink nipples stretched straight forward in the cold room. I put my hands on my breasts, and squeezed. They were soft, yet dense, and had no sag at all on them. The squeeze brought a sensation like I was zapped with a small current of electricity. I couldn’t tell if I was horny or cold. Everything felt different.
Nurse Im pushed in a full length mirror, and I gasped at the sight. I had a perfect flat tummy with a small waist, which further emphasised my large bosom. My face had very delicate features. Small mouth, a cute nose, and large hazel eyes. Someone had shaped my eyebrows, because they looked like something out of a beauty magazine. I was wearing a light shade of pink lipstick. Dark straight black hair fell past my shoulders, just below my shoulder blades.
“Stunning, huh?” Said Nurse Im. “You’ll be popular. Not sure if that will be the case with girls though. Everyone will be jealous of you”
I blushed a little.
Nurse Im then helped me put on a silky pair of panties, which easily slid up my hairless legs, to rest on my hairless groin and butt. In fact, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any hair below the eyebrows. Perks of being genetically engineered. She slid the loops of a similarly silky white bra through my arms, over my chest, and buckled it behind me. She had to do this twice, because the first one didn’t fit.
“32E,” she said. “I’ll bring you shopping for more later.” The bra was padded and wired, and pushed my breasts together, which produced impressive cleavage. The effect in the mirror was wild. I looked like a teenager’s wet dream.
The hospital gown was pretty standard. Nurse Im helped me put it on, and settled me back into bed where I was finally presentable. It was time for the men to come back in.
Agent James stepped forward first, all business. “I’m Agent James with the MI6. Now that you are safe and stable, it is safe to inform you that we chose you to save out of many other casualties because we need your help. We believe that the people behind the massacre were agents from North Korea, but we cannot prove it yet. We have traced their location to the southern USA. We would like you to infiltrate their operation and find out the motive behind the attack.”
I paused. “You think North Koreans who are based in the USA, sent some men to England to commit a massacre?”
“That’s correct.”
“That seems far fetched, by any stretch of imagination. Isn’t USA hostile towards North Korea? Couldn’t they just be using a VPN?”
“Don’t insult our intelligence, Miss Bae. We have more intelligence on this than anyone else in the world. I don’t claim to understand the mind of terrorists, but we need to hunt them down.”
I sighed, then sat up straight. “What did you just call me?”
Agent James handed me a paper bag, and a tablet computer. “Your new identity. You are no longer Dr Kim Jung Hyun. You are now Miss Bae Na Eun.”
Inside the bag were 2 passports, an English one and a South Korean one. It also had multiple identity cards, which identified me as various professions from a nurse, to a flight attendant, to a pharmaceutical sales rep. None of them had pictures on them.
“Take a picture on the tablet, and assign it to your passports and IDs. They will appear immediately. We need you to go undercover, discover who the perpetrators are, and we will take it from there. Of course, we will compensate you for your trouble. We will cover all your living and travel expenses, secure you a job at a place of your choosing after the mission, and provide you 1 million pounds cash upon completion.”
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
“Then after you are rehabilitated, you are on your own. With your current identity, you will not be able to access your own accounts or work. Unfortunately, you will be out on the streets.”
“That’s bullshit! That’s blackmail!”
“We are more than happy to provide compensation, but like I said, we need you Miss Bae.”
I paused. “Why me?”
“You are a Korean, fluent in English, with no significant family ties. You have medical expertise, which may come in useful. We also found out that you have experience working as a makeup artist. You have the ability to come up with the perfect disguise. You are well suited to infiltrate them.”
“That was a temporary job so I had money for my first year of medical school before my scholarship kicked in!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “So you gave me a body with these proportions to seduce my way in. I’m surprised I don’t have an ID tag for a strip club.”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Bae,” he smirked. “Strippers don’t carry ID tags.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “When do I need to go?”
“We expect your rehabilitation to be complete in 2 weeks, minimum,” said Agent James, with a sideways glance at Dr Morris, who nodded. “So in due time, we will be back to brief you on further details. Good luck Miss Bae.”
He turned and left.
After Agent James’ departure, Dr Morris explained some nuances of my new body to me. I was fully genetically female, down to a functioning uterus. However because of the major surgery certain parts of my body was put through, I could never get pregnant. Something to do with scarring in my tubes preventing sperm from reaching my eggs. That was fine with me.
He explained that I had the genetic makeup of a 18 year old, but my ID showed 21 years old. I would need to take a tablet everyday, but I would basically never age. They had eliminated the part of my DNA that controlled ageing, at least at a skin level. It was foreseeable that I could look the same until I died, and that I could live until 150.
Otherwise, I had fully functioning breasts and ovaries, with hormones to match. He assured me he would answer any further questions that would come up before walking out.
Suddenly alone with only Nurse Im standing a few feet away, I felt a surge of emotions and burst into tears. It was a torrential downpour. I didn’t stop until what felt like 2 hours later.
Nurse Im sat on my bed and gave me a hug. “That’s a lot to take in for one day,” she said. “I’m also a trained counsellor. I have seen the same thing with transgender people who have trouble accepting their bodies. I will be here for you.” She smiled at me.
She then helped me onto a wheelchair and wheeled me to another room, which looked more like a standard hospital room. It had pearly white walls, carpets on the floor, a makeup table, a TV, and a single bed in the middle. It had no windows to look out, but like most hospital rooms, it had a glass panel so people could look in.
The nurse helped me into the adjoining toilet, and set me on the toilet, an d she said she would help me shower. I needed it. I was a mess.
“Do I just call you Nurse Im? What’s your full name?” I asked her.
“Im Soo Yeon,” she said.
“South Korean?” I asked.
“Yes,” she smiled. “But raised in England. I barely speak Korean.”
“I was adopted when I was 8,” I told her. “So I do speak it. Too bad you don’t. You could take over my mission for me.”
She laughed, almost snorting. “Na Eun, I may be a Korean who speaks English with some medical background, but there are 2 significant things you are leaving out,” she said, walking over to me, and grabbing double handfuls of my breasts. “It’s these.”
“Come on!” I said, laughing, batting her hands away.
“I would love a million pounds, but I would not want your job,” she said. “Okay, time to pee.”
“Huh?” I asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject.
“Pee, in the loo,” she said. “Time to test out the plumbing. You were on a catheter until just before they extubated you. You should need to pee now.”
I looked down. I hadn’t thought about it, but I was feeling a nagging feeling in my groin for the past hour. I slid my hands up my hospital gown to pull down my panties to my ankles. I looked away from Nurse Im before I could relax enough to let go. It was an entirely new sensation, peeing without a penis. I was glad to find out it was not unpleasant.
Nurse Im congratulated me, before helping me out of my gown, and gave me a shower while I still sat. My legs were stick thin, and had not yet developed any muscles to support me. As she lathered my hair, my back, and body, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations of an attractive nurse touching me in a body I had never been touched in. It felt like my body was on fire.
When she lathered my breasts and nipples, I closed my eyes and bit on my lips, as I felt the tiny electric shocks course through my body again. I couldn’t believe it. I was getting turned on! When she reached down my legs and grazed my clitoris, I left out a soft moan. “Ummmph.” I squeaked.
Nurse Im remained professional, rinsing me off and helping me dry off before showing me a fresh bra and panty set, this time light purple. It was also made of Lycra, which was the soft silky material the earlier set was made of, she informed me. Again, it was padded and wired to support my breasts and push them together. I was starting to think I was being conditioned to wear push up bras.
She pulled a fresh hospital gown on me, and helped me into bed. The clock showed it was close to midnight. It was time for bed.
In bed, I tried to get comfortable, but it was a struggle to even turn, with my weak arms and legs. Also, the incident in the shower had aroused me, and I didn’t know how to get sexual release.
After an hour, Nurse Im came to check in on me, only to find me with beads of sweat on my forehead, struggling to sleep.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, as she wiped away my sweat.
“Oh, just can’t sleep,” I admitted. “Tried to turn, but it took too much effort, that’s why I’m sweaty.”
“I’ll help you,” she said, turning me towards her, so I was resting on my left.
“Thanks. Can you check something else for me? This is kind of embarrasing, but I think I may be incontinent. Maybe the plumbing isn’t working too well yet? My panties feel wet.”
“Sure,” she said, turning me so I was again on my back. She pulled down my panties. “I can put you on some adult diapers and have a urologist look at you tomorro…” She tailed off.
“What is it?” I asked her, looking up. She was inspecting my panties.
She pulled up a chair, and showed me the soaked garment. “This is not urine, its vaginal secretions.”
“Huh?” I asked, bewildered.
“You’re horny, aren’t you?”
I felt blood rush to my face. I nodded.
“Is it the sight of your own body? Does your brain still feel male?”
I pondered this. “I’m not entirely sure. But what happened was…” I told her what I felt in the shower.
“I’m sorry for that,” she said. “I guess I should remember that you may still feel attraction towards women like you did when you were a man.”
I shrugged. “I suppose I do.”
“That’s okay, I can help you with that,” she said, suddenly getting up and closing the drapes to the window panel. She suddenly unzipped her top, and I could see her breasts with a black lace bra encasing them.
“Soo Yeon, what…”
“I may be a lady, but I know how to get women off. Sleep is essential to recovery. And if this is what you need to fall asleep, no problem.” She winked at me.
“Are you sure…” She cut me off, first planting a kiss on my lips, before her left hand groped my left breast as her right hand unhooked my bra. It fell loose.
I moaned into her mouth and she squeezed both my breasts and nipples. She then moved down to kiss my neck. I could barely reach up to wrap my arms around her, but I immediately felt a hand on my arm. “Just enjoy it,” she said, placing my arm on my side.
I continued to moan as she put her lips over my left nipples and danced her tongue around it. Beads of sweat dropped down my face, as I bit my lips to keep from screaming.
I couldn’t keep track of time, but I felt a finger on my clit, massaging it slowly, rhythmically. I tried to trash about, but I couldn’t move.
One finger into my vagina. Two fingers. She was thrusting in and out, searching for my G-spot. I finally felt a wave of pleasure as I clamped down on her fingers, my vagina pulsing, nipples erect. It seemed to go on forever, until she finally removed her fingers, planting one final kiss on my lips, as I drifted off to sleep.
He explained that I had the genetic makeup of a 18 year old, but my ID showed 21 years old. I would need to take a tablet everyday, but I would basically never age. They had eliminated the part of my DNA that controlled ageing, at least at a skin level. It was foreseeable that I could look the same until I died, and that I could live until 150.
Otherwise, I had fully functioning breasts and ovaries, with hormones to match. He assured me he would answer any further questions that would come up before walking out.
Suddenly alone with only Nurse Im standing a few feet away, I felt a surge of emotions and burst into tears. It was a torrential downpour. I didn’t stop until what felt like 2 hours later.
Nurse Im sat on my bed and gave me a hug. “That’s a lot to take in for one day,” she said. “I’m also a trained counsellor. I have seen the same thing with transgender people who have trouble accepting their bodies. I will be here for you.” She smiled at me.
She then helped me onto a wheelchair and wheeled me to another room, which looked more like a standard hospital room. It had pearly white walls, carpets on the floor, a makeup table, a TV, and a single bed in the middle. It had no windows to look out, but like most hospital rooms, it had a glass panel so people could look in.
The nurse helped me into the adjoining toilet, and set me on the toilet, an d she said she would help me shower. I needed it. I was a mess.
“Do I just call you Nurse Im? What’s your full name?” I asked her.
“Im Soo Yeon,” she said.
“South Korean?” I asked.
“Yes,” she smiled. “But raised in England. I barely speak Korean.”
“I was adopted when I was 8,” I told her. “So I do speak it. Too bad you don’t. You could take over my mission for me.”
She laughed, almost snorting. “Na Eun, I may be a Korean who speaks English with some medical background, but there are 2 significant things you are leaving out,” she said, walking over to me, and grabbing double handfuls of my breasts. “It’s these.”
“Come on!” I said, laughing, batting her hands away.
“I would love a million pounds, but I would not want your job,” she said. “Okay, time to pee.”
“Huh?” I asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject.
“Pee, in the loo,” she said. “Time to test out the plumbing. You were on a catheter until just before they extubated you. You should need to pee now.”
I looked down. I hadn’t thought about it, but I was feeling a nagging feeling in my groin for the past hour. I slid my hands up my hospital gown to pull down my panties to my ankles. I looked away from Nurse Im before I could relax enough to let go. It was an entirely new sensation, peeing without a penis. I was glad to find out it was not unpleasant.
Nurse Im congratulated me, before helping me out of my gown, and gave me a shower while I still sat. My legs were stick thin, and had not yet developed any muscles to support me. As she lathered my hair, my back, and body, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations of an attractive nurse touching me in a body I had never been touched in. It felt like my body was on fire.
When she lathered my breasts and nipples, I closed my eyes and bit on my lips, as I felt the tiny electric shocks course through my body again. I couldn’t believe it. I was getting turned on! When she reached down my legs and grazed my clitoris, I left out a soft moan. “Ummmph.” I squeaked.
Nurse Im remained professional, rinsing me off and helping me dry off before showing me a fresh bra and panty set, this time light purple. It was also made of Lycra, which was the soft silky material the earlier set was made of, she informed me. Again, it was padded and wired to support my breasts and push them together. I was starting to think I was being conditioned to wear push up bras.
She pulled a fresh hospital gown on me, and helped me into bed. The clock showed it was close to midnight. It was time for bed.
In bed, I tried to get comfortable, but it was a struggle to even turn, with my weak arms and legs. Also, the incident in the shower had aroused me, and I didn’t know how to get sexual release.
After an hour, Nurse Im came to check in on me, only to find me with beads of sweat on my forehead, struggling to sleep.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, as she wiped away my sweat.
