Pussywillow. By Kismet & Raven...
Part 1 Kismet
There was the sudden flutter of birds alighting from their perches. Octopussy looked out of her gilded window, searching for the possible intruder. She looked out over the paradise which her small island provided. Even now, there were two woman frolicking naked in the deep blue courtyard pool. Perhaps they had startled the flock of birds.
The beautiful woman pulled her flowing silken nightrobe tightly around her shoulders. She wore a worried expression. Octopussy knew too much, and it was only a matter of time until they came after her.
"So how has business been?" a voice asked from behind her.
Octopussy turned in surprise, her shock turning into sudden happiness.
"James!" she exclaimed.
She started to move towards him, then paused as she reminded herself what he had done to her. Even though James had saved her life, she could not forgive him for leaving her. Instead of walking towards him, she strolled towards her aquarium.
"Not so happy to see me?" he asked.
"It's been a long time, Mr. Bond," she answered calmly, although her heart raced out of control.
James smiled. It was a small upturn at the corners of his mouth.
"So formal? I thought we could be more relaxed around one another."
"Why are you here?" Octopussy demanded to maintain the charade of control.
"I need your help," Bond asserted matter of factly as he paced to the cabinet. Once there he commenced to make himself a martini, as if it were his wet bar.
Octopussy had always found his easy confidence to be both infuriating and intoxicating. The man was a scoundrel, yet she would have him no other way.
"Do you want anything?" Asked Bond as an afterthought.
"No . . . ." Octopussy said, moving to her dresser, " . . . . .yes. I want you to leave. You can't just waltz in and out of my life like this."
Bond finished making his drink, then turned to her, a knowing smile upon his face.
"You know, I didn't come to this island of woman for business . . . ."
Rather than complete his thought, James let the myriad possibilities linger in the air.
* * *
Commander James Bond rolled over in bed to face Octopussy. She wasn't there. He turned to see her at the cabinet, making a drink. The British Secret Agent took advantage of the moment to reach for his clothes which were neatly draped over the back of a chair.
While his lover had her back turned away from him he pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt.
Octopussy turned and approached him slowly. "Shaken, not stirred, just as you always like it," she declared, gently setting the glass down upon the corner of the night stand.
James didn't bite at the mocking tone to her voice, although he was sorely tempted. He pulled his shoes over his feet, lacing them with a traditional double knot. He didn't touch his drink.
It was time to get down to business. "Someone is smuggling a large quantity of refined chemical compounds from the United States. For what purpose, I do not know, but they have been rumoured to be for Iraq," Bond said in a conversational tone as though he were discussing the weather.
Octopussy sighed. "I knew you were coming here for business, James. Why did you have to lie to me? I thought we knew each other . . . to well for that. Did you think that I wouldn't give you whatever you asked for without . . . without that?"
Octopussy gestured at the tangle of covers in the queen sized bed.
"I would have come for that regardless, Octopussy, but we both know that . . . ."
"Yes, that Khamal Khan's men have a vendetta against you. They'd do anything to get your head on a platter. It's dangerous for you to be here. It didn't stop you from coming for your precious information, though."
Bond went to hold her. She backed away.
It was a breach of protocol, yet Bond felt it vital to disclose to Octopussy a vital piece of classified information. Perhaps that would make everything clearer.
"Khan's body was never recovered. The government still believes him to be alive somewhere."
"I though as much," nodded Octopussy, "in answer to your question, I gave up the smuggling business a long time ago. I've been carrying on my fathers research into octopus, keeping my nose out of trouble."
"I know you've still got your finger in the pie, Pussy," Bond pressed. "This is important. I need to know who's behind the smuggling."
"James, I don't know anything." Octopussy insisted.
Bond knew she was lying. He lifted the crystal glass to his lips, downing the potent potable in one gulp. As he did so, Octopussy moved forward, and hugged him.
Bond encircled her in his arms. She seemed to be a little scared, shivering a little in fear . . or was it excitement?
There was a sudden hissing sound. Bond felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck, and jerked free of Octopussy. She held a hypodermic syringe and a triumphant smile adorned her lovely face.
"What did you just inject me with? Pussy, tell me!" exclaimed Bond.
Octopussy never had a chance to answer the man. From the corner of his eye 007 saw a shadow move. He reflexively grabbed hold of Octopussy to pull her onto the bed, rolling with her to the other side.
There was the almost inaudible pulse of a silenced machine pistol. The bullets traced them onto the bed, puncturing the linen and pillows and sending a cloud of feathers into the air. Jame's momentum carried them both over the far side of the bed onto the floor. The bed now lay between the attackers and the couple.
Bond grabbed his Walther PPK from the bed table whilst deftly disentangling himself from Octopussy. All of his moves were fluid, almost like a lethal ballet, borne of years of field experience. The agent fired over the shredded mattress.
James turned to tell Octopussy to run as he gave covering fire.
Unfortunately, Octopussy would never run again. Bond looked into her dull glassy eyes to realise that he didn't have to save her. She was already gone.
Bond's eyes narrowed. He would mourn his companion later. This was one of the realities of life for an agent carrying a license to kill.
Bullets continued to rain down at his position, pinning him down. His assailants were firing from the other room, but walking towards him. There were two guns, so there must be two gunmen. Bond looked up, noting a hugely ornate candelabra in the middle of the room.
007 had long since learned that nearly everything could be used as a weapon in a fire fight. Where was the lowering mechanism? Bond quickly scanned the room for the rope until he found it. The lowering cord was nearby, outside his cover, but still close enough. If he moved quickly, he'd probably be able to reach it.
Bond prepared to leap. However, whatever drug that Octopussy had placed into his system was making him feel light headed and woozy.
Having no time to waste, he shot the rope where it was tied to the wall, then leaped. Bond grabbed the end with his left hand. He shot into the air as the candelabra crashed to the ground, pinning the two machine gunners under its weight. Molten wax sprayed over their trapped bodies.
Bond climbed over the balcony, looking down at his handy work.
"Not bad," he congratulated himself as his vision began to blur.
Again there was gunfire. Bond fled, the bullets ricocheting all around him. He dove for a shuttered window and crashed through the thin timber frame. The agent had been through this so many times in his brilliant career. He knew without even looking that he was falling three stories to the courtyard below.
Fortunately, there was a pool for him to land in. A top British Agent always knew the points of ingress and egress prior to entering a building!
Bond dove clumsily into the middle of the pool, greatly surprising the three nubile women swimming therein. The unclad beauties stood bolt upright in the glassy blue water.
Their bobbing breasts lingered in James's mind as his vision blurred.
* * *
Bond sat bolt upright. He looked around and recognised that he was in the apartment he rarely used. What was he doing here? He climbed from his bed and hastily dressed, turning on the television. "It's a lovely May morning, the weather is fine-"
He turned off the television. It was January not May. He had just been in India at Octopussy's island. What was he doing here? Where had the time gone?
He had to get down to Universal Exports and find out what the hell had been happening! He quickly dressed in his navy Italian suit and made his way to his Bentley.
The drive to Universal Exports was quite quick, especially since he sped most of the way there. Commander Bond climbed from his old car and started his way up the steps. It was only then that he noticed that there were four men converging on him from behind. Not knowing who they were, he turned to them, a warm smile on his face.
"Don't even try anything Mr. Bond. We know what you're capable of. If you don't come quietly, we'll be compelled to use force," one of them said, obviously they intended on blocking his escape.
"You have me at a disadvantage. Four to one hardly seems fair odds," Bond said as he placed his hands in his pockets. These men looked like they were secret service, which probably meant they weren't. He'd better not kill them though, just to be on the safe side.
"Take your hand out of your pockets Mr. Bond," the leader said.
007 complied, pulling out a coin which he started to flip casually, as though he had them out numbered.
One of the other men, the largest of the lot and obviously impatient, grimaced. "I don't care who he is. This guy is coming with us," he said, reaching out with his beefy hands for Bonds throat.
Bond flicked the coin high in the air and ducked under the choke, stepping in close and elbowing the man deep in the solar plexus.
The giant grunted but didn't seem bothered too much by the blow. Meanwhile the other men drew their guns. Berrettas, standard issue for British secret service. Bond noticed all of this in an instant. Then he closed his eyes and placed his arm in front of them. The coin touched down to the ground and exploded in seeringly bright light.
All four men recoiled in shock and pain, totally blinded by the brightness of the coins combustion. Bond made his way down the steps to his car, climbed in and started it without opening his eyes. He could hear bullets pummelling into the armoured hide of his modified vehicle.
Bond planted his foot and tore off down the street, cursing the fact that his paint job had been ruined yet again. 007 turned a corner -
* * *
and found himself floating in a pool. He gasped for air and struggled to free himself from the shattered window frame which supported his weight. He must have passed out for some time when he hit the water. His shirt was a tattered mess so he shrugged it off, then pushed off his shoes which seemed to be suddenly too big. The laces must have broken. The edge of the pool was nearby, if only he could get there! Swimming in his pants was hard, especially since they had dropped around his ankles. He kicked the black slacks off and reached the edge of the pool, pulling himself free.
As he stood, Bond experienced an incredible shock. He was not in his body any more. He stood in his boxers, by the edge of the pool in a foreign body. A woman's body! Gunfire started up again. Bond ran for cover, almost as though he were not in complete control of his new body. He turned and looked back at where the noise was coming from.
Armed woman were converging upon Octopussy's room. The isle of woman was reacting to the presence of these unknown assassins, quite violently. Bond looked down at his new body and ran a hand over it. The breasts were full and rounded, topped with nipples that were proudly pointing out in the night air. His arms were thin and delicate, his waist narrow, his hips just the way he liked them on a woman. His long legs were perfectly shaped. The body felt real and the sensations his hand was creating were most unexpected.
Bond wanted to keep playing with his new body, but instead his hands reached up to trace his face, then feel his short cropped hair. His hair cut seemed to be the only thing unchanged, except the strands of hair was much finer than before.
Against his will again, his hands reached down and held out his boxers. Undeniably before 007's eyes was a female -
* * *
Bond frantically pulled his car from the path of an oncoming truck. The semi's horn blared as 007 missed the rig by scant inches. His Bentley fishtailed onto the correct side of the road again. What had he been thinking? Where had his mind been? He drove along the street going over the strange memories.
Could it have been real? No. It was impossible. Someone must have brainwashed him. These thoughts must be implanted in his mind by an expert mental manipulator. If this could be done... his foe must be interesting indeed. Bond smiled. This was turning out to be a most challenging case.
Part 2 Raven
Q approached his late model Mercedes-Benz, still nestled safely in its designated parking spot. He was bone weary. With the stunning reappearance of 007, James Bond it had been an eventful day at the venerable offices of Universal Export. Even Q's underlings down in the lab were abuzz with the news, and Q had to constantly prod them to complete their assigned tasks.
Q was very concerned but chose not to overtly express his misgivings about the whole affair.
As Q neared the Benz, he could see some of the dents and scratches left on the vehicle by, who else, James Bond. One of the fringe benefits that Q enjoyed was unlimited usage of the equipment that field agents destroyed. Bond kept him in a steady stream of such equipment, more so than any other agent.
Q sighed, whispering under his breath, "Oh Bond. What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Q didn't have long to wait for an answer. No sooner did he settle in to the leather driver's seat, and turn over the engine, than he felt the cold muzzle of a Walther PPK on the back of his neck.
Q was completely deadpan, "for Heaven's sake, 007. It's about time. Your weapon is hardly necessary."
"You knew that I'd be coming, Q?"
"Of course! Where else would you go? Wasn't it me who helped you out of that mess when you got your license to kill revoke for avenging Felix Leiter?"
"Yes, but now the entire British Secret Service is after me. I don't know what it is that I'm supposed to have done. You would be placing yourself in grave personal danger. Why? We haven't been exactly . . . friends."
That much was true. Bond frustrated Q more times than he cared to remember, and often was the target of his childish pranks. Still, there was something about the rakish man that Q couldn't help but like. Although he would never say it, Q considered James Bond to be the nephew, or son, that he had never had.
He went to pull out of the secured parking lot of Universal Export, looking over his shoulder, "For goodness sake, 007. Get down. Do you want to get caught?"
Bond withdrew his weapon, placing it in the waistband of his trousers. He crouched lower so the security guards, in reality British Special Forces, wouldn't see him. Still, he couldn't resist asking Q a question.
"Why Q? Why help me?" he whispered from his hiding place.
"You may be many things Bond, but you are no traitor. You may be childish, reckless, and a little cavalier for my tastes, but you would never betray your own country! Now get down whilst I get us out of this lot."
Bond did as he was told, the word "traitor" still ringing in his ears. What were they saying that he did? If he could only recall! Unfortunately, any time that he tried to access those events of the last four months, he got . . . darkness.
Once Q was clear of security, and they were well on their way to . . . wherever, Bond resumed a normal sitting position. He had to know what he was accused of.
"Q? Why are they saying that I am a traitor? You must tell me."
"You don't know? Q sounded sincerely shocked. "I though that you might offer me an explanation of what has happened."
Bond leaned back into the leather seat. It was only 7:00 p.m., yet he was already exhausted. Dodging your own compatriots could prove to be rather tiring.
"I wish that I could, Q. All I have is a gap in my memory of about four months. There is just nothing there. That is why I sought you out. I thought that you could help me."
"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Q, in his unique fashion. "What is the last thing that you do recall, 007?"
"I went to visit Octopussy on her Island of Women. I remember that she . . . injected me with something, and then we were attacked. I seem to recall jumping into a pool with a few of her women. Then there is nothing . . . until I awoke in my flat this morning."
"Then you do not know?" pressed Q.
"Know what, Q? Tell me."
Q hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he had no choice. "Octopussy is dead. She was murdered by those loyal to Khamal Khan for retribution for her part in your last escapade. Her entire organisation, including the Island of Women has been taken over by somebody new . . . a woman calling herself only Pussywillow. The woman have reverted back to their criminal exploits, only worse. It was thought that you were in league with this Pussywillow."
"That's impossible, Q. You know it."
"I do know that, 007. The problem is that your retinal scans and fingerprint were used to access certain sensitive information. Those are things which cannot be duplicated, indicating that it had to be you. The person who accessed that information knew exactly where to look. Again, they are things only a select few know, including you, 007. The evidence is quite damning."
"You have to help me, Q."
"It's obvious to me that whatever Octopussy injected into you has somehow effected your memory. We will have to do some testing on you . . . take some blood for analysis."
"Where Q? We can't exactly go into the office."
"Of course not, 007. I've been in Her Majesty's Secret Service longer than you, and do have my own resources. I have a lab of my own where I dabble in my free time. I might add that it would be a perfect place for you to lay low for awhile. The company would never think to look for you in my own private lab."
"Thank you, Q. I appreciate that."
Q appreciated the sentiment, but stayed on task so that he would not disclose his unstated affection for the man. "Right then. You'll need some equipment if you are to survive this. If you look in the bag on the floor, you will find . . . ."
Bond interrupted his friendly nemesis, "Q? You really did expect me didn't you?"
"Really Bond. If you would just pay attention!"
'Bless you, Q,' thought Bond.
The two drove toward Q's private lab, with Q explaining the assortment of exotic equipment to 007.
Several hours later, Bond had taken the opportunity to shower, change into a new set of clothes that Q had the forethought to bring, and to have a spot of dinner. He was now safely harboured in Q's private lab.
When they first arrived, Q drew a blood sample, and then set to the task of analysing it. The lab had a computer terminal that granted him access to some of the government's best medical and research data bases. Q had security clearance for all of Her Majesties secret projects. Q sat hunched over the screen, unmoving, for hours.
Finally, he exclaimed, "Astounding. Simply astounding.'
Bond came over to where Q was sitting. "Do you have the results, Q?'
"I do, 007, and I must say, they are remarkable. I have never seen anything like this."
"What?" asked Bond.
"It appears that a pair of chromosomes in your gene sequence have been replaced by those of an entirely different species."
Bond was surprised. "Can they do that?"
"Nobody has been able to do that yet. It would require a sophisticated reo-virus, that nobody has yet been able to perfect. It would appear that Octopussy did."
"What's a reo-virus, Q?"
"It acts like a normal virus attacking the body's normal cells. Just like the AIDS virus, it replaces individual chromosomes in a DNA strand with others that it is carrying. Quite remarkable really. Theoretically, if the virus is sophisticated enough, it would work a complete physical transformation."
"What is the other species, Q?'
"Unknown. The computer has only been able to identify it as a lower phylum . . . most likely mollusc."
Bond sighed. Why would Octopussy tamper with his body in that way?
"Try an octopus."
"Of course," declared Q. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Q punched in a series of commands into the computer while Bond watched. The two of them waited for the screen to return with the requested information. Instead it came back with the message, "Calculating time to complete task . . . ."
There was a pause, followed by still another on-screen message, "70 hours to complete DNA comparison."
"Right! We won't have your answer for another three days, 007. It will take the computer that long to match the chromosomes."
Just then, the computer beeped again. Q made the appropriate commands to retrieve the data.
"There is something more, 007. The reo-virus that did the transplantation is still in your blood. It is in a latent stage . . . just waiting for something. There is also a second reo-virus that is in a latent stage."
"What do they do, Q?" questioned Bond, although he had a fairly accurate idea of what one of them did.
"That is impossible to know right now, Bond. It will take a few days to break down that reo-virus, and figure out how it is triggered. You are just going to have to stay here for a few days. I am going to need more blood."
"What does all of this have to do with my memory lapses, Q?"
"I don't know at the current time, 007. Perhaps it is an unintended side effect of whatever the reo-virus does. The answer lies in your blood. Can you stay put for a few days? Can you stay out of trouble?"
"Yes! Sure!" assured Bond.
Q left an hour later, taking Bond's blood samples with him. He would need the more powerful equipment of his main lab at the "company" to complete his analysis. At the very least, he was going to need an electron microscope and a gene sequencer program.
He left Bond alone in the small person lab. Fortunately, there was a little flat in the back for the times that Q stayed over.
Bond tossed and turned for awhile, as he had matters of great concern on his mind. However, he did eventually surrender to the demands of his exhausted body.
Had he been awake he would have had his answer and been witness to a fantastic transformation.
But then again, had he been awake, the transformation would not have occurred. As soon as Bond entered REM sleep, the transplanted chromosomes of the octopus reversed, like a chemical gate opening. What was once "Y" became "X." The gate, in turn, triggered one of the latent reo-viruses.
Bond's muscles shifted to assume new proportions and dimensions. His bones cracked in to powder, only to reform to support a new physiognomy. The sexual organs of the person who used to be James Bond retracted and split to form the genitalia of a woman. Finally, as the contours of his face metamorphosed to compliment his new gender, his chest softened, and slowly began to expand. This happened in a matter of minutes.
The person known only as Pussywillow arose from the bed where James Bond once lay. She casually crossed over to the full length mirror on the opposite side of the room. Her body still felt the bone weary exhaustion that her other had felt, but she knew that would soon change.
Pussywillow looked at the reflection in the glass. Where Bond had been suavely handsome. This woman was attractive. The short dark hair was the same, albeit a little fuller, silkier, and shinier. The rest of the body was very feminine. Where Bond had been 6'1", she was only 5'4". Pussywillow touched every inch of her 34C-23-35 frame.
Yes . . . she was attractive for a woman of Bond's real age, and she knew it. Yet, it was not the type of beauty to make men crawl, to make them putty to be moulded. This was not the type of beauty that she needed to be Pussywillow.
She grinned a most evil smile, and then tripped a mental trigger. Instantly, the second reo-virus became active, setting about its programmed task.
Pussywillow felt the now familiar tingle of the transformation rush throughout her body. It was almost erotic. She never tired of watching the transformation in the mirror. Again, there was the shifting of muscles and cracking of bone. The last was intensely painful, yet she stood resolute as a testament to her sheer willpower. Pussywillow had long since learn to ignore the pain.
Minutes later, a new woman stepped away from the mirror. Where the other female body was only attractive, this one was drop dead gorgeous. The long, yet powerful sinews, tendons and muscles of the new form allowed her to move with the grace of a jungle cat.
She was the physical incarnation of a Barbie Doll, in her mid-twenties. Pussywillow was tall at 5'10", and her body impossibly slender to exude a sleek countenance. Long, dense blonde hair fell to her heart shaped behind. The only thing that she hated were the breasts. She preferred smaller breasts to go with her sleek, aristocratic body, but men preferred larger breasts. Thus, they were a necessary evil. There were other, internal modifications to ensure maximum pleasure during sex, which weren't important at this very second.
As with each such transformation, Pussywillow felt strong and perfectly refreshed. She should know, for she designed it that way. When her body reverted to the repugnant male form of James Bond, he too would feel refreshed and rested.
The 38DD breasts swayed invitingly as she searched for some clothes that she could wear. Pussywillow had to get back to Bond's flat to retrieve the identification for this body, and for the other transitional form which Pussywillow had aptly named Honeydew Mountjoy. Pussy had business to attend to in London. However, first she had to make use of Q's computer.
It was a good thing that Bond had carefully watched Q enter his password. He was slick, not knowing when he would he would need to use that computer. Of course, his memories, knowledge, skills, fingerprints and retinal patterns were hers. She had to collect the British Government's data on Weapon Z . . . their biological weapon. To do this she had to give Bond some limited control of her body. Pussywillow resented having to lower herself to 007's crude male form but it was a necessary evil.
It was also the perfect cover. While Bond slept, Pussywillow lived. Pussywillow was concerned that Bond had recalled the form of Honeydew. It had only been for an instant, right before Pussywillow had asserted herself. Fortunately, only Pussywillow knew how to trigger the transformations. That was the fail safe. Bond would never figure out how to transform into Honeydew and there was no way he could become the chosen form of Pussywillow.
Pussywillow smiled sweetly, the grin was quite sinister at the same time. After Bond's brief encounter with Honeydew, the most that Honeydew could be considered would be a henchman. Make that henchwoman of Pussywillow.
It was the perfect cover . . . to hide in plain sight.
Part 3. Kismet
Bond tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He climbed from the bed as though in a daze, walking over to the mirror. He felt as though he had not slept a wink. Bond looked at his reflection in the glass, shock replacing his weariness.
