The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Virus — Kelly

By Limerick

Kelly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The reporter had just announced it like she was announcing sunny weather or a puppy adoption fair. There was a virus loose in the world, and it did… things to girl’s neural tissues and pleasure centers and hormone productions. It made girls juicier and looser, made them think with their clits, made their titties swell to “ludicrous” sizes, the reporter said. She worked hard with the multi-syllable words.

Kelly turned off the TV, and for a moment, told herself that it was just a joke.

But now certain.. things made sense.

Kelly had been so unaccountably randy all evening.

Horny like a thirteen year old boy, her thoughts straying to bedroom activities. Clitties and titties. She had just watched, she realized, two straight hours of television, her eyes memorizing leading men. Well, the shape of their bodies.

Certain words swelled in her brain, dislodging loose bits. Titties and clitties. She said them out loud, crossing and recrossing her legs. “Titties… clitties,” Kelly said, pondering them. She opened the top of her jeans to look at her own clittie, her own titties. It felt warm and damp, and when she poked at it, between her legs, there was an answering ripple of pleasure.

Kelly turned the TV off and thought about stuff.

She was infected.

Kelly kept notebooks around the house for ideas. The brunette picked one up and started to write in it.

After a moment, she stopped.

She had been dotting her ‘i’ s with heart-shaped dots, and ending each sentence with double exclamation points. Her handwriting was in dark black ink, but otherwise, was criss-crossed with curlicues and big whorls.

And whenever she wrote, she stuck her tongue out, in one corner of her mouth.

She forced herself to write, in block letters, “keep everything just the same” and then ran down a numbered list. “1. career, promotions. 2. read lots of books. 3. read lots of smart books. 5. shopping!! 6. this list.”

“There!” she said, to herself. And then crossed the last line out.

She giggled, in a droopy, inane way, and forced herself to stop. Kelly looked around. No one had noticed. She was alone in the apartment, after all. Sean was jogging. He would return home no doubt scented and sweating, water pooling along his muscles.

Kelly decided, in a cool and rational and calm way, to take a shower, and to not stuff any fingers inside of herself at all.

Maybe one, she decided, to see if anything was different.

* * *

Sean couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He had gone for a jog through the neighborhood, and, yes, it was a nice day out, and yes, there was a college nearby.

But that didn’t explain the high heels, the short skirts, the excellent asses and heavy-hanging tits on display. It was like midnight at the club. There were hard-bodied girls he knew from running, girls he used to nod to, who were hanging out on street corners with heavy makeup on their eyelids. Giving him excited smiles and arching their backs. They were available for fucking. They said it with just their body language. All he had to do was make conversation. Or smile at them.

There was a couple out for a stroll, his hand down the back of her dress. She looked pole axed, her expression dumb and lowing. The man could’ve walked her into a wall, so long as he kept his finger rubbing up and down the crack of her butt.

He saw at least two more couples making out — well, he thought, that wasn’t the right word. It was pre-sex, rubbing against each other with fingers and hands until zippers got undone. The girls wore all their latex and shiny things. They didn’t even look that good, since they hadn’t worked hard to put it all together. They looked cheap and raw, wrapping themselves up to get unwrapped.

And then there was the postal girl, the one with the thick hips and full, brown lips, fingering herself in the comfort of her open truck. Just sitting in full view of everyone, calmly digging her fist down the front of her polyester shorts. With cantaloupe tits he had never seen before riding high in her shirt.

The air was punctuated by pleased shrieks from the houses.

“Kelly?” he said, walking through the front door. He had run harder then ever before, pushing himself to best his ten mile time. “Kelly, are you okay? Hey? Kelly?”

He found his girlfriend on the floor of the bathroom. She was half-naked, her dark brown hair disheveled and piled over the top of her head. Her pants were bunched around her ankles, and she had somehow twisted herself over the tub, ass presenting in the air. She was sucking on her fingers, and her cunt was dribbling some sort of clear fluid. It smelled heavy and musky in the bathroom. It smelled very strongly of night after night of fucking.

It should’ve been disturbing, and in a way, it was. That didn’t stop his erection from presenting.

When Kelly finally talked, her voice was raw from screaming. “You should..” she panted. She struggled back into her pants. “You should turn on the news” she finally said.

* * *

“I want everything to be just the same,” Kelly insisted. Her fingers were wrapped around the steadily engorging heft of her nipples. They had swelled to fill her bra even during the conversation. “This doesn’t need to change anything. About me or us or whatEVER.”

“Sure,” Sean told his girlfriend. She sat on their couch, her ass spreading farther and deeper into the plush pillows while they talked. Kelly had ripened while they were chatting. She blinked more often because her lashes had become tawdry and long. “That’s fine, that’s what I want too,”

He trailed off. “…but the changes will be a little overwhelming,” the doctor had said, her lab coat pulled up and thrust apart by two whopping tits. And then she had winked at the camera like it was the ending to some cheap porno. She couldn’t stop herself.

Behind them the TV continued its special report on H0N1. It flickered with soft-porn shots of girl skin, accountants and lawyers and so many other girls primping and strutting when they saw a camera on them.

