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BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Three shots directly to the chest, perfect aim, the woman fell down to the ground with a rose of blood across her chest.

007 approached, cold, professional, weapon pointing forward, she was still chuckling.

“You lose...” she said between painful coughs that didn’t erase her smile. “You lose, Mister Bond!”

The secret agent didn’t let down his guard.

“It doesn’t seem so.”

From below the woman looked up and his grip on the gun trembled.

“It was a lovely dinner, don’t you agree? I think that you enjoyed that martini more than the sex, didn’t you?” her bloody defiant smile, and something else, made his balls feel like they were shrinking and his cock got flaccid. “It’s just a matter of perspective, my dear... The empire of men will crumble into dust... and everything will be better... Trust me...”

She passed away in peace, confident in her triumph.

The confidence that the secret agent’’s voice lacked.

“You are insane…”

A feeble protests as feeble 007 was feeling, his skin turning red, starting to shake and sweat...

...

A mad dash, a desperate rush thought the streets, heart beating faster than feet could move, a terrible oppression crushing his shoulders.

His aching muscles pulsated all over his being as he tried to reach his safe house in the hotel, as if that could save him.

007 felt his coolness completely melting as his body began to shrink, muscles becoming feeble, hair growing longer, his squared face gaining roundness.

His voice a fluctuating feminine moan, his clothes, once so fitting, now growing baggy, making the running harder and the inconspicuousness a mission impossible.

Hands with small fingers and long nails barely held pants in place as 007 entered the elevator, tears building up in eyes, trying to avoid the faces of the other people - hotel clients and the gazes of the men.

The soft swell around erect nipples, the noose in the balls as they were pulled up into ovaries, the utter shame of not even daring to squeak in public as her manhood crumbled and vanished forever.

007 stormed into the safe house, barely closing the door, not caring about having lost the jacket, a shoe or the gun, opening her now much too large shirt to witness her new delicate self in a mirror.

Nothing even near manly between the legs, the woman was right, she had totally won, James Bond owned and gone.

There was a new Octopussy in town and the world was hers for the taking.