“Oh, just can’t sleep,” I admitted. “Tried to turn, but it took too much effort, that’s why I’m sweaty.”
“I’ll help you,” she said, turning me towards her, so I was resting on my left.
“Thanks. Can you check something else for me? This is kind of embarrasing, but I think I may be incontinent. Maybe the plumbing isn’t working too well yet? My panties feel wet.”
“Sure,” she said, turning me so I was again on my back. She pulled down my panties. “I can put you on some adult diapers and have a urologist look at you tomorro…” She tailed off.
“What is it?” I asked her, looking up. She was inspecting my panties.
She pulled up a chair, and showed me the soaked garment. “This is not urine, its vaginal secretions.”
“Huh?” I asked, bewildered.
“You’re horny, aren’t you?”
I felt blood rush to my face. I nodded.
“Is it the sight of your own body? Does your brain still feel male?”
I pondered this. “I’m not entirely sure. But what happened was…” I told her what I felt in the shower.
“I’m sorry for that,” she said. “I guess I should remember that you may still feel attraction towards women like you did when you were a man.”
I shrugged. “I suppose I do.”
“That’s okay, I can help you with that,” she said, suddenly getting up and closing the drapes to the window panel. She suddenly unzipped her top, and I could see her breasts with a black lace bra encasing them.
“Soo Yeon, what…”
“I may be a lady, but I know how to get women off. Sleep is essential to recovery. And if this is what you need to fall asleep, no problem.” She winked at me.
“Are you sure…” She cut me off, first planting a kiss on my lips, before her left hand groped my left breast as her right hand unhooked my bra. It fell loose.
I moaned into her mouth and she squeezed both my breasts and nipples. She then moved down to kiss my neck. I could barely reach up to wrap my arms around her, but I immediately felt a hand on my arm. “Just enjoy it,” she said, placing my arm on my side.
I continued to moan as she put her lips over my left nipples and danced her tongue around it. Beads of sweat dropped down my face, as I bit my lips to keep from screaming.
I couldn’t keep track of time, but I felt a finger on my clit, massaging it slowly, rhythmically. I tried to trash about, but I couldn’t move.
One finger into my vagina. Two fingers. She was thrusting in and out, searching for my G-spot. I finally felt a wave of pleasure as I clamped down on her fingers, my vagina pulsing, nipples erect. It seemed to go on forever, until she finally removed her fingers, planting one final kiss on my lips, as I drifted off to sleep.
“Wake up, Miss Bae,” came a voice, as I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me awake.
My eyes popped open, and I would have jolted upright if I had the strength. But I couldn’t sit up and just ended up groaning in place. Memories of the day before slowly came back to me. My new body, my new name, the mission, and Nurse Im…
I looked to my left, and there she was, all dressed and smiling. “Good morning,” she said. “Shall we get dressed and ready?”
I nodded, and watched as Nurse Im brought me a wheelchair, and laid out my clothes for the day.
“Big day today,” she continued. “Your first physiotherapy session, your first meal, and then some doctors will be by to draw some blood…”
“Nurse Im?” I interrupted. Thoughts of last night still flooded my mind.
“Miss Bae, don’t worry,” she said, busying herself with my clothes, looking away. “It really is my job to rehabilitate you no matter what it takes, and I can’t do that if there is any lingering awkwardness. So I will be professional, and if the… need arises, I am happy to assist again. But please do not mistake my actions yesterday as anything deeper than that.”
I stared at her, eyes wide open. “Okay,” I answered, although I felt like her statement only made things slightly more awkward. “Thanks. Let’s get going.”
After a shower, during which I looked away in embarrassment as Nurse Im cleaned all my dried love juice off my thighs, she helped me into my outfit for the morning, which was a mint green sleeveless yoga top that I could barely squeeze into, and a pair of grey tights, not unlike what Alice was wearing for the marathon.
Which reminded me…
“Is there any way I can find out what happened with a friend of mine from the massacre? Her name is Nurse Alice McConnell. Has anyone told you anything?”
She didn’t look at me. I knew almost immediately. “When?” I asked.
“I’m told she didn’t make it to the hospital. Sorry, that’s all I know. You must have been close.”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “She was my best friend. If such things exist anymore.”
“Don’t despair, Na Eun,” she replied, with a hand on my shoulder. “You will be able to find a way to honour her memory. I’m sure you will.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. First, I was wheeled to a gym, where my upper body was lifted onto a hoist machine as I learned how to walk again. Next, movement exercises for my arms, and some core strengthening training. After 2 hours at it, I was shocked to find that I could stand unassisted.
“Your body is genetically designed to recover faster than normal,” said Nurse Im. “You won’t get super strength if you train, but you should be able to heal from any injuries quickly.”
I also found that I required very little food to sustain myself. Breakfast was a single piece of bread with peanut butter. Lunch was one piece of fruit and a cup of yoghurt. Yet despite this, I remained full until evening.
Nurse Im brought by the medication that Dr Morris told me about the day before. It was a eggshell white capsule, about the length of a penny. I swallowed it without thinking twice.
Before dinner, Nurse Im declared that it was time for lady classes.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We hired someone to teach you how to talk, walk, dress and behave like a lady. You have been a man for more than 20 years. It takes time to learn how to be a convincing woman.”
“An image consultant?”
“Something like that,” smiled the nurse, opening the door to a room marked ‘Session in progress’, and she wheeled me into the room on my wheelchair.
The room looked like a place I imagined a ballet class would be at. Mirrors covered the 3 walls to my front, left and right from floor to ceiling. Silver handrails were positioned in the middle of the room. The floors were lined with polished wood, and Nurse Im’s heels clicked on the floor as she pushed me inside.
In the middle of the room was a stern looked lady who looked in her 50s, wearing a dark blue suit over a white blouse, with a matching long blue skirt that swept the floor as she walked.
“Madam Price, this is your student, Miss Bae Na Eun,” said Nurse Im, stopping me a few feet from the elderly lady. The lady glanced at me, eyes piercing, giving me a once over.
“How do you do?” I smiled at her, extending my hand (which I could finally do) for a handshake.
“None of that,” said Madam Price, ignoring my outstretched hand. “I was brought in to teach you to be a proper lady, and I mean to do it. A young thing of your station requesting a handshake from your teacher? I have a lot of work to do,” she said, turning around, walking to the end of the room to fetch something.
My eyes were wide as I gave Nurse Im a look. She bent down to whisper to me. “Madam Price does not know your medical history. She has been informed that you are a foreigner who is recovering from a serious accident, and needs to learn how to be a proper English lady before entering royal service.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, keeping my voice down to a whisper as well. “Why would I need this kind of old fashioned English lady manners training?”
“You’ll be working for British Intelligence. I guess this is the only ‘lady training’ they know,” said Nurse Im, who straightened up as the stern lady came back to us with what looked like a white bucket hat.
“From now on, you will greet your seniors with a curtsy and a slight bow,” she said. “Now, back straight, chest forward, and let me put this on you.”
I straightened up, finding it very difficult as my breasts pushed me forward and my tired back muscles strained to keep me upright. Madam Price placed the hat on my head. It was very light, and it felt much too small.
“I don’t think it fits,” I said. Sure enough, as I turned my head to the left, the hat slid off.
“It’s for posture training,” said Madam Price. “I understand you are still weak, so your only job today is to keep your back straight, chest out, and listen to the ground rules that I will set for your training. Move even slightly, and the cap falls off.”
The next hour was pure torture as I sat in my wheelchair, trying my best not to move. I was clearly not Madam Price’s first student. She rattled off rule after rule.
Some were simple: No foul language, no yelling loudly unless you are hurt or in trouble. No physical contact with anyone of the opposite gender except for medical staff.
Others sounded bizarre, bordering on unbelievable: No snacking at all between 3 meals a day, and she set a fixed daily calorie intake, which was not to be exceeded. I was not to be within 3 meters of any fire, even birthday candles.
“How am I supposed to remember all that?” I asked, as she finally had a lull in her speech.
“It may take some time, but it will all be subconscious by the time we are done,” she said. “No insubordination. I understand you are recovering, but I have been given permission by your doctors to dole out punishments if I have to.”
“What kind of punishments?” I asked, frowning.
“Caning and isolation is pretty standard,” she said, matter of factly. “But we may even resort to public humiliation, depending on the indiscretion.”
My eyes nearly fell out of my head. “That’s allowed? In this day and age? What will that be like?”
“Well I’m sure it will not come to that,” smirked the lady, who seemed to enjoy the taunting. “But I have been known to have some of my girls work in less than appropriate attire in very public places.”
“That seems counter productive to your cause,” I remarked.
“You will be surprised how well my girls fall in line after such experiences,” she said with confidence.
By now, my back was numb, and my breaths came in short gasps, with my breasts seriously weighing down my ribcage. I wondered if I would feel any better with a bra on. I was still in my workout clothes. Sweat poured down my forehead, chest and back.
“That’s enough for the day,” said Madam Prince, taking the cap off my head. I slumped down on the rails of my wheelchair, taking as many breaths as I could.
“Can I go now?” I asked her.
“Wrong. You say ‘may I be dismissed, Madam Price?’ Like a lady would.”
I was too tired to argue. I straightened up as best as I could, and said “May I be dismissed, Madam Price?” I asked.
“You may go. I will see you again tomorrow.”
Nurse Im, came to get me, and wheeled me out of the room.
The next 2 weeks couldn’t go by fast enough.
My eyes popped open, and I would have jolted upright if I had the strength. But I couldn’t sit up and just ended up groaning in place. Memories of the day before slowly came back to me. My new body, my new name, the mission, and Nurse Im…
I looked to my left, and there she was, all dressed and smiling. “Good morning,” she said. “Shall we get dressed and ready?”
I nodded, and watched as Nurse Im brought me a wheelchair, and laid out my clothes for the day.
“Big day today,” she continued. “Your first physiotherapy session, your first meal, and then some doctors will be by to draw some blood…”
“Nurse Im?” I interrupted. Thoughts of last night still flooded my mind.
“Miss Bae, don’t worry,” she said, busying herself with my clothes, looking away. “It really is my job to rehabilitate you no matter what it takes, and I can’t do that if there is any lingering awkwardness. So I will be professional, and if the… need arises, I am happy to assist again. But please do not mistake my actions yesterday as anything deeper than that.”
I stared at her, eyes wide open. “Okay,” I answered, although I felt like her statement only made things slightly more awkward. “Thanks. Let’s get going.”
After a shower, during which I looked away in embarrassment as Nurse Im cleaned all my dried love juice off my thighs, she helped me into my outfit for the morning, which was a mint green sleeveless yoga top that I could barely squeeze into, and a pair of grey tights, not unlike what Alice was wearing for the marathon.
Which reminded me…
“Is there any way I can find out what happened with a friend of mine from the massacre? Her name is Nurse Alice McConnell. Has anyone told you anything?”
She didn’t look at me. I knew almost immediately. “When?” I asked.
“I’m told she didn’t make it to the hospital. Sorry, that’s all I know. You must have been close.”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “She was my best friend. If such things exist anymore.”
“Don’t despair, Na Eun,” she replied, with a hand on my shoulder. “You will be able to find a way to honour her memory. I’m sure you will.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. First, I was wheeled to a gym, where my upper body was lifted onto a hoist machine as I learned how to walk again. Next, movement exercises for my arms, and some core strengthening training. After 2 hours at it, I was shocked to find that I could stand unassisted.
“Your body is genetically designed to recover faster than normal,” said Nurse Im. “You won’t get super strength if you train, but you should be able to heal from any injuries quickly.”
I also found that I required very little food to sustain myself. Breakfast was a single piece of bread with peanut butter. Lunch was one piece of fruit and a cup of yoghurt. Yet despite this, I remained full until evening.
Nurse Im brought by the medication that Dr Morris told me about the day before. It was a eggshell white capsule, about the length of a penny. I swallowed it without thinking twice.
Before dinner, Nurse Im declared that it was time for lady classes.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We hired someone to teach you how to talk, walk, dress and behave like a lady. You have been a man for more than 20 years. It takes time to learn how to be a convincing woman.”
“An image consultant?”
“Something like that,” smiled the nurse, opening the door to a room marked ‘Session in progress’, and she wheeled me into the room on my wheelchair.
The room looked like a place I imagined a ballet class would be at. Mirrors covered the 3 walls to my front, left and right from floor to ceiling. Silver handrails were positioned in the middle of the room. The floors were lined with polished wood, and Nurse Im’s heels clicked on the floor as she pushed me inside.
In the middle of the room was a stern looked lady who looked in her 50s, wearing a dark blue suit over a white blouse, with a matching long blue skirt that swept the floor as she walked.
“Madam Price, this is your student, Miss Bae Na Eun,” said Nurse Im, stopping me a few feet from the elderly lady. The lady glanced at me, eyes piercing, giving me a once over.
“How do you do?” I smiled at her, extending my hand (which I could finally do) for a handshake.
“None of that,” said Madam Price, ignoring my outstretched hand. “I was brought in to teach you to be a proper lady, and I mean to do it. A young thing of your station requesting a handshake from your teacher? I have a lot of work to do,” she said, turning around, walking to the end of the room to fetch something.
My eyes were wide as I gave Nurse Im a look. She bent down to whisper to me. “Madam Price does not know your medical history. She has been informed that you are a foreigner who is recovering from a serious accident, and needs to learn how to be a proper English lady before entering royal service.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, keeping my voice down to a whisper as well. “Why would I need this kind of old fashioned English lady manners training?”
“You’ll be working for British Intelligence. I guess this is the only ‘lady training’ they know,” said Nurse Im, who straightened up as the stern lady came back to us with what looked like a white bucket hat.