“Okay, good,” Kelly said. She nodded, then shifted in her chair. Her legs were uncrossed. She had struggled into yoga pants, and now they were spraypainted over the curves that had packed into her body. “I’m really worried, and, you know, stuff, about this,” she said, scrunching her eyes at the TV. “about what it means for feminism. And females.”

On the kitchen table wrappers from three different fast food places wafted around her landing zone. She had sent him out, ravenous, for cheap proteins and carbohydrates to fuel her own sluttening. Kelly had been a conscientious vegetarian, which she had discarded around a mouthful of burger. Juices had dripped down her chin.

She stared back at it now, half-embarrassed. “I mean, I’m still a vegetarian,” she rationalized, teasing at her hair. “I feel bad for those cows and stuff. Maybe I can have steaks that aren’t from cows. Like, um, pork, that’s not from cows.”

Sean stared at her, waiting for the punchline, but she just watched him with dulling eyes and burped cheeseburger in his direction. Her boobs surged another half-centimeter. Maybe all her mental processing was just… overwhelmed by the sensations, he told himself. If not, then life as an accountant was going to get far more challenging for her.

Challenged by his gaze, Kelly picked up an Economist and flipped through it, and, feeling that wasn’t enough, added a New Republic with her other hand. She glanced from magazine to magazine, checking to make sure he noticed.

“I mean, I might need to fuck a little more often,” she conceded. “If what they’re saying on TV is true. Maybe you can be on top more? Would you like that?”

“Uh, sure,” Sean said. He decided to fix himself a drink from the hidden bottle of Tullimore Dew. Kelly watched his dick move as he rose.

“I think that would be a good compromise,” she told him. “That’ll keep things even. We’ll have more sex. Yeah. You can do missionary or…” new instructions and image flooded into her. “that from-behind style or maybe we can buy some books or watch some instructions on the internet where..” her lips opened. They would never quite close correctly again. The virus was pumping them up with collagen. “Where I’m pinned against the wall or something?”

Sean doubled his scotch. He forewent the water.

“But the most important thing,” she insisted. “Is that this not change our relationship in any way.”

* * *

“Kelly, keep your legs closed,” Sean said. They were at a restaurant, after all, even if it was just a neighborhood pizza joint. “Geez, you’re… you’re just pointing it at whoever.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kelly said. She sucked ruthlessly on a straw that led into a small coke. She had insisted on a small coke. Even though Sean had refilled it four or five times now. “Sorry honey. I’ll keep ‘em closed.”

She laboriously crossed one leg over the other. Kelly had changed before they went out. Off went the yoga pants. They didn’t fit, anyway. On went a short skirt Sean hadn’t even known about. It was pleated in rows down the side, one after the other, and previously went down to mid-thigh. Now it was a lot higher up.

He waited and counted. As soon as she sucked on her straw Kelly’s legs started to inch apart.

It wasn’t like anyone in the pizzeria minded. There was just a pair of twenty-somethings there, behind the counter. Everyone who could stay home was watching the news, watching the accounts of ripening and plumpening and bimboizing, or doing it themselves.

Kelly SMELLED differently. Something was coming out of her cunt, and it was getting Sean hard like anything. Some sort of primal rutting pheromone that made him grit his teeth and resist the urge to nail her over the side of the plastic-top table.

“You smell differently, is the thing,” he told her. “It’s like some sort of, I don’t know, fuck-perfume.”

“Whoa, really?” she said, her mouth open. “umm, I should keep my legs closed, then. I don’t want.. I don’t want you to fuck me right in this pizzeria. With the guys watching. I don’t want that. I really don’t. I don’t.”

The deliverygirl came in through the front door. She had probably been a mousy teenager looking to make a buck, at some point. Now she giggled and twirled her hair, her cap on backwards, and two plump tits with erect nipples tenting a ten buck shirt.

“She has cum in her hair,” Sean whispered, across the table. “Look at her.”

It was true. Someone had spooged on her face. And the girl had left it there.

“Why didn’t she just eat it?” Kelly wondered.

”What?”

“I mean, um,” Kelly strived for normalcy. “Yeah, that’s gross. What a bimbo. Cum all over her face. Oh, see, she got it. She was just saving it for later.”

The pizza girl extracted it from her hair with a fingernail, and licked at it. She leaned at the counter, her tits on top, and cooed at the boys.

“See? No problem at all,” Kelly said. Her legs came uncrossed. “Do you think this table is clean?” she said.

* * *

He fucked the shit out of Kelly. What else could he do? She called it an experiment, but once he agreed she practically hopped into bed. She was so wet he slid down to the hilt on his first stroke.

“Jesus, Kelly, your, uh, your vagina,” he panted.

“Umm…” Kelly talked around a mouthful of spit. “Wha’ about it?”

“It’s…” it was a velvet glove, warm and hot and tighter then ever before. It clenched around his cock and squeezed, needy for him. “It’s…. better.” And her scent was like a whip. He couldn’t stop banging her if a SWAT team knocked down the door. They’d just have to wait their turn.