The man's usually debonair exterior was replaced by that of a distinguished and very attractive woman. Without any self control, his hand reached up and toyed with his dark glossy hair. It felt finely textured in his small hand.
007 looked at his small firm breasts outlined under his shirt. They were soft and inviting to behold, but they were the last thing he wanted to look at. The rest of his body was also very feminine. Against his will he was forced to drink it in. The narrowness of his waist, his reduced stature. He must be under five and a half foot!
Bonds hands started to roam over his new body, playing with it. The caress of his delicate hands was strangely erotic but Bond fought the response of his body, struggling to find a way out of his hallucination. There had to be some seem in this false reality, an inconsistency that would lead him back to the real world. He struggled but the sensations his body was experiencing worked against him, sapping his will.
He disrobed, his creamy skin much softer and paler than ever before. Slowly his hands made their way down towards his new sex, covered by his boxers, his eyes imposed to watch the unfolding spectacle. Then his hands stopped.
His eyes locked with those of the woman in the mirror. She grinned a most evil smile as though she were mocking him, as though she knew exactly what he was going through! The moment hung like a dagger poised above his heart.
Bond was forced to turn and pick up something on the bed. It was a post card. Bond looked at it closely. It showed the skyline of Hong Kong. 'What the hell is going on here?' he wondered.
His eyes were again forced down to take in the female body he was still wearing. His hand inched under his Union Jack boxers, tracing down his stomach to the soft downy hair above his clit.
His hand stopped and 007's eyes were forced to look at the postcard, his small hand turning it over. A date and time were scrawled on the back of it. And a name followed by the word assassinate.
'What the hell?' he thought as the world dimmed around him.
* * *
Bond awoke an instant later, refreshed and aware. He ran his hands over his body, making sure that everything was still there. Maybe... it was just a dream. He clung to this thought for a moment before old reflexes kicked in.
Searching quickly, he grabbed a pen and paper and started sketching rapidly. He had a good eye for detail and he never forgot a woman's face. If this woman were real, Bond would soon find her.
When he finally held up the picture Bond frowned. She may have well been his sister! Well it was a start.
Next Bond carried out a meticulous search of the room. He looked for anything out of the ordinary. He found the postcard.
Bond thought carefully about what he had discovered. Not much. He knew the name on the post card. Octopussy's father had an assistant, John Baltimore. It was him. Maybe he was the link. Bond read the time that the assassination was scheduled for. It was less than thirty two hours away! 007 racked his mind. If he waited for Q to return his best lead could be lost. If he chased after it, Bond knew that he would be walking into a trap.
He was being played by an expert! Either a mind manipulator or, incredible as it seemed, a female version of himself. Doubtless the only person who could find Baltimore was him. He would lead the hunt to the fox! He had to though.
* * *
The first thing Bond noticed as he stepped from the terminal was the oppressive heat and humidity. Even the night was humid. Hailing down a taxi, Bond ordered the driver to the walled city, the dark seedy underbelly of Hong Kong. It took a little searching through bars but Bond finally managed to locate his snitch, Si Koh Tic. The man was a triad member but he owed Bond his life. Tic would be able to hook James into the criminal network, allow him to get in contact with Baltimore.
Baltimore was the leading chemist for one of the triad gangs, which made him very valuable. Worth his weight in gold, not the type the triads would sell out. Yes, Bond was leading someone to the fox.
Tic took Bond deeper into the walled city. This was the part of Hong Kong that was owned and run by the criminal element. The entire place was like a fortress. It was dilapidated, the streets bustling with neon glow and post hand over furtiveness. Crime had survived under the new regime.
Bond looked up at the mammoth building he was being ushered into. It was a concrete mass, balconies latched haphazardly onto it's face, long clothes poles pushing out and up from the edifice, washing cords strung from one building to the next. It was like a huge spider-web hung between buildings.
Bond shook his head as he surveyed the vertical slum. He stepped inside. Most of the interior of the building had been gutted and remodelled. Rough hewn holes in concrete walls provided new doorways, whole supporting structures were rusted and exposed. This place was a death trap, in more ways than one.
Bond started to pass sentries, men standing around, a little to idle and out of place to be anything other than guards. Even though possession of a gun was a capital offence, Bond was certain they were packing.
The lift clanked open and Bond stepped inside, followed by two guards. As the lift lurched and climbed its way upwards, the two men patted Bond down. Satisfied he was apparently unarmed they nodded at one another. The mesh doors opened. Bond walked down the corridor, taking in the sentries. He was impressed. A frontal assault on this place would be suicide.
The guards bustled Bond into a room. It was well appointed, out of place amidst all of the squalor and ruin. There was a large bay window that overlooked the building opposite, a wasted view really. The two men stood behind 007, guns aimed at his back.
"I understand you've been having a rough time of things Mr. Bond, or should I call you 007?"
"James is fine."
"Can I offer you a drink? You are partial to a Dry Martini from what I have heard."
Baltimore nodded to one of his Asian guards. The man went to the bar and started to make up the drink. "So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit too? This wouldn't have anything to do with the British Secret Service being hot on your tail?"
"No. This has to do with you. I think someone might be trying to kill you."
"They're highly unlikely to succeed. I have the best protection money can buy. My drugs are in high demand you know."
"It has to do with Octopussy."
"I was devastated to hear of her demise. She did bite off more than she could chew with Khan though."
"You know something about the case I was investigating?" Bond asked.
"All I know is that she got wind of a large shipment of raw materials being sent to South America. Octopussy knew a little too much. Somebody had the poor girl eliminated."
"Do you know who Pussywillow is?"
"Sadly no. All I know is that she is a new player, is wealthy and operates on a global scale," Baltimore said.
Bond could sense that the man was lying. "Were you working on anything with Octopussy?"
"Funny you should ask that. I was actually -"
Bond had a sudden premonition. He couldn't explain it, but he acted on it, diving to the ground behind a couch just as the window broke into a latticework of cracks. Bullets tore through the glass and into Baltimore and his guards. They didn't stand a chance.
Bond looked out through the holes and saw five black clad figures dangling from ropes, reloading the machine pistols they held. They looked like special forces. Whatever they were, they obviously intended upon finishing him off. Without a seconds thought Bond charged at the window and dove through one of the ragged gaps, bridging the gap between the building and one of the hanging killers.
The sudden impact caused the assassin and Bond to swing away from the building. Bond grappled with the dangling figure, swinging wildly on the abseil rope. He tried to grip the freshly reloaded machine gun, realising at the same time that it was a woman he was struggling with.
The other hitmen reloaded. The sound of the clips slipping home was loud in Bond's ears. He was suspended twenty stories up fighting a woman for a gun while four murderers prepared to shoot him. Grabbing the guns shoulder strap, Bond pushed away from the woman, letting his body drop as he and the woman swung back towards the building. The instant 007 tumbled free the four gunmen opened fire.
The sound of gunfire was deafening and the muzzle flashes were like strobe lights. The woman Bond had just been struggling with let out a pained cry as her compatriots finished her off. The gun that Bond had been fighting over was wrenched from her lifeless grip as 007 fell into open space. Twisting, Bond managed to grab a handhold on the building and swing onto the balcony the next story down.
Commander Bond fired up at the black silhouettes and hit two of them before the clip emptied. Meanwhile his other hand searched for a door handle. Finding one, he turned it, only to discover the door locked.
Bond looked at the door, then pushed away from it as the assassins opened fire, the murderous crossfire cutting off his only avenue for escape. He pressed his body against the balcony partition. He was pinned down, easy pickings, his gun empty. He could he not shoot the lock and Bond knew that there was no way he could make it to the door without being killed. His Walther was hidden in several pieces all over his body and would take more time than he had to assemble.
"We have you Mr. Bond. Give up now."
Bond looked at the shoddily constructed balcony. "You don't know me very well," Bond said then did the unthinkable. He leaped over the balcony into open space. It was a long way down. Bond's vision dimmed -
* * *
to be replaced by that of another. Pussywillow sensed the mad ploy and tried to assert control over the body she and Bond shared, to grip the balcony at the last moment. It was too late.
The physical transformation to Honeydew Mountjoy had begun and Pussywillow was in control but she was still falling towards certain death. Then she hit the first bamboo clothes line, the pole pummelling her in the stomach, the impact slowing her descent. As she tumbled she grabbed a few of the passing lines which stretched between the buildings. They tore free from the building she had recently leaped from but held firm on the other building.
The last blow had almost knocked her out, winding her badly. Pussywillow continued downwards, her head hitting another bamboo pole, knocking her senseless -
* * *
Bond blinked, his head pounding as he bounced from one bamboo pole to the next. He reached out and grabbed desperately at the passing lines. Suddenly one of the lines he was holding pulled taught and he started to swing towards the opposite building. Then the cord snapped. From somewhere above he could hear gunfire. The clothes around him jumped and leaped as they were torn by bullets.
Another line pulled tight and Bond continued his swing towards the opposite building. Then the line tore loose from the opposite building, causing him to drop downwards. He only had three more lines! There was a tense moment as two lines snapped in rapid succession. Then there was one. It was holding him and he was still swinging...
Bond flinched as he swung through a line of washing, narrowly avoiding being impaled on one of the protruding bamboo poles. 007 hurtled into the opposite building, flying through an open window and landing in a room in a tangle of laundry and washing lines. He climbed to his feet and unravelled himself. The room was full of mahjong playing Chinese. He pulled a bra from his shoulder and smiled warmly.
"I'm sorry, this isn't my room," Bond explained as he ran through the middle of their game and out of the room before they could overcome their surprise. 007 ran down the corridor and started down the stairs, feeling a little woozy. He nearly lost his footing, his ankle twisting in a shoe that seemed suddenly too small.
'Not a hallucination now! I have to chase after the killers!' Bond thought as he continued to make his way downwards, each step becoming harder. His clothes seemed to be growing, tangling his steps. 'This isn't real,' he kept telling himself, 'this isn't even possible!'
007 stopped and hastily assembled his Walther PPK, the pieces stashed all over his body. The action helped him retain his mental balance. Then he started down again.
Feeling the skin crawl on his chest in a most unusual fashion, Bond was forced to pause on a landing. Gathering his breath, 007 prepared himself for his latest delusion. He looked down at his body and was confronted by the familiar image of the female body he had been hallucinating about. His body seemed to be transforming before his eyes.
Unable to resist the urge he opened his shirt and looked inside. Breasts. The same breasts he had seen before. They were small and pert. Just as he remembered them. Though they were not as large as he liked them, his breasts were quite attractive.
There was something different though. This time he seemed to be in control. What on earth was happening? He really seemed to be the woman he had dreamed of. He leant against the wall in defeat. For the first time in his career he found himself in a position he could not solve. He could cope with torture, death, injury, poison, gunfights... but not this!
'They're getting away,' a small part of his mind said. He had to finish this mission. 'If you ever want to stop these bizarre transformations and flashbacks, you have to find out who Pussywillow is and what she is doing. She's the key to all of this,' he thought, half convincing himself.
The clothes he was wearing were a hindrance. He emptied the contents of his pockets into his jacket whilst kicking off his now useless shoes. Shedding his suddenly too long pants, Bond started downwards again, his small breasts bouncing in an odd fashion as he took the stairs two at a time.
'Something will have to be done about these breasts,' he thought. Bond ran down the until he reached what he expected to be the ground floor. He ran towards the exit but couldn't find it. He seemed to be on the wrong floor!
Looking out a window, Bond saw the two remaining villains rappelling to the ground across the street. They were moving slowly as they had to navigate through the wash lines. Bond noticed the overhanging verandah which provided cover to the walkway along the street and climbed through the window onto it.
As he considered his next action he spied a dress on one of the lines. He grabbed it and quickly shed his shirt and pulled the stolen garment over his head. He inspected himself. His union jack boxers showed through underneath. Bond, ever the military man, decided to go commando and pulled off his boxers. The dress was a bit tight around the chest and bum and obviously much too short but it would have to do.
Bond turned to watch what the black clad figures were doing. The killers had reached the ground and were climbing into a mini-van. Judging by the execution of the assassination Bond assumed it was stolen. These people seemed like professionals.
Bond had to get in that van! A truck was making it's way down the street which gave James an idea. 007 ran to the edge of the roof and leaped onto the moving trucks trailer, then made his way along the roof towards the drivers cab. He climbed down on the passenger side and opened the door of the still moving truck. The driver turned and stared as Bond climbed in.
"Follow that van," Bond ordered. It was the first time he had spoken. Only now did Bond discover that his deep voice was now quite husky and a few octaves higher.
The driver smiled, "what's in it for me?"
Part 4. Raven
Bond trained his Walther PPK at the startled truck driver, who blinked twice in disbelief. Bond answered the man's question, "What's in it for you? A bullet in your head if you don't get this bloody truck moving."
The poor truck driver could tell from the steely gaze in the beautiful intruders eyes that she wasn't bluffing. "S-sure Miss. A-anything you say. I don't want no trouble," stammered the rattled driver, with the slightest hint of his native Cantonese dialect. He depressed the gas peddle, which accelerated the truck forward.
The sudden motion tossed Bond's now much smaller feminine body about the cab of the truck. However, it wasn't enough to dislodge the loaded weapon in his hands. Normally he could handle the Walther with just one hand, but this new situation required the use of both.
Bond looked out of the corner of his eye so that he could see what was happening on the road ahead. He didn't want to turn his head to give this driver any advantage. In this body he sensed that he could easily be overpowered. However, it suddenly struck him as odd that he had been able to leap from the roof onto the cab of the truck as easily as he could in his real body. Perhaps he retained a portion of his old skills . . . at least he silently prayed that he did. He would need them to get out of this damnable mess!
'How could this have happened,' he wondered amidst all of the activity. It had to do with the injection that Octopussy had given him, he just sensed it. Why? That was the question. Unfortunately, he couldn't worry about that now, and would just have to play the hand that he been dealt. Wasn't resourcefulness one of Bond's sterling qualities?
The one thing that he did know for sure was that the short oriental dress felt odd on him. It wasn't like men's clothes at all. He particularly bemoaned the sensation of the night air lapping at his barren sex just underneath the short hem of the dress. Bond squirmed and plucked at the alien clothing even as he barked commands to the truck driver in his contralto voice.
The peripheral inspection of the road ahead yielded the logistics of the current situation. They were not catching up to the van, but neither were they losing any ground. The truck driver was only maintaining the same distance.
"Faster! Step on it!" demanded Bond, realising how weak it sounded with a woman's voice.
"Please," pleaded the truck driver. "I didn't mean to offend you earlier. I don't want any trouble, and it looks like you're in the middle of something dangerous."
Bond had to concede that the man was correct, as once again his recklessness had placed another innocent in the path of danger. He smiled to himself thinking, at least this man isn't as irritating as Sheriff Pepper! He had the distinct misfortune of running into that fat Louisiana miscreant on two separate missions.
"Don't worry," Bond tried to reassure the driver, lowering his voice. "Everything will be okay. Just catch up to the van, okay?"
Bond was stunned at how sultry his voice was at a lower volume. It didn't distract him from worrying exactly how much protection that he could give to this man in this body. If push came to shove, what could this weak body do?
The driver accelerated again, utilising the full capacity of the engine. In a minute or to, they found themselves tailgating the van.
Bond tucked the weapon the only place that he could . . between the soft flesh of his small and perky breasts. "Just ease it a little closer and . . . hold it steady!"
Bond started to crawl out of the open window of the passenger side. This produced an immediate reaction from the driver. "What are you doing , Miss? You are going to get yourself killed."
Bond, however, had to try. He just hoped that a portion of his old skills still resided in this body. He gave his assistant parting instructions. "As soon as I jump, turn off the road. Get away from here as fast as you can."
"Who are you?" the nameless driver asked simply.
"Bond. James Bond!" came the reply.
The driver cocked his eyebrows thinking, 'strange lady. Beautiful, but strange!'
Bond carefully inched out of the window of the moving vehicle onto the front hood. He motioned for the driver to move closer still. The driver closed the distance so that it was close enough to leap. At least it was close enough to leap in his old body. 007 drew a deep breath, tensed his slender, hairless legs, and jumped. He was suspended in mid air in the gulf between the vehicles for what seemed to be an eternity.
He landed on the bumper of the van, his smallish hand finding the handle to the rear door of the vehicle. Bond realised, in this one instance, his new body had proved to be an asset. Had he been in his real body, his feet would surely been unable to fit on the narrow bumper, and his hands would not have so easily grasped the door handle. He breathed a slight sigh of relief as he saw his former companion follow the parting instructions.
The driver was heading away to safety.
Unfortunately, Bond wasn't as safe. He could feel the van slowing to a stop, and he knew that the passengers therein had realised that they had an intruder. The van skidded to a final stop. Bond hopped off of the rear bumper, simultaneously reaching down the front of the tight dress for the weapon. It was gone! Bond knew without a doubt that it must have fallen out in the jump.
He did the only thing that he could do . . . assume a fighting stance. He had no idea if he would be able to inflict any type of real damage with these slender, minimally muscled arms and legs. He steadied himself when he heard the two remaining black clad assassins approaching from either side of the van.
From the right side came a tall, pretty brunette woman, while from the left came a slightly shorter red head. The red head was much better looking! It occurred to Bond with a start that both of the women were much taller than he now was. The presence of all these women was starting to resemble an oddly familiar pattern.
Then a very strange thing happened. The two women, rather than attacking, took on an aspect of relief at the sight of Bond. They eased up into a casual position, lowering their weapons, and Bond didn't know whether to attack himself or to play along. The next statement that he heard convinced him to play along.
The tall brunette, who appeared to be in charge spoke, "Honeydew? What are you doing here in Hong Kong? We thought that you were in London assisting Pussywillow! We followed Bond as you ordered using the tracking device."
A lot of the missing pieces fell into place with that one declaration. What he had experienced earlier was not a dream, and he had actually been in this body previously. These women obviously recognised him in this body as some type of superior, perhaps second only to . . . . Pussywillow. Bond had apparently spent some time as this Honeydew, and was an assistant to Pussywillow. It went far to explain the missing four months and the use of his fingerprints and retinal patterns to access sensitive information.
Bond now assumed a casual stance as he attempted to smile at the other two. He was on the inside in this body, and could not waste the opportunity. Bond checked the legs of the other two girls to find what he knew had to be there. Octopussy's octopus tattoo. They were there. Idly, he glanced down at his own soft legs to find an identical tattoo near the ankle.
Bond looked at the brunette straight into the eyes. "Change of plans!" he tried to sound authoritative.
Without even skipping a beat, Bond took charge of the situation. He had been undercover many times, and that experience served him well here. It went without saying that he had never been undercover exactly like this! Again, he would have to adapt, and use whatever resources were at his disposal.
"What is the status of Baltimore?"
This time the red head responded, with an apologetic note of sadness in her voice. "Dead . . . but so are Beverley, Celeste, and Hilary. Bond almost made a mess of things, just as you warned he would."
Bond, still playing along, inquired, "I see. Where's Bond now?"
The read head still explained, "Unknown. He fell out of the window, and could be hurt or dead. Judging from his past performance, he probably survived. We at least lost him, so he won't know who we are, or where we're going."
The red head looked down at Bond's bare feet. In all of this action, James hadn't found the time enough to locate a pair of shoes.
"Mountjoy? Where are your shoes?"
Bond thought, that must be this Honeydew's last name. Lovely! He was now Honeydew Mountjoy. Bond had heard a lot of wild sexually suggestive names in his past adventures, and this one was right up there. The only exception was that now he had that sexually suggestive name.
"I was in a rush to get to you so I ditched them to run. I was plan B. I was going to take out Baltimore with a sniper rifle on the opposite building if you failed. You missed Bond but I winged him. He won't bother us for awhile."
Exactly how long, Bond did not know. He had no idea how long this transformation would last, but he had already decided to make the best of it. He would learn what he could of this Pussywillow or her plans while he could.
"You were there?" queried the brunette.
"Yes. You were very sloppy. I will have to bring this to Pussywillow's attention."
That did not sit well with the other two, confirming Bond's suspicion that Honeydew Mountjoy held a substantial position of power within Pussywillow's organisation.
"What is your next move," asked Bond carefully.
"As you instructed. We are go back to the Island of Women to await the return of you and Pussywillow. We were on our way back to the plane now."
The Island of Women, mused 007? Baltimore had proved to be a dead end . . . literally. Whatever Bond was looking for was certainly back on the Island, and that was the best place to start. With Pussy in London, he wouldn't have a better time to snoop around under the guise of Honeydew. He was certainly dressed for the occasion . . . so to speak. He only hoped that he could find Octopussy's reasons for doing this to him in the first place, and perhaps an antidote.
"I'm coming back with you. Pussywillow can handle the business in London herself."
"We better get going then because we're already running late."
With that, Bond joined the other ladies in the van, and departed for the plane that would return him to the place where this all started . . . the Island of Women!
* * *
Bond had hoped to gather a little more useful information, to what promised to be the performance of a lifetime, from his two companions. Unfortunately, they were fast asleep within minutes after boarding the plane. The only thing they did succeed in doing was finding him a pair of black high heeled pumps to wear. They belonged to one of the dead female assassins!
Bond himself could not sleep. He felt tired, but was to keyed up to even attempt slumber, and there would be time enough for that later. That left two options: explore the wild sensations that his body was sending him, in essence explore his new found femininity, or attempt to put more of the pieces together. He opted to stay as far away from the former as long as possible.
He couldn't avoid it forever!
'What day is it?' 007 wondered. 'Q must be wondering where in the bloody hell I am.' Bond noticed a newspaper laying in the seat to his right, so he picked it up to read. However, when he looked down at the paper spread in his small lap, he had to look past the small firm breasts encased within the tight dress that he wore. He silently thanked the heavens that it wasn't a low cut dress. It was distracting enough having to watch those soft mounds rise and fall on his chest with each breath.
It was then that he noted the date on the newspaper. Two entire days had passed since he had fallen asleep on that initial night in Q's personal lab. 'That is just bloody great,' mused 007 mentally. Another lapse in memory to deal with.
With what the woman had told him, Pussywillow was still in London. He had to get word to Q somehow. 'Q?' though 007. 'He must really be wondering about me after disappearing for two more days. If only I could remember where Pussy was in London, what she was doing there, or even what she looked like. Anything to give Q a lead!'
