Chapter Two

Three Days Later

Kennedy sat at the desk in his recovery room. The room had become a prison, with Kennedy only receiving permission to leave when he had to attend his daily therapy sessions. Special Agent Hawksworth explained that allowing the feminized man to roam the facility freely was too dangerous, and the less anyone saw him, the better.

Kennedy manipulated his new government-issued driver’s license with his long, bright pink stiletto-shaped fingernails and sighed. He had come to regret ever meeting Alyssa Scaletti at the casino grand opening and leading her on in order to chase a story. That encounter set into motion a domino effect of circumstances he couldn’t have ever predicted.

Now, he was trapped inside the body of a teenage boy’s wet dream, a body he had no say in. The FBI told him it was the only way to keep him safe, but the more time he had alone with his own thoughts, the more he was convinced the FBI was using him as a pawn to further their selfish aims.

Kennedy stared down at the ID card in his feminine hands, scowling at the pretty face staring back at him. Her long, well-maintained candy-pink hair framed her face. Her sparkling blue eyes exuded naive innocence, yet her plump, full, pink, kissable lips hinted at a naughty side. A pretty satin choker wrapped around her neck to complete the epitome of femininity. Kennedy had never posed for an ID photo, but the woman in the photo was an exact match to the face he saw in the mirror.

His eyes glanced over the rest of the driver’s license. His name was listed as Suzie Taylor, born in 2005; they had made him five years younger, suddenly no longer old enough to drink again. He gritted his teeth. It angered Kennedy that the FBI hadn’t consulted him when creating his new identity, as though his opinions or feelings on the matter were irrelevant. The ID clearly labeled him as female and listed his height at 5’5”. He was already several inches shorter than the average man before the transformation; cutting a couple more inches off his height felt like an insult.

His heart sank when he looked over the A4-sized mission brief on the table. Vincent Russo’s eldest son, Dominic, was in the market for a live-in nanny to look after his 5-year-old daughter while he took a more commanding role in his father’s empire. The bureau believed this role would grant Kennedy the best opportunity to use his investigative talents and find further incriminating information on the family. Kennedy shuddered at the thought of having to look after a 5-year-old little brat. The feminized man was childless and hated kids. He was more interested in chasing women, and the moment one of his dates expressed an interest in starting a family, the date was over to him.

His sessions with Dr. Michaela Foster have been what could only be described as an abject failure. Dr. Foster had been tasked with syncing Kennedy’s new appearance with a personality that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. They had expected this charming, womanizing man to overhaul his subconscious tendencies in less than a week. They were crazy if they believed Kennedy was going to prance around like a sissy, he thought.

After half a day of arguing during his first session, Dr. Foster finally convinced Kennedy to recite a script she had prepared. The script had him introduce himself by his new name and describe his love of getting pampered and shopping; it was a totally humiliating experience for him. The doctor wasn’t impressed with his performance and worked on getting him inside the mindset of a 19-year-old woman.

They had altered his wardrobe, filling it with dresses, skirts, and tube tops in bright feminine colors. They replaced his comfortable footwear with heels and wouldn’t deliver his meals until he had practiced his makeup skills. They believed all these changes would transform his mentality and make it easier for him to get into his new role. They were wrong.

Looking down at the overflowing cleavage of the light pink tube top, barely keeping his massive chest covered, Kennedy hoped that they would abandon this foolish plan when they realized how hopeless it was becoming. They may have been able to use borderline magical technology to transform his body into this pink-haired bombshell, but they weren’t going to convince him to start acting like one.

Kennedy heard a soft knock at the door, and a click unlocked it before waiting for a response. He turned his head and witnessed Special Agent Jason Hawksworth and Doctor Michaela Foster approach him. Hawksworth wore his traditional gray suit, his stern expression bearing down on Kennedy as he took the seat opposite him. Even when cracking a joke, the Special Agent never expressed a jovial smile.

Dr. Foster looked equally well-dressed in a tailored navy blue suit with a white lab coat over the top. She stood between the two, looking far more solemn than Kennedy ever remembered.

“Good evening, Suzie,” Kennedy narrowed his eyes at the suited man when he used the name on his new identity. “Dr. Foster here has informed me that we have made next to no progress with your sessions.”

“My name is Kennedy!” the feminized man snapped back, “And what do you expect? I am a man and will always be a man, no matter what I look like.” The words would have sounded strange to anyone walking by, considering the soft feminine tone that said them.