Her on top was a waste. True, it was their normal position. But she just gasped and nearly went limp, out of control and unable to keep a rhythm and spasming on his dick.

Eventually Sean lost patience and flipped her over. She was so much more plush now, like a big toy, and it was hard not to see her that way. Especially when she was grunting and stupid with his dick in her, her hands kneading at much bigger nipples.

Kelly had discarded her glasses before they even went out. It wasn’t clear at all if she still needed them.

“Honey, you’re drooling,” he told her. She was leaking, her plump lips wide open, a dollop of drool trailing down to the pillow. Kelly slurped it up without really caring, slowly, and then let it puddle once again. “Kelly!”

He lost patience, pulled his dick out of her. That got her attention, and she backed up towards it, looking back towards him with pleading eyes and fluttering lashes. “Sean… come on…” she said.

“Stop drooling on the sheets!”

But what was the point? Wherever she hadn’t drooled, the sheets were sodden from her pussy juice. It trickled down her thighs as he watched, and droplets fell off the end of his dick. She was wetter now, just part of her general squeezability, and he made a mental note to wash the sheets the next day. It reeked of fucking in the room.

Sean resumed fucking her senseless.

* * *

There were a lot more misspelled words on facebook. A lot more. Girls were having trouble keeping their ‘I’ before their ‘e’s, and had serious issues with apostrophes. They were barely using any, and when they did, the punctuation marks were hanging all over the place.

“OMYGOD I have never ‘ been so turned on!!” — a friend getting her Master’s in Public Health

“NYone else getting bigger boobs…geez… so big…” —a high school friend, a devout Christian, her wall laced with bible quotes.

“WOW” — Sean’s Mother.

But what there was even more of, was tits. Self-shots. Poorly-angled photography of new and expanding boobs. None of them laced in too-small bras. They were sweaty and jutting out towards the camera, the nipples huge and oversized, promising future growth. Sometimes the girls — girls he knew — had them pushed together for an impossibly long section of cleavage. Sometimes they had one hand on a nipple, the camera freezing their face in a pleased, yearning expression. Sometimes they were inching a hand towards their underwear.

It was weird to see the new messages of primal, sexual need next to old pictures of vacations. They had breathed in some… weird virus, and even now they were probably bent over some handy piece of furniture, dripping virus-laced fluids onto the floor, screaming just like millions of others as they pounded on their pussies with fingers or dicks.

And there was the few that Sean couldn’t help but notice the most.

“NY BOYS in [my area] one posted.” She had already been attractive, a blonde who liked visiting the beach. Except her tits had been undersized. No longer, Sean was sure of it. She was only thirty miles away. Wet, ready for him to knock. And there was another, too, even closer. “Feel free to visit guys!! Hahaha!” she had posted.

He couldn’t help but like her attitude. And bookmark her page.

* * *

Sean had never met the neighbors. He had seen the girl, at least. She was a plump girl with a bridge of acne running from cheek to cheek, and she seemed to be carrying in grocery bags all the time. And she wore a lot of jeans. That was it. He had never seen the husband or boyfriend, didn’t even know there was one.

Except they were still fucking each other raw at two in the morning.

The walls shuddered and thumped. He was starting to worry about the drywall.

Kelly slept peacefully. That was a blessing, at least. He regarded her in the shadows cast by the moonlight. Even asleep she was still drooling. And was her hair lighter? It was tough to tell in the darkness but he felt that it was peroxiding itself, like a style at a cheap salon.

The timbers creaked. There was more pleased cooing from the other side of the wall. Then the screaming would start, then a brief silence. It was like the girl was a car alarm.

Enough. He climbed out of bed. Sean thought about changing clothes, but he was in pajama pants. And it would be more honest this way. He was awake and pissed.

Is the virus changing me? He had to wonder. Sean wasn’t the type to hammer on closed doors and demand that people stop fucking. But then, times had changed.

He rapped on the door.

The neighbor answered it, faster then he would’ve thought. A tidal wave of musky fucking and dripping wetness flooded out the door along with her.

“Uh… hi,” she said, slurring her words, drunk on orgasms, and weaving around. She clutched the door for support.

“Hey. I’m your neighbor,” Sean said. “Next door?”

He waited for recognition. But there wasn’t much of one. His neighbor wore a long t-shirt that covered her nipples, both of which strained for his attention. And… that was it. No doubt her slit was pink and puffy underneath, barely hidden under the skim of the cotton.

“Oh, hi!” she brightened. “I’m Candice. We never met, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Stay cold, he reminded himself. “Can you keep it down? It’s early. Very early. You and your boyfriend.”

“Huh?” she said. Candice’s mouth opened. She looked ready to drool, too.

“You’re. Being. Very. Noisy.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “It’s just me.” She smiled, and a thought occurred to her very slowly. “Would you like to come in?”

He backed away. Just a step. “No, I… uh.”