“From now on, you will greet your seniors with a curtsy and a slight bow,” she said. “Now, back straight, chest forward, and let me put this on you.”
I straightened up, finding it very difficult as my breasts pushed me forward and my tired back muscles strained to keep me upright. Madam Price placed the hat on my head. It was very light, and it felt much too small.
“I don’t think it fits,” I said. Sure enough, as I turned my head to the left, the hat slid off.
“It’s for posture training,” said Madam Price. “I understand you are still weak, so your only job today is to keep your back straight, chest out, and listen to the ground rules that I will set for your training. Move even slightly, and the cap falls off.”
The next hour was pure torture as I sat in my wheelchair, trying my best not to move. I was clearly not Madam Price’s first student. She rattled off rule after rule.
Some were simple: No foul language, no yelling loudly unless you are hurt or in trouble. No physical contact with anyone of the opposite gender except for medical staff.
Others sounded bizarre, bordering on unbelievable: No snacking at all between 3 meals a day, and she set a fixed daily calorie intake, which was not to be exceeded. I was not to be within 3 meters of any fire, even birthday candles.
“How am I supposed to remember all that?” I asked, as she finally had a lull in her speech.
“It may take some time, but it will all be subconscious by the time we are done,” she said. “No insubordination. I understand you are recovering, but I have been given permission by your doctors to dole out punishments if I have to.”
“What kind of punishments?” I asked, frowning.
“Caning and isolation is pretty standard,” she said, matter of factly. “But we may even resort to public humiliation, depending on the indiscretion.”
My eyes nearly fell out of my head. “That’s allowed? In this day and age? What will that be like?”
“Well I’m sure it will not come to that,” smirked the lady, who seemed to enjoy the taunting. “But I have been known to have some of my girls work in less than appropriate attire in very public places.”
“That seems counter productive to your cause,” I remarked.
“You will be surprised how well my girls fall in line after such experiences,” she said with confidence.
By now, my back was numb, and my breaths came in short gasps, with my breasts seriously weighing down my ribcage. I wondered if I would feel any better with a bra on. I was still in my workout clothes. Sweat poured down my forehead, chest and back.
“That’s enough for the day,” said Madam Prince, taking the cap off my head. I slumped down on the rails of my wheelchair, taking as many breaths as I could.
“Can I go now?” I asked her.
“Wrong. You say ‘may I be dismissed, Madam Price?’ Like a lady would.”
I was too tired to argue. I straightened up as best as I could, and said “May I be dismissed, Madam Price?” I asked.
“You may go. I will see you again tomorrow.”
Nurse Im, came to get me, and wheeled me out of the room.
The next 2 weeks couldn’t go by fast enough.
The next week crawled by at a snail’s pace. I must admit I had little time to grieve for Alice as I crammed in hours of rehabilitation daily, ‘lady lessons’ with Madam Price, and generally getting used to my new body.
I was discovering new things everyday about myself. Madam Price had me weighed and measured as soon as I was able to stand up straight. I was 158cm tall, and barely 42kg in weight. Honestly, I felt as if my breasts weighed at least 1kg each. I still couldn’t get over how massive they were on my small, thin frame.
In traditional measurements, I was 36-21-26. My hips flared out a lot, and while by butt was not massive, I still had very noticeable curves, taking my slight frame into account.
This came with challenges of their own. While most girls my height and weight would probably buy dresses in XS size, I would have to buy dresses in M or L, and have them resized because my breasts were out of proportion to my lower half - explained Nurse Im, who had taken on the role of my fashion consultant, with close scrutiny from Madam Price.
“Can’t I just wear baggy clothes that fit my top half?” I asked Madam Price during one of our sessions.
“Nonsense, Miss Bae,” she scoffed. “Women everywhere would kill for your proportions. It is your job, as a lady, to display your femininity. You will be surprised how far it will get you.”
I would look back at that moment months later to realized the power of what she said.
Physical rehabilitation was going well. After 3 days, I could finally stand and walk. I was barely able to make it 50 steps before Madam Price stormed into the room, handed Nurse I’m a pair of 4 inch black pumps, and told me that I may as well start walking in them if I could walk. No point learning how to walk twice, she said. I was not to take off the heels except to go to sleep. This set me back an entire day, and I had to learn to realign my center of balance. From my breasts to my heels, everything was pushing me forward, yet I still had to keep my back straight. I went to bed with an aching back every night.
On day 5, I could finally take a walk around the compound without looking like a toddler. The Middleton Institute for Innovation reminded me of a small university campus, minus the students. There was hardly anyone outdoors, as Nurse Im and did our laps around the main building. Nurse Im declared it was a good time to take me out for a brief shopping trip, just to get everyday essentials. I had been living in hospital gowns and borrowed workout clothes.
I must admit, for my first time out in public, I was extremely sloppily dressed, even by my male standards. Besides the usual push up bra and panties (white as usual), all the institute could loan me was a pair of yoga tights and an oversized white T-shirt with the words ‘MII’ on them. I couldn’t imagine Madam Price would be okay with me looking so shabby.
By this point, I had already experienced 2 swipes of a bamboo cane on my butt for sitting with my legs open at the table which stung so bad I couldn’t sit for a day. Keen to avoid that, I asked Nurse Im to get me some makeup, to make myself presentable.
She didn’t have much, but I made it work. A thin layer of foundation. Pastel pink lip tint. Dark brown shade of eyeliner to my upper lids. A mix of pink and maroon eyeshadow, just around the eyeball curvature. A touch of mascara, and I was ready to go. I bunched together the hem of my oversized T-shirt, and tied it in a knot at my lower back to show emphasize my small waist. Looking at the mirror, I looked like an Instagram influencer on her day off.
We had a driver take us to a nearby mall. Nurse Im and I sat in the back seat together. I asked her if she could help my tie my hair into a ponytail. I had never done it before. “Might as well lean into the college girl vibe,” I said.
“Is this really the first time you’ve put makeup on yourself?” asked Nurse Im. “Because you look way better than me, with the same stuff.” She helped me with a high ponytail, which completed the look.
“I worked at a Korean bridal studio after high school, first as an assistant, then as a makeup artist,” I told her. “I have steady hands and a good memory. I found it easy to copy looks from magazines. I got good fast.”
She gasped. “A bridal studio? But their beauty standards are…”
“Impossible,” I sighed. “But I was good at my job. Could have earned a lot more money in that business, but it was just a means to get into medical school for me.”
She shook her head. “Great body, makeup artist, and now we are going to get you clothes to match. I’m telling you, boys will be all over you.”
“I wish you would stop saying that,” I sighed. “I still don’t know what to think about men in this body.”
“Well, I have a feeling you will find out soon,” she said, matter of factly. “Once you appear in public and you get some attention on you, you will realize what your true feelings are.”
I pondered this for the rest of the car ride. We soon arrived at the mall.
It was still before noon, so the mall was pretty empty. Nurse Im was dressed casually in a flowing yellow sun dress with cute white flower prints and strappy 3 inch heels. Her hair flapped in the breeze as we walked into the mall. She looked great. Next to her, I imagined we looked like 2 girlfriends out for a shopping date, if not for the fact that we had the driver who tagged along, 10 feet behind, acting as our chaperone.
First, it was a shoe store where I got fitted for a pair of 4 inch wedges for casual wear, black pumps for a formal look, and on Nurse Im’s insistence, 5 inch stilettos which I could barely walk in. With only size 4 feet, I was basically walking on tiptoes. I talked her into letting me get a pair of sneakers for sports, even though Madam Price would probably disapprove.
Next, a stroll through a department store to pick up some basic tops, shorts and skirts for casual wear. I decided to go simple. Plain, pastel colored tops, and white, grey and black bottoms. Nurse Im talked me into a pair of jeans which were skin tight, and a leather skirt which hugged my thighs together and barely covered my bottom.
“These are the clothes you wear on a night out?” I asked her as we paid.
“No, these are the clothes YOU wear on a night out,” she replied. “I could never pull them off with my figure.
Nurse Im was about 10cm taller than me, with moderate sized breasts and a fairly curvy bottom. She has legs that went on and on, and a beautiful smile. By any judge of beauty, she was very attractive. Still, I suppose everyone as their insecurities. I didn’t point this out to her.
We passed by high end brands like Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Dior, but Nurse Im told me that we would have to come back for those later.
“We’re not dressed for those places yet,” she said. “Let’s come back after we’ve put more outfits together, or they will never take us seriously.”
“They won’t take us seriously even with a limitless credit card?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at her.
“Trust me, they keep stuff hidden away for their best customers. We’ll be back.”
I shrugged, and followed her to a place I knew we had to visit but still gave me pause before we stepped in. A lingerie store.
On our way here, Nurse Im tried to reassure me, telling me that every lady had their own preferences for bras, panties, and underwear accessories. She told me I could just try or buy as many styles as I liked, then we would come back to stock up for real. That still didn’t comfort me as I stepped into the store, with things of shapes and sizes I had never seen.
Sensing my apprehension, Nurse Im told me to browse while she approached a sales lady. As they picked up conversation, I started to browse. The shelves were full of bras, from padded to see through, strapless to very strappy across the front and back, and of multiple shapes and colours. It was impossible to know where to start.
I ran my fingers across some absentmindedly as I waited. I had never been in a store like this, even with previous girlfriends. It felt like all the bras had a purpose. Some for support, some for practicality, and other just oozed sex appeal. It was no wonder women spent billions on just underwear…
“Ooh, daring. We’ll try that one for sure.”
“Huh?” I said, glancing up. Nurse Im smiled back at me, sales lady in tow. I soon realized I had my hands on a black push up bra, that had a pink undertone behind black see through material. Its cups were only halfway up, and it looked like it would barely cover my nipples.
“No! I was just daydreaming!” I exclaimed.
The women laughed. “It’s perfectly fine,” said the sales lady. “Try it on, you may like it. I’ll show you to the changing room.
Alone in the changing room, Nurse Im and the sales lady brought me bra after bra to try, adjusting for my comfort and look. Nurse Im insisted I buy some lingerie that I thought were extremely impractical - why would I need a lace-up corset bra? But we also got some plain push up bras, because the sales lady told me my bras would need a bit of padding to support the weight of my breasts.
Finally we arrived at the bra I inadvertently stared at, which I was told was a cross between a half cup and a shelf bra. I felt self conscious at first, but putting it on and looking at myself in the mirror, I felt extremely sexy and empowered. The material barely covered my nipples, but the effect of the bra cushions pushing my breasts together formed amazing cleavage.
I stared at myself in the mirror, again lost in my thoughts. What I would have given to have a woman as sexy as this in my arms before the accident. Before I realized it, I felt the same wetness I had the night I first woke up as a lady. I tried to shake it from my mind, but my nipples were soon erect, and my face turned a faint shade of pink.
Nurse Im poked her head in and smiled. “You look great! Okay, that should do it for today. Let’s head back.”
I nodded, took off the bra, put on my old one, and stepped out, my panties soaked. The sales lady insisted I buy matching panties for each bra, from thongs to full coverage panties, which I asked for more of. I couldn’t imagine walking around with a string up my butt.
We left the store and the mall, and made our way back, the image of my lingerie clad body imprinted on the front of my mind. I would need to do something about that tonight.
I was discovering new things everyday about myself. Madam Price had me weighed and measured as soon as I was able to stand up straight. I was 158cm tall, and barely 42kg in weight. Honestly, I felt as if my breasts weighed at least 1kg each. I still couldn’t get over how massive they were on my small, thin frame.
In traditional measurements, I was 36-21-26. My hips flared out a lot, and while by butt was not massive, I still had very noticeable curves, taking my slight frame into account.
This came with challenges of their own. While most girls my height and weight would probably buy dresses in XS size, I would have to buy dresses in M or L, and have them resized because my breasts were out of proportion to my lower half - explained Nurse Im, who had taken on the role of my fashion consultant, with close scrutiny from Madam Price.
“Can’t I just wear baggy clothes that fit my top half?” I asked Madam Price during one of our sessions.
“Nonsense, Miss Bae,” she scoffed. “Women everywhere would kill for your proportions. It is your job, as a lady, to display your femininity. You will be surprised how far it will get you.”
I would look back at that moment months later to realized the power of what she said.
Physical rehabilitation was going well. After 3 days, I could finally stand and walk. I was barely able to make it 50 steps before Madam Price stormed into the room, handed Nurse I’m a pair of 4 inch black pumps, and told me that I may as well start walking in them if I could walk. No point learning how to walk twice, she said. I was not to take off the heels except to go to sleep. This set me back an entire day, and I had to learn to realign my center of balance. From my breasts to my heels, everything was pushing me forward, yet I still had to keep my back straight. I went to bed with an aching back every night.
On day 5, I could finally take a walk around the compound without looking like a toddler. The Middleton Institute for Innovation reminded me of a small university campus, minus the students. There was hardly anyone outdoors, as Nurse Im and did our laps around the main building. Nurse Im declared it was a good time to take me out for a brief shopping trip, just to get everyday essentials. I had been living in hospital gowns and borrowed workout clothes.
I must admit, for my first time out in public, I was extremely sloppily dressed, even by my male standards. Besides the usual push up bra and panties (white as usual), all the institute could loan me was a pair of yoga tights and an oversized white T-shirt with the words ‘MII’ on them. I couldn’t imagine Madam Price would be okay with me looking so shabby.
By this point, I had already experienced 2 swipes of a bamboo cane on my butt for sitting with my legs open at the table which stung so bad I couldn’t sit for a day. Keen to avoid that, I asked Nurse Im to get me some makeup, to make myself presentable.
She didn’t have much, but I made it work. A thin layer of foundation. Pastel pink lip tint. Dark brown shade of eyeliner to my upper lids. A mix of pink and maroon eyeshadow, just around the eyeball curvature. A touch of mascara, and I was ready to go. I bunched together the hem of my oversized T-shirt, and tied it in a knot at my lower back to show emphasize my small waist. Looking at the mirror, I looked like an Instagram influencer on her day off.
