Damien’s eyes widened. He gathered his wits but they were inadequate for the reality that has now befallen upon him. Staring in the mirror is this caucasian kid. With skin so white it’s pink. Eye of azure and hair of threads of gold. Looks twelve at the least and not a day over fifteen. Just by seeing the boy mimic his hoarse breathing, Damien pieced together what the hell just happened to him.
Back during the cold war, the MI6 developed a cocktail of drugs that rapidly rearranged a person’s genetic makeup. There are attached enzymes that also hastened the display of said genes phenotypically. It is the greatest disguise the service could offer. Agents could be virtually become anyone and use their newfound identity to easily infiltrate secured spaces. Damien is what one could call one of the ‘traditional types’. While he’s irked when it comes to using it, he’d rather prefer doing espionage the old way. It’s what got him to the top of the field and he sees it as the same means that would let him stay. Nonetheless, the only thing that would force him to use such methods is this - through a surprise transformation.
“Ted, you cunt. Turn me back now,” Damien hissed. His threats came out weak because of his childish high-pitched voice.
“You look so cute whenever you cuss at me,” Ted said, “Even more so with that kid you turned into.”
There’s a specific division for this! There’s a group of agents dedicated to transforming into children when it comes to espionage. “Is everyone so pre-occupied that I’m forced to another division’s job?”
“Still sharp even with that body of yours. And yes, everyone is so preoccupied with all the shits and whatnots the world is diving into. With the threats of nuclear war from three different superpowers, we are already spread thin as is. Since you’re free, the director wanted you to do this job.”
Damien mulled. A job’s a job and it doesn’t matter if he going to do it while looking like a child. “Fine. Brief me.”
“You already know that the target is Hebrew Russo. He’s threatening the world with a virus and that scare is warranted with Russo Pharmaceuticals at his back. Your job is to extract a sample of the virus so that we at the lab could synthesize a vaccine.”
“How the hell can I do that looking like this?” Hebrew Russo is a paranoid man who used the earnings of his pharmaceutical company to fund his private army. And the intelligence arm of his security portfolio nearly rivals the MI6. “It’s already difficult when it comes to my old body but a kid’s? It’s bloody impossible.”
“Or is it? Hebrew Russo’s son, Luca Russo, is celebrating his birthday in the next few days. There are only a limited number of people invited and luckily, the person you’re impersonating is one of them. You’ll be playing is Alphonse van Erwick, the heir of the duchy of Wheatwall. What a wordful am I right?” Ted jests, “Alphonse is a bright lad that is proficient in 10 different languages, which is 30 short of your record. He’s well versed in Italian which is the language you’re mostly going to use when conversing with your best friend, and that is?”
Damien is sure that the information remains disclosed to him but his mind is whispering this unknown information as if he knew it from the start. “Luca Russo,” Damien found himself saying with a surprising excitement present in his face, “He’s been my classmate since we were young and we share the same interests in fencing and vlogging.”
“Good, the memory bleeding effect is working normally. You’re going to know more about the lad sooner or later. With that done, I suggest you change into these clothes and await further commands from the director.”
Looking back in the mirror, Damien can’t believe how his clothes are still holding up. There are way bigger than him and hang loosely upon his shoulders. With Ted out of the room doing whatever crap he’s doing in his work time, Damien let the clothes fall on the floor and got a closer look at the body he’s in.
His skin is white and whiter underneath the clothes. Regal care is ensured in every inch. Even though young, he saw some lean definitions in his muscle. He bent his limbs as far as it could get and found them surprisingly flexible and acrobatic. Damien hoped that the skills present in his mind would translate well with the muscles of this body. He ran around the room and did cartwheels. When he felt something slop between his legs, he stopped. Looking down, he languished at the loss of the feature that defines a man. From his 8-inch schlong down to a prepubescent 4-inch twig. The shaft is white but the tip and balls are as pink as his nipples. He wanted to touch them but the thought of his loss dredged in his mind. Maybe for another time…