“Please come in,” she said. She stepped outside, cocked her hips. Candice had lost a lot of weight. She raised two fingers and inserted them into her mouth. In the overhead lighting of the hallway it was very clear that they were glazed with her own juices. “I’m runnin’ out of batteries and stuff. I can’t stop myself, I’m just… I’m frigging myself like crazy in there. I need..”

She reached out for him, needy and desperate.

Sean ran away.

* * *

“Of course I’m going to work,” Kelly told him, briskly. She wore her bathrobe, and things in the apartment were nearly normal. They were in the kitchen. The bedroom was a musky soup of hormones and fuck juice, and keeping the window open all night had helped not at all. But his live-in girlfriend kept her silken white thighs closed, and her mouth primly shut. She had more control this morning.

Almost normal. Kelly had already devoured three bananas, in an obscene way, plus two bowls of cereal and half a loaf of bread. She was spooning jam out of the jar. Sean could only imagine what it was all fueling. Her tits already popped out of the robe, the nipples chocolate-dark. Her hair was going blonde, with the roots nearly platinum.

“You can take the day off. Take a sick day,” Sean said.

“No,” Kelly insisted. “Just the same. I’m not quitting. It’s nearly the end of the quarter and I need to make my numbers. I feel…” she hesitated. “fine.”

Sean stood up. It was time for an experiment. He put his hands on the table in front of him. “No,” he said. “Don’t go.”

Kelly shrank in her chair. Her lower lip quivered like a surprised puppy. “Sean… please…” she said, eventually.

Two days ago she would’ve laughed in his face. Sean hesitated, then sat back in his chair. It was almost too much. His girlfriend looked at him with long lashes and a kittenish expression and a trembling lip.

If he ordered her to suck his dick, would she? Of course she would.

“Okay, but I want you to be careful,” he instructed her. “Drive slow, there’s probably a lot of girls on the road still getting used to… this.”

“Oh… thanks so much Sean!” she said, and clapped her hands together like a cheerleader. “I’ll try really hard at work today, you’ll be so proud of me! Yay!”

* * *

“You’re not wearing that,” Sean ordered.

“What?” Kate said, genuinely puzzled. “It’s just business stuff. I’m a businesswoman!”

She had packed her curves into a pencil skirt that Sean barely remembered. She must’ve bought it years ago, and consigned it to the back of the closet because it rode up her knees. It was dark blue, and made out of some cheap unnatural fabric that stuck to her legs. If she bent over, he could see her ass, Sean was sure of it.

Actually…

“Bend over,” he informed her. She did so before even registering the words, before they could make their way through her increasingly-oatmeal mind. He was right, of course. With her ass getting bigger the skirt clearly showed the bottom of her butt. Kelly made no move to stand back up.

“You’re wearing pants,” he said, caressing the bottom of her rear. It was amazing how firm it was.

“Ohhh, do I have to?” Kelly pleaded.

“You live in pants,” he pointed out. “You wear pants, like, every day. That time we went to Easter with my parents, you wore black pants.”

“Yeah but they’re…” she searched for some reason to keep her legs free. “They’re itchy and gross.”

“Pants!” he commanded, and she skipped back into the closet.

When she emerged again, there were black pants, although they were painted onto her butt and she had to keep the top button undone. A white blouse barely closed over her tits, and even Sean had to admit that a bra was a waste of time. None would fit.

“Do you like?” she said, coyly. She primped for him, modeling porno poses that he knew she had never seen. Especially the one where she popped her ass into the air, her tits hanging down as she bent forward, and looked back with a pout plastered on.

Sean grunted. His cock nearly hurt. Was the virus affecting boys, as well? Or was he just that eager to fuck a wild and willing girl?

He couldn’t stop himself from touching her eager body. She melted with each caress, and he told himself he was just checking on the progress of the virus. Checking on the way it made her rear end wiggle with male attention, check on the growth of her breasts, hanging free in a white blouse that used to fit easily over her chest. He even ran a finger over her lips, and she cooed, licking his outstretched finger.

“Oh, see, that’s why I can’t wear pants,” she said, once he was done. Sean sat back on the bed, breathing hard. “Just the same,” he reminded himself. She was more then just a fucktoy.

Kelly turned around, smiling slowly. A big wet patch colored the front of her pants. It smelled divine, like strawberries in new cream. “See?” she said. “Gotta wear me some skirts!”

* * *

The girl on the radio was having trouble with big words. Sean listened to her every morning, a brassy and confident newscaster with a sly contralto. Now she was a committed soprano, and couldn’t get to the traffic report without a severe attack of the giggles. And her exclamation points were oddly spaced, like whenever she remembered to put one out there.

Her usual male colleague took over after the commercial break. “Uh, thanks, Jackie,” he said, condescending. “We continue to bring you live updates of the so-named “bimbo” virus currently sweeping the globe. Chaos reigned in the middle east yesterday as women everywhere tossed off hijabs to reveal their new bodies. Tensions in the war-torn region have been eased by the sense of a shared responsibility to… Frank, is the word here satisfy? It is? Okay. No, that’s fine. To satisfy the women.”