Jason sighed, “You’re not making this easy. Do you even know how you are sitting right now? I can see your cute panties.”

Kennedy gasped and immediately squeezed his legs together. He glared at the man opposite him. “You don’t get it. It’s not going to work. We might as well give up and settle on a new plan.”

The Agent stared through Kennedy, pausing for a moment to intimidate him. “It’s too late for that. We have tried to be patient with you, Suzie, but time is running out. We need to move to Plan B.”

Plan B? Kennedy’s mind raced. What was he talking about? He opened his pouty mouth to question the man before he felt an ominous pinprick in his neck. Looking up, he watched the doctor standing over him, withdrawing a syringe from his neck.

“We will talk when your therapy is complete.” He drowsily heard Jason Hawksworth’s words, his vision blurry until he fell into darkness.

❖

Wearily fluttering his eyes open, Kennedy awoke in his recovery room bed. His last waking moment of being drugged flashed through his mind, and he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He didn’t feel sore, and he seemed to be thinking clearly. They had obviously drugged him for a reason, but there were no apparent alterations.

Kennedy resolved that he needed to examine his body in case they made any further changes. He slipped into his high-heeled slippers and walked over to the mirror, failing to notice how comfortable it suddenly felt to walk in heels.

He wasn’t wearing the same outfit he fell asleep in. He was wearing a plain, bright pink T-shirt with ‘Barbie’ written across the front in Barbie font and a pair of pastel pink g-string panties. His legs were bare and perched on top of a pair of fluffy pink 3” stiletto slippers.

Studying his appearance, he couldn’t notice anything different. He still had the shocking pink hair, the glittering blue eyes, and the enticing pouty lips, but he had all of these features before being jabbed in the neck. The lack of makeup on his face unsettled him a little, though.

“What did those assholes do to me?” Kennedy said out loud with furor. Perhaps they were just trying to scare him into putting more effort into his therapy sessions. There was no chance of that, he thought.

Kennedy’s head turned as the mechanism on his door unlocked, and Special Agent Hawksworth stepped inside with urgency. “I’m glad to see you are finally awake, Suzie. We don’t have much time left, so take a seat, and I’ll explain.”

The pink-haired feminized man was furious. They had transformed him into this 19-year-old busty bombshell, attempted to convince him to act like a woman, and drugged him without warning. He was done with this shit, and he was prepared to give Special Agent Hawksworth a piece of his mind.

“Oh my gawd, I’m like so mad at you, you meanie!” Kennedy’s eyes shot open, and he immediately clasped his feminine hand over his mouth in horror.

Kennedy’s dumb dialect elicited a rare smile from the FBI agent. He gestured over to the seat at my desk. “Like I said, take a seat, and I will explain.”

Kennedy was dumbfounded. He knew exactly what he had wanted to say, and he had said it, but it had somehow been translated into a pathetically silly turn of phrase. However, he knew he needed answers, so he heeded Jason’s request and sashayed to the desk. He placed his bare asscheeks on the chair and crossed his bare legs before demurely placing his manicured hands on his lap.

Jason couldn’t help but smirk again, witnessing his project acting much more feminine. It wasn’t until Hawksworth’s grin lingered on Kennedy’s body that the feminized man realized precisely how he was sitting. He urgently uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on the table, but the position felt entirely unnatural and awkward to him. He glared up at his handler.

Special Agent Hawksworth slowly stepped toward the second chair, resting on his seat. He reached over, picked up the fake driver’s license on the table, and slid it in front of Kennedy. “Now, let’s try again. What is your name?”

Kennedy narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly what his name was and wasn’t prepared to play this game. “My name is Suzie. Like, what the hell…” He didn’t have any intention to call himself Suzie, and yet it slipped out entirely naturally. “My name is Suzie Taylor!” He raised his voice, unable to call himself anything else.

Jason nodded his approval, ignoring Kennedy’s angry tone. “Very good.” He says condescendingly. He noticed that Kennedy had unconsciously crossed his legs again, placing his hands on his lap. “So, there’s been a development.”

A development? Kennedy was fuming inside. Everything he tried to say since Jason had entered the room sounded completely different from his intention. It felt as though there was an internal translator between his brain and his mouth. How was that possible?

“Special Agent Peter Lutz has been found dead.” Jason declared. Kennedy stared back at him quizzically. Who the hell was Peter Lutz? “Special Agent Lutz was the sole handler for Special Agent Connors. He has been Kayla’s only source of contact for the last three years, but he was found behind O’Connolly’s with a bullet in his brain.

