ds1000
patreon
Veil of Protection 12.2
🕑 Added 2025-04-24 18:24:01 +0000 UTCChapter 12: A Glitch in the System: Part 2
The room fell into silence, save for the rhythmic tapping of Victor’s fingers against his tablet. A moment later, the screen changed again. This time, Agent Munroe didn’t gasp - not because the transformation was any less shocking, but because she had been bracing herself for it. She expected something outrageous… and that’s exactly what she got.
The image on screen revealed an alarmingly thin blonde woman dressed almost entirely in pink. Her long platinum hair spilt over her shoulders - half pulled into a high ponytail, the rest cascading freely around a bubblegum pink boob tube that encircled her narrow chest. The little top cut off to reveal a slim, toned waist, beneath which sat a white PVC miniskirt that looked as if it had been painted on. Her slender arms tapered into hands tipped with claw-like pink acrylics, while her stick-thin legs, balanced atop glossy pink pumps with stilt-like heels, appeared impossibly long.
Her expression was tightly composed, lips frozen in a glossy pink pout - but her bright blue eyes, ringed with thick, cartoonish lashes, betrayed an inner turmoil. Behind the flawless makeup and Botox-filled facade was a man screaming in silence, trapped inside a body that no longer felt like his own.
(See image 39)
“You’re telling me that’s The Ox?” Agent Munroe snapped, trying to sound collected, though the disbelief cracked through her voice. “The man who's pulled off the most successful undercover operations in DEA history? The same guy who broke the bench press record at Quantico?”
“Yes,” Victor replied, taking a deep breath. “That’s him. He’s now known as Daisy Whitmore. Born in London to a British father and an American mother. Daisy relocated to California with her mother after the divorce.
Silence followed. All eyes shifted to Director Wallace. Her expression was unreadable, lips pursed slightly in thought. Then, without missing a beat, she gave the faintest shake of her head and spoke.
“Show me Michael Tanaka.”
Victor nodded and swiftly switched the image, replacing the anorexic-looking blonde with a far curvier figure.
Michael Tanaka no longer looked Japanese - nor remotely male.
The heavily feminised figure now on screen commanded attention, one hand perched confidently on a curvy hip, orange acrylic nails catching the light. The tight skirt beneath his palm barely contained the breadth of his backside, and below that, a pair of smooth, shapely legs flowed into towering orange platform heels. His torso was squeezed into a skin-tight orange corset top that pushed up a generous amount of cleavage and carved an hourglass silhouette. His ebony skin gleamed under the overhead lights, every inch hairless and immaculately presented.
His face, like the other witnesses, had been drastically altered to appear uber feminine - perfectly arched brows, fluttering lashes, and jutting lips coated in gloss. The cascade of silky blonde hair that framed his face had been meticulously styled - no doubt his handiwork, now that hairstyling was second nature to him.
(See image 40)
Nobody spoke, Victor, feeling their unease, pressed on. “Michael Tanaka is now Melody Jackson,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Originally from Texas, Melody relocated to New York three years ago to train under a renowned hairstylist at their flagship salon.”
The silence lingered, thick and uneasy, as the image on the screen continued to command the room’s full attention.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, Director Wallace turned toward Agent Munroe. “Sarah,” she said firmly, “any further questions?”
“Yes,” Agent Munroe said, turning sharply to Victor Crane. “Just one. How complete are these transformations, Doctor? Are these men still men?”
“Yes,” Victor muttered with an uneasy nod. “Their hormonal and chemical balances have been significantly altered by a range of advanced treatments. However, if you’re referring to what lies between their legs - then for now, that still remains.”
“For now?” Munroe snapped, shaking her head in disbelief. She turned to Director Wallace. “This project is out of control. I’m formally requesting its immediate termination.”
“Termination?” Victor exclaimed, his voice rising in panic. “We can’t... not yet. Shutting it down now would be catastrophic.”
“For whom, Victor?” Munroe shot back, eyes narrowed. “For you?”
“It’s... erm... complicated,” Victor stammered, glancing at Director Wallace with desperation in his eyes. “Director, if you give me just a few more weeks, I can fix this. I’m close. Really close to identifying the fault in the code.”
“Answer the question, Doctor,” Wallace replied, her tone steady and unreadable. “What exactly would be so catastrophic about pulling the plug?”
Victor hesitated. His hand raked through his greasy hair, his eyes darting between them. “Well… you see... at this moment in time... I don’t know the exact location of the witnesses.” he finally admitted. "If we shut the system down now, they’ll be stranded in the lives NINA has created for them - with no way for us to track them down.”
Munroe’s jaw dropped. “You’ve lost them?” she yelled. “I knew you were reckless, but I didn’t think you were this much of a crackpot."
Wallace didn’t react. She sat in silence, thinking. Then, with a single, decisive breath, she straightened in her chair and gave her verdict.
“As of now, Project Veil is officially terminated,” she said coldly. “I expect full written reports from both of you in my inbox within 48 hours.”
“But Director - are you certain?” Munroe pressed. “You heard him. What about the witnesses?”
Wallace exhaled slowly. “It’s regrettable. But we’ve crossed a line, and there are too many unknowns to justify continuing. We’ll do what we can to find them and provide support… but my decision stands.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “This experiment is over. We’re done here.”