Sean avoided the freeway. There were too many reports of rear-ending caused by topless drivers, or carpools pulling over for impromptu blowjobs or fingerfucks. He adjusted his dick. The painful hardness hadn’t gone down, and willpower wasn’t helping. It ached to be buried up to the hilt in something pliable, and there was impressive girlish skin just about everywhere.

Just leaving the apartment, two girls had been locked in a tender embrace, fondling each other on the sidewalk, their hands digging beneath workout spandex and into private parts. Sean had been baffled until he saw the two dogs watching, confused, their leashes loose. Just dogwalkers who couldn’t resist each other, apparently. One of them, a brunette, started orgasming in public, a short series of staccato barks that pierced the air.

“Just the same,” he told himself. Kelly had texted him once she got in. “MADE IT!!!” she had said.

“All High Schools are suspended until further notice, and school authorities are advising all girls not currently on birth control to.. Frank, is this correct? Really? Huh. …to lock themselves in their rooms and masturbate. Jackie, not now, we’re still on the air. Jackie!”

They went to commercial.

* * *

“Hey Sean,” the receptionist said. Her name was Jessie, and Sean couldn’t remember at all what she used to look like. Some pudgy brunette, with dark black glasses, and a half-alert expression. She had bought or pulled out of the closet a bodycon dress with a blue gradient from top to bottom, her tits practically bouncing on the desk. It was reasonable with a cropped jacket.

“Jessie. How’re you holding up?”

“Oh! I’m great!” she said, smiling. “So great. I feel great, I feel amazing.”

“Uh… great,” Sean said. “Thanks for coming in.”

“I feel SO great,” she continued. “God, everything feels so amazing. Oh, Sean, my titties, my pussy, even my asshole! It’s just… it feels so, so good. When I stick my..”

“Jessie!”

“I’ll be here if you need anything,” Jessie said. She gave him another slight smile and turned back to her computer. Sean did a double-take when he passed. She worked at an island in the center of the entry hall. She was watching hardcore pornography play on the monitor. In full-screen. A brunette, not unlike Jessie herself, was getting double-teamed by two thick studs with goatees.

* * *

There were five e-mails in his inbox, and Sean read them in reverse order.

We are open for business on Monday, July 22. All employees may take sick leave as per official policy, please consult with HR if you have exhausted your dick leave.

Megan
* * *

Not dick leave. Sick leave. That was a typo.

Megan
* * *

Regarding confidential inquiries that have been lodged so far:

  1. Washrooms are for ordinary hygiene purposes. They are not to be used for handjobs, oral sex, personal masturbation, ass-fucking, or any other sexual purpose. Any girls who cannot keep their hands out of their honeypots are advised to take dick leave.
  2. Please do not show off your titties during ordinary working hours. We are consulting regarding an appropriate dress code. Please wear underwear. If you need safe, virus-friendly clothing, Bebe is totally cute and I guess they’re having a big sale right now, you should totally go during lunch hours.
  3. Do not send pictures of your pussies to HR to demonstrate that you are sick. We are assuming that all employees are affected. All these pictures of oozy, gushy pussies are inappropriate and should not be sent to my official work e-mail. My unofficial e-mail ismegs@hmail.net
Meg
* * *

Vibrators are approved for discreet personal use and feel really good when pushed all the way up yur pussie omygod.

Meggie
* * *

I will be out the remainder of the day on dick leave.

M
* * *

“Knock knock,” his office neighbor said. She knocked on the door, for emphasis.

Alicia was an inoffensive wage slave. They had never talked about anything deeper then the weather or minor office policy. He had maybe admired her ass a few times, in dress pants, on the basis that there was nothing more exciting around.

She still wore the pants. They were obscenely tight, and Sean could clearly tell that she wasn’t bothering with underwear on her own re-sculpted rear. And she had the thickened mammaries without any effort at a bra. Alicia’s face was still the same, although with dramatically sculpted eyebrows that made her look both surprised and dim.

Sean hesitated. The occasional whimpered moan echoed down the half-empty hallways. “Come on in,” he said.

Alicia walked in. She had found blue patterned heels somewhere, and walked in them like a lifelong dancer. “How’re you holding up?” she said. “Getting any work done?”

“Uh… no.” he had been online, checking news sites, most of which had cameras trained on girls with their eyes glazing over. And filming a developing orgy in Central Park that had consumed half the forest. “You?”

“Nnnnnope. Just trying to,” she sighed, theatrically, and took a seat across from his desk. “take it all in, you know? The new… stuff.”

His cock demanded that he say something. “Alicia, you smell, uh…”

“Oh, I know, right?” she said, giggling. “I guess there’s different strains of it. I got the one with all the pheromones. You should’ve seen my next door neighbor when I went to get the mail. There was a breeze? He popped such a boner.”

He thought about it. “I think Kelly got that strain too.”

She uncrossed her legs, smiled at him, and recrossed. Her scent covered the room, booted out the musty scent of ceiling tiles and pressed fibreboard wood. It demanded that he buttfuck her until Alicia forget her name. Then he could give her a new one.

“You don’t seem very upset about everything?”