Unfortunately, there was nothing. Something was clearly inhibiting his memory whenever he became this Honeydew Mountjoy, but he had no idea what it could be. Why could he remember being Honeydew now. Absently, Bond rubbed the aching bump on his head from the fall, not realising the possible connection.
At the very least, he should warn Q that Pussy was in London, for they had to find out what she was doing there. The answer struck Bond all at once. Q's computer! If he could find a computer at the Island of Women, he could e-mail Q a warning.
* * *
Once out of the plane on the Island of Women, it took all of 007's concentration to walk in the high heels. Oddly enough, that concentration was only required for the first few steps! Thereafter, the natural reflexes of the feminine body that he wore came to life.
That was when Bond knew for sure that this Honeydew persona had spent some serious time in heels. It was all coming too easily. With the heels, Bond's gait took on a fluid and feminine grace. All he had to do was not interfere with the body's natural movements by over thinking everything. He found that if he just kept his mind focused on the larger mystery, the body just took care of itself.
The pilot must have radioed ahead that Honeydew was coming back to the Island because the other women had quite literally rolled out the red carpet. Absolutely everybody recognised him as Honeydew Mountjoy, with usual greetings of, "Hello, Honey."
That was clearly his nickname now, and he shuddered at having to respond to such a silly moniker.
Fortunately, the girls led him directly to Honeydew's suite. It was a large plush suite, with expensive furnishings, again indicating her rank in Pussywillow's organisation. Bond spent a few moments exploring every crevice of his new suite. He located clothes, shoes, lingerie, make up, and all other things essential to the life of a beautiful woman. 007 also located a computer.
With a very girlish sigh, James plumped down in the hard chair in front of the computer to send Q an E-mail. Bond hadn't noticed it before, as he had been sitting in the padded seats of the van and plane, but his buttocks definitely felt fleshier now. It felt as if he had some built in padding in his seat!
Bond got the message off to Q, hoping that it would do some good. Bond added that he was following up on a lead, and would contact him when he could.
That done, Bond continued his exploration. Within a short time, he located a door to an adjoining suite . . . Octopussy's old suite. Now it was Pussywillow's suite. Bond momentarily got a lump in his throat when he thought about his former lover, and for a second there, thought he was going to cry.
"Damn body!" he gently swore under his breath. This woman's body was making him experience emotions deeply and fully. Emotions were the one thing that up until now, that he had never had to deal with. An agent couldn't afford them, but now . . . there was no way around them.
He was about to explore Pussywillow's suite when a phone near the computer rang. Bond crossed the room to answer the interruption. Therefore, he picked up the receiver, saying, "Yes?"
There was an unknown girl on the other end. "Honey? There is a man calling from London named Nigel Wrath. He says that he was supposed to have a meeting with Pussywillow last night to finish up some type of transaction. She never showed up. He's wondering what he should do with the goods, so he called here. He asked for you by name."
"Put him through," Bond replied.
Bond knew Wrath. He was a weapons dealer of some repute, said to deal with some exotic requests. The company had him under surveillance for some time, as he was rumoured to have some of Drax's satellites from the Moonraker fiasco. What would Pussywillow be doing with him? Where was she now? There was only one way to find out.
"Honeydew Mountjoy? What is going on here? I thought that I had a deal with your employer two nights ago. Where the bloody Hell is she?"
In his best girlish voice, Bond said calmly, "I do not know Mr. Wrath. Pussywillow comes and goes as she pleases, and answers to know one. If I may ask, how did you get my name?"
"Pussywillow told me that if I couldn't speak to her directly to contact you, there on the Island. That is what I did."
007 thought quickly. He had to find out what this deal with the weapons trader was. Therefore, he would have to try and bluff his way through the deal.
"I am prepared to finalise the transaction Mr. Wrath. I can be in London within a few hours. Why don't you tell me where to meet you, and the time. I shall be there forthwith."
"No need, Honey. I have to be in Bombay tonight on other business, and thought that I might meet your there. Would that be acceptable?"
Bond considered for the moment, but he really had no choice. He would have to go out in public as Honeydew. "Do you know the Palace Casino, Mr. Wrath?"
"I do . . . very well."
"I shall meet you there, at 10:00 sharp."
"How will I know you, Honeydew?"
"I'll find you. Your reputation, as well as your face proceeds you."
In that, Bond was not lying. If Bond had a womanising counterpart on the other side of the law, Nigel Wrath was it. Bond was going into the lion's den, but not as the lion. He was to be the lioness!
Part 5 Kismet
Q stared at the computer generated image before him, the spinning double helix of a human DNA sample projected upwards from his desk. The evidence was undeniable. Q had run all the tests three times, just to be certain.
The British Secret Service Research and Development Chief had figured out what the two reo-virus strains in Bonds blood actually did. Q had even managed to trigger both and he certainly didn't like what he had uncovered.
The twin viruses caused a complete change in Bond's DNA, and of the forty six chromosomes in Bond's cells, it was the Y that was being affected by the two reo-viruses.
When the first reo-virus was activated it caused little change other than a shift of Bonds cells to female. The virus altered Bond's Y chromosome to become an X chromosome. When DNA matching was carried out the differences were minimal. Q easily determined that the variations in genetic composition were in line with the alteration of a single chromosome from Y to X. This virus also allowed the X chromosome to be returned to it's unaltered Y form.
The second reo-virus however caused dramatic changes. The Y chromosome wasn't altered, it was completely replaced. The new X chromosome seemed to come from an octopus, which should be impossible. The resultant cell was about two percent different from a normal humans, a big difference.
Q had identified the octopus that the virus had been derived from. A rare genus that was found only in an isolated chain of islands in the pacific. The Octopus was capable of changing gender under certain circumstances. This went a long way towards explaining why the human cells could be manipulated.
"Dear god Bond, what have you gotten involved in this time?" Q wondered aloud as he massaged his scalp. Q reached down for another piece of the puzzle.
In shaky hands Q held the sketch of the attractive woman Bond had left for him to investigate. With this picture before him Q was forced to accept what he had been trying to deny. "It couldn't be... no it's not possible. An alteration on the cellular level is different to a complete physical metamorphosis," Q said, hoping against hope.
When Q had first seen the drawing he had thought it to be some twisted joke of Bonds. But based on his research, Q was forced to contemplate that this might be the female Bond that the first reo-virus would create. Since Bond and this 'woman' shared the same genetic pattern it was also possible that she was behind the thefts that Bond was accused of. After all she would have the same finger prints and retinal scan. That was if she existed.
"Damn you Bond, you always disappear at the most inconvenient times," Q swore. He needed Bond here to run more comprehensive tests. "Where has the man gotten too?" Q was particularly concerned about the second reo-virus. The alterations it caused bordered on the inter-specie level, not just a change in gender.
There was a sudden change on Q's computer screen. He had some new mail. Doubtless it was some joke or another. Q moved to check it anyway, very relieved when he discovered that it was from Bond.
Reading the brief message only made Q more anxious. 007 had journeyed to Hong Kong to interrogate Baltimore, but Baltimore had been eliminated by Pussywillow's assassins. Q remembered Baltimore, a gifted chemist and biologist that had worked with Octopussy's father. Obviously Q and Bond were both pursuing the same case from different directions.
Bond also indicated that he was meeting Nigel Wrath, the arms dealer. Q tried to determine where Wrath figured into all this but couldn't.
It was all too confusing. Q decided that his efforts would be better spent on discovering how the virus worked. Maybe then he could create an anti-virus. In the meantime Bond could take care of himself.
* * *
At the moment Bond was having problems of a most unusual sort. He had just finished a most interesting shower and was trying to decide what would be appropriate to wear to a Casino. Honey had a huge range of expensive dresses which made things even harder. Usually Bond just slipped on a tux and that was it.
As he dried his damp hair with a towel, Bond silently wished that he could go in a tux, but two things stopped him. The first was that it would be out of character of Honey. The other hindrance was that Honey didn't have one.
Based on his experience with female agents Bond was looking for a dress which would be utilitarian whilst making the most of his newly acquired feminine wiles. Anything that restricted his legs too much was definitely not a consideration. Apparently Honey thought the same as he did. Very few of her dresses were made just for show, even though all of them were spectacularly revealing
Commander Bond held up a strapless black dress which was slit all the way along one leg to the hip. It was a made from a thin glittering material that was almost transparent from certain angles. Bond knew that this was excellent to distract peoples attention. Anything which gave him an advantage was good. Best of all the dress could be zipped off into two pieces to create a mini-skirt of sorts. He put it aside.
Having made a decision on the black dress, Bond proceeded to choose shoes. He chose a pair of high heels that matched the dress. These were not practical, but flats would have been unacceptable at a Casino, especially when she had to be the centre of attention.
"Damn, I'm even thinking of myself as a woman!" Bond said aloud.
The small stockpile of weapons Honey kept were quite impressive. 007 even noticed a few of Q's gismo's amongst them. He pulled out a small pistol and the matching garter holster. In the past he had found it quite an enjoyable experience to discover one of these beauties nestle between a woman's thighs, but no-one was going to find his.
The black hand bag which went with the dress had room for a pistol so Bond placed a Gloch in there. He liked his Walther PPK, but once again Honey didn't have one. He also selected a cigarette case and a cigarette stick. As 007 made sure everything fitted in the purse he received a surprise of sorts. He found Honey's contraceptive tablets and a number of ribbed condoms.
"Not something I needed to know," Bond said. He looked at the packet of pills. "One a day," he read aloud.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He popped a tablet from the casing and placed in his mouth and swallowed.
"The things I do for queen and country!" he said, looking down at the dress. The only thing he needed now was underwear. He went to one of Honey's drawers and pulled out a skimpy black G-string. The dress was sufficiently tight that he would not require a bra, but this little beauty was definitely required.
007 quickly stepped into the thong g-string and examined his reflection in the mirror. "What a pity I'm you," he said to his reflection as he adjusted his newfound breasts. He then picked up the dress and struggled into its tight confines. It was a most impressive sight. He put on the high heals then finished the outfit off with the matching bag. He looked like one of his better conquests...
There was a knock on the door. Bond looked away from his reflection. "Come in," he called.
A tall woman entered. Bond ran his eyes over her. She was attractive in her muscular way, but there was something coldly foreboding about her. He knew her from the British Secret Service files. Ivana Kutchukokoff. "Ivana, how are you?" Bond inquired.
"Good," she said with a thick Slavic accent. "I am to guard you tonight." She was efficient in everything she did, walking, talking and if Bond remembered correctly, killing. Six foot tall, most of it highly compact muscle, she cut a striking figure.
Bond tried to remember any more details about this woman. Ivana Kutchukokoff was an ex-soviet agent that specialised in assassination. Her methods were apparently quite painful, especially for males. Bond was glad he was meeting her in the body of Honey and not in his male one.
That she was with Pussywillow spoke volumes about the female leaders power. Ivana was a staunchly loyal socialist, not the type that Bond would have picked to join up with a criminal.
"Well, I'm almost ready. I just have to do my make-up," Bond said. 'Oh my god, did I just say that?' he wondered.
Bond went over and allowed himself to relax. With Honey's practiced hand, Bond was soon looking resplendent, his face lightly made up, his lips a pouting matte red. Even his lashes were done. 'It's a good thing that Octopussy is dead, otherwise I'd kill her myself,' Bond thought half heartedly as he looked at the beautiful woman he had become.
'Tonight you must do whatever is required to discover what Pussywillow is up too. Just remember James, Queen and Country,' Bond thought.
* * *
As 007 stepped into the lushly appointed Casino foyer he was acutely conscious that he was attracting stares. Having women look him over was nothing new, but men eyeing him off was something else entirely. Bond was suddenly appreciative of the ice cold presence of Ivana.
Without the slightest outward sign of his uncertainty, Bond made his way to the bar.
"What can I get you Honey?" the man asked.
Bond smiled at the way the question sounded. It could almost be a pick up line, except it was the name of this body. "A Martini -"
"Stirred not shaken, I know."
Bond frowned. Why would he want it stirred? This woman had bastardised his trade mark drink!
Moving away from the bar, Bond scanned the tables pausing when he made eye contact with Nigel Wrath. The man wore a custom black tuxedo that fitted him well. He had a rakishly charming smile on his handsome face, the type of smile that won women's hearts. Bond knew this because he had possessed that same smile.
Even though their paths had crossed numerous times, Bond had not met this illusive arms dealer. He knew of Nigel only by reputation. Wrath was an odd fellow from what Bond understood. He was brilliant at his arms trade and other illegal activities, but the criminal possessed his own unique moral code.
Bond remembered conversations about Wrath with his associates in the now defunct Afghan resistance. For some bizarre reason Nigel had sold at below cost to the Mujahadin. It wasn't for religious reasons either. Wrath apparently felt for their cause.
Though Wrath's activities were illegal, Bond could almost respect the man. There was a certain twisted chivalry to the mans actions. Except now Nigel was dealing with Pussywillow.
Bond made his way to the gaming table, his path clearing as people turned to admire him. He could almost get used to this.
"Mr. Wrath," Bond said, extending his hand.
"A pleasure to meet you Miss Mountjoy," Nigel said suavely as he held Bond's hand and proceeded to bring it to his mouth to kiss. With his best poker face Bond casually pulled his hand free. Nigel smiled and nodded his head towards the woman before him, acceding the point but not the game.
Inwardly Bond was a little amused. It was just the sort of thing he would have tried if their roles had been reversed. He would have to watch this wily adversary, but fortunately Bond knew exactly where Wrath was coming from.
"Do you gamble?" Wrath asked, his eye brow raised suggestively.
"A little," Bond replied blandly, moving to take a seat. He was well aware of the subtle innuendo of Wrath's comments and found them slightly flattering.
"Allow me," Wrath said, moving to assist with the chair. Ivana imposed herself between her female charge and the Nigel. Arms crossed she silently glowered at the man. "Well, maybe not," Wrath said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette case. Moving to a seat on the opposite side of the table he popped the lid. "Cigarette?" Wrath offered, holding the case out to James.
007 shook his head, "I have my own," Bond said.
Wrath nodded and adroitly pulled out an expensive cigarette. With a small flourish he put the case away in his pocket then lit up.
"What are the stakes," Bond asked, amused by the man's quirky movements.
"I thought you knew? If I win we go to my room -"
"You're not going to win," Bond said with certainty.
"Then we're going to your room," Wrath said, a beguiling smile on his face.
'Damn I hope I'm not this irritating when I put on the charm,' Bond thought, his interest growing. He wanted to know what made Wrath tick. There was a lot more going on behind that facade, Bond was certain.
"Black Jack," Bond said, naming the game.
They started out, bets a minimum of ten thousand dollars. Bond was acutely aware that direct discussion of Wrath's business with Pussywillow was a taboo subject in public, but that didn't mean she couldn't skirt the subject. This wasn't just a game of cards after all.
"So tell me. How has your work been going lately?" Bond inquired as the hand was being dealt.
"Very quiet," Wrath said, "but I understand you've been involved in a hostile takeover quite recently."
"Yes, that is true," Bond looked at his cards. A Jack and a six. Not good. He'd have to go all or nothing. "But it is very important to keep competitive. You should never go for less than break even, even in an Muslim market," Bond said, indicating he knew about Wrath's Afghan support. He held up his hand for another card.
Wrath smiled easily, wearing a bland poker face as he also indicated he wanted another card. "You never know when you'll need a favour returned," was Wrath's easy reply.
Bond held up his new card. A four. That brought him to twenty. Bond held his dainty hand over his cards to show that he would sit.
Wrath did the same.
The dealer flipped his cards over. A king and a nine. "Dealer pays twenty and twenty one," he said.
Wrath showed his three cards. They came to twenty.
With an ironic smile, James turned his cards face up. "Neither of us won. I guess we're going back to our own rooms. Alone," Bond said.
"So it would seem," Wrath said, putting out his cigarette, "unless I were to ask for another card." Nigel placed a one hundred thousand dollar chip on the table and indicated to the dealer for another card.
"Sir you've already won," the dealer pointed out.
"Humour me. If I break twenty one the house can keep my bet. If not, you don't have to pay me a cent. This is just between me and the lady."
"Very well," said the dealer, shrugging as he dealt Wrath a card. Wrath picked it up slowly, his eyes on the black clad woman the entire time. She kept her eyes on him. The corners of Wrath's mouth were upturned in a small laconic smile. He threw the card down on the table with a flourish of his wrist. It was an ace. The gathered crowd muttered in awe.
"I guess we go to my place."
Bond placed a five hundred thousand dollar chip on the table, "I'll raise you," he said cockily.
The dealer was a little confused. Neither of the gamblers stood to gain anything by this. He dealt a card to the small woman. She picked it up with the rest of her cards and looked at them. Then the lovely woman placed them face down on the table, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I've broken twenty one," James said, a slightly surprised expression on the woman's face as though she had never lost before.
"Mr. Wrath wins," the dealer said. There was an amused chortle in the crowd as the tension evaporated.
Nigel Wrath stood and made his way to the black clad woman. "Miss Mountjoy, I believe we have business to discuss in my private suite."
Once again Ivana interposed herself between Wrath and her charge. "That's all right Ivana, your services are no longer required tonight," the woman in black said.
Ivana cast one last scalding look over Wrath, then departed.
The woman accompanied Wrath from the Casino.
The dealer shook his head and picked up the five hundred thousand dollar chip, placing it in the Casino's winnings drop. He then picked up the woman's cards and turned them over. She'd drawn an ace as well. The dealer just couldn't understand women sometimes.
* * *
"I like your hands," Bond said as they stood in the elevator. "I'm sure you could do wonderful things with them."
"Oh, I can," Wrath said, as he turned towards the small woman. "You know, I like you so much more than Pussywillow. She's so tall and imposing, always gets straight to the point. I like they way you play around things. Like a little mouse you skirt the main issues, never saying up front what's on your mind. You seem to be such a mystery, and I love mysteries."
Bond nodded, taking a step back as Wrath moved forwards. 007 placed a hand on Wrath's wrist as the man moved his hand towards James to embrace him. James realised now how much stature he had lost. Bond now barely reached the mans chin! The sudden proximity of Wrath worried James. 007 needed to stop the man's advances, he was not ready for them.
"You move very quickly," Bond said quickly, turning a card around in his hand and holding it in front of Wrath. It was an eight. "Very deft the way you slipped it up your sleeve."
Wrath smiled sheepishly, his cheating revealed, "you can't fault a guy for trying." Bond had turned aside Wrath's advances, placing him momentarily on the defensive.
"That means I won and we should be going to my place. A pity, since my little island is so much nicer than this hotel," Bond said airily, leading Wrath along. He didn't know why he was doing it! "You've never been to the Isle of Women before, have you?"
"No I haven't, but I must admit, I'm a little curious," Wrath said in an understated manner.
Bond arched an eye brow. If Wrath was as womanising as his reputation suggested then he would surely love the Isle of Women.
The elevator stopped and the couple made their way to Wrath's room. The penthouse suite was open and airy, the decor Imperialistic in nature although influenced heavily by the native Indian style.
"Would you like a drink before we get down to business?"
"Yes, Bourbon on the rocks," Bond said. He strolled around the penthouse, admiring the furnishings. Wrath passed him the drink.
"Thank you," Bond said as he opened his hand bag and pulled out his cigarette case, careful of the Gloch. Seeing the varied contraceptive devices he rapidly closed the bag.
Wrath smirked, obviously having seen the contents of Bond's purse as well. "My we do come prepared don't we?" Nigel said, a rakish grin once more affixed to his face. "That's some heavy protection you're packing."
It was only with incredible willpower that Bond stopped himself from blushing. He should have gotten rid of this paraphernalia!
"So shall we finish the transaction I began with Pussywillow?" Wrath asked.
Bond nodded. "Yes, bring me up to speed."
"All the medical equipment your employer wanted is available. Some of that stuff is worth a mint, but you're paying top dollar. All I need now is a delivery address."
Bond sipped his drink slowly. "South America," he said, playing a hunch. Baltimore had hinted that was where Pussywillow had been sending raw materials.
Wrath smiled, "I'd thought as much. But where exactly?"
Bond didn't have the foggiest idea. If he failed to answer, Wrath would become suspicious. Bond searched his mind for a solution to his dilemma. When he encountered a protagonist of the opposite sex he couldn't outwit, he invariably just slept with them.
Unfortunately 007 was a woman at the moment and Wrath was clearly a man. 'Where are those gun toting assassins when you needed then?' Bond wondered. 'Queen and country James...'
007 moved forward and kissed the surprised Wrath. Wrath stood for a moment, stunned.
This minx had been playing hard to get all night, now she was throwing herself into his arms. Not one to question his good fortune, Wrath kissed the slight girl back. He took her to his bed.
Bond was a little restrained at first. This had been his last line of defence and he had not fully anticipated the consequences of using a female body to seduce a man. Judging by his level of excitement, his body was more than ready for the task.
It was strange to kiss a man. The kiss was pleasant and Bond could feel a growing excitement. Wrath ran his hands over Bonds softly curvaceous body, tingles of pleasure starting in Bonds sensitive skin. Bond responded in kind, running small delicate hands over Wrath's well muscled body, slowly tracing downwards towards the man's rising manhood then teasingly leading away.
Wrath's hands moved to the small mounds of Bonds breasts and caressed them through the dress, then pushed the almost sheer fabric down so they popped free, the nipples pert and erect. Wrath leant down and engulfed one in his mouth, flicking it gently with his tongue. Bond squirmed at the sudden pleasure.
At this moment Bond realised exactly how much bigger Wrath's male body was in comparison to his female body. Up until now Bond had always played the dominant role, the woman in his life submissive, with a few notable exceptions. Now the roles seemed reversed. Bond had little time to dwell on this as the black dress which clad his feminine waist and hips was pushed even further down exposing the black thong he had chosen earlier that day. Bond couldn't seem to resist, Wrath's hands were everywhere at once, playing the female body like a master.
Bond retained enough presence of mind to reciprocate, using every trick he'd ever learnt in his coloured career. Bonds knowledge was formidable and Wrath was equally impressed. Bond could tell by the manhood which was pressed firmly against his soft waist.