Kennedy’s eyes widened. What did that mean for the mission? Did the Russo family know about Kayla’s involvement with the agency? “Oh my gawd! You, like, gotta get her out of there!” He cringed at the sound of his own voice. If he were in Jason’s position, he would never take anything the valley girl sitting across from him was saying seriously.

Hawksworth paused, working hard to stifle a chuckle at Kennedy’s response. “That’s not an option.” He starts, “We don’t believe Kayla has been discovered, or she would have disappeared already. However, we are unable to get her a message regarding her handler’s fate.”

Kennedy gasped. This was crazy. It was starting to look as though the FBI would stop at nothing to put this family behind bars, no matter how many lives they put in danger. He parted his plump, unpainted lips to respond, but it was clear that Jason hadn’t finished.

“We cannot assign her a new handler until we know we are in the clear. We need to send you in as soon as possible, but you will be going in blind.” The special agent said. His statement sounded ominous to Kennedy. What was he talking about?

Jason stood up and slowly started pacing the recovery room. “You are probably wondering what we have done to your head, Suzie.” He asked, looking back at the busty woman.

“My name is Suzie! Like, why can’t I talk properly and stuff?!” Kennedy demanded, flabbergasted at how silly he sounded every time he spoke.

“You weren’t progressing the way we would have liked. If we had sent you in as you were, you would have been found out within five minutes.” Jason responded, although his answer didn’t do anything to put his key witness at ease. “I have two key objectives I can’t risk failing. One is to keep you alive, and the other is to build a slam dunk case against the most dangerous man on the East Coast. I will do whatever it takes to achieve those aims.”

The special agent spoke with conviction, but Kennedy just shook his pink-haired head. None of this explained what they had done to his head, although he was about to find out. “So we had to implement Plan B. Dr. Foster has designed a powerful form of hypnotherapist that speaks directly to the subconscious.” They hypnotized him? Kennedy never believed in that shit, but a week ago he never believed in a machine that could completely transform his body either. “It allowed Dr. Foster to effectively design a new personality inside your mind, one that matched what we required of you. You’ll find that you can speak completely normally when alone, but as soon as someone else is in the same room, your speech will filter through the new personality. That’s why you can’t recite your real name to me and talk the way you do.”

Kennedy was shocked. They had manipulated his mind without his permission, and now he was stuck talking like a dumb teeny bobby whenever he wasn’t alone. “Now, I admit,” Jason continued, “I instructed Dr. Foster to make sure you sounded like a stereotypical 19-year-old girl, but I think she went a little far with the bimbo dialect. I think you upset her when you questioned her skills during your last session.”

“I’m gonna, like, totally kick her butt!” Kennedy squeaked out, not sounding nearly as threatening as he intended. The usually stoic special agent couldn’t help but chuckle at the response.

“You’ll find other tendencies that will assist you in keeping your cover, too.” Hawksworth looked down at Kennedy with his legs crossed. “Such as how you sit, or walk. You probably haven’t even noticed how comfortably you walk in those shoes or how uncomfortable you feel when I tell you you’re not wearing any makeup.” Kennedy hated to admit it, but the man was correct; he did feel uncomfortable wearing no makeup now the agent had brought it up. Kennedy hated that damn man.

Jason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small white envelope. “Usually, we insert a trigger switch in the asset’s head to allow them to turn off their conditioning at will, but we concluded that the temptation to use it would put you in danger. You will have the personality removed before Vincent Russo’s trial begins.” Kennedy gasped in frustration. He would be forced to talk like this until the trial date? That could be months away.

The FBI agent stepped forward and placed the envelope on the table. “We have no time to waste. You will be heading in tomorrow. You have an interview scheduled with Dominic Russo.” Kennedy swallowed hard in fear. “Don’t worry. Your body’s been designed to ensure you won’t fail the interview.” That comment made the pink-haired woman shudder. What was that supposed to mean?

Jason Hawksworth started heading towards the door before turning around. “Hand that envelope to Special Agent Connors when you first meet her. Remember, her name is Bella Bianchi.” He said. Kennedy stared down at the blank envelope. “Do not open it yourself. It contains top-secret information you are not authorized to view. Now, this may be the last time we see each other before the trial begins. Thank you for your sacrifice, and good luck, Suzie Taylor.”

