The year is 1982. I am spy, engaged in Cold War operations. On each side of my mouth there is a fake molar. On the right side, cyanide. On the left, estrogen. I have done my research. The target I’m here to seduce is a straight guy. As I approach, I twist my jaw, cracking the left molar. Instantly, my body forms a pair of massive tits. I greet my target, making intense eye contact. He is immediately lovestruck. After the conference we retreat to his hotel room. As he pins me against the wall, I see the conflict in his eyes. He know I’m a spy, and yet he can’t help himself. Later, as he lies asleep next to me, I slip out of bed, and pad across the floor to his suitcase. Rifling through its contents I discovered a secret compartment, which I slide open. There. The documents. Suddenly, the click of a pistol hammer being cocked back, and the cold of a gun barrel to the back of my head. He’s got me. Right molar. Crack. I await the cyanide, but it never comes. Instead, a second dose of estrogen shoots through my body. My tits expand to gargantuan proportions, before exploding. We are both killed in the blast.