"Good thing I come prepared," she said reaching into her bag and producing a condom. Wrath smiled and pulled her thong bikini off her, exposing her new sex to the cool air. He pulled off his pants and applied the rubber.
Bond had a moment to stare before he was on her. As he slid into her, Bond let out a cry of pleasure, wrapping her legs around his waist. It was unlike anything she had imagined. The way Wrath slid in and out of her, gently coaxing her as he fondled her breasts and nipples was sublime.
Lying on her back, a man pounding away deeply inside her, Bond tried to analyse the new sensations but couldn't concentrate. She had to act. Wrath was going too slowly! "Faster," she begged in her husky voice. "Deeper," she breathed.
Wrath smiled as he obeyed her commands, the small and compact woman beneath him moaning and groaning whenever he moved the slightest amount. Wrath could hardly believe it. She was almost like a virgin, totally lacking in self control or poise, completely submissive to his every action. She had been the one to start their encounter but Wrath was the one who was firmly in control.
James ground away with Wrath above her, then it just stopped. Wrath had pulled out!
"Get down on all fours Honey. We're going to do it doggie style," Wrath ordered.
Bond didn't even think. She just acted, turning around on the bed, her firm rounded arse high in the air, her puckered cunt tingling with expectation. She could feel Wrath position himself at the sensitive folds of her clit, his head barely resting inside her. He placed a hand on her waist as she tried to push back on him.
"No, be patient," Nigel said. He waited a few seconds then slowly slid into her. James whimpered. From this angle the pleasure was exquisite. She could feel sweat rolling down her body towards her breasts. It coalesced at her nipples and dripped to the damp bed sheets.
Wrath moved leisurely in and out then paused. There was an expectant intake of breath from Honey. Wrath smiled as the moment stretched, bringing his hand under her to play with her engorged lips. She squirmed a little.
Wrath pushed deep into her and she let out a sharp cry, arching her back. Gripping her firmly around the waist he started to pound away into with a fierce tempo punctuated by yelps and gasps. He could feel her becoming wetter.
Bond didn't know what was happening. She could feel a shuddering in her privates each time Wrath pounded into her and he seemed to be pounding into her incessantly. It was like he wasn't even pulling back. Her insides felt extremely sensitive and numb at the same time. It was as though the pleasure was coming from everywhere and nowhere. 007 let out a shuddering scream as her vaginal muscles convulsed, warmth flowing from her. And it just kept on going.
* * *
Bond dressed quickly and left the room. Sex as a woman had been quite enjoyable. Wrath had also been very good, exceptional even. Female orgasms were a great all over body rush. Bond now knew what he had been missing. Nigel was an adventurous lover and had made losing his virginity the second time around all the more memorable.
As he left with an extra bounce to his step, the apparently sleeping figure of Wrath roused and began to dress.
Once back on the island, Bond began his search. If this was where Octopussy had developed the virus that was behind her transformations, then Bond wanted to discover Octopussy's lab. He had searched both Honey's and Pussywillow's rooms and found nothing to indicate a lab. It must be downstairs.
Bond stripped from his slinky black dress and grabbed a flowing black silk shirt and a pair of raven leg hugging pants, quickly changing into them. Next he pulled on a pair of riding boots. Smoothing down the outfit, Bond was surprised at how feminine he now was.
007 looked out the door to check the passage. It was all clear. Familiar from past visits, Bond made his way to the sub-basement. He stole along the corridors quietly, wary of disturbing the guards, reasoning that although he appeared to be Pussywillow's second in command he may not be allowed down here.
James came to a secure door with a palm scanner. Bond knew how to by-pass one of these, but his foes may expect him to know... he couldn't continue second guessing his foes. Bond started to disable the highly technical lock, unscrewing the face then rapidly rewiring it. He found the work easier with his newly nimble fingers. The door slid open.
Bond looked into the sparse room. It was a lab all right. This was where Octopussy had made the Virus that was causing him so much grief. Bond turned on the lights then went over to one of the cabinets and started browsing. He found a small rack with samples marked reo-virus strain A, B and C.
Bond was curious as to what they did. He took one of each, slipping them into his bra. These undergarments came in handy, except for holding guns. As he did a final search of the lab he saw a detailed map of South America which showed exactly where Pussywillow's base was!
Footsteps coming along the corridor distracted Bond. One of the guards was doing her rounds and coming this way! Bond turned off the lights in the lab, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness. He was going to be forced to jump the guard, he just hoped that he was strong enough in this small female form.
Suddenly there was a muffled sound followed by the noise of someone collapsing. Bond moved to the side of the door, ready to jump who ever came through the entry.
A hooded man stood in the corridor, looking at the disabled lock. He had just rendered a sentry unconscious and had been prepared to break into the lab, only to find the palm pad all ready dismantled.
The dark man padded silently towards the entry, listening for any untoward noise.
There was a sudden sound to his left so the man rolled to his right, suffering a glancing blow to the face. It smarted a little but his balaclava had been torn off as well. The man was already moving, going into a defensive crouch, preparing to fight.
Bond looked at the man. Nigel Wrath. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice down.
"What about you!" Wrath asked. There was a commotion brewing outside, both of them realised that the guards were onto them.
"Follow me," Bond ordered, running back towards her room. They made it there without anyone seeing them. Looking around the room, Bond realised that it was altogether to open. There was nowhere to hide Wrath.
Having a sudden idea Bond hastily began to strip. Wrath looked at the woman, "my we do have an appetite."
"Get into the shower! Get the hot water going and steam it up!" Bond ordered. Wrath obeyed. Bond followed the man into the shower as he threw his scant undergarments to the ground. James got the water to a reasonable temperature and wet his short hair. As he stood there, two armed sentries burst into the room.
Bond poked his head out through the door. "What do you think you are doing!" Bond demanded, covering his naked female curves. The two woman appeared most contrite.
"We're looking for an intruder. He has raided Pussywillow's lab."
"Search the island. The thief mustn't get away," Bond ordered, "report back when you find the intruder! I have to finish my shower."
Part 6. Raven
Wrath approached Bond from behind. As Bond was closing the translucent shower door, Wrath reached around Bond's narrow waist and chest to cup the small but firm breasts that were there. At the same time, Wrath slid his erection between Bond's silky thighs so that it nestled very near to Bond's sex.
"Now about those appetites of yours, Honey!"
A shiver of delight travelled up and down Bond's spine. In his varied career, he had experienced pleasure in all of its myriad forms. Some forms were wilder, more intense than others, but nothing so wild as he had experienced tonight as a woman. The memories of the sensations that he had felt whilst making love to Wrath came back to him.
His female body literally ached to do it all over again.
However, Bond pulled away, turning to face his companion. His eyes involuntarily glanced downward at the Wrath's swollen, impressive manhood. Again, a wave of desire passed through Bond, confusing the woman.
"We can't Nigel . . . we have no protection. I can't risk getting pregnant." That much was true, and Bond was not ready to experience that manifestation of womanhood.
Wrath reached up to caress Bond's cheek with the palm of his hand. Oddly, 007 found himself leaning into that caress. 'What is happening to me,' Bond worried.
Wrath's caress didn't stop at Bond's cheek. He continued upward, behind Bond's ear. Bond felt Wrath's fingers travel behind his ear, and suddenly the man was holding up one of the packaged condoms that were inside Honey's purse. It was exactly like the old magician's track where they plucked a coin from behind a child's ear.
"But how . . . ." Bond began. His verbalisation was interrupted by Wrath's finger at his lip. He held that finger there while answering the unfinished question.
"Simple slight of hand, my dear Honey. A simple matter really for somebody who has aces up his sleeve. Would you do the honours?" There were many things which Bond needed to do, but with the intruder alert he and Wrath were trapped in this suite at least until morning. Bond never was one to deny himself pleasure. What was it that they taught all of the agents at the academy? Sometimes it was necessary to use your body was a weapon.
'What I do for Queen and country,' thought Bond again! Bond took Wrath's finger into his mouth. He sucked the finger between his two soft, moist lips, while twirling the fingertip on the tip of his tongue. Simultaneously, he took the condom, now bereft of its packaging. 007's free hand found Wrath's manhood, and stroked it several times to maintain the erection. It was hardly necessary.
Bond deftly rolled the prophylactic up the length of Wrath's not so hidden weapon. Then he let the finger slide slowly out of his mouth. Bond stood on his tip toes to kiss Wrath on the lips, and when he did, Wrath's manhood found a willing home.
Bond pressed her breasts into Wrath's chest and sighed as he savoured the new sensations again. This time he managed to retain some self control. It was difficult to do it standing up in the shower and they had to move slowly but Bond found it rewarding. The woman ended up wrapping her long legs around Wrath's waist and slowly lowering and raising herself. The constant flow of warm water over James' body was incredibly erotic. This time Bond kept control and made it an encounter which Wrath would likely never forget.
Afterwards 007 curled up into Wrath's strong arm, trying to remember the warmth, safety and security that he felt.
He never understood, until this very second, why the fairer sex had a need to cuddle after the act of making love. It was one of but many alien, but pleasurable, feelings that Bond was mentally documenting in preparation for his return to manhood. He was no slouch as a lover, but with the inside knowledge that he no possessed about a woman, he would be the best lover alive. He even learned a trick or two from Wrath to try on women, when he return to his former body.
Bond was sure that Wrath probably now imagined that the person that he believed to be Honeydew as the best woman lover he ever had. 007 had used his first hand knowledge of a man's body to touch, kiss, or whatever to Wrath's body. The results were rather . . . explosive! A though occurred to Bond. As long as he was trapped, for the time being, in Honeydew's room with Wrath, he might as well use the time to find out as much information that he could provide about Pussywillow. However, he had been going for about 48 hours, without a rest. Slumber was gently beckoning for Bond, and he could feel his eyelids drooping.
"Have you ever made love with Pussywillow?" Bond asked Wrath.
There was a long silence which said it all. Before Wrath could answer, 007 posed a more incisive query.
"Who's better in bed . . . me or Pussywillow?" Bond expected that it would be him. There was no doubt in his mind that no woman alive could know how to touch a man's body as he did. The answer that he got was quite shocking.
"A gentleman doesn't discuss such things, Honey. You are English also, judging from your accent, and you should know better." He was hedging! Wrath was hiding something that Bond instinctively knew that he had to know. He did his best to feign a feminine giggle, whilst softly elbowing Wrath in the ribcage.
"Ah . . . but you are no gentleman, Nigel." Wrath took a bemused protest to that remark.
"I beg to differ with . . . ." Bond grew tired of the lovers' playful banter that he had triggered. This time he was just a little bit more insistent.
"Just tell me Wrath!"
"My, my! Is the lady that competitive with her boss. If you must know, you are very similar. Seldom have I had the pleasure of sleeping with two women who knew a man's body so well. I would have to give Pussywillow higher marks, as she was a lot more . . . uninhibited in bed. Maybe it is just a matter of style and preference, but you were much more conservative. Sorry, but you asked." Now it was Bond's turn to be silent. Wrath interpreted this silence to be evidence of stepping upon a woman's fragile emotions. He hugged Bond tightly.
"I didn't mean to imply that you weren't spectacular . . . you were. I wouldn't be here now if you weren't." Bond decided to seize upon the direction of the conversation, and Wrath's defensiveness to learn a little more about his ultimate for . . . Pussywillow. However, the wanting comparison to her in bed WAS disturbing to him for some reason. He chalked it up to simple competitiveness.
"Who's body do you like better . . . mine or hers?"
"Hmmmmm," considered Wrath. "I would have to say yours, Honey. I've always preferred shorter women. They are much more . . . feminine to me. Pussywillow is much too tall for me." That told Bond that he was dealing with a tall woman, potentially a very tall woman.
"Her body is unnatural in a way. It's almost too perfect, in that she is very slender and has very big boobs. Not that I don't mind big boobs every now and again, mind you. I prefer smallish breasts, like yours that will hold up over time." With that utterance, Wrath stroked one of Bond's nipples from his spooning embrace. The barest of touches was enough to enlarge that nipple by a substantial margin. Bond felt like groaning in response to the renewed attention. The body was willing, but the exhausted spirit was weak.
Instead, Bond continued with his subtle interrogation. "What about our respective hair?"
"I would have to give Pussywillow the nod on that one. I have always adored long, thick hair. Hers is well below her bottom, as you know. Let's call it a tie here, on second thought. I prefer your brunette hair to her blonde, even though yours is very short. It looks good on you, believe me. It looks like it . . . fits!" Now Bond was moving. He had a pretty accurate description thus far, and there was only one thing left to determine without revealing himself.
"That's unfair, Honey. You are very beautiful, but she has model looks . . . maybe better." That completed the picture. He could E-mail Q what to look for, but for now, he had to cover with Wrath.
"A girl can hope can't she?" posited Bond, playfully.
"I was starting to wonder. It was beginning to sound as if you had never met the woman. That reminds me, why were you sneaking around in your bosses lab? You never told me."
Bond had to take a chance here. His gut, call it women's intuition, told him that he could trust this man.
This was a potential ally amidst this sea of confusion. Bond spun around in the man's arms, so that he could look into the man's eyes.
"Look . . . Nigel . . . I'll be honest with you. Just because I am Pussywillow's second doesn't mean that I know everything that she's up to. I think she is planning something . . . bad. I can't let that happen."
Again, Wrath was quiet for a second, but he didn't allow that pause to linger this time. "Hmmm... I wasn't wrong about you after all. I sensed that you were not like your boss."
Bond looked into Wrath's eyes, and asked, "I might ask you the same question. Why would you risk braking into Pussywillow's lair just to get a look at her lab."
"You do not know me very well, Honey, but I do not sell weapons to just everybody. I am not a mercenary. I will only sell my wares to those who cannot defend themselves. I will admit that I make a . . . handsome profit in the trade, but I will not sell to those who will use the weapons to oppress others.
"That is what disturbed me about Pussywillow. I don't know how, but she knew that I had some of Drax's leftover satellites. I had hoped to cannibalise the technology to use on something else, but never got around to it. Pussywillow contacted me, and offered much more than the things are worth . . . enough for me to consider the sale. There was just something about it which didn't feel right.
"The satellites are for delivery of a biological agent. I had to find out what that agent was before I could even consider the sale, and with you boss missing . . . . well, it was just the perfect time." The pieces were starting to fall into place. However, what could be the biological agent. Suddenly, it dawned on Bond that it had to be something to do with reo-viruses. His eyes widened, drawing the attention of Wrath.
"Do you know what she's up to, Honey?"
"I am . . . not sure. I have an idea, but would rather not say. If you want to help me, we can investigate tomorrow." Wrath kissed Bond, with Bond, surprisingly kissing back. There was much to be said for this casual kissing.
Wrath verified his involvement, "I'm in."
"Listen, Nigel. If we get separated for any reason, complete the sale with Pussywillow. Don't do anything to arouse her suspicion, okay. I'll meet you where the delivery site was marked in South America in two days. Promise me." Bond had been through way to many of these things to know that you always have a back up plan.
"I promise, I promise," Wrath guaranteed.
Bond knew that site all too well. That was Drax's alternative missile silo where he had launched some of his shuttles during the Moonraker incident. If there was another shuttle there, coupled with the wayward satellites, it could spell disaster.
Wrath started to caress Bond erotically for one more go. However, Bond turned around into the cuddling. Spooning position once again.
"I'm . . . exhausted, Nigel. Perhaps in the morning."
"Anything, Darling." As Bond finally drifted off into sleep, he couldn't help but smirk that this was the endearment that he utilised upon his own sexual conquests. Wrath quickly joined Bond in the land of Nod.
* * *
Pussywillow awoke from her slumber a little under an hour later. The first thing that she noticed a strong sense of disorientation. Where was she? What had happened to her? For the first time in Pussywillow's short existence she knew fear and insecurity.
She was aware of arms, male arms, lightly holding her body, and she heard the soft snoring into her ear.
When Pussywillow opened her eyes, she recognised Honeydew's room. She was sleeping in Honeydew's bed with some man.
That was when Pussywillow panicked. She had no idea how or why she got here. She closed her eyes again to take a mental inventory of all of her memories in recent history. The last thing that she could recall was her accursed male other attempting to forestall the assassination of Baltimore. Bond had been trying to escape by jumping from the twentieth floor and Pussywillow had decided to take control triggering the reo-virus which caused Bond's transformation into Honeydew.
As was the usual process, the persona of Pussywillow began to emerge from her hiding place. That transfer of conscious control of their shared body was interrupted by . . . a blow to the head.
After that there was . . . nothing! Pussywillow really started to be concerned now. She usually retained the memory of everything that this body did in either of the Bond or Honeydew forms. This was the first time that she had no recall of what this body had been doing. The memory gaps were normally the side effect upon the Bond form, but now they were hers also. Clearly, the blow to the head did more than just knock the Pussywillow persona form unconscious.
Pussy slowly extricated herself from the sleeping man so as to not awake him. Again, she was startled, after stretching to her full glorious height to realise that she was in her Pussywillow form. It was the first time the transformation was ever triggered by sleep. Usually the Pussywillow form was triggered by the mental command while in the Honeydew form. It was the Honeydew form that was normally triggered by sleep.
The ramifications were crystal clear. Bond had gained control of the Honeydew body! However, what had he done with it . . . slept with a man? That seemed most unlikely, and most out of character. The only other possibility was the creation of a third persona who was truly the underling Honeydew Mountjoy, that was an amalgam of both of the other persona's. One thing was certain. The man in the bed, whoever he might be, held the answers that Pussywillow required.
She turned back toward the bed, feeling the heavy, large breasts sway in the darkness. Pussywillow also felt her extremely long hair tickle the top of her soft behind. The tall blonde took one step closer to the bed, squinting to discern the mans identity through the darkness. There was something . . . familiar about the way that he was sleeping, and she sensed instinctively that it was somebody that she knew.
Only after another step forward, did Pussywillow recognise Wrath.
The presence of Wrath was something close mind numbing surprise. 'He and Honeydew sleeping together? Perhaps all is not lost, she pondered. Nevertheless, the matrix of the reo-virus is unstable now, and I will have to accelerate my plans.'
Pussywillow leaned forward, allowing her breasts to press into the barren arms of Wrath. She stroked the arms dealer on the cheeks, to be rewarded by his eyes fluttering into awareness. The man blinked twice at the gorgeous woman before his eyes.
"Pussywillow? When did you get here? Where's Honey?"
"Shhhh," soothed the evil mastermind. "I arrived only a while ago. I had to send Honey . . . away for a while. There was a task that I needed her to do. I told her that I would . . . take care of you for her."
"Oh," was all Wrath could manage.
Pussywillow reached lower, and began to massage Wrath's growing member. Just the sight of Pussywillow's nubile body was enough to arouse his dander.
"I'm sorry that I missed you in England. An emergency came up . . . you understand? I believe that we had some business to conclude?"
"It's quite all right, Pussy. Honey closed the deal for you. The satellites are yours at the price you stated. All you have to do is give me the terms of delivery." That eased Pussywillow's mind for the moment. The signs pointed to the creation of a third Honeydew persona, but there was still something about the whole thing that didn't sit quite right. It was something that she would have to look into right away.
Pussywillow moved up her timetable with one statement to the helpless man, "Delivery in two days. When you leave tonight, I will give you the location in South America. But first, let me close the deal appropriately." Pussywillow stripped of the sheet to reveal the naked, virile form of Wrath. She lowered her lips onto Wrath's manhood, taking its entire length in one motion. No matter if the form of Honeydew was animated by Bond or by a third persona, she wanted to leave no doubt in Wrath's mind as to who was the better woman.
* * *
All of Pussywillow's doubts about who was controlling the Honeydew body were now removed. The rewired palm identification plate confirmed that there was no third Honeydew persona. As an amalgam of the two, or even as Honeydew, she would have know how to gain access to the lab. That meant that Bond was controlling Honey's body. A brief test verified that fact.
Pussy tried to mentally trigger the metamorphosis from Pussywillow to Honeydew, as she had countless times before. She could not! The buffer between herself and Bond was gone, meaning that Bond was one step closer to discovering the truth. He, or rather a variant of his own personality, was really Pussywillow. Would he be shocked to know . . . or titillated? What would he think of Pussywillow's body.
Clearly, the only way that Pussywillow could emerge was if Bond fell asleep while in Honeydew's body.
That begged the question of how, or even if, either Pussywillow or Honeydew could transform back into the male Bond. Once Bond was . . . well Bond, how would he transform back into Honeydew.
So many questions, yet very few reasonable answers.
As Pussywillow sat in her lab, she found the whole situation intolerable. When she first became the Pussywillow persona, it took her a while to figure out the mechanism of change. It took a little longer to figure out the process once she had Baltimore synthesise the second reo-virus to her exact specifications, but there was still that troubling variant that sometimes made Bond spontaneously shift back into the Honeydew body. That was the only time Bond's real persona got a glimpse of the woman that he had become before the Pussywillow persona took over again. Baltimore had assured Pussy that it was just an instability in the matrix that would stabilise over time.
That did not prove to be true, and now the matrix was really destabilised. Baltimore was dead by her own command. How could she have foreseen this complication? The answer was very clear . . . she couldn't have.
Pussywillow smiled up at the map of the world on the over-large computer view screen.
That left only Q! After Baltimore had synthesized a third reo-virus, he had lived out his usefulness. No sense in leaving loose ends, and since he could not turn the third reo-virus into an airborne virus . . . .
Baltimore simply lacked the equipment to map the virus down to its last genome. Only the British biological research department, accessible to Q, could do that.
Now Pussy literally grinned. It had been so easy to get Q to analyse Bond's blood. By now there was no doubt that he had the reo-viruses mapped all the way down to the last molecule. Q's analysis would provide her with the information that she needed to complete the reo-virus.
The tall blonde woman's immaculately manicured nails flew across the computer keyboard. She input Q's password, gleaned from Bond's observation of Q. The data flashed upon the screen.
Pussywillow's eyes began to dart to and fro on the screen, absorbing the information that was located there.
"Hmmmmm," vocalised Pussywillow, as she came across one particularly interesting passage. It seemed that Bond's REM sleep produced a specific endorphin. It was the same endorphin that was produced when his body went into a high level of stress or exertion. Q's analysis indicated that it was the endorphin that triggered the biological switch from Y to X, and that in turn triggering the first reo-virus to active. The trigger of the second virus, she already knew. On second thought, she thought she knew! Those rules didn't seem to apply now.