We had a driver take us to a nearby mall. Nurse Im and I sat in the back seat together. I asked her if she could help my tie my hair into a ponytail. I had never done it before. “Might as well lean into the college girl vibe,” I said.
“Is this really the first time you’ve put makeup on yourself?” asked Nurse Im. “Because you look way better than me, with the same stuff.” She helped me with a high ponytail, which completed the look.
“I worked at a Korean bridal studio after high school, first as an assistant, then as a makeup artist,” I told her. “I have steady hands and a good memory. I found it easy to copy looks from magazines. I got good fast.”
She gasped. “A bridal studio? But their beauty standards are…”
“Impossible,” I sighed. “But I was good at my job. Could have earned a lot more money in that business, but it was just a means to get into medical school for me.”
She shook her head. “Great body, makeup artist, and now we are going to get you clothes to match. I’m telling you, boys will be all over you.”
“I wish you would stop saying that,” I sighed. “I still don’t know what to think about men in this body.”
“Well, I have a feeling you will find out soon,” she said, matter of factly. “Once you appear in public and you get some attention on you, you will realize what your true feelings are.”
I pondered this for the rest of the car ride. We soon arrived at the mall.
It was still before noon, so the mall was pretty empty. Nurse Im was dressed casually in a flowing yellow sun dress with cute white flower prints and strappy 3 inch heels. Her hair flapped in the breeze as we walked into the mall. She looked great. Next to her, I imagined we looked like 2 girlfriends out for a shopping date, if not for the fact that we had the driver who tagged along, 10 feet behind, acting as our chaperone.
First, it was a shoe store where I got fitted for a pair of 4 inch wedges for casual wear, black pumps for a formal look, and on Nurse Im’s insistence, 5 inch stilettos which I could barely walk in. With only size 4 feet, I was basically walking on tiptoes. I talked her into letting me get a pair of sneakers for sports, even though Madam Price would probably disapprove.
Next, a stroll through a department store to pick up some basic tops, shorts and skirts for casual wear. I decided to go simple. Plain, pastel colored tops, and white, grey and black bottoms. Nurse Im talked me into a pair of jeans which were skin tight, and a leather skirt which hugged my thighs together and barely covered my bottom.
“These are the clothes you wear on a night out?” I asked her as we paid.
“No, these are the clothes YOU wear on a night out,” she replied. “I could never pull them off with my figure.
Nurse Im was about 10cm taller than me, with moderate sized breasts and a fairly curvy bottom. She has legs that went on and on, and a beautiful smile. By any judge of beauty, she was very attractive. Still, I suppose everyone as their insecurities. I didn’t point this out to her.
We passed by high end brands like Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Dior, but Nurse Im told me that we would have to come back for those later.
“We’re not dressed for those places yet,” she said. “Let’s come back after we’ve put more outfits together, or they will never take us seriously.”
“They won’t take us seriously even with a limitless credit card?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at her.
“Trust me, they keep stuff hidden away for their best customers. We’ll be back.”
I shrugged, and followed her to a place I knew we had to visit but still gave me pause before we stepped in. A lingerie store.
On our way here, Nurse Im tried to reassure me, telling me that every lady had their own preferences for bras, panties, and underwear accessories. She told me I could just try or buy as many styles as I liked, then we would come back to stock up for real. That still didn’t comfort me as I stepped into the store, with things of shapes and sizes I had never seen.
Sensing my apprehension, Nurse Im told me to browse while she approached a sales lady. As they picked up conversation, I started to browse. The shelves were full of bras, from padded to see through, strapless to very strappy across the front and back, and of multiple shapes and colours. It was impossible to know where to start.
I ran my fingers across some absentmindedly as I waited. I had never been in a store like this, even with previous girlfriends. It felt like all the bras had a purpose. Some for support, some for practicality, and other just oozed sex appeal. It was no wonder women spent billions on just underwear…
“Ooh, daring. We’ll try that one for sure.”
“Huh?” I said, glancing up. Nurse Im smiled back at me, sales lady in tow. I soon realized I had my hands on a black push up bra, that had a pink undertone behind black see through material. Its cups were only halfway up, and it looked like it would barely cover my nipples.
“No! I was just daydreaming!” I exclaimed.
The women laughed. “It’s perfectly fine,” said the sales lady. “Try it on, you may like it. I’ll show you to the changing room.
Alone in the changing room, Nurse Im and the sales lady brought me bra after bra to try, adjusting for my comfort and look. Nurse Im insisted I buy some lingerie that I thought were extremely impractical - why would I need a lace-up corset bra? But we also got some plain push up bras, because the sales lady told me my bras would need a bit of padding to support the weight of my breasts.
Finally we arrived at the bra I inadvertently stared at, which I was told was a cross between a half cup and a shelf bra. I felt self conscious at first, but putting it on and looking at myself in the mirror, I felt extremely sexy and empowered. The material barely covered my nipples, but the effect of the bra cushions pushing my breasts together formed amazing cleavage.
I stared at myself in the mirror, again lost in my thoughts. What I would have given to have a woman as sexy as this in my arms before the accident. Before I realized it, I felt the same wetness I had the night I first woke up as a lady. I tried to shake it from my mind, but my nipples were soon erect, and my face turned a faint shade of pink.
Nurse Im poked her head in and smiled. “You look great! Okay, that should do it for today. Let’s head back.”
I nodded, took off the bra, put on my old one, and stepped out, my panties soaked. The sales lady insisted I buy matching panties for each bra, from thongs to full coverage panties, which I asked for more of. I couldn’t imagine walking around with a string up my butt.
We left the store and the mall, and made our way back, the image of my lingerie clad body imprinted on the front of my mind. I would need to do something about that tonight.
I said goodnight to Nurse Bae as I got to my room, and went to the bathroom to disrobe. She had left me to myself for the past 2 nights, since I was now able to use the toilet and change on my own. It took a lot of effort to carry all my purchases to the room, and by now my shirt was soaked in sweat. The outline of my bra was clearly visible through my T-shirt, and I caught a few passerby’s stares.
Still, the most worrying part for me was getting out of the soaked panties, and into some clean clothes while I figured out what to do with my general feeling of unease, which I knew was just a symptom of me being horny.
I put on a hot shower and stood under it, hoping to calm myself down. When that didn’t work, I decided to go for it. I had touched myself many times as a man. Why shouldn’t I be able to in my new body?
First, I put 2 fingers on my erect right nipple, giving it a squeeze and massage. I closed my eyes, trying to put away the awkwardness of what I was trying to do. Runs of electricity flowed from my breasts to my groin, and I felt the wetness increase.
My other hand reached for my clitoris, moving it up and down in the flow of water. I started to moan. I slowly increased the pressure as my heart started to race.
“Ughhh.. mmmmm,” I moaned over and over as I kept the rhythm. My mind floated to the memory of my large breasts, clad with the sexiest lingerie, and my thin smooth legs. I really was getting turned on by my own body.
Still, try as I might, after what felt like half an hour, I still didn’t achieve the release that I wanted. After a while I gave up. Frustrated, I got out of the bath, dried myself, and went to get myself some clothes.
I chose a pair of black lace panties, and there, right next to it, was the black push up bra that got me into this mess in the first place. It had lace along its sides that matched the panties. I decided to just put it on. I wasn’t in the mood for rummaging for other options.
I didn’t have any pajamas, so I settled for a short black silk robe that the lingerie store threw in as a free gift after my very large purchase. I admit, in the mirror, I did look like a girlfriend looking to surprise a boyfriend on a special day. My mind wandered briefly to the thought of someone else seeing me in this outfit, but I put it out of my mind, and went to bed.
By about midnight, I realized it was useless. My body still felt like it was burning up, my panties were again soaked, and my nipples hurt from being erect for so long. Did someone forget to put an off switch on this body?! As embarrassed as I was, I decided to bring it up with Dr Morris the next time we met.
I thought about Nurse Bae’s offer to ‘help’ me the next time the same situation occurred. I knew she must not be far. How should I ask for her help without her feeling used? What I was proposing was basically for her to service me. I couldn’t ask her for that.
As I tossed in my bed for an answer, I heard the doorknob on my door click. It was dark, but I could see a female figure in the doorway. The figure walked in, shut the door behind her, and drew the curtains.
“Nurse Im?” I asked.
“Shh…” came the reply. It was her. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I saw you were struggling to sleep on the monitor. Your heart rate was raised. Are you alright?”
I hesitated. I suddenly remembered I was basically a lab experiment with eyes on me at all times.
“Just couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.
I couldn’t see her face in the dark, but I could tell she was staring at me. Suddenly, she nodded, and silently took off what looked like a long jacket.
She came to the side of the bed, and bent closer to me. It was then I realized that she was dressed in lingerie with a bodice that looked like a corset, that reached from her breasts to just below her belly button. It pushed her breasts together, and 2 shoulder straps held it up. Garter straps hung from it, attached to sheer thigh high pantyhose. She wore no panties.
In one motion, she climbed onto my bed and straddled me. I was too shocked to speak, as she lowered her body onto mine, and started to kiss me full in the mouth.
The feeling was wonderful. I started moaning almost immediately. As her kisses picked up intensity, I was more and more aware of the feeling of our breasts pressed against each other through our garments, and my wet vagina against hers, only separated by a thin piece of fabric - my own panties.
She seemed to know what she was doing, because my robe was on the floor before I realized it, and with one smooth hand motion, my panties were gone. She left the bra on, and continued to grind her breasts and groin against mine, as we felt each other’s wetness.
She was quite a bit taller than me, so while I couldn’t reach down to touch her clitoris, but she definitely got to mine. A few rubs of a finger almost sent me over the edge, but once again, when she put her fingers in my vagina and thrusted, I achieved the release I had been waiting for. She cupped her free hand to my mouth as I basically screamed through my orgasm, which seemed to last for ages.
After it subsided, I tried to get out of bed, but she told me to stay there.
“Can’t I do the same for you?” I asked her.
I could tell she was smiling as my eyes adjusted to the dark. “We’ll do it with this,” she said. She reached into her coat and pulled out what looked like a massive dildo. But as I looked, I suddenly saw that it had 2 tips. I realized what was happening immediately.
“Girl parts alone won’t do it for me,” she said. “Will you do it with me?”
I nodded, even though I was terrified. The opportunity to have sex with this lady might never come again. I decided to go through with it.
She took the lead, lubricating one tip, and massaging my breasts and clit, to get me turned on again. Then she slowly slid the tip of the dildo into my vagina.
I gasped, as I felt filled up more and more until I felt impaled. Slowly, I relaxed, and sat up to help Nurse Im with the other tip, which glided easily into her cave.
The dildo was flexible, so Nurse Im guided me on top of her, keeping the both heads of the dildo in place. I straddled her, and slowly began to thrust. As she responded in kind, the sight of my lingerie clad breasts, and her perfect glistening body below mine almost became too much to handle. Within minutes, I felt another orgasm building, but I held on for as long as I could, as Nurse Im finally started to moan and grunt.
After a few minutes, she was in the throes of orgasm. I finally let myself go too. We continued to grind against each other until I was gasping for air. It was heavenly.
Nurse Im lay next to me, stroking my hair. “I figured this would happen after I saw your face in the store,” she said. “So I made a little purchase myself. Do you like it?”
I put a hand around her waist. “I love it. Thank you, for always being there for me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. “Now go to sleep.”
Once again, I was asleep in minutes.
Still, the most worrying part for me was getting out of the soaked panties, and into some clean clothes while I figured out what to do with my general feeling of unease, which I knew was just a symptom of me being horny.
I put on a hot shower and stood under it, hoping to calm myself down. When that didn’t work, I decided to go for it. I had touched myself many times as a man. Why shouldn’t I be able to in my new body?
First, I put 2 fingers on my erect right nipple, giving it a squeeze and massage. I closed my eyes, trying to put away the awkwardness of what I was trying to do. Runs of electricity flowed from my breasts to my groin, and I felt the wetness increase.
My other hand reached for my clitoris, moving it up and down in the flow of water. I started to moan. I slowly increased the pressure as my heart started to race.
“Ughhh.. mmmmm,” I moaned over and over as I kept the rhythm. My mind floated to the memory of my large breasts, clad with the sexiest lingerie, and my thin smooth legs. I really was getting turned on by my own body.
Still, try as I might, after what felt like half an hour, I still didn’t achieve the release that I wanted. After a while I gave up. Frustrated, I got out of the bath, dried myself, and went to get myself some clothes.
I chose a pair of black lace panties, and there, right next to it, was the black push up bra that got me into this mess in the first place. It had lace along its sides that matched the panties. I decided to just put it on. I wasn’t in the mood for rummaging for other options.
I didn’t have any pajamas, so I settled for a short black silk robe that the lingerie store threw in as a free gift after my very large purchase. I admit, in the mirror, I did look like a girlfriend looking to surprise a boyfriend on a special day. My mind wandered briefly to the thought of someone else seeing me in this outfit, but I put it out of my mind, and went to bed.
By about midnight, I realized it was useless. My body still felt like it was burning up, my panties were again soaked, and my nipples hurt from being erect for so long. Did someone forget to put an off switch on this body?! As embarrassed as I was, I decided to bring it up with Dr Morris the next time we met.
I thought about Nurse Bae’s offer to ‘help’ me the next time the same situation occurred. I knew she must not be far. How should I ask for her help without her feeling used? What I was proposing was basically for her to service me. I couldn’t ask her for that.
As I tossed in my bed for an answer, I heard the doorknob on my door click. It was dark, but I could see a female figure in the doorway. The figure walked in, shut the door behind her, and drew the curtains.