“Oh, I am!” she assured him. “I got a finger cramp from masturbating this morning, none of my clothes fit, my little sister keeps texting me with new positions she’s tried with her high school boyfriend. It’s just, it’s so… fucking… HARD to be upset!” she tried to frown. All she could manage was a pout, and it crested back into a grin almost immediately. “Darn it!”

“You seem…” he picked his words carefully. A caveman grunted within him. If it wasn’t for the open floor plan and lack of privacy... “put together. Calm.”

“You mean, smarter then most of these dumbos? Yeah, that’s a strain thing. Some of these poor ladies can only spell D-I-C-K, and that’s only if they use their fingers and toes.”

“Kelly is alright, so far. She went to work,” Sean said. “My girlfriend,” he emphasized.

“Oh!” her eyes went wide. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m just saying hi! I tried to read, like, Charles Dickens, but I don’t know if I’m dumber because it was always boring and stuff. So I was just brushing my hair and saw that you were here!”

She winked at him. “Plus, I got a secret weapon for the hornies.” Alicia pulled a vial out from in between her tits. She had secured it there with a golden chain. “I just take a sip whenever the cravings get a leetle bit too intense.”

It was full of cum. Or at least, there was hardly anything else it could be. She unscrewed a cap and took a short swig. Then she winked at him.

“Sorry about the winking,” she said. “I can’t seem to help myself!”

“Where’d you get…” Sean nodded at the vial.

“I dunno. I stopped asking their names after the fourth refill,” Alicia said. She winked again. “Whoops!”

* * *

Alicia’s scent didn’t go anywhere. Sean wondered if she knew that she was marking territory. He was going to have to go home to Kelly with it clinging to him. He wondered if she would notice, and then wondered if she would care.

His phone buzzed. Then again and again and again. Photos.

They were of a pussy, and they were from Kelly. All of a close-cropped snatch, with just a buzz there. The slit was a stop sign red and drenched. Juices ran down both sides, onto thighs, and then out of the frame. There were ten of the photos. A hand was visible in five of them. Part of a hand.

He called.

“Hi!’ Kelly chirped. She sounded pleased with herself.

“Kelly, just the same, right? That’s our motto. You can’t send me pictures of your pussy while I’m at work. While you’re at work. So stop.”

“Oh, they aren’t my pussy, babe!” Kelly assured him. “Do you remember Cecelia? Oh she’s so sexy with her panties down! She made me take photos of her, it made her so horny to hear the camera click.”

Sean adjusted his pants. “Kelly, I think it’s time you came home.” He told her.

* * *

“Hi,” said the girl with milky tits. “Sorry about this. It’s the, you know, the what-cha-ma-calit, the thingie, the.. uh…” she twirled a finger in the air.

“The Virus,” Sean supplied.

“YES!” she exclaimed. Sean recalled Cecelia from some Christmas party, this year or the previous one. She had trailed the dance floor with a lengthy roman nose in front, her chin just slightly upturned, and her chest a set of pine nuts underneath a green smock. She had filled out, recently. Like, before his very eyes.

“Sorry about the tits,” Cecelia said, climbing into the backseat of the car. “I’m gonna try not to leak too much, but no promises, they are super milky and I’m very sorry about that.”’

Whatever strain Cecilia had, it didn’t leave a lot of brain cells knocking around.

Outside the car, Kelly emptied the second of two water bottles. Her throat barely even registered them. She was parched like a cow in the sun, losing water with every slosh of a jiggly body. Her blouse had lost buttons on the top and the bottom. It looked stupid, showing polygons of whipped-cream skin between the cotton, but it did preserve modesty, and he appreciated that she kept up with it. She had gone almost all blonde, excepting only the very tips of her hair.

“I didn’t fuck anyone,” she said, once in the car. For a second, heaving and proud of herself, it was like the old Kelly. Then she belched, and it was gone. “You okay back there, Ceci?” his girlfriend said.

“Kinda leaky,” Ceci said, still apologetic. “Maybe if we turn the air on?”

“We’re dropping her off because all the cops are, um, I guess they’ve gotten word, no lady drivers,” Kelly explained, once they were on the road. “Lots of accidents and stuff. LOTS of accidents.”

“What about your car?” Sean said.

“Okay, I’ve been thinking about that,” Kelly said. She crossed her legs, and checked to make sure he noticed the effort. “I THOUGHT,” she emphasized it again, “that we would, um, go drop off Ceci, then we’d come back, and you’d drive my car, then you drive this car.”

Was it worth pointing out the glaring flaws? Kelly looked so pleased with herself, for pushing out a real idea from the sex-soggy brain currently saturated with pheromones.

“Sure, great idea,” Sean said. The truth was, he just missed the way she smelled.

* * *

“Thank you for listening to Classical KBAK,” the radio said. The announcer had a voice like blended whiskey. Kelly used to listen to classical all the time. It relaxed her. Now she didn’t seem to notice, impervious to music that wasn’t ultimately about bumping and grinding.