Pussy leaned back in her chair, absently lifting a glass of champagne to her pretty bee-stung lips. She pondered the information that she now possessed. Her Pussywillow body, and persona, were now apparently triggered by the same effect as Bond to Honeydew. Sleep or high bodily stress. It was certainly possible that some of the genomes of the two reo-viruses may have intermixed in the trauma during transformation. Did that mean that Bond could consciously control the switch from Bond to Honey, as she used to be able to from Honey to Pussy.
She shivered again. Bond was so close now.
Pussywillow again studied the screen. She saw that Q had mapped out the portion of the first reo-virus, now the second that had created the unintended second persona. There was no doubt that Q suspected the truth. Yes . . . time was definitely running short! However, Q had also inadvertently located the chromosome that could convert the reo-viruses into an airborne virus.
That made Pussywillow grin despite the rest of the bad news. She downloaded that portion of the analysis into her computer to combine it with Baltimore's research. It was only a matter of hours until her computer completed the formula, and synthesized the final version of the third reo-virus. That airborne virus was the key to world conquest . . . something which had eluded all of Bond's other foes.
Once that virus was delivered into the atmosphere with Drax's leftover satellites and rockets, all of the women in the world would be transformed into men. That would leave she, Pussywillow, as the only woman left. She would be the mother of a new race . . . the perfect hive mentality, that would worship her as the Queen Mother.
They world would have to come to her, as the only remaining woman for their very survival. She would have all of the power, and control of the world! It was perfect.
A message flashed up on the screen, "34 hours remaining until reo-virus synthesis." That left enough time. Only one task remained until launch. Q's analysis had to be eliminated at the source and, of course . . . Q would have to die. This was something that she would have to take care of herself.
* * *
Bond woke up in Honeydew's bed. He sat up, and knew in an instant. He was back in his own male body. He scanned the room, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Wrath was nowhere in sight. Thank goodness, thought Bond! That . . . would have been hard to explain.
Bond's hand touched a note next to his right hand. It was perfumed. Bond's hands clumsily opened the note, and his eyes beheld the flowing script of a woman. It read:
* * *
James: By the time that you read this, it will be too late. I am very sorry, but Q must die! Do not try to save him because you will fail. It was a shame that I could not meet you in person. I have heard a lot about you.
Pussywillow! She was here, and I slept right through it. Wrath has to be with her. That was unimportant at this very moment, for the only thing that mattered was Q. He had to be warned right away.
Bond quickly located Honeydew's computer, and sent an E-mail warning to Q. That warning included, to the best of his ability, a physical description of Pussywillow. That would have to do until he could get back to England. He had to get back to protected that irascible old coot.
Part 7. Kismet
How on earth was he going to get back to England? All of his fake documents were lost in Hong Kong. He was in India, in the middle of Pussywillow's island of women, and he was a man. Though he was back in his male body, Bond wished that he was still in Honeydew Mountjoy's body. At least he would have some mobility on the island and be able to travel incognito.
Bond thought about the womanly curves he had possessed and smiled. Being Honey had been... an interesting experience. Distracted for a moment thinking about Honey's body, Bond did not notice that his body was slowly reshaping.
The first sign Bond had was that the clothes he was wearing were starting to get bigger. 'I'm changing!' Bond thought, relieved and confused at the same time. The change was quite rapid and within minutes Bond was back in the familiar form of Honeydew.
Without pausing to consider the transformation, Bond went to Honey's wardrobe and started to select some clothes. He dressed quickly in a pair of tight black leather pants and a body hugging top. He also grabbed a stylish matching leather jacket, made to conceal the bulge of a holstered weapon.
Deciding that being authoritative was the best option, Bond left Honey's room and marched into what appeared to be Pussywillow's secretaries office. "I need passage to England, immediately. Organise it," he said sharply.
"I'll have Pussywillow's private jet ready in a moment," the immaculately dressed woman replied.
"I shall accompany you, Pussywillow's orders," said Ivana.
Bond looked at the imposing woman. Obviously Ivana was coming with him.
* * *
Q finished his last batch of tests, then examined the data. He scratched his head, promising himself more sleep once he was done. He'd subjected the virus and some sample cells to a series of time acceleration tests and discovered that, whilst similar, the two viruses were diametrically opposed.
The two viruses seemed to be vying for dominance, actively seeking each other out and attacking one another, fighting over the sample cells in a microscopic war. In the original sample taken from Bond the two viruses had been matched. However in all of Q's tests the second strain had unfailingly defeated the first. Once the first virus was destroyed, the second virus rapidly changed all of the cells in the sample to a permanent XX configuration.
It was only a matter of time before this happened in Bonds body. Q had to find a way to neutralise the second virus.
He went back to his old research and frowned. Someone had been accessing these files. Q ran a tracking program that traced the source back to an Internet service provider in India. Bond?
Q thought about this. Why would Bond access his files...
Then the warning arrived.
- Q, beware of Pussywillow. She is a tall blonde with long hair, model looks, large breasts and a killer figure. Will try to assassinate you. Also plans to use Drax's space equipment to deliver a biological weapon of some sort worldwide. Rally forces to South America... On my way back to England. Bond. -
Reading the message, Q felt reasonably safe. In the heart of the British Secret Services Research and Development Q was very well defended. His main weak spot seemed to be Bond's female double. If she existed then the evil female knew everything that Bond.
Q considered what he knew of 007. The cornerstone of Bond's being seemed to be his womanising ways. If he had a weakness it was his male ego...It saddened him to think it, but Q pondered whether Bond had completely cracked and turned rogue. Becoming a woman might be the only think that would make the agent turn, or at least make the agent schizophrenic.
The very thought terrified Q. Bond was a wildcard, seemingly capable of the impossible. If he had turned evil then the world would not be safe!
Q tried to imagine what a mad Bond might do. Turn all the men in the world to women? It sounded preposterous, but Bond possessed the virus that could do it. However the virus needed to be injected into people to affect them. It wasn't air borne...
"My god," Q said, finally piecing everything together, the viruses and their mapping, the theft of the information and Drax's delivery system! The last person Q could trust now was Bond. Suddenly fearful Q started to make up a backup copy of his research. This may well be needed to reverse the damage that Bond would cause.
There was a sudden loud boom. Q looked away from his computer, recognising an explosion when he heard one. Q could hear the sounds of approaching gunfire. The gall of Bond. First warn of an attack, then attack! Q realised belatedly that Bond was capable of planning a flawless attack on the British Secret Service.
Grabbing the DVD with the vital information, Q ran into the weapons testing area, picking up a small pack almost as an after thought. He activated the pack, just as eight black clad commandos charged into the room. Their leader was a woman, but the seven others were men.
Seeing Q, the woman opened fire on the fleeing man, her underlings firing a moment later. Somehow they missed the aging scientist as he ran further into the area. They gave chase, following him into a narrow cul-de-sac. Cockily they advanced on the weaponless man, taking their time now that they had him cornered. He seemed to be frantically loading a weapon of some sort.
"Goodbye old man," their leader said, a wry smile on her feminine lips.
All eight assassins opened fire on the man. He smiled back at them warmly as he finished loading the weapon, the wall behind him cracking under the fire.
"What?" the leader said as the image of Q flickered then disappeared.
There was a strange pulse and one of the men was struck by a dart. He pulled it from his shoulder. "A hologram my dear," a voice said. They turned to find no one behind them, just a bay of computers.
"Fan out and find him. Pussywillow will pay double for his head," the woman ordered.
The man who had been shot nodded with his compatriots, but he felt weak. Something was in his system and whatever it was, it made him feel odd. He collapsed to the ground.
There were two more pulses and a pair of the killers were hit. They seemed unaffected at first but as they searched for their invisible assailant they began to feel a little light headed and woozy. They both collapsed a moment later.
Q shot another assassin with a tranquilliser and he collapsed a moment later.
Finally the killers congregated back together to discuss what they should do. The four remaining assassins were shot.
"What's happening?" The first man asked, as he stumbled. The others collapsed.
Q stepped from his hiding spot, seemingly emerging from a computer bank like a ghost. The computer bank blurred as had the other hologram.
The Secret Service arrived soon after and took the men into custody without any struggle.
"Frightfully useful gadget," Q explained to the British Agents as he pointed to his portable projector. He pushed a button on the pack and the computer bank flickered and disappeared.
* * *
Bond waited in the customs line, very aware of the male officers that were giving him the once over. Bond chided himself for wearing such revealing clothing. There were times when it was desirable to inconspicuous, and now was one of them.
Although Honeydew Mountjoy was not officially a real person, she did possess the very best forged documents which money could buy. Unfortunately if Q was doing his job a woman fitting Honey's description would be wanted by the British Secret Service. That was if Q was doing his job.
Apparently either Q wasn't or these people were incompetent as Bond was let through customs without a problem.
Ivana however waited on the plane. She was quite well known to the British Secret Service and would no doubt be picked up by the authorities.
* * *
'I'm not as young as I used to be,' thought Q as he sipped a refreshing coffee. He had just spent a harrowing night with little sleep worrying about Bond's mental condition. The attack had to have been organised by 007. Bond and Pussywillow were one and the same. There was no other answer.
"Good morning," Bond said, "I'm glad to find you in good health. The warning I sent seems to have arrived in the nick of time."
Q turned at Jame's voice, the colour draining from his face.
"Bond!" he said, a little fearfully as he stared at the masculine man that Bond currently was.
"Q, I need to know, have you been examining those viruses?"
"Yes, and I think I know what is causing your memory lapses," Q said, inching towards a fountain pen that doubled as a gun.
Bond's eyebrow rose at the apparent ruse. "So, you think I've really turned bad Q? I thought you trusted me."
"James, your actions have caused me to re-evaluate my trust. You've stolen my research. You were the only one who saw my private access code."
"I won't deny that I know your code, but I didn't steal your research!"
"I mapped out the two viruses in your blood and this data has been stolen. I think that yourself and Pussywillow are working together to create an airborne virus," Q said. He didn't want to confront Bond directly over the issue. If Bond now had a split personality then being told about Pussywillow may well shatter the mans mind. His grip at the moment must be tenuous at best.
"Me and Pussywillow?" Bond asked, totally missing the relevance.
Q considered what he should tell Bond. Maybe if he gradually told the agent..."I think you've cracked James. There's now two personalities in you, the male and the female. Yin and Yang, complete opposites. One good and one evil."
Bond nodded. "I've suspected as much myself, but I'm back in control. Complete control. Allow me to illustrate," Bond said, willing himself to change into the form of Honey. He had to get Q to trust him. Q was the only one who could create an anti-virus and cure his condition.
The secret agents features softened greatly, his jaw, cheeks and nose becoming smoother and more refined. As he shrunk in height other changes became more apparent. He could feel the unnatural tingle as his breasts started to form, and slowly grow until they were quite evident under his shirt, the slightly larger nipples pointing through the thin fabric. His bones shifted form, his hipbones altering to accommodate his changing sexual organs. He could feel his muscle tone reduce all over, his rump increasing in size and his waist narrowing drastically.
"Incredible!" Q muttered as he stared at the now obviously female 007. It amazed Q that Bond could trigger the change at will.
"It's all right Q. I can cope with this. It isn't driving me over the edge. It actually isn't too bad," Bond explained, his English voice several octaves higher but still undeniably Bonds candour.
"So how did Pussywillow get my codes?" Q prompted. Somehow he had to make Bond figure it out himself... herself. If Bond could completely confront her feminine side, Pussywillow may disappear. At least that was what Q believed.
Bond thought about this. Pussywillow seemed to be dogging him everywhere. She had placed a tracking device on him and sent him to Baltimore. She had used Bond's knowledge to get Q's research. Honey must know everything he did and she was telling Pussywillow.
"I don't know. But we don't have time to waste finding out. If what we've uncovered is correct, we only have a limited time before Pussywillow acts. I have to get to South America," Bond said, "and I need your help. I think your expertise may still be needed. Can you organise transport there immediately?"
Q thought about it. Even with all his misgivings he trusted Bond, had incredible faith in the mans courageousness and strength. Q had every confidence that the man would overcome his dilemma... but was that faith strong enough to risk the fate of the world? Q thought that it was. Bond had saved the world so many times, it was only fair that he be cut some slack.
Q nodded. "I can organise a military flight for us to the Falklands. From there we can make our own way. I'll also organise our means of egress. What do we need?"
"We? I have to go into Pussywillow's base alone, and I'll be able to do that easily. I'll be going in as the persona that I've taken. Pussywillow's right hand ... er woman, Honeydew Mountjoy."
Q seemed ready to make a comment.
"Don't even think it Q!" Bond said sternly in a feminine voice. "You have to analyse these new Viruses," Bond said as he passed over the three virus vials he had found in Pussywillow's lab. "If my guess is right, two of these are in me at the moment. I need to know what the third one does."
"Very well," Q said, unhappy with the situation. He wanted to be there to help Bond, perhaps guide him. "What else do you require?"
Bond thought about what he would need. "The launch site is situated above a natural geyser within a glacier. The design is intended to screen the heat blooms of construction from probing satellites. I need cold weather gear. Ice climbing equipment. Light explosives... I'll rig the place to blow from the inside, anything else and our virus may escape."
Q nodded, familiar with the history of the site. He was just amazed that it had been resurrected. "I have some interesting climbing equipment. Experimental but it will do the trick. And I might have a special plasma torch that you can use to cut through the ice to lay the charges. It would be handy in other situations."
Bond nodded, "I've always found your toys to be fun to play with," he said flippantly
"They're not toys Bond!" Q said in annoyance.
"If you say so. I need you to contact Nigel Wrath for me. I made plans to meet him but I don't think I'll be able to keep them," Bond said.
"Wrath? That arms dealing leach?"
"He's not a leach!" Bond said with a vehemence that surprised even him. "He's a rogue and a scoundrel, but no leach," 007 explained.
Q blinked but deftly changed topics, "so what should I tell him?"
Bond thought, "he doesn't know Bond, only Honey. Just tell him that everything is taken care of."
"Really Bond, this is most exasperating. What is the nature of your relationship with this man? He is one of the biggest criminals in the world!"
Commander Bond smiled mysteriously. "Q a woman doesn't discuss such things," the shapely agent said with all the understated charm that Bond had ever possessed.
The elderly man shook his head, hardly surprised. "007, you never change," he muttered.
"I have to go. I've a plane to catch, Pussywillow's private jet," Bond said.
"I'll send the equipment you've asked for to the airport. And do be careful with it 007, I'm not signing it out to James Bond after all. I'll be liable for any damage you cause."
"Q, I'll look after it with the care and attention that I give to all your equipment."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
* * *
Q had the new virus analysed very quickly, now that he was completely familiar with the two related viruses. The third virus was more insidious than the other two but it seemed to do nothing to Bonds cell structure. Apparently 007 was now immune.
On a hunch Q tested it on other male cells. Still nothing. Then he tested the final virus on female cells. Q was not surprised when they became male. When he tried to reverse the viruses effects the cell structure disintegrated.
This change was one way only! Diabolical. After a few more tests, Q decided that the third virus was even more terrible than he'd first suspected. It froze the unaltered chromosomes that it came in contact with, making further manipulation untenable. Male cells it encountered would no longer react with the other two viruses and become female. Bonds cells altered to female were altered permanently and could no longer revert to male!
Q had to get to South America immediately. He couldn't afford to contact Bond and he wouldn't be able to explain this to the British Secret Service. They'd never believe him until it was too late and they'd probably lock him up to boot. That just left Wrath.
* * *
Bond smiled as he unloaded his gear, Ivana helping him with the heavy stuff. It was amusing that his enemies were unknowingly aiding him.
007 also liked the fact that he had a much lower profile as a woman. James Bond, 007 was a known entity, his picture regularly plastered on numerous papers, his licence to kill almost common knowledge in recent years. Honeydew Mountjoy was an unknown. It would be beneficial to his work to remain this way.
Who would ever suspect that he was James Bond? But could he willingly remain female? Bond thought about the pro's and con's. Personally he didn't respect woman. They were physically weaker and more prone to emotional outburst. So far he had avoided the latter pitfall, hadn't he? The benefits were wide ranging.
Men tended to underestimate women in the intelligence field. This would be advantageous. It was also much easier to wrap a man around his smaller digit. Why make war when you can make love?
"Jenny will be happy to see you," Ivana said as they made there way to Honey's quarters.
"Yes, of course," Bond said, wondering who or what Jenny was. A pet dog? A bird?
He didn't give it too much thought, too busy taking in the base. There were air and ground defenses hidden outside. Inside the defenses were top rate, the internal caves set out to fight a retreating battle. He stepped into the heart of the complex and paused, visibly impressed.
He stood in a huge cavern of ice, the luminescent blue walls spectacular to behold. The massive grotto had been formed as a result of the thermal warming of the underlying rock, melting the glacier all the way to the surface. The exit in the roof would appear to be nothing but a gaping chasm. The ice was braced by steel girders in a huge trussed space frame to prevent sudden cave in.
In the middle of the cavern sat a Shuttle, technicians crawling all over it, obviously prepping it for take off. Right now they seemed to be loading Drax's biological weapons system onto it.
"Incredible, da?" Ivana said.
Part 8. Raven
Bond was dead tired . . . that was a fact. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on the flight from India to the Mother Country. His training as a British Secret Agent kicked in to prevent him from relaxing when a known enemy like Ivana was around. Why had Pussywillow specifically ordered that Ivana accompany Honeydew Mountjoy. Bond had done nothing while in that form to alert her to anything amiss. Something was going on.
Bond couldn't afford to give Ivana any advantage should a confrontation come. The Russian woman looked like a freakish by-product of the days when the Soviet Union was using steroids and blood doping on their female athletes. Ivana was well over 6'4" in height and about 200 lbs. of solid rippling muscles. The demeanour with which she carried herself ably implied that she knew how to use that mass and strength to its fullest effect. She would be a challenge for Bond even in his real body!
It again begged the question: what was Ivana doing here with him? Ivana was clearly one of Pussywillow's most trusted lieutenants, if not her personal bodyguard. Was Pussywillow herself somewhere close by, pulling the strings, just beyond his field of view?
In the 48 hours that he had been in Merry Ole' England or in transit to and from the Falklands Islands, he hadn't gotten any shut eye. It wasn't normally a problem, for he once went an entire week without sleep. That, however, was under rather extreme circumstances, and in his real body. The Honeydew form was decidedly weaker . . . less resilient!
He simply had to get some rest before psychosis from sleep deprivation set in. Bond knew from experience that when you got this close to the end, you needed all of your mental faculties. Thus, you take your rest when you can.
Bond lifted the slender arm of Honeydew Mountjoy so that he could look at the date/day display of the little women's' wristwatch that he now wore. It would be another day or so before Wrath made his way to this frigid base. There was nothing more that Bond could do, for the time being, without Wrath's back up.
Time to sleep.
"I'm going to go and get some rest, Ivana. Make sure that you send somebody to wake me up in 10 or 12 hours. If Pussy comes in, please have somebody wake me up."
"Da!" responded Ivana in her booming Russian accent. "Vould you like vor me to zend Jenny to vake you up? Maybe you vould like to zee her bevore you go to zleep?"
There was that reference to Jenny again? Who was she? Could she be Honeydew's lesbian lover? If she was, Bond noted with a mental smirk, he knew exactly where Honeydew's interest in women came from. Despite what had happened between he . . . she . . . and Wrath in India, there was at least a lingering mental interest in other women. James wondered idly if this female body would still respond to other women in the way that it had responded to the touch of Wrath.
Bond remembered the feeling of Wrath's touch. It send a shiver of delight the length and breadth of his spine. He sensed the increasingly familiar moist heat between his thighs, as well as the pleasurable tension on his chest.
"No. Send Jenny to wake me up. I need sleep before everything gets going."
"Da. That is very wise."
No matter how dire the circumstances, Bond could not pass up the company of a beautiful woman . . . even if he was currently a woman . . . herself! There was no doubt in his mind that Jenny would be breathtakingly gorgeous. Something deep inside told him that her sense of style and taste survived no matter what her gender may be.
Bond, as Honeydew, turned from the bulky henchwoman, and started to make her way to Honeydew's assigned quarters. She'd taken the precaution of supervising the transport of her belongings to Honeydew's quarters for the intent purpose of discovering its location. The ploy had worked.
Bond was halfway to Honeydew's room when he heard a "Psst" from a dark corner of the glacial cavern. She stopped dead in her tracks, but there was nothing save for an unnatural silence. There was something there, James sensed it. Bond had been down this road too many times to start mistrusting her own senses and instincts, even though they were technically Honeydew's sense.
"PSST," there it was again. Was it a vent from the nearby natural geyser?
That query was answered a second later when still another "Psssst," was followed up by a "Bo . . . Honeydew! Over here!"
The timbre, intonation, and accent were unmistakable, even in a cavern. Q!
Bond scurried over toward the direction of the sound, looking over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was watching. She had to brush a dark forelock from her eyes. Fortunately, all of Pussywillow's minions were going about their duties in the main chamber of the cave.
James breathed a heavy sigh of relief, closing the last few feet in several steps. It wasn't easy being so exhausted in this smaller body. It required twice the effort to get from one spot to the next.
There in the dimly lit recesses of a side passage was the familiar albeit elderly face of Q and . . . Wrath? The two them here, together, panicked Bond, quite uncharacteristically.
"What are you two doing here?" asked Bond in Honeydew's dulcet tones. She hoped that Q would answer the unspoken question of: How much did you tell Wrath?
Q understood straight away, and answered as best as he could by stating, "Miss Mountjoy . . . I encountered a problem with the third sample that you gave me. I thought it something that you need to know immediately, so I contacted Mr. Wrath per your instructions."
Wrath nodded congenially with the slightest trace of familiarity that passes between lovers.
Bond understood by the reference to the body he now wore that Q had not disclosed the truth to Wrath. That was a positive sign. There was no telling what Wrath would do, or whether he would continue to lend his support if he realised the person he had made love to was his old enemy . . . James Bond. Bond nodded in a noncommittal way to Wrath, before turning back to face Q.
"Tell me," was the simple request.