“Nurse Im?” I asked.
“Shh…” came the reply. It was her. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I saw you were struggling to sleep on the monitor. Your heart rate was raised. Are you alright?”
I hesitated. I suddenly remembered I was basically a lab experiment with eyes on me at all times.
“Just couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.
I couldn’t see her face in the dark, but I could tell she was staring at me. Suddenly, she nodded, and silently took off what looked like a long jacket.
She came to the side of the bed, and bent closer to me. It was then I realized that she was dressed in lingerie with a bodice that looked like a corset, that reached from her breasts to just below her belly button. It pushed her breasts together, and 2 shoulder straps held it up. Garter straps hung from it, attached to sheer thigh high pantyhose. She wore no panties.
In one motion, she climbed onto my bed and straddled me. I was too shocked to speak, as she lowered her body onto mine, and started to kiss me full in the mouth.
The feeling was wonderful. I started moaning almost immediately. As her kisses picked up intensity, I was more and more aware of the feeling of our breasts pressed against each other through our garments, and my wet vagina against hers, only separated by a thin piece of fabric - my own panties.
She seemed to know what she was doing, because my robe was on the floor before I realized it, and with one smooth hand motion, my panties were gone. She left the bra on, and continued to grind her breasts and groin against mine, as we felt each other’s wetness.
She was quite a bit taller than me, so while I couldn’t reach down to touch her clitoris, but she definitely got to mine. A few rubs of a finger almost sent me over the edge, but once again, when she put her fingers in my vagina and thrusted, I achieved the release I had been waiting for. She cupped her free hand to my mouth as I basically screamed through my orgasm, which seemed to last for ages.
After it subsided, I tried to get out of bed, but she told me to stay there.
“Can’t I do the same for you?” I asked her.
I could tell she was smiling as my eyes adjusted to the dark. “We’ll do it with this,” she said. She reached into her coat and pulled out what looked like a massive dildo. But as I looked, I suddenly saw that it had 2 tips. I realized what was happening immediately.
“Girl parts alone won’t do it for me,” she said. “Will you do it with me?”
I nodded, even though I was terrified. The opportunity to have sex with this lady might never come again. I decided to go through with it.
She took the lead, lubricating one tip, and massaging my breasts and clit, to get me turned on again. Then she slowly slid the tip of the dildo into my vagina.
I gasped, as I felt filled up more and more until I felt impaled. Slowly, I relaxed, and sat up to help Nurse Im with the other tip, which glided easily into her cave.
The dildo was flexible, so Nurse Im guided me on top of her, keeping the both heads of the dildo in place. I straddled her, and slowly began to thrust. As she responded in kind, the sight of my lingerie clad breasts, and her perfect glistening body below mine almost became too much to handle. Within minutes, I felt another orgasm building, but I held on for as long as I could, as Nurse Im finally started to moan and grunt.
After a few minutes, she was in the throes of orgasm. I finally let myself go too. We continued to grind against each other until I was gasping for air. It was heavenly.
Nurse Im lay next to me, stroking my hair. “I figured this would happen after I saw your face in the store,” she said. “So I made a little purchase myself. Do you like it?”
I put a hand around her waist. “I love it. Thank you, for always being there for me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. “Now go to sleep.”
Once again, I was asleep in minutes.
I woke up the next day groggy, hair askew, and late for my lessons with Madam Price. I rushed into the shower, put on the most conservative outfit I bought the day before - a green knee length fit and flare dress with flower prints, which had sleeves up to my elbows, and a skirt which reached my knees.
I knew I would be in trouble anyway, so I put on the white sneakers I bought, and ran as fast as I could to the classroom. I arrived, hair all over the place and gasping for breath.
As I expected, Madam Price was not happy. She swapped out my sneakers for 5 inch heels immediately, and made me stand on a balance board, forcing me to stay still and upright while she critiqued my outfit and look. I fell off twice, and almost fractured my right arm trying to break my fall, but was told to get back on. My calves and back were killing me after an hour.
Next came more etiquette lessons, speaking lessons (apparently I didn’t sound ladylike enough) and for good measure, handwriting lessons. I had to practice perfect cursive font, and got a swat of a cane on my hands every time a word went wrong. The back of my hands were blue by the end of the session.
By lunch, I was told that Dr Morris wanted to see me. Great, I thought. Anything but this.
I was escorted back into the room that I first woke up in. Back on the examination table I went, and after a quick blood draw and a physical examination, Dr Morris had me sit up and declared me “Good to go. It’s as if you were never injured. Inflammation levels are down, and looks like all your organs have adapted to the changes. No signs of rejection or organ failure.”
“Amazing,” I said, shaking my head. “What you did to me… this will revolutionize how you treat injured patients.”
He laughed. “If we had 50 million pounds to spend on each patient, it could. Unfortunately, I think we will have to wait to see if we can streamline the process more.”
My eyes widened. “50 million pounds? Are you serious? Where did that kind of money come from?”
“I believe neither you nor I are privy to that information,” he said, smiling. “Now, down to business. I would like to schedule you for another follow up visit in 1 month. I believe you will be issued a phone soon. My number is on it. If you are feeling unwell, call me, and we will come get you wherever in the world you are.”
“Thanks,” I said to him. In a way, I did feel grateful. Even though this was a huge change in my life, I was alive. Without Dr Morris, I would be dead.
“Now, do you have any final questions for me before I leave?” He asked.
I pondered this. Honestly, there were too many questions to ask. I have always considered myself pretty up to date on medical advances, but the technology here, and the things done to me were just out of a sci-fi novel. Did they even regrow limbs on Star Trek?
Suddenly, it hit me.
“You said rejection. If the DNA of all my organs are mine, why would I need to worry about that?”
Dr Morris’ smile faded for the first time since I met him. “You caught that, didn’t you?”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Dr Morris, what did you do?”
“Look,” he began. “The technology we acquired, does change cell DNA, yes. And new cells that are being generated in your body, those are entirely yours. But you need anti rejection meds because you have a new X chromosome, and some of your cells still express proteins produced by the Y chromosome in your old body.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. That made sense. But still, I sensed he was hiding something. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
He sighed. “Yes. While your body does regenerate cells at an amazing rate, it is impossible at our current technology to regenerate whole organs and limbs. We had to get some donor organs and limbs which would fit the desired frame, and essentially, transplant them into you.”
“What isn’t mine, Dr Morris?” I asked, feeling anger build in my head for the first time.
“Both legs, all female organs, including cervix, vagina, uterus and ovaries, and about 80cm of small bowel.”
“Who were the donors?”
“Women with organ donation cards found with you at the site.”
I sat back, hyperventilating. “So… my legs and female organs… they could be from Alice?”
“Alice?” Asked Dr Morris.
“The woman I was trying to rescue at the run.”
“I don’t have that information, but if she was an organ donor, that is a possibility.”
“How could you not tell me!” I screamed at him. “She was my best friend!”
“Miss Bae, I apologise,” he said, looking straight at me. “You must realize that what you have gone through… it’s a lot to take as it is. Expert psychiatrists told me that I was not to share this information with you until you were stable, otherwise you would be at risk for PTSD and depression. That’s the last thing we want. And for another thing, if you would like to find out who the donors were, I can get the information for you. It may not even be your friend.”
At this point, I burst into tears, hormones overloading my system. I hadn’t really been allowed time and space to grieve my friend, but it all came out. It was an hour before I finally calmed down. Dr Morris sat next to me the whole time, staying wordless.
As we both sat there in silence, a knock came at the door.
“Dr Morris? Agent James is here for Miss Bae,” said a nurse.
Dr Morris looked at me. I nodded.
“Send him in,” said the doctor.
I knew I would be in trouble anyway, so I put on the white sneakers I bought, and ran as fast as I could to the classroom. I arrived, hair all over the place and gasping for breath.
As I expected, Madam Price was not happy. She swapped out my sneakers for 5 inch heels immediately, and made me stand on a balance board, forcing me to stay still and upright while she critiqued my outfit and look. I fell off twice, and almost fractured my right arm trying to break my fall, but was told to get back on. My calves and back were killing me after an hour.
Next came more etiquette lessons, speaking lessons (apparently I didn’t sound ladylike enough) and for good measure, handwriting lessons. I had to practice perfect cursive font, and got a swat of a cane on my hands every time a word went wrong. The back of my hands were blue by the end of the session.
By lunch, I was told that Dr Morris wanted to see me. Great, I thought. Anything but this.
I was escorted back into the room that I first woke up in. Back on the examination table I went, and after a quick blood draw and a physical examination, Dr Morris had me sit up and declared me “Good to go. It’s as if you were never injured. Inflammation levels are down, and looks like all your organs have adapted to the changes. No signs of rejection or organ failure.”
“Amazing,” I said, shaking my head. “What you did to me… this will revolutionize how you treat injured patients.”
He laughed. “If we had 50 million pounds to spend on each patient, it could. Unfortunately, I think we will have to wait to see if we can streamline the process more.”
My eyes widened. “50 million pounds? Are you serious? Where did that kind of money come from?”
“I believe neither you nor I are privy to that information,” he said, smiling. “Now, down to business. I would like to schedule you for another follow up visit in 1 month. I believe you will be issued a phone soon. My number is on it. If you are feeling unwell, call me, and we will come get you wherever in the world you are.”
“Thanks,” I said to him. In a way, I did feel grateful. Even though this was a huge change in my life, I was alive. Without Dr Morris, I would be dead.
“Now, do you have any final questions for me before I leave?” He asked.
I pondered this. Honestly, there were too many questions to ask. I have always considered myself pretty up to date on medical advances, but the technology here, and the things done to me were just out of a sci-fi novel. Did they even regrow limbs on Star Trek?
Suddenly, it hit me.
“You said rejection. If the DNA of all my organs are mine, why would I need to worry about that?”
Dr Morris’ smile faded for the first time since I met him. “You caught that, didn’t you?”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Dr Morris, what did you do?”
“Look,” he began. “The technology we acquired, does change cell DNA, yes. And new cells that are being generated in your body, those are entirely yours. But you need anti rejection meds because you have a new X chromosome, and some of your cells still express proteins produced by the Y chromosome in your old body.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. That made sense. But still, I sensed he was hiding something. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
He sighed. “Yes. While your body does regenerate cells at an amazing rate, it is impossible at our current technology to regenerate whole organs and limbs. We had to get some donor organs and limbs which would fit the desired frame, and essentially, transplant them into you.”
“What isn’t mine, Dr Morris?” I asked, feeling anger build in my head for the first time.
“Both legs, all female organs, including cervix, vagina, uterus and ovaries, and about 80cm of small bowel.”
“Who were the donors?”
“Women with organ donation cards found with you at the site.”
I sat back, hyperventilating. “So… my legs and female organs… they could be from Alice?”
“Alice?” Asked Dr Morris.
“The woman I was trying to rescue at the run.”
“I don’t have that information, but if she was an organ donor, that is a possibility.”
“How could you not tell me!” I screamed at him. “She was my best friend!”
“Miss Bae, I apologise,” he said, looking straight at me. “You must realize that what you have gone through… it’s a lot to take as it is. Expert psychiatrists told me that I was not to share this information with you until you were stable, otherwise you would be at risk for PTSD and depression. That’s the last thing we want. And for another thing, if you would like to find out who the donors were, I can get the information for you. It may not even be your friend.”
At this point, I burst into tears, hormones overloading my system. I hadn’t really been allowed time and space to grieve my friend, but it all came out. It was an hour before I finally calmed down. Dr Morris sat next to me the whole time, staying wordless.
As we both sat there in silence, a knock came at the door.
“Dr Morris? Agent James is here for Miss Bae,” said a nurse.
Dr Morris looked at me. I nodded.
“Send him in,” said the doctor.
Agent James was dressed exactly the same as before, in a black suit and black shoes. It was comical how much he looked like someone from Men in Black, minus the shades. Still, I was still having trouble seeing the humour in it after crying for an hour.
“Good evening Miss Bae,” he began. “I am here with details of your mission. I trust from the progress reports I received from Madam Price and Dr Morris, that you are ready.”
“What?” I said softly. But it’s barely been a week. Wasn’t I supposed to get two weeks?”
“The timeline of our mission has been fast forwarded by circumstances beyond our control. You will be deployed at 0400 hours tomorrow.”
“But I’ve barely completed my training,” I told him. “Sure I can walk, but my stamina can hardly allow me to run 1 kilometer. What if I need to escape?”
“We will provide you with the necessary assistance to keep you as safe as possible. Now, may I continue?”
I could tell I wasn’t expected to have an opinion in this. “Sure,” I replied, crossing my hands under my breasts. Crossing my arms across the front of my chest was no longer possible with my large bust.
“Our suspect is this man,” he said, pulling out a flatscreen monitor, as big as an iPad, but much thinner. “Nam Joo Hyuk, 38 years old, American citizen. We believe he has been radicalized by the North Koreans and is the leader of the massacre operation.”
The photo was of a man with an strong, angled jaw, a complexion much darker than what you would expect on an Asian man, and he was built like a MMA fighter.
“He now resides in Houston, Texas, but we have received information that he is about to move in 3 days. Where he is moving to, we don’t know. We need you to gather evidence that he is involved in the massacre, so we can apprehend him.”
I swallowed. “You need me to do this in 3 days?” I asked.
“Ideally yes,” said the agent. “But we think you may have a better shot of convincing him to stay, or at the very least, get him to tell you where he is moving to. This way, you will buy yourself more time.”
“Why do you think he’s your man?” I asked.
“We traced the digital signal of the drone used in the attack to within 3 miles of his location. He also has some suspicious activity on the web, which leads us to believe he’s our guy.”
“What kind of activity?”