“We’re in day two of the H0N1 virus or, as I prefer to call it, The Hornies,” the announcer said. “This is Mark Derosa. Authorities are warning girls to stay off the roads and avoid activities that require major cognitive processing, such as mathematics above the level of multiplication and division.”

“I can multiply,” Kelly pouted. “Six times zero. It’s zero. One hundred times zero, zero. ONE HUNDRED MILLION times zero, zero. See?”

“What about zero times zero?” Sean said.

Kelly considered it, and then slowly lost interest, losing it to whatever sensations were coming out of her tits. In the backseat, Ceci tried to work out the math, and whimpered as she developed a sudden headache.

“We are joined by KBAK co-host Robyn Stock. She won’t be saying much…” Derosa said. “…as she has had her mouth attached to every dick in the broadcasting booth for the past eight hours, and is currently latched onto mine. I think now would be a good time for Beethoven’s 1812 Overture, with extra cannons.”

They passed a cop car, pulled over on the side of the road, with a small Geo Metro right in front of it. A blonde with a fire-engine red top knelt on the freeway, in front of the police officer, and sucked heartily on his cock. The rest of the traffic slid by without slowing.

The cannon fire from the radio shook the car. Both of the girls smiled. They liked the vibration from the bass.

“Ceci, where can I drop you off?”

“Um… my apartment?” the girl said, from the backseat. She smelled like a dairy.

“Where’s that?”

Ceci thought about the question. “That’s a very good question!” she concluded.

* * *

“Girls, hands off,” Sean said, half-heartedly.

They were already starting to meld together into one assembly of tits and ass. Ceci was the bigger-titted one, now that Kelly wasn’t packing her own pair of wet whoppers. She was the leaky one, too, the girl with dairy cream drizzling down the front of a robin-blue blouse. Ceci’s bra was sort of visible. It was around her waist.

Kelly was fascinated by her.

“Oh, but don’t you see, Sean? I don’t have leaky deaky freaky titties like Ceci. That means that the Virus is having different ‘fects on different girls! That’s really interesting. I bet there’s all sorts of variations and stuff!”

She had a point, and it was made crystal-clear when they passed a bunny girl in the supermarket parking lot. A blonde with hair down to nearly her ass, with a shopping cart full of greens and a pink powderpuff cottontail.

“I really hope this doesn’t turn into some weird furry thing,” Sean said. He glanced backwards. The girls had stopped moving entirely. Kelly had grabbed a boob and was squeezing enthusiastically. Milk spurted out, spritzing from beneath Ceci’s shirt.

“Kelly!” he said, annoyed. His girlfriend was eagerly collecting milk with her hand, and then licking it clean.

“Oh, it’s so good!” she said, excited. “Sean, you gotta try this.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Sean!”

Kelly got wise. She strutted up to her boyfriend, letting her hips lead her, and then grabbed him for a full, open-mouthed kiss. Warm milk sloshed between their lips. It WAS good. Like melted ice cream, tinged with strawberries.

“Kelly that’s…” he blinked. Ceci was blinking too, dazed. Getting her boobs squeezed had triggered a series of mind-rippling orgasms. “Lets just go shopping.”

“I hope they sell butter churns,” Kelly said, earnestly. “We can make some money off of this, I’ll bet.”

* * *

The supermarket had been ransacked, like a hurricane had swept through or was just about to. Entire aisles were missing. But they were targeted aisles, the candies and the frozen foods and the high-caloric junk that gave a quick and necessary energy boost. There were still things left in the vegetables, the high-fiber grains.

“That’s boring stuff,” Kelly pronounced, as they walked through the aisles. “Lets get something fun. Ice cream.”

“No ice cream,” Sean said.

“Ice cream!” Kelly insisted, petulant, and then caught herself. She stuck out her tongue. “Stupid bimbo virus,” she groused. “I’ll be good. I super promise Sean.”

“Go play with your toy,” Sean said. He had meant it sarcastically, but it honestly didn’t come out that way. What else was Ceci? She had the brains of a sponge whenever she was expressing milk, which was all the time. The raven-haired girl had stood and looked at the dairy section with something close to kinship.

“I think I can do that,” Kelly said, looking at the whole milk cartons.

They passed other shoppers. Some of them were girls shopping alone, and their baskets were piled high with random assortments of things that were shiny and colorful, for the most part. One had stuffed her cart with lots of paper towels and tissues, and still another was scouring the backs of the candy shelves for anything sweet that had missed notice. She was a blonde in pink clothes, no bra, with matching pink lipstick.

“Try the baking section,” Sean suggested, as they passed her. “Frosting.”

“Frosting! Oh! Thank you! Would you like a…” the girl noticed his own two women, and decided she didn’t care. “…blowjob? Three blowjobs?”

“I think I’m covered, thanks,” Sean told her.

* * *

“Sean, I think I need to go to the bathroom,” Kelly told him, later on.

“So go to the bathroom,” he thought about that. Using metaphors or idioms was newly dangerous. “In the bathroom.”

She fidgeted. “No, I need to go to the bathroom with you. I need to fuck you. I really, really, really, need a dick inside of me, it’s been sooo long. Pleease, Sean.”