Q explained rapidly, "The third reo-virus is much worse. My analysis indicates that it will turn any woman infected into a man . . . permanently! Once the change is complete, the reo-virus breaks down. It also locks the genetic structure in place so that no other reo-viruses can reverse the change. We now think this is the airborne reo-virus which your . . . superior plans to launch into the atmosphere."
The implication were as clear as . . . well . . . glacial ice. Pussywillow planned to turn the entire world population into men. Why? It didn't make any sense unless she was the only woman.
Bond looked directly into Q's eyes. Q nodded an affirmation. Bond assumed that Q had reached the same logical conclusion. There was no way that James could possibly know that Q's analysis also indicated that anybody infected with either of the first two reo-viruses would be immune to the effects of the third.
James mistakenly saw the third reo-virus as the permanent answer to his gender changing dilemma.
Now Bond turned to address Wrath. "Are your men in place?"
"They will be shortly, Honey. No more than 24 hours. Mr. Q here contacted me before I was completely ready to go, and insisted that I rush down here to your aid. I don't mind telling you that it makes me nervous to be working with the British Secret Service. The next thing you'll be telling me is that James Bond is somewhere around here."
"No . . . never," Bond and Q said in unison.
Wrath pushed onward. "What's your interest in this Honeydew? I never figured you to be working with the government."
Bond thought fast by tiredly giggling in her most feminine voice, "Oh . . . just trying to get back into the good graces of the Queen Mother!"
That appeared to satisfy Wrath for the moment. However, he added, "Now that I'm hearing what Mr. Q believes Pussywillow is up too, I must say, is quite distressing. What will a man like me do without women like you, Honeydew?"
With that, Wrath reached out to touch Bond's smooth face with his hand. It was a gesture that could only exist between two lovers, and unfortunately confirmed the suspicions vocalised by Q back in London.
James turned away from Wrath's touch. She didn't need this complication . . . not now. Wrath's mere touch had stirred the smouldering embers of desire within the body of Honeydew Mountjoy. Q, bless his soul, recognised the awkward situation, and like the proverbial knight in shining armour, rode to Bond's rescue.
"Miss Mountjoy. The British Government appreciates your coming forward in this matter. I am authorised to offer you and Mr. Wrath full amnesty for any of the crimes of your past. The pressing need now is to find a hiding place for Mr. Wrath and myself until his reinforcements arrive. At your request, and in deference to Mr. Wrath's expertise, the Secret Service has limited its involvement to my scientific and technical support."
Bond answered by advising, "My quarters are down this hallway in the third door to the left. You should be safe inside there, as I left orders that I wasn't to be disturbed for 12 hours. That will but us a little time to plan and rest before the fireworks. I REALLY need to sleep."
Q inquired in his best business-like voice, "Then you got the explosives, detonators and other equipment inside without suspicion?"
"Yes . . . Mr. Q," sighed Bond, attempting to feign unfamiliarity with the man. "I know you don't know me very well, but you're going to have to trust me if we are to be successful!"
Wrath couldn't resist a comment. "Amazing. You slipped explosives in under Ivana's nose? There is no end to your considerable talents, Miss Mountjoy."
He was attempting to be charming. It was working! Bond felt her resolve begin to fade away under the weight of her sheer exhaustion. She only hoped that he was enough of a gentleman to stay out of her bed in the quarters. Who knew what she would do?
Bond again thanked the stars above for Q's saving presence.
"Have you been able to plant the charges as well?" continued Wrath.
"No. We'll do that tomorrow," remarked James as Mountjoy, while she turned to go. "Give me a few minutes to make sure the room is secure, then follow me in. I shall leave the door unsecured."
Bond was almost away when he felt Wrath's big hand pat her soft behind. She didn't stop, but kept right on going into the open hallway. She could tell by the tingling the touch of that hand triggered in her feminine parts that she was going to have a problem on her hands.
James slipped silently into Honeydew's assigned quarters. She withdrew the detection device for listening microphones, which Q had thoughtfully hidden in a tube of lipstick. Thankfully, there was only one, that was quickly dispatched.
She was busy checking Honeydew's belongings, with her back facing away from the door, when she heard the unmistakable sound of the hinges squeaking that denoted the entrance of others. Naturally, James assumed it to be Q and Wrath. She couldn't have been more mistaken!
She started to say, "Mr. Q . . . ." while turning, until her eyes met the absolutely mountainous form of a huge man. Bond stopped in mid sentence.
The man was 7'5" if he was an inch, and no less than 500 lbs. of dense rippling muscles. He was gorgeous. He drew so close that Bond was literally looking at the behemoth's navel. It made her feel like a little child!
Bond looked up . . . way up . . . to the face of the giant. He in turn looked down upon her.
Then her low booming voice spoke. There was a French accent. "No. Not a Mr. Q, just me Genevieve. Have you forgotten your darling Jenny so soon, Lover? Have you found yourself another lover while you have been away?"
"N-no," gulped Bond nervously, as Jenny picked her up in her mammoth hands. He lifted her to eye level like she was a rag doll.
"I did not theenk zo. No one can love you like zee former girl like me! Only I know where to touch you juzt zo!"
Bond's eyes widened in sincere fear. Jenny was no doubt Pussywillow's diabolical plan to test the third reo-virus. She had turned a French girl into this gorgeous hulk. That hulk was Honeydew's regular lover . . . a role that Bond would have to now fake so as not raise suspicions.
James giggled and tittered as best he could. He couldn't even imagine what lay inside Jenny's trousers. He swallowed hard again, even as Jenny pulled him into a bear hug of an embrace, and then a kiss.
Instantly, yet another problem engulfed Bond. Honeydew's body recognised that of Jenny's . . . welcomed Jenny's body . . . CRAVED Jenny's body. The combination of fatigue from her non-stop activity, arousal from Wrath's earlier touches, and the pheromones radiating from Jenny's natural musk, all conspired to send Bond's hormonal level right off of the charts. She eagerly returned Jenny's kiss, parting her lips. She drew Jenny's tongue into her mouth to suck upon it vigorously. Bond wanted this man in a way he'd never wanted ANY person!
That applied to his desire for a beautiful woman in his real body.
James felt her small, pert breasts crushed against the broad chest of the giant. She swooned like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Jenny lowered Bond slowly, so that she was now on her knees at his enormous feet. He started to unzip the Zipper of his trousers. He whispered gently to the woman he thought to be Honeydew Mountjoy.
"You have to do something for me first, Honeydew. I've missed you so much. All I could think about was having your fabulous mouth on my cock again. That's one of the best things about being a man. I never, ever experienced anything like it when I was a woman. It's too bad you can't experience the same thing."
Bond knew very well how it felt . . . in fact, she missed it terribly. And now, she would have to do it to Jenny to preserve her cover. She was so shaken by what she must now do that she lost sight of the fact that Honeydew had done this to Jenny before.
She should have known. All of the evidence was right there before her eyes. By that time, Jenny had unleashed the full fury of her 12" erect manhood. James stared at it transfixed . . . hypnotised.
She wanted to run, she wanted to vomit, she wanted to . . . touch it! a wave of desire for the organ swept through her entire body. Bond's nipples were so erect that they hurt to be confined inside the bra. She felt a damp spot soaking her panties. God help her, her body wanted that monstrous penis in its mouth.
Bond could not fight the wanton desires of her body any longer. The famous Bond willpower was no match for yearning her body felt for Jenny's organ. Bond reached over with her comparatively small hand to touch it. She touched it tentatively, almost like a child petting a kitten. It felt so astonishingly hard in her hand. Jenny's hand closed over Bond's so that she now had it in her grasp. It was so wide that she could not fully close her hand around it! Nevertheless, Jenny started to move Bond's hand up an down on the shaft.
By and by, Jenny withdrew her own hand. Bond's hand moved with a mind of its own. Faster and faster she went on the length of the shaft. Jenny put her hand on the back of James' head, grabbing a handful of hair. He forced Bond's already open mouth toward its target.
Bond was delirious . . . drunk upon the glut of hormones in her system. She didn't fight it, and opened her mouth as wide as it would go to accept her prize.
"Take it, take it now, Honeydew," demanded Jenny.
Bond did. Her supple lips closed over the head of his cock as it slipped into her tight warm mouth. Bond uttered only a loud, "MMPHHH," as she did!
Honeydew's body moved as it was designed by nature to do in such circumstances. Her head bobbed up and down on the head of Jenny's penis. Her voice grew in muffled moans of searing delight. Her body loved what was happening.
Jenny put both of her huge hands on the side of Bond's head. On each down stroke, he pulled her head to him. To the casual observer, it looked like Jenny was forcing her to perform oral sex. Nothing would be further from the reality.
Nevertheless, those appearances would prove to be Jenny's undoing! Bond was so lost in what he wasn't doing that she didn't hear the door open once more, or the loud "THUD" that followed shortly thereafter. Only when Jenny's cock pulled out of her mouth with an audible "SLURP" did she realise that something had happened.
Jenny fell to the floor in a heap . . . unconscious.
Bond looked up to see Q and Wrath staring at her. Wrath was wielding a heavy metal object that he had used as a weapon on Jenny. They both wrongfully assumed the large man was attacking their ally.
Only then did Bond fully realise, to his horror, what she had been doing. It was too much! Womanly tears sprang unbidden from his eyes. They flowed a river down her cheeks. Bond jumped up, and ran into the arms of the only man she trusted . . . Q.
Q caught his sometime foe, comforting Bond in the embrace of his arms. Q felt her sobbing against his chest.
Bond looked up into the eyes of her old friend. However, they weren't the eyes of an old friend any longer. All of the events made Bond so horny that she HAD to have a man . . . ANY man. Even the ancient Q would do.
Bond's lips closed over those of a surprised and stunned Q.
Wrath, who was just as stunned, finally spoke, "If you two want, I'll leave."
Bond broke the kiss with Q long enough to reach out and snatch Wrath's hand.
Breathless, Bond whispered, "No. Don't go. I want you to stay also. She pulled the more virile man toward her.
The naked flesh of Honeydew Mountjoy lay in between the equally naked bodies of Q and Wrath. Bond was finally spent after several hours of submitting to the wants and needs of the two men, and was only now drifting off into slumber. Wrath's snores were graphic evidence of the depths of his sleep. Only Q remained wide awake . . . very, very troubled.
The woman beside him, already starting to breath heavily, was not the Bond that he knew. James Bond would have never been capable of the acts that Q witnessed, nay experienced, in this bed. She had been insatiable!
Q flushed, there in the dark of the room. He was embarrassed for his part in the lovemaking. Bond was his ally, his childish nemesis, his thorn in the side, but never a lover. However, Q was, after all was said and done, a man. Even he, knowing the true identity of the person inside that womanly flesh, was not able to hold out very long from her erotic ministrations. And when she took him into her mouth . . . .
The elderly Secret Service man shivered at the thought. What was happening to Bond?
He put the vivid memories of the hours' last labor out of his mind to focus on the problem at hand. Q couldn't afford to lose Bond. The one obvious possibility nagged at the back of his analytical mind. Had the first reo-virus totally destroyed the last remnants of Bond's original male DNA matrix?
Q mentally reviewed the facts that he already knew. The first reo-virus metamorphosed the original James Bond into the female version thereof . . . Honeydew Mountjoy. The second reo-virus transformed either Bond or Mountjoy, most likely Mountjoy, into the yet to be revealed Pussywillow. Q knew there was an evil variant of the Bond personality at work, and it seemed logical that it would surface with the advent of the Pussywillow body? Q was yet to discover what triggered that change. Something was missing from the equation.
Q went back to mentally review the data again. If he would have looked closely at the feminine form of his formerly male friend, the scientist would have noticed one of the missing bits of evidence. Microspasms were periodically occurring in the muscles of the sleeping Bond. The transformation into oft mentioned Pussywillow was imminent.
That man turned instead away from the girl in the bed. He reached over to his pile of clothes that were hurriedly discarded in the frenzy of sexual activity. Q's practiced hand plumbed the depths of the fabric for something specific . . . a small package. His hand struck pay dirt after only a few seconds.
Q quietly readjusted his positioning from prone to sitting, and was careful not to rouse the other members of the tryst. By now, his elderly eyes had adjusted to the dim light that filtered into the bedroom from the outer parlour of the suite. He could see the leather bound kit that was the approximate size of a check book in his hand. Q keyed in the code on the electronic keypad hidden beneath the leather that would permit entry therein. The wrong code would result in the self destruction of the package.
There would be no self destruction on this day! Q's wrinkled but still flexible hands deftly opened the kit. His face was bathed in an ethereal greenish light from the microcomputer located on the left side of the small package. On that side was a miniature computer screen that, when combined with magnifying reading glasses, made an adequate make shift computer terminal. There was also a miniature keypad with a built in cellular link to his Kray super computer back in the lab. The cellular signal could be bounce off of one of the satellites in geosnychronous orbit near this site.
On the other side was a miniature version of an electron microscope. Samples could be place within to get a picture on still another miniature screen. There were several vials, three of which held samples of the three reo-viruses, and various instruments for collection of more blood samples.
Q checked the devices to make sure that his portable lab was in working order. It was. Now down to business!
I must obtain a blood sample from Bond, reasoned Q. If I can get a blood sample from him . . .er . . . her, I just may be able to figure out what in the blazes is happening to her. I may be able to get the piece of the puzzle to hash this bloody thing out. I can only hope to devise an antidote to get Bond back to his old troublesome self. At the very least, I can stop Pussywillow from coming out.
Q withdrew the small medical instrument, then turned to face the sleeping body of Bond/Honeydew. She was lying on her side facing away from Q, and toward the unconscious Wrath. Her bare tush was exposed to the frowning Q. He used all of the stealth to extract a few droplets of blood from James' soft rounded bottom cheeks without detection.
Again, Q failed to notice in the dim light the increased spasming just underneath Bond's silken skin. Q could not really be blamed this time, for he was distracted by the position the sleeping woman had assumed. She was cradled in the crook and hollow of Wrath's arm, resting a raven tressed head on his broad shoulder. One of her arms was draped across Wrath's chest, while her leg was thrown protectively over his thigh. The scene, although touching and romantic, was surrealistically out of place, in consideration of the man inside the body of Honeydew Mountjoy.
Time clearly was of the essence, the only thing that Q could hope for was that he wasn't too late. He stole away from the bed with the consummate skill of a cat burglar, into the outer parlour. His early days as a field agent served him well here! There was no time to reminisce now . . . there was only time for analysis of the new blood sample.
As Q inserted the new sample into his portable lab, things were definitely happening in back in the bedroom. The physical evidence that a transformation was taking place, rarely seen by human eyes, was beginning to mount. Any transformation requires energy. For a human body it would be the conversion of mass into energy, in turn manifested as light and heat. Indeed, had Wrath been fully awake, he would have witnessed the slight ghost-like glow to the body of Honeydew. He did notice, subconsciously, the increase heat of Bond's skin. Bond was literally burning up!
Wrath's subconscious sleeping mind instinctively turned away from the hot contact of Bond's skin upon his. He rolled as far away from her as possible. Even in the slightly cool atmosphere of the glacial cavern he was drenched it sweat. It was a pale comparison to the sheen of perspiration covering Bond's flesh. She too turned from Wrath to the far side of the bed.
This provided plenty of room for the metamorphosis of Honeydew into Pussywillow. For the second time within a week, Wrath would sleep through the amazing transformation whilst occupying the same bed! Even now, the body of the woman shifted rapidly, as limbs began to lengthen. Her breasts expanded outward from a resculpting frame.
There was only one way to tell a transformed person from a real one . . . mass. Although shape and size may change, one thing, by the laws of physics must remain constant. That would be mass, and as a corollary, weight. For instance, a large man transformed into say, a petite girl, would still weigh approximately the same. The only variance would be the mass converted to energy by the transformation process itself. The smaller size of the transformed person would be reflected in more densely packed atoms, molecules and cells. Therefore, while that transformed girl would look and feel like silken skin, it would have the tensile strength of kevlar. In certain instances, a transformed person could well be impervious to penetrating wounds or even bullet wounds.
Thus it was with Bond/Honeydew/Pussywillow. Only Pussywillow knew this strange fact, and nobody, to this point had thought to test the weight or density of Bond in Honeydew's body. The anomaly went undetected . . . until now.
Q looked at awe at literally millions of cells that were packed into the single droplet of blood. The ramifications, as well as the science of it occurred to him in a flash.
"Of course, blast it! Why didn't I think of that before?" Q questioned himself aloud. "What Bond has given up in strength and endurance in the body of Honeydew, is made up with toughness and resilience. I suspect that not even she knows this. By George, I think she could have taken a punch from that brute and shrugged it off!"
Q glanced over at the still unconscious body of Jenny that was bound and gagged in the corner. A judicious amount of sedative had been added to the equation by Q himself, in an abundance of caution. The sight of the man got Q to thinking. What would happen if the mass of a woman were transformed into a large man? It was logical to assume that the reverse would prove to be true. What the new man got in size and strength, would be lost in durability and endurance. One blow would literally fell the behemoth. THAT would be invaluable information if Q were ever confronted by such a brute.
Q turned his attention back to re-reviewing the known facts whilst the mini computer unlinked to the home computer. It was of the utmost urgency that the solve this dilemma. The irony was not lost on Q that the fate of the world rested upon his shoulders, and not Bond's, in a field operation. The danger, coupled with his recent rousing sexual performance, invigorated the man. Q felt like a young operative again!
Pussywillow eased herself from the bed with the languid, yet powerful, grace of a jungle cat. Her footfalls made not a noise on the plush carpeting. As she moved, her long luxurious blonde hair tickled the tops of her derriere. Presently, Pussywillow stop to stretch her muscles, which were refreshed by the metamorphic process by design.
The stretching done, the tall, sleek vision of beauty scanned the darkened room to determine her whereabouts. Pussywillow's eyes widened, only slightly, in recognition the room. It was neither Bond's flat or a safe-house in London, but Honeydew's suite in the grotto of the South American base.
Pussywillow swore silently under her breath in frustration, "Damn it to bloody Hell!"
Her plan was dependent upon Bond, in either his own or Honeydew's body, going to sleep while in London. Thus, it would open the her gate into this world, while he slumbered somewhere within HER genetic structure. This situation was intolerable! By not sleeping while in London, Bond had inadvertently prevented her from copying, then destroying, Q's records at the source. She could only hope that Ivana's people at least eliminated Q himself.
Pussywillow turned to face the bed now, spying Wrath . . . yet again. This was becoming quite a habit, her waking up in bed with the notorious arms dealer. Bond as Honeydew was developing quite an affinity for this man, and THAT was information which just may come in handy.
She tried to access her memories to see if she had any knowledge of Bond's actions during the last . . . how long had it been anyway? Pussywillow lifted her slender wrist close to her eyes. She still wore Honeydew's ladies chronograph, which read almost three days since she last ceded her existence for Bond's.
More than that, she had nary a whisper of any of Bond's activities.
"Damn!" Pussywillow swore again, quite uncharacteristically.
When the reo-virus was stable, it was she who knew Bond's complete activities, down to his very thoughts. The instability of the matrix now closed off that source of information to her. Bond had quite literally worn out his usefulness. It was time to find some way to stabilise the reo-virus so that only she remained in existence. It was time to purge both Bond and Honeydew from their shared body.
It was too bad that Q was dead, she thought to herself, with a wicked smile. He would certainly be able to synthesise a stabilising agent.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Pussywillow's enhanced sense of hearing detected a rustling in the outer room. Pussywillow closed her eyes to focus her that acute sense in the direction of the parlour. There! There was the definite breathing of not one, but two, other people out in the parlour. One of those people was a man . . . an extremely large man.
Pussywillow inched toward the doorway that opened into the outer room. In a few seconds, she stood silently beside the doorjamb, peering into the light of the outer room. Her perfectly kissable lips curled into a diabolical smile.
There, seated in the overstuffed leather sofa was the very person she need . . . Q! He was gift wrapped, and oh so ripe for the picking.
Pussywillow giggled, then eased back into the bedroom like a shadow. It only took her a few seconds more to extricate the revolver that she had secreted in this suite when SHE controlled the body of Honeydew. Those days were gone . . . as were Bond's.
She threw on a short pink silk robe that whispered like an ocean breeze over her smooth skin. Pussywillow purposely left the front open, with the matching sash dangling to either side. She moved with all due stealth toward her unsuspecting, elderly prey.
The analogy to a jungle cat truly fit now!
For Q, the disparate bits of data began to coalesce within his brain. He vocalised his deductions aloud to determine if they made as much sense
"Know that until recently the change in Bond from his own male form to Honeydew was caused by the same endorphin's that are produced from high stress or REM sleep. However, shortly after the change, the other persons took over. There, I think that's right."
Q continued, "Lately, Bond has been able to shift in between his own form and Honeydew's at will. That has coincided with the destabilisation of the reo-viruses. However, he hasn't yet triggered the other persons while inside Honeydew's body. It stands to reason that the reo-viruses may have reversed their effect. That would mean that Pussywillow was able to voluntarily manifest the transformation from Honeydew to Pussywillow once her persona took over."
It hit Q like a ton of bricks. He rose from his seat to return to the bedroom, speaking the final deduction as he went, "That would mean that Pussywillow is now triggered by REM sleep."
As soon as Q turned around, Pussywillow was standing there in all of her glory, with the revolver trained at Q's heart.
Her seductive voice spoke to the flabbergasted man. He could only approximate what Pussywillow looked like from witnessing the effect of the second reo-virus. It couldn't have prepared him, for they were only pale copies. That reo-virus was created just for her . . . it showed! Pussywillow was quite truthfully the most beautiful creature on the planet. Her beauty was breathtaking, and designed to put men ill at ease. That was a momentary lapse that ultimately proved to be their undoing.
"Brilliant as always, Q! Double marks for your grasp of all of the data, not that it will do you any good."
Q tried to stay as calm as possible. It didn't quite work.
"Pussywillow I presume."
"Oh Q!" purred. "You just got a demerit for stating the obvious. Of course it would be me . . . in the fabulous flesh. What flesh it is, wouldn't you say?"
Q had to admit that it was difficult for him to keep his eyes away from her gorgeous face and peerless body.
"I would say that God himself could not have made one better," he admitted honestly.