“Learning about how to build home made bombs, how to procure weapons, how to hack computer systems,” said Agent James. “He’s our prime suspect at this time.”
I breathed in. “Okay,” I said. “How do I get there?”
“We have a commercial flight leaving at 0400H from Heathrow. We have your ticket and identification. This is your phone,” he handed me an iPhone. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I knew how to use this.
“It unlocks only to your face, as all iPhones do, but it also has an extra feature that will only allow certain features to unlock if it’s in contact with your own skin cells. You can read the manual on the flight.”
“Right,” I said, flipping through the apps. I hit Instagram, and saw that I already had a profile in place. It had pictures of a girl that looked a lot like me, but oldest photo was dated 3 years ago. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Every person has social media nowadays, so we had an actress with a similar look take pictures of herself, and we then photoshopped your likeness onto it. It’s to give your undercover persona a backstory.”
I scrolled through the feed. The photos were your typical influencer posed shots. Staring into the distance at a designer cafe, in a bikini at the beach, graduating college, playing with a dog, and even getting drinks at a club. I noticed that none of the pictures had any identifiers, like sign boards or location stamps. This was a totally generic account. In most of the pictures, the actress looked away or only showed the side of her face, so it was really tough to tell it wasn’t me.
“This is frightening,” I told Agent James.
“We are good, I told you,” he replied.
“No Facebook, Twitter, TikTok?”
“Our social media guru,” (he appeared to roll his eyes at the word) “Told us that the social elite would only need Instagram. You will be expected to keep your online presence. 3 posts a week, 1 story a day minimum.”
“I thought I was going undercover,” I remarked, scratching my head. I barely posted once a month as a man. Now I would have to do something daily?
“It’s hiding in plain sight. And it’s the best thing to do for your new look. You would throw everyone’s guard off.”
“How do I explain that I only have 20 followers?” I asked him. “The girl in these photos, she would have at least 50 thousand.”
“Just tell them the account was set to private before, but you have only just made it public after graduation,” he answered smoothly. I suddenly remembered that I was 21 in this body.
I breathed in, steadying myself. “Okay,” I said. “Do I get a weapon? I am an agent right?”
“Your phone works as a taser as well,” he said, showing me the app that would turn it on. “But in case of emergencies, you should wear this as well.” He handed me a necklace with a small locket.
“That only opens to your fingerprint, and it contains a compound which will put any adult to sleep within 3 seconds. Just open the locket, throw the capsule on the ground, the compound will go airbourne, and you can escape any situation.”
“But won’t I fall asleep as well?”
“I have been informed that your body is immune to this particular compound in small doses. So once it goes off, as long as you run away, you should be fine.”
“So I don’t get a gun for self defense,” I sighed.
“You can’t bring guns on commercial flights, Miss Bae,” Agent James said, standing up. He handed me the tablet. “All your information is on here, and I was asked to give you this.” He handed me a mid sized black Chanel handbag.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, taking it. I opened it to reveal my passport, some makeup, a wallet with cash and some old student IDs.
“Good luck, Miss Bae. We will be in touch.”
“Good evening Miss Bae,” he began. “I am here with details of your mission. I trust from the progress reports I received from Madam Price and Dr Morris, that you are ready.”
“What?” I said softly. But it’s barely been a week. Wasn’t I supposed to get two weeks?”
“The timeline of our mission has been fast forwarded by circumstances beyond our control. You will be deployed at 0400 hours tomorrow.”
“But I’ve barely completed my training,” I told him. “Sure I can walk, but my stamina can hardly allow me to run 1 kilometer. What if I need to escape?”
“We will provide you with the necessary assistance to keep you as safe as possible. Now, may I continue?”
I could tell I wasn’t expected to have an opinion in this. “Sure,” I replied, crossing my hands under my breasts. Crossing my arms across the front of my chest was no longer possible with my large bust.
“Our suspect is this man,” he said, pulling out a flatscreen monitor, as big as an iPad, but much thinner. “Nam Joo Hyuk, 38 years old, American citizen. We believe he has been radicalized by the North Koreans and is the leader of the massacre operation.”
The photo was of a man with an strong, angled jaw, a complexion much darker than what you would expect on an Asian man, and he was built like a MMA fighter.
“He now resides in Houston, Texas, but we have received information that he is about to move in 3 days. Where he is moving to, we don’t know. We need you to gather evidence that he is involved in the massacre, so we can apprehend him.”
I swallowed. “You need me to do this in 3 days?” I asked.
“Ideally yes,” said the agent. “But we think you may have a better shot of convincing him to stay, or at the very least, get him to tell you where he is moving to. This way, you will buy yourself more time.”
“Why do you think he’s your man?” I asked.
“We traced the digital signal of the drone used in the attack to within 3 miles of his location. He also has some suspicious activity on the web, which leads us to believe he’s our guy.”
“What kind of activity?”
“Learning about how to build home made bombs, how to procure weapons, how to hack computer systems,” said Agent James. “He’s our prime suspect at this time.”
I breathed in. “Okay,” I said. “How do I get there?”
“We have a commercial flight leaving at 0400H from Heathrow. We have your ticket and identification. This is your phone,” he handed me an iPhone. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I knew how to use this.
“It unlocks only to your face, as all iPhones do, but it also has an extra feature that will only allow certain features to unlock if it’s in contact with your own skin cells. You can read the manual on the flight.”
“Right,” I said, flipping through the apps. I hit Instagram, and saw that I already had a profile in place. It had pictures of a girl that looked a lot like me, but oldest photo was dated 3 years ago. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Every person has social media nowadays, so we had an actress with a similar look take pictures of herself, and we then photoshopped your likeness onto it. It’s to give your undercover persona a backstory.”
I scrolled through the feed. The photos were your typical influencer posed shots. Staring into the distance at a designer cafe, in a bikini at the beach, graduating college, playing with a dog, and even getting drinks at a club. I noticed that none of the pictures had any identifiers, like sign boards or location stamps. This was a totally generic account. In most of the pictures, the actress looked away or only showed the side of her face, so it was really tough to tell it wasn’t me.
“This is frightening,” I told Agent James.
“We are good, I told you,” he replied.
“No Facebook, Twitter, TikTok?”
“Our social media guru,” (he appeared to roll his eyes at the word) “Told us that the social elite would only need Instagram. You will be expected to keep your online presence. 3 posts a week, 1 story a day minimum.”
“I thought I was going undercover,” I remarked, scratching my head. I barely posted once a month as a man. Now I would have to do something daily?
“It’s hiding in plain sight. And it’s the best thing to do for your new look. You would throw everyone’s guard off.”
“How do I explain that I only have 20 followers?” I asked him. “The girl in these photos, she would have at least 50 thousand.”
“Just tell them the account was set to private before, but you have only just made it public after graduation,” he answered smoothly. I suddenly remembered that I was 21 in this body.
I breathed in, steadying myself. “Okay,” I said. “Do I get a weapon? I am an agent right?”
“Your phone works as a taser as well,” he said, showing me the app that would turn it on. “But in case of emergencies, you should wear this as well.” He handed me a necklace with a small locket.
“That only opens to your fingerprint, and it contains a compound which will put any adult to sleep within 3 seconds. Just open the locket, throw the capsule on the ground, the compound will go airbourne, and you can escape any situation.”
“But won’t I fall asleep as well?”
“I have been informed that your body is immune to this particular compound in small doses. So once it goes off, as long as you run away, you should be fine.”
“So I don’t get a gun for self defense,” I sighed.
“You can’t bring guns on commercial flights, Miss Bae,” Agent James said, standing up. He handed me the tablet. “All your information is on here, and I was asked to give you this.” He handed me a mid sized black Chanel handbag.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, taking it. I opened it to reveal my passport, some makeup, a wallet with cash and some old student IDs.
“Good luck, Miss Bae. We will be in touch.”
By the time I got back to my room, there were already 2 ladies there. One was Madam Price, and another was a nurse whom I saw occasionally. They were both deep in my shopping bags, and appeared to be packing for me.
Well trained by now, I gave her a slight curtsy upon entering. “Good evening Madam Price, to what do I owe the visit?” I asked. I couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in my voice. I did need help packing, but she was honestly the last person I was hoping to see me off.
“I have been informed of your impending departure, and I needed to make sure you have everything you needed,” she said.
“Oh, okay,” I said. “Thank you for the thought. But I’m sure I can do it. I don’t have much belongings.”
“Nonsense, little lady,” she retorted. “I am putting together outfits for you from your purchases, and I have been asked to put together some appropriate uniforms for your variety of work. They are in that chest in the corner.”
She wasn’t kidding. A wooden chest at least a meter wide sat in the corner of the room. It looked like a treasure chest, or what kids from Hogwarts put their belongings in.
“It will be shipped to you,” she explained to me. “I have put together this outfit for your trip. Put it on.” She pointed to my bed.
It was a short black spaghetti strap polyester blend bodycon dress that already looked way too tight for me. She paired it with nude pantyhose, knee high brown boots, and a see through cardigan which looked like it would provide no warmth at all.
“It must be 10 degrees Celsius out there, I’ll freeze to death!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll wear a long trench coat along with it, you’ll be fine. Now take this, and put on the outfit so you can help with the packing. She handed me a black strapless push up bra. Evidently, exposed skin was ok as long as I didn’t have any bra straps showing.
Into the toilet I went. Off came the green dress and bra. I had to struggle with the strapless bra, having never put one on outside the changing room at the lingerie shop, but I finally got my breasts settled in place, cleavage on show as usual. The bra was tighter than what I was used to, but I suppose it had to be without straps.
The black dress went up my butt easily, but I had to get the nurse to help me with the zipper on my back. The neckline was a straight cut, but as she zipped the dress up, the tops of my breasts were clearly visible above the neckline. The skirt barely covered my mid thigh. I knew sitting would be a challenge. I decided to put on the pantyhose and boots after I packed.
When I stepped out, Madam Price walked me through my carry on, which was a small roller bag, stuffed to the brim with makeup supplies, enough outfit changes for 2 days, and another pair of high heels. Everything else would be sent to me, she explained. I wanted to ask her about where I was going, but stopped myself, realizing she had no idea what my actual mission was.
Instead, I bowed my head and said “Thank you for everything Madam Price.”
She nodded. “Just remember everything you have been taught. Now a car is waiting for you outside. You should go.”
I picked up my handbag and carry on, feeling like I was forgetting something. “Wait,” I said. “Can I say goodbye to Nurse Im?” I asked.
“Since you have completed your rehabilitation, Nurse Im has been reassigned to another patient,” said the nurse next to me.
“She’s still in the building right? Can’t you get her for me?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bae,” she replied. “She left the compound this evening. I think she was assigned to another center.”
My head dropped. “Can’t I even get a phone number? We became close, and I think she would like it if we stayed in touch.”
Madam Price turned on me. “Don’t be silly, Miss Bae. She was just doing her job, as am I. We cannot hand out the personal information of our staff mindlessly. Now put on your boots quickly. I will not tolerate tardiness until you are out of my sight.”
I sighed, and sat on the bed to put on my pantyhose and boots. I guess this was what life would be like under the employ of MI6. A series of goodbyes, and an invisible existence. Tears came to my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. Nurse Im was not gone. Somehow, after my mission was over, I would find her and thank her.
I looked around the room where we spent time together. All traces of either of us had been put away. The notes she put up around the room to remind me to do my muscle strengthening exercises, and motivational words to keep me going. The flowers she brought on daily to boost my spirits. None of them remained. This was now a generic hospital room.
I reached for the Chanel handbag, and looked for a tissue inside. Rummaging inside, I didn’t find any, but I noticed a concealed zip at the bottom. I opened it to reveal a box and a note. I recognized the handwriting on the note immediately. It was from Nurse Im. I opened it immediately to read.
Dear Na Eun,
After you left, I snuck back to the Chanel store to get this for you. I hope you like it, it’s one of a kind. It probably costs a year of Madam Price’s wages.
I wanted to thank you for not only being a good patient, but a friend as well. I think it’s unlikely that we will meet in the near future, with MI6 being what it is, but I will treasure the time we spent together.
Meanwhile, I am leaving you with something that I think will help you in times of need.
With love,
Soo Yeon
I lifted the lid off the box. I recognized what it was immediately, and shut the box, looking around, hoping no one else saw it. It was a large pink dildo.
This could be fun.
Well trained by now, I gave her a slight curtsy upon entering. “Good evening Madam Price, to what do I owe the visit?” I asked. I couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in my voice. I did need help packing, but she was honestly the last person I was hoping to see me off.
“I have been informed of your impending departure, and I needed to make sure you have everything you needed,” she said.
“Oh, okay,” I said. “Thank you for the thought. But I’m sure I can do it. I don’t have much belongings.”
“Nonsense, little lady,” she retorted. “I am putting together outfits for you from your purchases, and I have been asked to put together some appropriate uniforms for your variety of work. They are in that chest in the corner.”
She wasn’t kidding. A wooden chest at least a meter wide sat in the corner of the room. It looked like a treasure chest, or what kids from Hogwarts put their belongings in.
“It will be shipped to you,” she explained to me. “I have put together this outfit for your trip. Put it on.” She pointed to my bed.
It was a short black spaghetti strap polyester blend bodycon dress that already looked way too tight for me. She paired it with nude pantyhose, knee high brown boots, and a see through cardigan which looked like it would provide no warmth at all.
“It must be 10 degrees Celsius out there, I’ll freeze to death!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll wear a long trench coat along with it, you’ll be fine. Now take this, and put on the outfit so you can help with the packing. She handed me a black strapless push up bra. Evidently, exposed skin was ok as long as I didn’t have any bra straps showing.
Into the toilet I went. Off came the green dress and bra. I had to struggle with the strapless bra, having never put one on outside the changing room at the lingerie shop, but I finally got my breasts settled in place, cleavage on show as usual. The bra was tighter than what I was used to, but I suppose it had to be without straps.