Kennedy glared at Jason when he used his adopted name but stayed silent as the FBI man left the room. Kennedy was left with his own thoughts, and his predicament started to dawn on him; he was being thrown in the lions’ den tomorrow, and he had to do whatever it took to survive.

❖

Kennedy rubbed his hands on his lap anxiously. He had been waiting for five minutes in the grandiose living room of the Russo mansion. Absently, he removed his compact mirror from his small clutch bag and touched up his lips. As much as the action angered him, he found it helped calm him down.

He didn’t have to wait much longer before the young Russo stepped through the door with his cell phone to his ear. “I don’t want her excuses. Just take care of it.” He snapped at the unknown caller on the other end of the line, pausing in his tracks when he noticed the busty pink-haired beauty before him. Kennedy immediately rose to his high-heeled feet, straightening his muted pink knee-length pencil skirt. “Look, I have a meeting. Just take care of it.” The man ended the call with his Italian-American Jersey accent.

Placing his phone back in his suit jacket pocket, Dominic Russo stepped forward and introduced himself to the beautiful woman. “Well, hello there, you must be Suzie. I’m Dominic. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He took Kennedy’s manicured hand and kissed it to his lips.

“The pleasure is totally mine, Mr Russo.” Kennedy smiled despite his horror at his tone. He sounded playful, almost flirtatious, when he spoke to the Russo son. “I’m Suzie, Suzie Taylor.” He said. The man admired Kennedy for a moment. Despite the casual pink t-shirt with a jovial picture of a teddy bear on the front, there was no hiding the size of the breasts hidden beneath it. This woman looked perfect, Dominic thought. He gestured for her to take a seat, and he sat in the armchair opposite her.

Kennedy absently crossed his legs, his back straight, which emphasized the shape of his chest against the T-shirt. He felt unnerved by Dominic’s hungry look every time he stared down at the feminized man’s chest. “I’m sure you know who I am and how important this role is.”

Kennedy bit his plump lower lip. “Ohh, totally, Mr Russo. You and your daddy own like half the casinos in the city.” He said in a bubbly tone. Dom chuckled; she sounded cute. He liked cute. “Well, let’s get this interview started.” The man responded confidently.

Kennedy allowed his imprinted personality to take over during the interview. He had read the character brief, but he had been told Dr. Foster had imprinted the information into his subconscious. All he had to do was allow the personality to come to the fore. Suzie was born in Glendale, California, and spent her entire childhood in the West Coast State. Kennedy thought it was amusing they created such an elaborate backstory when he had never even visited the West Coast. Suzie attended high school but was easily distracted and dropped out when she was 17. She was estranged from her drug-addicted mother and abusive father. Kennedy wasn’t sure why the character needed such a tragic story, but he figured it would be easier to explain why she was on her own if her parents were such assholes. Suzie moved to the East Coast last year looking for a fresh start, landing a couple of waitress jobs to survive, but is now looking for more stable work.

Dominic seemed to enjoy the interview and was drawn to Suzie’s bubbly personality. He didn’t want a nanny with too much intelligence. She would be spending a lot of time with his daughter, and he didn’t want anyone filling her head with modern-day intellectual bullshit behind his back. Suzie just ticked all the right boxes, and it didn’t hurt that she was pleasant to look at.

The 24-year-old Russo stood up and offered his hand to the busty woman. “Well, I don’t see any point in delaying the inevitable. The job is yours if you still want it, Suzie.” He grinned down at her.

Kennedy took the offered hand and rose to his feet. “Oh my gawd, seriously?! Thank you so much!” His mouth spoke with glee. The entire interview was humiliating. It was much easier to allow the conditioned personality to answer Dominic’s questions and effectively take a back seat. Kennedy could disassociate himself from the personality when it completely takes over like that. The humiliation came when Kennedy spoke of his own accord, but the words were translated into dumb Valley girl speech.

“Fantastic,” the man declared, “let’s give you a little tour.” He allowed Kennedy to step ahead of him, a hand gently pressed against the pink-haired woman’s skirted ass, provoking a tiny gasp from the feminized man.

The mansion was laid out over three levels. The communal rooms dominated the ground level. Kennedy was shown the foyer, kitchen, dining room, library, gym, sun room, cinema, and the vast back garden. As they ascended the stairs, Dominic explained that the top level contained private offices and storage and that the entire floor was off-limits to the general staff, including the new nanny.