"Why thank you," she cooed with a false sweetness. "You do turn my head with such flatter me with such compliments. If you continue to please me, I just may let you live."
"Please you?" Q didn't like the sound of that.
"Yes, Darling. I have need of your skill. Tell me, what does your little computer say about the dear departed Mr. Bond?"
"I don't think . . . ." Q started to reply.
Pussywillow cocked the gun. "I really must insist Q. Don't make this any harder than it has to be. This is still your old friend in her. With this body, we can be even closer friends."
"You, my dear lady, are no friend of mine. However, if you must know, my worst fears are realised. Bond has spent too long in Honeydew's form . . . the first reo-virus has totally destroyed his original male DNA. There is no going back for him now. He is a woman for the rest of his life."
Pussywillow tittered. "That's one, that only leaves one more."
"You don't mean?"
"Yes Q. I need for you to stabilise the second reo-virus so only I remain. There can't be a Honeydew and Pussywillow any more. There can only be me. There will be no more transformations between Honeydew and Pussywillow."
"You're mad. You're crazy plan won't work, and I won't do it. I won't effectively kill Honeydew for you!"
"Oh you'll do it . . . or I kill you. It is your plan that won't work . . . will it . . . Wrath?"
Q looked to the doorway behind Pussywillow. Indeed, Wrath had joined their little drama.
"You . . . and . . . Honeydew? The same? This entire time?"
Pussywillow kissed Wrath on the lips. "And you have had us both. Q must have told you by now that women, or men, treated with the first two reo-viruses are immune to the third. When the airborne virus hits, I and I alone will control the only women left. Women will be more precious than the finest diamond or the purest gold. And I . . . will be the finest of the women. If you tell me of their plan Wrath, I can promise that you will be the favoured to share my bed. You will be the first among men . . . the King to my Queen."
"It won't work Pussywillow. Wrath has seen the error of his past ways. He won't join you."
Pussywillow took Wrath's hand and placed it on her ample, heaving breast. She looked deeply into his eyes.
Wrath lifted his eyes to Q, "I'm very sorry Mr. Q."
Part 9. Kismet
"Wrath?" Q asked.
"I'm a gambler Q, but I always play the odds," Wrath said with a shrug as though he'd just lost a small wager.
This wasn't possible! Bond was gone. Wrath was defecting. How was he going to defeat Pussywillow unassisted? He was just one old man. One old man against the diabolical forces of evil bent upon world domination. If he was Bond he'd stand a chance but Bond was lost.
"Q and Honey intended upon blowing up your base, destroying the virus and everything else," Wrath explained. "The bombs and all the equipment are in the bags there."
Pussywillow walked over to the bags and looked inside. She nodded and smiled at Wrath. "Well done. You have pleased me," she said a touch magnanimously. She then turned her attention to Q. "Work for me Q. I might even let you live. Maybe," Pussywillow said, playing with a lock of hair. Her eyes were large and childlike but her grip on the gun was firm.
Q had two choices. Heroic suicide or collaboration until he could betray Pussywillow. No choice really, but then Pussywillow knew this as well. She wouldn't trust him. If Pussywillow had half a brain she wouldn't trust Wrath either. She obviously did have more than half a brain. Q held out the thin hope that maybe Wrath hadn't really defected but he couldn't count on it. After all the man was a scoundrel.
"What choice do I have?" Q said.
"Not much really," Pussywillow said with a wink.
* * *
Q worked diligently, the minutes tick by slowly and painfully. It was only a matter of time until Pussywillow launched her virus. Time which he did not have. He looked at the computer model of the two new double helix before him with dread. There was so much he didn't know about these two virus strains he had just created. One thing he was certain. They would both lock. Whoever took either would be trapped forever as they were! He had succeeded in accomplishing that much so far and it terrified him.
He had also made another discovery. To make these strains he had been forced to use controlled bursts of radiation. Radiation changed the virus. If the virus was left in an unshielded environment it would mutate into god only knew what. From memory the Drax' launching system was not shielded from radiation, only from extreme temperatures. In space without the protection of the atmosphere the suns radiation would be sufficient to effect the virus. He had to stop Pussywillow.
"Damn you Bond!" Q cursed, watching the female guard behind him from the corner of his eye, perspiration beading his forehead. There was only one real option available to him. He'd made two virus. The first would hopefully cure Pussywillow and return Bonds mind. The other...
Q's hand slipped, there was a shattering of glass and a cut appeared in his glove, blood welling up. Q turned from the mess to the guard. "Get out, the virus is free!"
The female guard frowned. "Virus?"
"Yes Virus. It's airborne. I'm already infected. You've got maybe 15 seconds before the air cyclers detect it and lock us both in here. Then we're both infected," Q said hurriedly.
The guard looked from Q to the exit. Fear won out over orders and she moved to escape. The door shut and the sanitary measures went into force sealing the airlock. Q looked at the cut with consternation. "Damn you Bond!" Q said. Then he collapsed as the virus he had just created assaulted his body.
* * *
"What do you mean Q's escaped?"
"Da. Ze environmental measures vere triggered and ze room vas zealed. Minutes later ze door vas blown off it's hinges by an explosif ov zome zort and ze corridor vas flooded vith gas. Ze guards vere knocked out. Ve found ze guard zat vaz minding Q unconscious, vith ze ozer guards," Ivana paused. "And Q haz ze exlosifs."
"Well find him. An old man can't get very far!"
"Da," Ivana said as she moved out of the control room.
Pussywillow looked around the room, her scathing glare resting upon Wrath. How had Q managed to get so far?
Wrath shrugged as if to say, "Don't look at me! I've been with you the whole time."
"How long until launch?" Pussywillow asked one of her technicians.
"An hour ma'am. Prelaunch has to be carried out."
"Excellent." Pussywillow tapped her hand on her chin, thinking. "Prove your worth to me Wrath. Find Q and kill him. Jenny go with him and make sure he succeeds."
Wrath looked from the Goliath that had once been a petite woman and shook his head in disbelief. Obviously Pussywillow was testing him. This was one test he intended to pass.
* * *
A hundred men approached the arctic fortress. Wrath's private army were all proffesional merceneraies with the most advanced weapons which money could supply. The scout returned from point.
"Captain, there is a way down ahead. It leads into the glacier and I can hear noises of machinery and people," the scout reported.
"Very well Ericson," the captain said, "move out men. Let's see you start earning your pay!" The soldiors checked their weapons and kit then double timed it into Pussywillow's stronghold.
* * *
Proximity alarms went off inside Pussywillow's command bunker. "We have an intruder alert. A large force of armed men is approaching! Estimate in excess of fifty," one of Pussywillow's woman said in a concerned voice.
"What! Who sent them?" Pussywillow asked. She pushed the woman aside and stared at the monitor. She recognised Wrath's captain. "Wrath! That traitor!" Pussywillow grabbed the michrophone and turned on the internal speaker system. "Alert. We have a perimiter breach. This is not a drill. Move to your positions! Protect the shuttle!"
Pussywillow turned to one of her female tech's. "Cindy, skip the pre-launch. Get the shuttle ready to go now! Notify the space station about our altered time frame. I have a score to settle with Wrath!" Pussywillow said, grabbing a weapon and running from the command centre.
* * *
Q prodded the explosives into the glacial ice, looking around the huge cavern. He was almost done. The new body he wore was extremely fit and coordinated, so much more so than his elderly body had been.
There was suddenly a muted broadcast and alert sirens went on. Wrath's forces must have started their assault! Wrath hadn't betrayed him after all.
"You. Come down vrom zere zis instant!" a burly voice called.
Q looked down at the huge woman below him and grinned. She was holding a machine pistol aimed straight up at him. "As you wish," he said as he let the rope go. He plummeted to the ground.
Ivana opened fire, hitting the ice around the man. Chunks of ice broke free and rained down around Q as he landed feet first on her chest. The woman was knocked back onto the hard ice, the gun slipping from her grip and sliding into a deep pool of arctic water.
"Zat vas not vunny," Ivana said as she stood. Her muscled arms rippled as she assumed a fighting stance. "So ve vinally meet Mr. Bond?" Ivana said.
The virus Q had altered had given him the exact physical likeness of 007 and Q saw no reason to correct Ivana. "So it would appear," Q said, sizing up his opponent. He didn't like what he saw. "Well I must say that it was a pleasure," Q uttered as he dove into an icy chute.
Formed by the flowing of icy water, the chute wended straight down into the glacial depths. Q had no idea where it led but anything was more preferable than taking on that female behemoth, even if he was wearing Bond's much younger form. He pulled out his pick axe and put all his weight down on it to slow his descent, feet leading the way. He started to slow as the blade dug into the ice.
He looked down the tunnel over his shoulder. He was near the end of the chute. That was good. Unfortunately there was noise above him. Something was coming down after him! Q turned his head to see the burly form of Ivana sliding rapidly towards him. He tried to dodge the massive woman but was not quick enough. She ploughed into him and they tumbled down the remainder of the chute and out into the warm air of the thermal cavern.
Q and Ivana landed on a ledge, the boiling spring water below them bubbling ominously.
"Vell little man. Vere are you going to run now?"
Q looked around him. He could here gunfire and explosions. "Four minutes till lift off. All personal clear the launch area," a distant voice said.
"God, why does this always happen to Bond?" Q asked rhetorically.
"Give up Mr. Bond," Ivana said.
Q shook his head and hefted the pick axe. 'This should even the odds,' he thought. He swung it at the Russian brute but she managed to block his attack in midswing, pulling the ice pick from his grip with ease.
"Bother," Q said as the woman lifted him bodily then threw him into an ice wall. He slid to the ground, bruised and battered.
"Three minutes fifty seconds."
Q fumbled in his pack and pulled out some of the explosives. He tried to change the timer, aware that the burly Russian woman was approaching again. Ivana plucked the bomb from his grip and threw it into the corner, a beep accompanying the impact. "Can't we talk about this? Would it help if I told you that I wasn't Bond?" Q asked hopefully as he was lifted again. This time the hefty woman was walking to the ledge.
"No. You vill learn to zwim in de boiling zpring Mr. Bond." Ivana crowed.
Reaching into his pack Q gripped his rappel launcher. "Wait."
"Vy?" Ivana asked.
"So I can escape," Q explained as he shot the grapple high into the ice overhead and engaged the winch. Ivana was stunned as the man rose rapidly out of her grip. She was surprised only for a moment as the explosive detonated and the ledge she stood upon collapsed, plummeting her into the boiling water below.
* * *
"So tell me Jenny, do you prefer being a man or a woman?" Wrath inquired when he heard the Pussywillow's announcement and the alarms go off.
"I sink I like being a man. It is tres bien. Grand muscles. I like, how you say, porking de woman. Oui. Porking ce'st tres bien." The man was positively huge.
"Well I can't argue with you there. So what do you think about this idea of there being so few woman? Not many to - um sleep with?" Wrath swallowed. He would have to act soon.
"I try not to think," Jenny said.
"Right," Wrath said as he turned around and cold cocked the man. For all his size, Jenny wilted like a French maid. That was something that Wrath was familiar with.
"I'm a gambling man, but I bet I won't get laid as much as I like if all the women in the world are turned into men," Wrath explained to the unconscious man. He gripped the giants arms and dragged him into an icy enclave. The man was incredibly light. Something to do with conservation of mass Wrath assumed.
* * *
There was the sudden sound of gunfire, Ericson leapt onto his Captain as tracers and bullets filled the cavern. Ten men did not reach cover in time and were shot dead in their tracks.
Ericson craned his head to see what had fired at them. There were a number of icy bunkers with unattended chain guns. They were positioned well apart to allow the room to be covered by deadly crossfire. "Captain, those are automated chain guns. We can't get past them! We're pinned down like sitting ducks," Ericson said.
The Captain nodded. He could order a retreat but it would be costly they would lose their only chance they got to storm the stronghold. "We stay put for as long as we can. Too much depends on our success! Get some men together. We need to get some explosives to those guns. We need to disable them."
"That's a suicide mission!"
"I know. Do you have a better idea?"
* * *
Wrath heard the distincive sound of chain guns firing. He knew that he had to help his men. They had walked blindy into Pussywillow's defenses. When Wrath had infiltrated the base with Q he had seen the chain guns. His men did not stand a chance unless he disabled them. Wrath searched his memory about those type of guns. They had a weakness. They had to be attached to mains power for the targeting system to work.
Wrath hoped his memory was right as he made his way too the generator room. It was not guarded when Wrath arrived there. He went up to the mains power board and started switching off all the power in the complex.
"Tut tut," Pussywillow said from behind him.
Wrath turned around to behold his enemy, a hypodermic pistol in her hand.
"We could have had so much fun together. What a pity you had to go and ruin everything by betraying me. Why would you even want to give up being my chosen mate?"
Wrath shrugged. "Well, I'm not the type to be exclusive. Being King of the world is great, but if I'm not getting some variety, I tend to become bored." He had to stall for time and bating Pussywillow seemed the best way.
"What?" Pussywillow asked. She was the epitome of womanhood. She was more than enough for any one man, more than enough for the whole world.
"I'm a playboy. That means I bounce from one woman to another. I don't care about your plans for world domination. What I do care about is that you are going to ruin my life. There are some things I hold sacred and this is one of them. Monogamy is not in my vocabulary. A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do."
"Well this will make it hard for you to do anything then," Pussywillow said as she shot him with the hypodermic.
* * *
Ericson prepared for his death. He and the six men he had chosen stood and ran towards the chain guns. They didn't fire! "Let's move people. The guns aren't working!" Ericson yelled. The ninety remaining men charged forward and into the caverns.
There they found Pussywillow's female troops. The firefight began in ernest.
* * *
"Huh?" Wrath asked. "What do you mean? What did you shoot me with?"
"Well lets just say that your womanising ways are coming to an end."
"No you can't!" Wrath said his voice crackling in fear. God he hoped it was fear!
"It's too late now. Within moments your days of philandering will be but a fond memory. I think I'll enjoy keeping you as a woman. A woman to loan out to all those eager men. Billions of men. You'll be very valuable my dear. I may even breed you."
"Like hell you will!" Wrath said his voice alien to his own ears. He felt slightly giddy and light headed. Nigel Wrath swayed on his feet. He felt hot. So hot! Vision swimming he toppled to his knees and watched his hands changing, streamlining and imploding upon themselves. He was shrinking and changing, his clothing no longer fitting him.
"My you are an attractive little thing. Who'd have thought that you'd turn out to be such a sprightly woman. My you must be just over five foot tall! You'll find it easy to find companionship, just not the type that you prefer..." Pussywillow said.
Wrath was indeed diminutive. The former man was now a slight and curvaceous lady, very well proportioned. He looked into the gaping hole at the nape of his neck and saw the two impossible things there. A pair of large, firm breasts. He inhaled in terror as his hands made there way down his torso to his waist then to between his legs.
"It's, it's, it's," Nigel stuttered.
"Gone. Yes. You see by definition woman don't have a manhood. Sorry to tell you old chap but you're no longer a man. Not where it counts anyway. Well I'd love to stay and rub this in, but I've got to enslave the world by the end of the day and I'm working to a tight schedule. Good luck finding your manhood though. Fairly soon you'll be able to find as much dick as you can lay your pretty little hands on," Pussywillow smiled then heard the sound of gunfire coming closer. "What?" she looked behind Wrath to the power which had been turned off.
Wrath laughed a little.
"Damn you Wrath!" Pussywillow said as she pushed passed the small woman and turned on the power again. When she turned to finish off Wrath she found him gone. She didn't have time to deal with Wrath at the moment. She had a shuttle to catch. Fortunately the launch process was independant of mains power so the space craft would still launch.
* * *
Q dodged down a side corridor, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets. He heard footsteps chasing him. Female footsteps. "Halt! Who are you?" a man asked. Q turned around
"James Bond, British Secret Service. I have to get to the other side of that cavern. I have to get to the shuttel and deal with Pussywillow," Q said, pointing to the corridor that led to the Shuttle. He had to make sure Pussywillow didn't succeed and get Wrath out of here. "You have to get your men out of here, Captain. This place is set to blow any minute."
"Ericson. Give Bond here covering fire and prepare to sound a retreat," the Captain ordered. More gunfire and explosions followed. The captain handed Q a H & K submachine pistol."Good luck 007."
"This will slow me down," Q said passing the gun back. The captain shook his head at the madness of it all. Q smiled as he looked at the charred no mans land he had to navigate. He could see female guards ready to open fire at any one that tried to make their way to the shuttle.
He looked at the Captain and the other soldior. They gave him the thumbs up that they were ready. "Now!" Q yelled. Wrath's soldiors fired their guns. Q took a breath and sprinted into the icy cavern.
The covering fire gave Q a few moments of safety. Then he heard the female guards return fire. He could feel the bullets hitting the ice as he leaped over a dead body and into a dive. He hit the ground and slid on his stomach towards the cover of a massive ice column. Ice shards flew all around him as he crouched behind it. He saw Wraths soldiors throw two grenades and counted down from three.
They exploded and he ran again, almost slipping on the ice. He made it to the safety of the corridor.
* * *
"Right men. Move out!" the Captain ordered seeing that Q had made it. The man's luck was incredible. That must have been a one in a million run!
The soldiors retreated hastily, Pussywillow's forces giving chase.
* * *
"Are you all right miss?" Q asked, shaking a woman he found sobbing in an alcove. He wouldn't normally have stopped but she was very attractive and he seemed to have developed this illogical instinct to go to the aid of damsels in distress. There was the sound of a grenade exploding and distant gunfire.
"Bond? James Bond? You have to help me! I'm Nigel Wrath. I'm with Q. Pussywillow has turned me into a woman!" Nigel said, sniffling. This was so degrading. James Bond, reputedly a womaniser to rival himself coming to his aid.
"Wrath?" Q asked. Obviously Wrath had tried to betray Pussywillow. That was the only explanation. Which meant that Wrath was still an ally. For all the good it did. Q helped the woman to her feet and held her up at a distance. "Well hurry up girl. Get your self sorted out. We can still stop Pussywillow and perhaps return you to malehood."
Wrath tried to compose himself but found it hard to concentrate. The proximity of Bond was discomforting. It made him nervous. He concentrated on his anger at Pussywillow! "Bitch!" he uttered. Wrath tightened his belt around his narrow waist and then rolled up his too long pants. "Let's go."
"That's the spirit," Q said. Very little was surprising the scientist nowadays. He was James Bond, Wrath was his female sidekick and Bond was the arch villain. It all made perfect sense.
Q grabbed her hand and ran down the icy cavern towards the shuttle.
"One minute and counting." The mechanical voice stated blandly. There was an explosion nearby and the sound of gunfire. Armed woman ran towards where they were but Q ducked and hid with Wrath until they passed.
"Come on we have to get in there! Now!" Q yelled as he started towards the launch tower lift.
The doors opened and Q pushed Wrath in and stepped in after. The doors were closing when a hand stopped them. A large brawny female hand.
"Mr. Bond. You vill pay for zat. Da!" Ivana said as she forced the doors open and stepped into the lift. She looked particularly unhealthy. Her skin was badly burned from the dip in the boiling water but she was soldiering on regardless.
"Dammit!" Q said as the lift began to rise. "Don't you muscle bound villains ever die?"
Ivana moved forward and pummelled Q to the ground. Q sprawled onto the steel mesh and Ivana prepared to sock him again. Before the Russian giant could wind herself up Wrath leaped onto the brawny woman's back and gripped her around the neck from behind. Ivana shrugged the small woman off easily. With the minor distraction Wrath gave him, Q managed to stand and punch Ivana firmly in the stomach. He may as well have punched a mountain for all the good it did.
"Mr. Bond. Prepare to die! Da." Ivana said ominously. She gripped the man around the neck and lifted him to the wall, single handed. Q hung there, trying to break her vice-like grip. It was useless. Q Rallied himself for a single kick with all his might.
"Ten seconds to ignition."
There was a chime and the mechanical doors behind Q opened. Q dropped to the ground as he kicked into Ivana's chest with all his might. Her grip broken, Ivana staggered back, tripping over the prone form of Wrath. Q reached in and yanked Wrath onto the launch platform moments before the door closed and the lift started to descend.
Q wiped his brow. "Not a moment to spare!" The two made a mad dash for the shuttle door. Pussywillow was in the entrance closing it on them. "Please god. Give me some of the famous Bond Luck!" Q prayed.
Just that instant the explosives Q had planted detonated, shaking the room to it's foundations.
* * *
Ivana looked down through the mesh and saw a fountain of flames and icy debris rushing up to engulf her. "Da," she said in irritation moments before the lift was torn to pieces.
* * *
Pussywillow fell backwards as the shock-wave blast bowled her over whilst Q and Wrath were hurled across the distance to the shuttle by the same blast. Q kicked the hatch closed as flame enshrouded the shuttle fuselage.
There was a tremendous roar as the shuttle engines ignited and the space craft began to rise. The massive ice chamber filled with flame and smoke, the shuttle shooting upwards. Q, Wrath and Pussywillow were stuck to the floor by the extreme G-forces.
* * *
The entire base was destroyed. Pussywillow's lab was incinerated. Ivana stood and looked around the twisted mess of her leaders secret base.
"Bond. I Vill Get You!" she yelled to the cold arctic air. She kicked a chunk of stray metal. "I zhould hav ztayed vith da Moscow Circus! Da."
"Oui. I zink I need a new job. I can't be ze french maid no more." Jenny agreed.
* * *
"Well, well, don't you two make an interesting couple. Nigel Wrath and James Bond. And here I thought I knew where Bond was all this time!" Pussywillow said, a gun aimed at them both.
"Now-" Q began but Pussywillow cocked her gun to silence him.
"This is wonderful. James Bond of the British Secret Service. 007 license to kill. Yet another man to add to my list of conquests. I thought it would be impossible."
"Honey! Listen to me. You know who you are! Fight for control! You can do it," Nigel pleaded.
"It's no good Wrath old boy. Honey's long gone. It's just me here now. Me, you and James here. It could be just like old times."
"What do you mean?" Wrath asked.
"Undress. Both of you. We still have a little time before we reach the appropriate orbit... I wish to be entertained."
"I'm not undressing," Wrath said, somewhat afraid. He could imagine how Pussywillow wanted to be entertained and that was the last thing he wanted to do in this body.