The black dress went up my butt easily, but I had to get the nurse to help me with the zipper on my back. The neckline was a straight cut, but as she zipped the dress up, the tops of my breasts were clearly visible above the neckline. The skirt barely covered my mid thigh. I knew sitting would be a challenge. I decided to put on the pantyhose and boots after I packed.
When I stepped out, Madam Price walked me through my carry on, which was a small roller bag, stuffed to the brim with makeup supplies, enough outfit changes for 2 days, and another pair of high heels. Everything else would be sent to me, she explained. I wanted to ask her about where I was going, but stopped myself, realizing she had no idea what my actual mission was.
Instead, I bowed my head and said “Thank you for everything Madam Price.”
She nodded. “Just remember everything you have been taught. Now a car is waiting for you outside. You should go.”
I picked up my handbag and carry on, feeling like I was forgetting something. “Wait,” I said. “Can I say goodbye to Nurse Im?” I asked.
“Since you have completed your rehabilitation, Nurse Im has been reassigned to another patient,” said the nurse next to me.
“She’s still in the building right? Can’t you get her for me?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bae,” she replied. “She left the compound this evening. I think she was assigned to another center.”
My head dropped. “Can’t I even get a phone number? We became close, and I think she would like it if we stayed in touch.”
Madam Price turned on me. “Don’t be silly, Miss Bae. She was just doing her job, as am I. We cannot hand out the personal information of our staff mindlessly. Now put on your boots quickly. I will not tolerate tardiness until you are out of my sight.”
I sighed, and sat on the bed to put on my pantyhose and boots. I guess this was what life would be like under the employ of MI6. A series of goodbyes, and an invisible existence. Tears came to my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. Nurse Im was not gone. Somehow, after my mission was over, I would find her and thank her.
I looked around the room where we spent time together. All traces of either of us had been put away. The notes she put up around the room to remind me to do my muscle strengthening exercises, and motivational words to keep me going. The flowers she brought on daily to boost my spirits. None of them remained. This was now a generic hospital room.
I reached for the Chanel handbag, and looked for a tissue inside. Rummaging inside, I didn’t find any, but I noticed a concealed zip at the bottom. I opened it to reveal a box and a note. I recognized the handwriting on the note immediately. It was from Nurse Im. I opened it immediately to read.
Dear Na Eun,
After you left, I snuck back to the Chanel store to get this for you. I hope you like it, it’s one of a kind. It probably costs a year of Madam Price’s wages.
I wanted to thank you for not only being a good patient, but a friend as well. I think it’s unlikely that we will meet in the near future, with MI6 being what it is, but I will treasure the time we spent together.
Meanwhile, I am leaving you with something that I think will help you in times of need.
With love,
Soo Yeon
I lifted the lid off the box. I recognized what it was immediately, and shut the box, looking around, hoping no one else saw it. It was a large pink dildo.
This could be fun.
Within the hour, I was seated in the back seat of a taxi, staring out the window as we left MII. I didn’t think I would miss it, but I had experienced so much in the place, it felt somewhat like home.
I was still dressed in the ridiculously sexy outfit, but Madam Price handed me a long coat as I stepped out the door. It was long sleeved, and came down to mid calf when I was standing. Catching a look at myself in the mirror, with my coat falling off the side of my shoulders, exposing my cleavage would have turned me on immediately if I wasn’t so nervous.
I turned on my phone and browsed the new features, scrolling once again down my fake Instagram profile. I wondered how I would do this. I was never a good liar, nor an actor in my previous life. How would I become this incredibly sexy woman? Not only did my gender not match my thoughts, neither did my age. I had no idea how to be 21 again.
I took a deep breath and tried to refocus. Thanks to Madam Price, I now spoke, walked, and had basic mannerisms of a lady. This was me now. I am not, nor was I ever Dr Kim. I had to be entirely Bae Na Eun, a 21 year old university graduate, and I could make up any backstory I liked. I decided to keep my history as close to my previous life as possible, as to avoid an accidental slip of tongue.
I doodled on my phone absentmindedly as I worked through my backstory.
Degree - in nursing. Might as well make use of my medical background.
University… Sheffield. That was a mid sized university. Not too prominent.
Boyfriends, only 1 in high school, but it didn’t last…
This went on and on until we pulled into the airport.
Stepping out of the car, I was grateful for the coat and boots which kept me relatively well covered up. The wind was howling, and temperatures had to be below 0 degrees Celsius. I hurried into the airport as fast as I could, pulling my bag along.
As I passed through the airport doors, it really hit me that I was now officially on my own. There would be no more nurses, no attendants, no one who knew exactly who I was or where I was supposed to be. I didn’t doubt that MI6 would track my phone and other belongings, but what I did day to day would be entirely up to me.
Back when I was a doctor, making decisions was a huge part of my life. To determine whether someone would have surgery or not, and whether an athlete should retire; I made these decisions daily. Still now, having no experience and no idea where I should start my mission, I was paralysed with indecision, standing alone in the airport lobby.
I felt like every move I made had to be calculated. Should I remove my jacket? Should I go to the restroom to touch up my makeup? Should I be asking for an aisle seat for a faster getaway or a window seat to stay more hidden? More importantly, what would I do once I got to Houston? Guys don’t change their plans for a pretty girl whom they just bumped in to. Not unless she was someone from their past or someone famous…
Deep breath, Na Eun, I told myself. Nurse Im had advised me to even think about myself in my new name, to come to acceptance of my new persona sooner. I decided to take it one step at a time. I held out my bag, pulled out a ticket looked up at the big screen overhead to find my check in counter.
It was 1am in the morning, and the airport was fairly quiet. Most shops were closed, save some fast food joints, a pharmacy, and the odd convenience store. The slow rumble of chatter from nearby passengers was slightly punctuated by the clicking of the heels of my high heeled boots, as I made the walk to get my ticket. I felt like I was doing a good job of not drawing attention to myself for now.
After a short wait, I handed over my boarding pass to the lady at the counter, who handed me a ticket. Apparently MI6 had not bothered to spring for a business class seat, because I was immediately told I would be in economy. I nodded my thanks to the lady, and made my way to security.
I handed my newly minted British passport to a bored looking man by the security counter, who took a quick glance at my picture and my face before waving me through. “You’ll need to take off your jacket and put it through Xray,” he said, handing me my papers. I nodded and joined the queue to the Xray scanner. At this time of night, only 1 machine was in use, and I was about 10th in line.
Not wanting to leave it till the last moment, I unzipped my long black coat, looked down to make sure my dress was in place, and draped it over my hand. Waiting in queue was exactly the same as you would expect from a man or woman’s perspective. Just a whole lot of nothing to do. I would typically scroll through my phone, but I hadn’t been out of the compound in a while, so I took another deep breath through my lungs, and decided to just stare at the ceiling and my surroundings, treasuring perhaps the last mundane thing I would be doing in a while.
Now only in my short form fitting dress, it wasn’t long before I noticed a few eyes glance my way and linger, before turning away. I couldn’t help but notice there were subtle differences for both men and women. Women seemed to take the whole picture in - hair, dress, bag, boots - before turning away and whispering to their partner, while the men were much quicker. Their eyes first landed on my face, darted about 15 degrees south to my ample cleavage, before turning away quickly, thinking I had not noticed. As a man, I was familiar with this move, but I had never realised how obvious it was to the one on the receiving end.
My initial reaction was to cover up, but then I decided that I really had nothing to be ashamed of. This outfit - however revealing - was put together by one of the best image consultants in the UK. It was my job to own the look, as she constantly reminded me in our classes. I ignored the stares, until I got to the security Xray.
This went off without a hitch, except the necklace I was wearing set off the metal detector. A stern faced security lady patted me down. There wasn’t much space for hiding anything under my short dress, so she didn’t take long. I grabbed my carry on, handbag and jacket and was about to step away when I heard the security lady call to someone a few heads behind me.
“Excuse me sir! NO PHOTOGRAPHY!”
I turned around to see a teenager with a camera phone rapidly trying to put his phone away. I could have sworn it was pointed right at me before he put it out of sight and looked away. I wondered if I was going to land up viral on TikTok as “Sexy girl gets pat down at airport”.
Suddenly, this gave me an idea. I had 2 hours to kill before boarding, so I decided to pull out the portable tablet that MI6 gave me with information on my target. I found a quiet corner of the airport to sit and find out more about the man I was supposed to collect information from.
Nam Joo Hyuk was born in San Antonio, Texas, before moving to Houston when he was 8. As I scrolled through his internet history, I saw why he was a prime suspect for radicalisation. He spent hours on online forums about North Korean history and propaganda. He researched weapons, tanks, aircraft, both American and North Korean. A huge part of his salary as a computer repairman went to buying ammunition and firearms. He even bought a drone 8 months ago, and had been taking flying lessons. The lessons stopped just before the massacre.
Still, I knew what I was looking for, and it wasn’t those pieces of information. Scrolling down from the internet searches MI6 had marked as alerts, I went first to his Instagram searches. He followed a lot of popular basketball teams and players, but also a lot of models. There were a mix of American and Korean models, whose profiles all showed them in various states of undress, barely acceptable by Instagram standards. My profile as currently constructed, would be lost in the bunch.
I dug deeper, finally finding his favourite porn website. It was a Korean one. I went through his search history. As a former man, I knew this would be quite revealing. He didn’t seem to be into a lot of hardcore stuff. I heaved a sigh of relief. What he liked - was to watch girls stripping and masturbating in front of a camera. He had even paid money to video chat a few girls and watch them get off on camera.
I smiled. I now knew what I had to do.
I was still dressed in the ridiculously sexy outfit, but Madam Price handed me a long coat as I stepped out the door. It was long sleeved, and came down to mid calf when I was standing. Catching a look at myself in the mirror, with my coat falling off the side of my shoulders, exposing my cleavage would have turned me on immediately if I wasn’t so nervous.
I turned on my phone and browsed the new features, scrolling once again down my fake Instagram profile. I wondered how I would do this. I was never a good liar, nor an actor in my previous life. How would I become this incredibly sexy woman? Not only did my gender not match my thoughts, neither did my age. I had no idea how to be 21 again.
I took a deep breath and tried to refocus. Thanks to Madam Price, I now spoke, walked, and had basic mannerisms of a lady. This was me now. I am not, nor was I ever Dr Kim. I had to be entirely Bae Na Eun, a 21 year old university graduate, and I could make up any backstory I liked. I decided to keep my history as close to my previous life as possible, as to avoid an accidental slip of tongue.
I doodled on my phone absentmindedly as I worked through my backstory.
Degree - in nursing. Might as well make use of my medical background.
University… Sheffield. That was a mid sized university. Not too prominent.
Boyfriends, only 1 in high school, but it didn’t last…
This went on and on until we pulled into the airport.
Stepping out of the car, I was grateful for the coat and boots which kept me relatively well covered up. The wind was howling, and temperatures had to be below 0 degrees Celsius. I hurried into the airport as fast as I could, pulling my bag along.
As I passed through the airport doors, it really hit me that I was now officially on my own. There would be no more nurses, no attendants, no one who knew exactly who I was or where I was supposed to be. I didn’t doubt that MI6 would track my phone and other belongings, but what I did day to day would be entirely up to me.
Back when I was a doctor, making decisions was a huge part of my life. To determine whether someone would have surgery or not, and whether an athlete should retire; I made these decisions daily. Still now, having no experience and no idea where I should start my mission, I was paralysed with indecision, standing alone in the airport lobby.
I felt like every move I made had to be calculated. Should I remove my jacket? Should I go to the restroom to touch up my makeup? Should I be asking for an aisle seat for a faster getaway or a window seat to stay more hidden? More importantly, what would I do once I got to Houston? Guys don’t change their plans for a pretty girl whom they just bumped in to. Not unless she was someone from their past or someone famous…
Deep breath, Na Eun, I told myself. Nurse Im had advised me to even think about myself in my new name, to come to acceptance of my new persona sooner. I decided to take it one step at a time. I held out my bag, pulled out a ticket looked up at the big screen overhead to find my check in counter.
It was 1am in the morning, and the airport was fairly quiet. Most shops were closed, save some fast food joints, a pharmacy, and the odd convenience store. The slow rumble of chatter from nearby passengers was slightly punctuated by the clicking of the heels of my high heeled boots, as I made the walk to get my ticket. I felt like I was doing a good job of not drawing attention to myself for now.
After a short wait, I handed over my boarding pass to the lady at the counter, who handed me a ticket. Apparently MI6 had not bothered to spring for a business class seat, because I was immediately told I would be in economy. I nodded my thanks to the lady, and made my way to security.
I handed my newly minted British passport to a bored looking man by the security counter, who took a quick glance at my picture and my face before waving me through. “You’ll need to take off your jacket and put it through Xray,” he said, handing me my papers. I nodded and joined the queue to the Xray scanner. At this time of night, only 1 machine was in use, and I was about 10th in line.
Not wanting to leave it till the last moment, I unzipped my long black coat, looked down to make sure my dress was in place, and draped it over my hand. Waiting in queue was exactly the same as you would expect from a man or woman’s perspective. Just a whole lot of nothing to do. I would typically scroll through my phone, but I hadn’t been out of the compound in a while, so I took another deep breath through my lungs, and decided to just stare at the ceiling and my surroundings, treasuring perhaps the last mundane thing I would be doing in a while.
Now only in my short form fitting dress, it wasn’t long before I noticed a few eyes glance my way and linger, before turning away. I couldn’t help but notice there were subtle differences for both men and women. Women seemed to take the whole picture in - hair, dress, bag, boots - before turning away and whispering to their partner, while the men were much quicker. Their eyes first landed on my face, darted about 15 degrees south to my ample cleavage, before turning away quickly, thinking I had not noticed. As a man, I was familiar with this move, but I had never realised how obvious it was to the one on the receiving end.