Dominic continued to lead Kennedy through each room, enjoying the way the feminine woman’s hips swayed with each step on her stiletto high heels. He briefly showed his newest employee the Master bedroom and his own room. Eventually, they stepped inside a large, bright pink room. There was an immaculately made bed in one corner and several boxes of neatly placed toys on the floor. The shelves were filled with cuddly toys of every form, and a giant Barbie doll house was next to the bed. “And this is Abby’s room,” Dominic announced, referring to his daughter. “Don’t be fooled by the cleanliness. She’s currently staying with her Grandparents in New York, but she’ll be back in two days.” He grins, “It’s not usually this tidy.” Kennedy shuddered. Despite Suzie’s insistence that she loved children, Kennedy couldn’t think of anything worse than tidying up after a 5-year-old spoiled brat.

Dominic led the new nanny into the bedroom next to Abby’s to end the tour. While it wasn’t as overtly girly as Dom’s daughter, it definitely had a feminine style to it. “And this will be your room.” The young Russo declared. “It’s nothing special, but feel free to decorate it how you like. I’ll leave you to get settled in. Do you need help with anything?”

Kennedy looked around the room. He was keen to be left alone, so he rejected Dom’s offer. “Ohh, no thanks, Mr Russo.” He replied with his soft Valley girl soprano. “You have been like super helpful already. I can’t wait to get to work!” He responded with more excitement than he planned. Dominic grinned, giving Kennedy’s hand another kiss before leaving him alone in his new room.

Once he was alone, Kennedy felt a relief wash over him. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself, his tone suddenly able to convey his intended message. He fell back onto the comfortable bed, idly resting inside his new private bedroom.

❖

Kennedy relaxed with his eyes closed for over an hour when he heard the click-clacking of high-heels on the hard floor of the hallway outside his room. Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate, tentatively opening his door and spying on the sight before him. His jaw dropped open at what he saw.

On the far side of the hallway was the image of a woman dressed in a tacky leopard print dress with matching 4” leopard stiletto pumps. Her perfectly shaped ass was pushed out as she was bent over, looking through one of the drawers in a hallway desk. “Where the hell is it,” he heard the woman speak with a thick Jersey accent.

Kennedy clumsily opened his door too far and banged against the wall, alerting the unknown woman to his presence. Kennedy’s eyes widened as the woman straightened up and stared in his direction. He had seen the beautiful woman before, in a photo at the clinic. Her face was caked in way too much makeup, and a leopard printer choker wrapped around her neck. The woman was his ex-girlfriend, Kayla, dressed in a style she would have looked down on in college. Her facial expression looked furious, and she suddenly charged toward the pink-haired woman standing in the doorway.

Kennedy had no time to react, and the blond pushed him back into his room, her bright red manicured claws wrapping around his neck. She pushed him up against the wall. “Who da hell you think you are, bitch?” She exclaimed in her thick accent. Her dialect caught Kennedy off guard. Kayla spoke with a refined accent and always portrayed herself as intellectual and professional. It was one of the things that turned Kennedy off her.

“Bella, like, it’s me, Suzie!” He exclaimed. It didn’t help that he couldn’t pronounce his own name, but he was also dismayed to find that he couldn’t refer to Kayla by her real name. Damn, that damn bitch doctor really thought of everything.

“I dunno who dis Suzie is. How do ya know my name?” She growled out in response, her grip tightening against Kennedy’s trachea. Kennedy eyed her clutch bag resting on her bed, “There’s, like, an envelope in my bag. You totally need to read it. It will explain everything!” Kennedy spoke with his new bimbo inflections. Kayla looked at the bag behind her and then at the feminized Kennedy. She held her grip momentarily before eventually releasing it and picking up the bimbo’s bag from the bed.

She pulled out a plain white envelope and opened it. Inside was a long letter. Kennedy wished that he had read the letter before he had given it to his undercover ex-girlfriend, but he was explicitly ordered not to open it, and he wasn’t sure he could unseal it without anyone noticing.

Kayla took an age to read through the letter. Her facial expression remained stoic throughout, although Kennedy attempted to read her eyes. The more he stared at her eyes, the more he thought he could see the real Kayla Connors hidden beneath this exaggerated facade.

Eventually, the woman stopped reading, blowing a bubble with the gum Kennedy hadn’t noticed her chewing. He could have sworn he observed a faint smirk cross her lips. Kayla reached into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a lighter, setting fire to the paper until it disappeared into ash. “So, is this true?” the Jersey girl asked him. Kennedy took a deep breath.