Q glanced from Nigel to Pussywillow. He honestly didn't know what to do. To take advantage of a woman in a situation like this was... part of Bonds job. If he was going to wear Bonds body, he might as well get some of the perks.
Pussywillow smiled. "I think you will. I might be able to reverse the effects of the virus. Then again I might not. You'll never know if you don't do as I tell you. Besides aren't you the least bit curious?"
"No!" Nigel bleated pulling his shirt closer around himself. As he did so his arms came to rest on the unaccustomed curve of his breasts. He looked down self-consciously into the soft flesh of his cleavage, a blush coming over his face.
"I'm waiting," Pussywillow said, a wicked smile on her face. The silence stretched.
Wrath looked at the man he took to be James Bond then down at his unfamiliar body. He reached up to his shirt and started to unbutton it, fingers clumsy and nervous. Nigel concentrated solely upon the task of undressing. When the shirt came off he found his upper body to be totally alien. He now had a narrow waist and smooth stomach. The large breasts were most perplexing but the strangest thing was how much smaller he was. His ribcage was tiny. Upper and lower arms were almost devoid of muscle and his whole upper body was no longer hirsute. His skin was tight and youthful exactly as a young woman's body should be.
"Hurry up," Pussywillow ordered. "You too. Start undressing. Bond!"
Q scowled but did as he was told. He also began to notice differences. His skin was much smoother, younger. He was well toned and solid. His movements were sure and confident.
Wrath placed his hands at the top of his pants. They hung loosely around his waist. He didn't want to go any further. The changes within his pants struck to the core of his being. He undid the belt but that was as far as he could go.
Pussywillow advanced on the woman and gripped the pants. Keeping an eye on Q and Wrath, she pulled the pants down over Wrath's rounded hips to around the woman's ankles. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Wrath continued to stare at the place where his manhood should have been. Instead there was a nondescript tuft of hair and a small fold of skin. A fold that should never have been there. It was too strange for words. On any other person, those graceful legs and neat sex would have excited Wrath but as they were most clearly now his, Wrath could only feel dismay.
Q cleared his throat. He'd hoped that Wrath would retain the presence of mind to make a grab for the gun but was disappointed. He was also now unclothed and facing the very real possibility of being forced to have sex with Wrath. Under normal circumstances Q probably wouldn't have minded, but as this was going to be forced...
"This is going to be so much fun," Pussywillow schemed.
"Pussywillow, we need you in the cock pit. The computer is asking for your authorisation codes to allow docking with the station."
"Damn, just when things were becoming interesting. Pass me your clothes and get into the escape capsule. Sealed in there without any tools I don't think you'll get up to any mischief while I'm away. I really must thank you Wrath for supplying the codes to this station..."
Q reached down and picked up his pants. A small vial slipped free unnoticed by Pussywillow, but he didn't dare pick it up with her watching them. They passed the clothes to Pussywillow then stepped into the escape pod.
Q and Wrath stood hunched over and cramped in the small confines of the capsule. It was made for only one person, Pussywillow most likely.
"So do you come here often?" Q asked. He found it a little hard to not stare at Wrath's naked flesh and was trying to disarm the direness of their situation with light banter.
"That's not funny. She's going to make me... sleep with you. God. This is worse than any nightmare I could ever dream up," Wrath said, a frantic edge to his voice. The man's body could not help but brush up against Wrath's given their close proximity.
Q placed a reassuring hand on Wrath's shoulder. "It's all right. We'll figure something out."
The contact on his skin worried Wrath. He tried to pull away but ended up twisting, Q's hand coming to rest on his large breast instead. Swallowing, Wrath looked up at Q.
"Sorry," Q said, lowering his hand. The shuttle lurched unexpectedly. Q and Wrath were jolted from their upright position, Wrath falling on top of Q. Q gripped the woman by the waist to steady her, large breasts pressing into his chest, her delicate face inches from his.
Looking into the woman's surprised eyes, Q gave into the strange impulse that came over him and kissed her. Wrath had a moment of indecision before losing herself in the grip of the man below her. She could feel the mans hands exploring the curves of her body. It was frightening and strange, but it was also exhilarating. Her body was reacting in new ways. It was so much more sensitive.
She was so much smaller yet at the same time she felt in control. She could feel Q stirring beneath her and rubbed her outer lips against his manhood. The pleasure there was a small tingling, a promise of much more to come.
Q lifted the woman up and engulfed a nipple in his mouth. Wrath squealed in surprised pleasure as her nipple hardened in his mouth. She raised herself awkwardly in the confines of the enclosure and then lowered herself slowly onto Q's manhood. She had not known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. She could feel herself stretching, the tingle of pleasure she had experienced before growing the deeper it went. Wrath rested and sighed as their pelvis' came to rest against one another. She moved a little and felt a wet warmth flowing from her.
Smiling t the rapt expression on her face, Q bucked his hips quickly, pounding into her hard and fast.
Up until now Wrath had been experiencing the slow gentle pleasures of womanhood. The moment Q quickened the pace, she felt a surge of fierce pleasure that kept coming every time Q pushed all the way home. Wrath was stunned at first as she felt her insides stretch and contract with each thrust, but then she started to anticipate Q, moving in time with him. This was even more desperate and sensual. She found it hard to concentrate on her movements as her pleasure overwhelmed her.
Q looked up at the woman, perspiration sheening her smooth rounded form, her firm breasts bouncing in perfect time to their lovemaking. Her face was the image of wild abandon, mouth quivering in sensuous rapture.
Wrath could feel herself losing control. It was all too much. Her whole body tingled, a warm pleasant feeling that started from her nipples then moved outwards to her breasts and over her chest. At the same time the sensation grew between her legs, building in spasms to her legs and stomach. Spasms that shuddered through her body in time with their deep grinding.. Her whole body was reacting in a new way and she loved it.
Letting out a wail of pleasure, Wrath had her first orgasm as a woman. She kept going as the pleasure subsided until she felt Q cumming inside her. Q sighed in pleasure as Wrath's perspiring body pressed against his in postcoital bliss.
"Whew, that was intense!" Wrath said in a flushed voice.
"Mmhmm." They now floated in the capsule, free of the pull of the earth's gravity.
The door to the air lock swung open and Pussywillow glared in. "You started without me! How dare you!"
"Sorry to disappoint you Pussywillow," Q said.
Wrath smiled. "And you missed a superb performance..."
Pussywillow was livid. "Come with me you two. Come to the cargo bay where you can see the launching of the Virus that will change the world as we know it! Bwahahe. Ahem. Bwahahahaha."
Pussywillow began to lead the couple to the window that overlooked the bay but Wrath pressed off from a wall towards her and grabbed the gun. Pussywillow knocked her backwards, head over heals through the air. Q jumped towards the woman next only to be buffeted away. In mid flight Wrath saw a small vial which she deftly grabbed and palmed. She hoped that it was the one that Q had made.
"Fools, I am much stronger and quicker than I appear! Now to my personal quarters!" She still held the gun, but that wasn't the greatest threat. "From there I will launch the Virus."
Pussywillow led them through the small compact station. The further they went in, the more gravity returned. "Centrifugal force," Pussywillow explained. She led them into her elegantly appointed room. There was a large window that overlooked the virus launching machine.
"The time is right." Pussywillow explained, her face ecstatic. "We have loaded the virus into the canisters."
"I see," Q said, nodding to Wrath imperceptibly. He had seen Wrath grab the vial. That was their only one hope. Wrath winked having understood Q's meaning.
"We're in the correct orbit now," a voice announced over the speakers.
"Excellent," Pussywillow said as she pulled out a key and inserted it into the priming mechanism. "Any last words before I launch the virus?"
Q frowned. "Well, actually, no. You see I haven't quite got the hang of quick repartee yet. No wait. I just thought of something."
"What?" Pussywillow was curious.
"You'll never get away with it." Q said. It sounded right.
"Pardon?" Pussywillow asked. It did sound like something James Bond would say.
"You'll never get away with it." Q repeated.
"Oh." Pussywillow said as she turned the key and the first virus canister was set off. "I think I just did."
"You don't understand. The virus isn't stable and will mutate when exposed to the excess radiation of the sun. It won't work as you want it to," Q explained desperately. Maybe he could reason with Pussywillow.
"You're bluffing," Pussywillow scoffed.
"No. It's true. The virus is unprotected from radiation in those canisters. I have no idea what the altered virus is going to do, just that it will change people in unexpected ways."
Pussywillow wavered. Q seemed to be sincere. It did make sense as well
Seeing Pussywillow's hesitation, Wrath decided to make her move. She leaped on Pussywillow, breaking the vial and pushing the glass into the blonde woman's skin.
"Ouch. That hurt." Pussywillow said as she pushed Wrath away. She looked at the vial in her arm, her face turning white in terror. "What was that?"
"The virus that freezes you in that form. By the way it will also break your control of that body. Good-bye Pussywillow," Q said.
"Damn you!" Pussywillow screeched as she pulled the vial from her flesh. She spasmed for a moment or two then her expression went blank as she dropped to the deck.
"Um-excuse me. I cut my hands on the glass as I stabbed Pussywillow. Does that mean I'm frozen too?" Wrath asked in concern.
Q frowned. "Why yes."
Wrath started to spasm and passed out.
Pussywillow stirred from her floating position. "Who the hell are you?" The buxom woman asked. She looked from Q to the unconscious form of Wrath, her face totally bemused. She was looking at a man that looked exactly like herself. Naked.
"I'm Q. Prepare yourself James. You're now a woman. For good."
"What?" Bond asked. "Where am I?" Bond looked down expecting to see the petite form of Honeydew Mountjoy. She was quite surprised at the voluptuous and over exaggerated female body she beheld instead. She placed a hand under one of her huge mamaries to confirm it was real, then held a lock of long blonde hair in her delicate hand. "Who am I?"
"That's unimportant at the moment. Look we really need to stop that damned virus contraption. It could really ruin things for all of us if it keeps launching the virus canisters at earth." Q said brusquely.
Bond took stock of her situation. She was in space. Canisters of virus were being launched at the earth. This was something she was familiar with. "You're right, but how?" Bond asked.
"Let me try and remember the schematics of this station," Q began. He frowned and scratched his head.
"What does this key do?" Bond asked as she turned it. The launcher stopped.
"You're brilliant." Q said, hugging the buxom woman. "Well that's that sorted out. Now we have to stop that canister which was launched."
"The shuttle! It might have a laser on it!"
Wrath roused herself. "It doesn't. Even if it did, we'd be too late to stop the canister. There's nothing we can do to stop it but that isn't a problem because I disabled the canisters before I gave them to Pussywillow. It won't release the virus. Instead it will crash somewhere and most likely remain intact. Only one canister was launched and that was at India. We need to make sure that it's recovered when we get back."
"Bother, I'm about all done with surprises for one lifetime," Q said.
Wrath blushed as a thought occurred to her. "You're not going to tell anyone who I am are you? I don't think I could live with the embarrassment."
"I don't know. Honey, what do you think? Should I let the cat out of the bag."
Bond looked at Q, interpreting his meaning, "no! You should keep quiet. We owe Wrath after all." Obviously Bond was facing a similar dilemma, not wanting the world at large to know that he was now a she.
"You know I might need some convincing. After all you both owe me..." Q smiled. He sat back on the bed and looked at the two beautiful woman. One naked, the other wearing the tightest fitting clothes that she may as well have been.
Bond snorted in amusement. A bluff like that was something she would have done as a man but if it would keep Q silent then she was willing to play along. Maybe even more than willing. After all she could think of worse people to sleep with. Her new body was a cause for concern though as was her ready acceptance of the concept of sex as a woman. She realised that not only was she much taller she was now a lot more woman than she had been before. Her whole body cried sex and she wasn't sure what that would mean in bed. She had already lost control once before.
"Uh, look you know I don't really go in for this sort of stuff. I'm a man after all," Wrath started. Wrath clearly still clung to her male thinking and demeanour, even when there was clearly no going back. She didn't want the woman she knew as Honey to find out about her past sexual exploits with Q as a woman. She had slept with Honey as a man and it seemed weak for her to do this in front of her.
"Wrath you may as well do it. James here is a gentleman. He doesn't kiss and tell. And if he does I'm certain we can make his life difficult," Bond said. She saw no reason to let the world know that Q had replaced James Bond. 'I may as well get used to being Honeydew Mountjoy,' she thought as she started to shed her clothes.
"Oh all right," Wrath said, moving over to the plush King Size bed and climbing on. Q rested a hand comfortably upon her thigh. Wrath felt it there but had no misgivings. She was a little excited with anticipation. "I still can't get over the fact that you're Honey."
"What about the changes you've been through?" Bond said as she slipped her top over her head. She was very impressed with her new body. The breasts were much larger, her frame more shapely and graceful than before. She was happy with her increased stature as well. Something about being a short woman had bothered her. Then again Wrath was particularly cute as a tiny woman. 007 liked her more this way. A sanguine expression came over Jame's chiselled face. She was happy with the changes, even Q's.
As James leaped into bed, Q grinned.
Q and Bond stared across the large mahogany desk at the grim countenance of M. Bond much preferred this proper English lady's counterpart, but nobody could live forever. M tapped her fingers on a thick red folder marked, "For your eyes only."
To the side were two other black dossiers.
'There have been so many changes since a woman has been in charge of the British Secret Service,' noted Bond, the expression of her gorgeous face unchanging. She knew better than to betray her internal musings to M. Bond glanced over to Q in the exemplar of her old body. She wondered what M was going to do with all of them.
In the end duty had proved victorious over pride and practicality. Both Q and Bond had made their reports regarding all of the events of the last few days. It was those reports, along with Q's lab data, that made up the bulk of the red file in M's hand.
M finally spoke, "So am I to believe that everything in this file is the truth?" She asked sceptically.
Both Q and Bond nodded in the affirmative making M break into a very uncharacteristic smile.
"Well Mr. Bond, it appears that you can't resume your rakish, womanising ways! Perhaps now you can appreciate my efforts to employ more women at Universal Exports."
"Yes, Ma'am," was all that Bond could say. Her usual witticism was nowhere to be found.
Bond uncrossed her legs, then recrossed them in a decidedly feminine fashion. She fidgeted in an effort to find a comfortable position. M had a way of putting her ill at ease . . . none more so than now. Bond smoothed the skirt of her immaculate women's business suit. At least she hadn't lost her sense of style. Her ready to wear wardrobe had been salvaged from Pussywillow's belongings. Now that Q was using her old belongings, there was nothing more that she could do.
Bond and Q were both understandably nervous, for M held their respective careers in the palm of her stern hand.
"That leaves me with quite a problem, Bond. You can't very well assume your old identity as 007. Even with your enhanced physical prowess, you would be the target of all your old nemesis, who would perceive your femininity as a chance to strike against the Government."
"But . . . ." Bond tried to protest. She saw her entire career being washed down the drain.
M held up her hand to stop Bond in mid-sentence.
"As much as I hate to admit it, the world needs a James Bond as a deterrent to all of those ne'er do wells! I would never have thought as much, but the evidence is undisputable. Therefore, Bond, by the power invested in me by the British Secret Service your license to kill as 007 is hereby revoked."
M's declaration might as well have been a death sentence. Now Bond had no real identity, and no real career. Rather than debate the thing she already knew to be true, the voluptuous form of Bond slumped in the overstuffed leather chair.
M turned to silent, watching Q. Q patted Bond's hand for moral support. He felt sorry for her, for in truth, she had literally lost everything.
"Q. You have proved yourself to be an adept field agent in this little adventure. Effective immediately, after some necessary retraining, you will assume the identity and duties of James Bond 007. I take it that you will be able to carry on the exploits of this rogue?"
"I do, Ma'am. I'll certainly try my best."
"You will be missed down in the Lab, Q. However, as I said, the perception of a vigilant James Bond on the world scene is more so. From this moment forth, you ARE James Bond. You will respond to only that name. Understand?"
M glanced back at the deflated body of Pussywillow. "Understand?"
Bond didn't know what to expect when she, Wrath, and Q were summoned to M's offices. She thought something like this could happen, but now that it did, it didn't lessen the sting of it.
Bond nodded in affirmation, officially signalling the end of her life as James Bond. She added, "Yes Ma'am."
"Oh, don't look so defeated, Bond. It's so unlike you."
She pushed one of the black folders across the table at Bond, who halted its slide with one perfectly manicured hand. In the same deft motion, M depressed the familiar silent signal for Moneypenny in the outer office.
"Memorise that. It is your new identity. From this moment forward, you will assume the 006 license to kill that was vacated in the Goldeneye affair."
The image of Bond's former ally 006, flashed across her mind. She had to kill him, a friend, in the Goldeneye affair. It was never easy to kill a friend . . . she missed him now. Nevertheless, the thrill of being back in the game propelled her to open the cover of the black folder.
"Moneypenny? Priscilla Constance Moneypenny?"
Moneypenny's voice spoke from behind them. "Yes, Dear. You are to be the little sister that I never had. Ironic isn't it James, or should I say, Priscilla, that we ended up in the same family after all. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but now that Q is . . . well . . . you, things just may work out."
Moneypenny and Q exchanged a knowing glance. Bond had always thought that there was something between them.
"Enough of that Moneypenny. You can all get familiar with your new arrangements later. We have business to attend to."
Everybody directed their attention back to M.
"After discussing the matter with the Minister, we feel that Pussywillow is the perfect cover for you Priscilla. Forthwith, you are to return back to the Island of Women, and take control of Octopussy's operations. Maintain the appearance of a criminal operation, but you can continue to do her good work in covert."
That made Priscilla feel good inside. She could insure that the legacy of her former lover would go on. Continuing the criminal persona of Pussywillow would give the British Secret Service access to things which ordinarily they wouldn't have. There were only a few loose ends that remained to be tied up. It was Priscilla who brought up the first.
"What about Wrath?" Curiously, Bond wondered what Wrath had been doing in the outer office with Ms. Moneypenny.
"I'm glad you asked," replied M. She looked up at her personal assistant. "Moneypenny? If you don't mind?"
"Certainly," Ms. Moneypenny nodded.
It was so wild. Priscilla was now officially Moneypenny's sister!
Ms. Moneypenny escorted the petite Wrath into the room. She was looking every bit the woman, although not as natural as Priscilla. That too, would come in time. M gestured for Wrath to take the chair on the other side of Q, the new Bond.
Wrath demurely obliged M. It was amazing how her entire demeanour had become so feminine. Priscilla wondered if she had done so as well, in her ultra feminine body.
"Nigel Wrath?" started M. "The British government sincerely appreciates your assistance in this matter. We are prepared to give you immunity, as Q represented to you, with one proviso."
"And that is?" squeaked Wrath, trying, but failing, to sound confident.
"You must assume the identity that we prepared for you."
With that, M slid the second black folder over to Wrath. Wrath opened it up, so that she could look on the inside.
"Yes. The two of you were about the same size. With a judicious amount of plastic surgery after the explosion in South America, of course. The records are all there. Everything's quite in order."
"Naturally," remarked Wrath. That made Priscilla smile.
"You see, Ms. Wrath? It all makes sense. You can utilise your nefarious contacts to help Priscilla run Pussywillow's organisation. Of course, in reality, you will be working for the British Secret Service, for the good of the British government."
M kept up the illusion that Priscilla was formerly Honeydew Mountjoy/Pussywillow and not James Bond. After today's meeting, nobody would ever know, save for the those in the upper echelon of the Department. Priscilla was thankful for that, at least.
M pushed onward. "I sincerely suggest that you this deal, Wrath. It is your only chance at redemption. I don't think that you'll last very long in your former world in THAT body."
It didn't take long for Wrath to decide. She said with a mock sense gravity, "Call me Honeydew."
"Very good. Very good, indeed. I believe that resolves everything. Everything that we have discussed here will be classified." Not everything, thought Priscilla. There was two more loose ends, and Honeydew addressed one of them before Priscilla could even say anything.
"What ever happened to Q?"
"Ah . . . Q. I'm glad you mentioned that Ms. Honeydew. Unfortunately, Q was a victim of the explosion down in South America. His next of kin have been notified, and we will have a service in his memory next week."
"What happened to the canister, M?" asked Priscilla, addressing the most pressing question that everybody else had been avoiding.
"The canister fell to Earth somewhere in India, fortunately it didn't discharge. Unfortunately, we've lost it. We already know what it can do, and is therefore extremely dangerous. That is your first assignment as Pussywillow and Mountjoy, to locate and neutralise that virus."
Priscilla's training as Bond came to the fore. The great game was afoot once more.
"Are there any leads, any at all?"
M directed her attention to Q in the Bond body, "We believe an old adversary of Mr. Bond here, Khamal Khan, may have the canister."
That was a name that Priscilla recognised immediately. The person responsible for the death of Octopussy, and the person who tried to kill her when she was Bond. Everything had indeed come full circle!
The prospect of revenge appealed to Priscilla Moneypenny aka Pussywillow. The powers that be had delivered the means of justice into her hands.
"We've booked a flight for you and Ms. Mountjoy to return to India tomorrow. We naturally want you to get started on this mission immediately. Mr. Bond will join you shortly in India after a few tasks that he has to attend to."
Now Ms. Moneypenny spoke up. "Smashing. That will give me a chance to spend the evening with my sister, Priscilla. Priscilla Moneypenny. I like the sound of that."
Honeydew glanced curiously up at Priscilla, "Priscilla Moneypenny?"
"You weren't the only one to get a new identity. Mine just happened to include ready made sibling," Priscilla couldn't resist. It was part of the old Bond persona. "Isn't that right, Sis?"
Moneypenny giggled, "That's right, Prissy!"
Wonderful! Moneypenny already had a stupid nickname picked out. She was going to be an insufferable mother, Priscilla could just tell.
"Will you be joining us, James?" queried Moneypenny to the new Bond.
"I think not, Moneypenny. I think I'll show Honeydew the town tonight."
"Still the same old rascal, aren't you?" Priscilla asked of her old nemesis.
"You have NO idea."
M slid a red folder over to Priscilla that marked the end of the meeting. It was the codename for the new mission, marked "The Last Domino."
It was also marked, "For your eyes only."
Thus marked the start of three new careers.