My initial reaction was to cover up, but then I decided that I really had nothing to be ashamed of. This outfit - however revealing - was put together by one of the best image consultants in the UK. It was my job to own the look, as she constantly reminded me in our classes. I ignored the stares, until I got to the security Xray.
This went off without a hitch, except the necklace I was wearing set off the metal detector. A stern faced security lady patted me down. There wasn’t much space for hiding anything under my short dress, so she didn’t take long. I grabbed my carry on, handbag and jacket and was about to step away when I heard the security lady call to someone a few heads behind me.
“Excuse me sir! NO PHOTOGRAPHY!”
I turned around to see a teenager with a camera phone rapidly trying to put his phone away. I could have sworn it was pointed right at me before he put it out of sight and looked away. I wondered if I was going to land up viral on TikTok as “Sexy girl gets pat down at airport”.
Suddenly, this gave me an idea. I had 2 hours to kill before boarding, so I decided to pull out the portable tablet that MI6 gave me with information on my target. I found a quiet corner of the airport to sit and find out more about the man I was supposed to collect information from.
Nam Joo Hyuk was born in San Antonio, Texas, before moving to Houston when he was 8. As I scrolled through his internet history, I saw why he was a prime suspect for radicalisation. He spent hours on online forums about North Korean history and propaganda. He researched weapons, tanks, aircraft, both American and North Korean. A huge part of his salary as a computer repairman went to buying ammunition and firearms. He even bought a drone 8 months ago, and had been taking flying lessons. The lessons stopped just before the massacre.
Still, I knew what I was looking for, and it wasn’t those pieces of information. Scrolling down from the internet searches MI6 had marked as alerts, I went first to his Instagram searches. He followed a lot of popular basketball teams and players, but also a lot of models. There were a mix of American and Korean models, whose profiles all showed them in various states of undress, barely acceptable by Instagram standards. My profile as currently constructed, would be lost in the bunch.
I dug deeper, finally finding his favourite porn website. It was a Korean one. I went through his search history. As a former man, I knew this would be quite revealing. He didn’t seem to be into a lot of hardcore stuff. I heaved a sigh of relief. What he liked - was to watch girls stripping and masturbating in front of a camera. He had even paid money to video chat a few girls and watch them get off on camera.
I smiled. I now knew what I had to do.
“Get us the footage, we’ll do the editing and get it up for you,” said the MI6 agent I was on the phone with.
“Thanks. I should be able to send you everything by the time I land,” I replied, and hung up.
I was in the only pharmacy still open at the airport. Moving quickly through the shelves, I found the section I was hoping for.
Condoms and lubricant were pretty standard, but there was something else I was hoping they had. There! I picked it up at the lowest corner of the shelf. It was a small vibrator with a remote control trigger. It had been a trend a few years back for boyfriends to put these in their girlfriend’s panties, and turn them on in awkward situations, causing their girlfriends to squirm and moan at inappropriate times. This would be perfect for my plan.
I grabbed a small bottle of lubricant as well, and paid with a credit card. The cashier, an elderly lady gave me the once over and gave me a sort of judgemental look when she saw what I put on the counter. Still, she gave me my purchases and went back to scrolling on her phone instantly.
In many ways, I couldn’t believe I was doing this to myself. I had no idea how to react, and I didn’t have a clue if it would look good on camera. Nevertheless, I steeled myself. If this groundwork would allow me to get the information I needed to complete my mission, then this is what I would have to do.
My plan was simple. Film myself being stimulated by the vibrator, and if necessary, finishing off with the dildo. I would then get MI6 to post my video on the porn site that my target frequented, and have them make sure it drew his attention. This way, when we finally met, I would at least get a second look.
I hurried to the bathroom. I had no idea how to use the vibrator, and decided I needed some time to get it right. I got into the cleanest stall, locked the door and tore open the plastic packaging.
Inside, the vibrator consisted of a small circular disc, about half the size of my palm, with a protruding soft piece of flexible silicone. It looked like a tongue, just about an inch in length. I found the “on” switch, and hit the button on the remote. I almost jumped in surprise when the “tongue” started gyrating up and down. I noticed there were numbers on the remote. At 1, only the tongue moved. At 2 it sped up, and at 3, the entire disc was vibrating, with the tongue not only moving up and down, but thrusting forward as well.
From pictures inside the packaging, it became clear to me that the “tongue” part of the device was meant to be pressed against my clitoris. Hands trembling, I pulled down my panties, and tried to hold the device in place.
It then occurred to me that the video wouldn’t make sense if I started squirming without the audience seeing the vibrator. I closed my eyes, pulled up my panties and stepped out of the stall to check my makeup. After a little touch up, I drew all my courage and decided to just do it.
I took out my phone and pointed it at the bathroom mirror where I could get a full body shot, showing my enhanced body incased in the ridiculously sexy little black dress.
Here goes nothing, I thought. I hit record.
“Hi everyone,” I whispered into the phone, putting on my best smile, as if I was going to reveal a huge secret. “Today I’m going to try a very naughty challenge. I’m about to take a flight, and I’m going to be travelling with this in my panties.” I then showed the vibrator to the camera, turned it on, and showed the camera what it could do, with a brief explanation of where I thought everything would go.
By this point, my face was red, and I didn’t need to act embarrassed because I already was. “Wish me luck,” I whispered, hitting stop.
I hoped the footage was not too shaky, but I wasn’t going to waste time reviewing it. I rushed back into the stall, lowered my panties, and with my left index finger, located my clitoris.
Just brushing my clitoris sent shockwaves up my spine, and I was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. It took a few tries, but I finally got it in a fairly comfortable spot, with the tongue right where I thought it should go. I pulled up my panties, and pulled my dress down.
Standing up, I was grateful that it was not visible through my dress. The last thing I wanted was to walk around with a bulge.
I sat back down, readying myself for the first push. I decided not to film this in case something went wrong. I hit 1.
At first, I just felt a tickle. It was clearly in the right spot, but I guess I was too nervous to be turned on. It did make me squirm a bit, but I wasn’t yet turned on. However 30 seconds in, I realised I was starting to flush and sweat. I squeezed my legs together and realised I was getting wet! I turned it off immediately, not wanting to waste any footage.
I got out of the stall, wiped the sweat off my face and made sure my makeup was in place before recording a short 15 second clip to tell my audience that it was in, and invisible.
I decided that to keep viewers engaged, I would set my phone to send me alerts at random intervals. When my phone gave me an alert, I would hit a button on my vibrator at a random setting, which would vary the intensity. 30 seconds per vibrate should give me enough footage, I thought. I explained this to the audience while I walked around the airport.
Soon, it was time to test it out. I was walking in a fairly empty corridor, with some travellers lying down on the floor on either side, sleeping and waiting for their flights to board. I held the camera towards me at arms length, announced “Here we go!”, closed my eyes and hit the button.
The sensation made me trip and land on my side. I had hit 3 on my first go! I looked around. No one had stirred, but the sounds escaping my lips certainly would wake some of them!
“Mmmmm!! MMMMmmm!!!” I squealed in a high pitched voice, trying my best to keep my volume to a minimum. The hum of the vibrator against my body was audible if you listened closely, and I writhed on the floor briefly, willing the 30 seconds to be over. Finally, I saw on my phone that 30 seconds had elapsed, and I turned it off.
I doubted regular female bodies reacted this way to 30 seconds of stimulation, but Nurse Im and I had established that my body seemed to be wired differently. I looked at the camera, my cheeks flushed red. “That was a 3,” I whispered into it. “I’m totally wet. This was a bad idea.”
I pulled myself up, thankful that I was in a black dress. My dampness had stained the back of my dress when I fell, but it wasn’t visible. It would be a matter of time before my underwear was soaked completely soaked.
I felt embarrassed, yet excited. I didn’t yet know if the footage was usable, but I was discovering more and more about my new body, and I couldn’t explain it, but I felt wonderful. Endorphins filled my brain as I felt my phone go off again, barely 10 minutes later. At this point, I felt like I was past the point of no return.
“Thanks. I should be able to send you everything by the time I land,” I replied, and hung up.
I was in the only pharmacy still open at the airport. Moving quickly through the shelves, I found the section I was hoping for.
Condoms and lubricant were pretty standard, but there was something else I was hoping they had. There! I picked it up at the lowest corner of the shelf. It was a small vibrator with a remote control trigger. It had been a trend a few years back for boyfriends to put these in their girlfriend’s panties, and turn them on in awkward situations, causing their girlfriends to squirm and moan at inappropriate times. This would be perfect for my plan.
I grabbed a small bottle of lubricant as well, and paid with a credit card. The cashier, an elderly lady gave me the once over and gave me a sort of judgemental look when she saw what I put on the counter. Still, she gave me my purchases and went back to scrolling on her phone instantly.
In many ways, I couldn’t believe I was doing this to myself. I had no idea how to react, and I didn’t have a clue if it would look good on camera. Nevertheless, I steeled myself. If this groundwork would allow me to get the information I needed to complete my mission, then this is what I would have to do.
My plan was simple. Film myself being stimulated by the vibrator, and if necessary, finishing off with the dildo. I would then get MI6 to post my video on the porn site that my target frequented, and have them make sure it drew his attention. This way, when we finally met, I would at least get a second look.
I hurried to the bathroom. I had no idea how to use the vibrator, and decided I needed some time to get it right. I got into the cleanest stall, locked the door and tore open the plastic packaging.
Inside, the vibrator consisted of a small circular disc, about half the size of my palm, with a protruding soft piece of flexible silicone. It looked like a tongue, just about an inch in length. I found the “on” switch, and hit the button on the remote. I almost jumped in surprise when the “tongue” started gyrating up and down. I noticed there were numbers on the remote. At 1, only the tongue moved. At 2 it sped up, and at 3, the entire disc was vibrating, with the tongue not only moving up and down, but thrusting forward as well.
From pictures inside the packaging, it became clear to me that the “tongue” part of the device was meant to be pressed against my clitoris. Hands trembling, I pulled down my panties, and tried to hold the device in place.
It then occurred to me that the video wouldn’t make sense if I started squirming without the audience seeing the vibrator. I closed my eyes, pulled up my panties and stepped out of the stall to check my makeup. After a little touch up, I drew all my courage and decided to just do it.
I took out my phone and pointed it at the bathroom mirror where I could get a full body shot, showing my enhanced body incased in the ridiculously sexy little black dress.
Here goes nothing, I thought. I hit record.
“Hi everyone,” I whispered into the phone, putting on my best smile, as if I was going to reveal a huge secret. “Today I’m going to try a very naughty challenge. I’m about to take a flight, and I’m going to be travelling with this in my panties.” I then showed the vibrator to the camera, turned it on, and showed the camera what it could do, with a brief explanation of where I thought everything would go.
By this point, my face was red, and I didn’t need to act embarrassed because I already was. “Wish me luck,” I whispered, hitting stop.
I hoped the footage was not too shaky, but I wasn’t going to waste time reviewing it. I rushed back into the stall, lowered my panties, and with my left index finger, located my clitoris.
Just brushing my clitoris sent shockwaves up my spine, and I was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. It took a few tries, but I finally got it in a fairly comfortable spot, with the tongue right where I thought it should go. I pulled up my panties, and pulled my dress down.
Standing up, I was grateful that it was not visible through my dress. The last thing I wanted was to walk around with a bulge.
I sat back down, readying myself for the first push. I decided not to film this in case something went wrong. I hit 1.
At first, I just felt a tickle. It was clearly in the right spot, but I guess I was too nervous to be turned on. It did make me squirm a bit, but I wasn’t yet turned on. However 30 seconds in, I realised I was starting to flush and sweat. I squeezed my legs together and realised I was getting wet! I turned it off immediately, not wanting to waste any footage.
I got out of the stall, wiped the sweat off my face and made sure my makeup was in place before recording a short 15 second clip to tell my audience that it was in, and invisible.
I decided that to keep viewers engaged, I would set my phone to send me alerts at random intervals. When my phone gave me an alert, I would hit a button on my vibrator at a random setting, which would vary the intensity. 30 seconds per vibrate should give me enough footage, I thought. I explained this to the audience while I walked around the airport.
Soon, it was time to test it out. I was walking in a fairly empty corridor, with some travellers lying down on the floor on either side, sleeping and waiting for their flights to board. I held the camera towards me at arms length, announced “Here we go!”, closed my eyes and hit the button.
The sensation made me trip and land on my side. I had hit 3 on my first go! I looked around. No one had stirred, but the sounds escaping my lips certainly would wake some of them!
“Mmmmm!! MMMMmmm!!!” I squealed in a high pitched voice, trying my best to keep my volume to a minimum. The hum of the vibrator against my body was audible if you listened closely, and I writhed on the floor briefly, willing the 30 seconds to be over. Finally, I saw on my phone that 30 seconds had elapsed, and I turned it off.
I doubted regular female bodies reacted this way to 30 seconds of stimulation, but Nurse Im and I had established that my body seemed to be wired differently. I looked at the camera, my cheeks flushed red. “That was a 3,” I whispered into it. “I’m totally wet. This was a bad idea.”
I pulled myself up, thankful that I was in a black dress. My dampness had stained the back of my dress when I fell, but it wasn’t visible. It would be a matter of time before my underwear was soaked completely soaked.
I felt embarrassed, yet excited. I didn’t yet know if the footage was usable, but I was discovering more and more about my new body, and I couldn’t explain it, but I felt wonderful. Endorphins filled my brain as I felt my phone go off again, barely 10 minutes later. At this point, I felt like I was past the point of no return.
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