A sharp pain lanced through Special Agent Peter Abaya’s skull. He grabbed the side of his head, wincing, and let out a breath - but something wasn’t right. His voice was not the usual baritone but softer and distinctly feminine. Also, his hand was not clutching his normal close-cropped hair but a long cascade of wavy tresses.
“What the hell?” he muttered, then looked down and gasped in horror.
In place of his lean, muscular physique, he saw a soft, curvier frame. Breasts swelled from his chest.
“No...” He clutched one of them and bounced it experimentally; they were real. “What the fuck is this? What happened to me?”
Peter tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was in a nice car, either a Lexus or a Mercedes. The passenger side door was open, and the men standing there seemed to be waiting for him to emerge.
“C’mon, Maya, you know Mr. Navarro hates to wait,” one of them urged.
Mr. Navarro? But that was the name of the cartel boss! 
And then, like a thunderclap, everything came flooding back.
The F.B.I. had assigned him to infiltrate the drug kingpin’s organization, but he’d stumbled upon something far more sinister than heroin. Navarro had discovered a way to force people to do his bidding by implanting them with a device that tapped directly into their brains, effectively overriding their free will.
He’d told his contact at the Bureau about it, and then... Nothing.
Peter gasped at the realization. He’d obviously been one of the victims of Navarro’s brainwashing device! And they’d made him...
“Oh, God. How far did he make me go?”
Peter whimpered as he bit his lip and squeezed his thighs together. Just as he’d feared, he was now a woman in every sense of the word. 
“Jesus. Let’s go already! We don’t want him to lose his temper.”
Peter nodded and took a deep breath. No matter what they’d done, he was still Special Agent Abaya of the F.B.I. -- even if he was now deeper undercover than he could have ever imagined.
He opened the car door and stepped out, his six-inch pumps clicking on the concrete. Disconcertingly, he found he could stand and walk in them with ease.
“I’m sorry, boys,” Peter cooed. “Had a migraine attack. But I’m fine now. Let’s go see the boss.”