“We’re in the supermarket,” he pointed out.

“Ohhh, c’mon. Wait, I have an idea,” Kelly said. And then, under the florescent lights, she dipped a finger down the front of her skirt, and rummaged around, a strange expression on her face. Her index finger emerged sparkling with fluid, and before Sean could react, she stuck it directly underneath his nose.

Sean breathed in. He grunted. There was something in Kelly’s scent, this close, that closed down rational thought and activated dormant, primitive responses. His cock started to strain and scream, already tired of reacting with passivity to all these hot, dripping females around him. Kelly watched him growl, her eyes wide, smiling and a little frightened.

“Okay, fucking fine,” Sean said. He reached forward and cupped her slit, under the view of any number of security cameras, and a few other shoppers. “You want to go, girl? I’ll fuck you senseless.”

“Oh,” Kelly said, the smile only growing. Sean worked a finger up her skirt, getting back to the honeypot he had already identified, riding her pencil skirt up over her ass. It wasn’t a rhythmic massage or anything sensual. He was looking for her clit, and when he found it, Sean intended to make her whimper and scream. So what if they were in the dairy section? This was his female, and she was going to know what it meant to tease him.

Ceci watched them, gaping, dividing her attention between the couple standing underneath the bright lights, and the gallons of milk that kept grabbing her attention.

He moved Kelly to a hallway off the main path, where the staff bathroom was, guiding her with his finger, his other hand, pawing at her ass. It didn’t take long to strip her skirt off, once the side-zipper was undone. Sean withdrew his hand just long enough to take it off, and then, sternly, he ripped it in half along the zipper line.

“Sean! Sean... What am I going to wear now?” Kelly said. But her legs were wide open, eager for more fondling, and it was hard to think on a longer time frame then the upcoming minute.

Sean thought about just getting a blowjob. The idea appealed to him, to the combination of need and stone-age possessiveness Kelly’s juices had flared. But she was dripping and wet, and she didn’t smell like him at all. So he dropped his pants, let his dick pop out. It was bright red and longer then he recalled, with a droplet of precum sparkling on the tip.

“Never do that without warning me,” he told Kelly, and hoisted her up by the rear end. She was surprisingly light for all the new padding and curves, or maybe just eager to get in the air, to wrap her long legs around his hips. Sean barely needed to look down to insert into her. It was almost automatic, putting a cock in Kelly’s pussy.

Ceci came by, her eyes wide. She had opened an entire gallon of whole milk, and drank from it while she watched them fuck. Plenty of the creamy fluid spilled down the front of her shirt, mixing with the buttercream leaking from her boobs. And soon another girl joined her, watching, enchanted. This one a petite asian girl in cutoff jean shorts with definite moisture at the junction.

Sean didn’t mind the audience. It urged him on, made him want to show off the flashing length of his cock, the way it was wet from Kelly’s lubrication, the way each long stroke paid off right away in an answering coo or squeal. Her orgasm was already close, had been close since the first thrust, and it was his job to keep her from falling off. Kelly’s tits bounced with each thrust, and he encouraged it, using her body, letting it nearly fall off before hoisting her up again.

He could’ve lasted longer, could’ve ripped more screams from Kelly, but it wasn’t worth the time, and they still had a lot of shopping to do. So he let himself go once Kelly began to cum, blasting shot after shot deep within her body. And then held her close to make sure it all got in.

“Don’t let any of it fall out,” he warned her, without quite knowing why he cared.

Kelly nodded, and didn’t say anything.

* * *

The supermarket checker was in his 50s, was balding, and was apparently the only person who had shown up for work that day.

He didn’t bat an eye at Sean’s crowd. He had Ceci, her body matted with milk, and now arm-in-arm with the new asian girl, whose name Sean hadn’t bothered to get. And then Kelly, whose blouse didn’t quite cover all of her ass, and certainly didn’t hide the just-fucked scent clinging to her skin. She walked with half-steps, diligent to keep Sean’s sperm inside of her. Her skirt was still back near the corridor.

“How’s the weather out there?” the man asked, casually. Sean had stocked up on whatever was left, cold cuts, fruits and vegetables, rice and beans. Raw materials. They were all burning an insane amount of calories.

“Fair,” Sean answered. Was this how it was going to go? A new normal with girls as ornaments? It wasn’t like he was helping things.

The checker had two girls of his own, as baggers, a girl just out of high school with her hair in pigtails, and a latina with smoky eyeshadow. They concentrated on putting items into brown bags. Neither of them wore any pants either, but their hands looked clean and Sean kept it at that.

“Is that our milk or did she bring her own?” the checker asked, looking at Ceci.

“About three gallons,” Sean told her.

“Do you remember the brand?”

“Uhhh… I don’t. Sorry. Just charge whatever seems right.”

“That’s fine. And I’m guessing we need a mop back there?”

“Oh yeah,” Sean said. He put one final item on the conveyor belt. A twenty-pack of condoms. Not that he had any intention of fucking any girls besides Kelly but…

“Really?” the checker asked, holding them up. He looked around slowly, at the six half-naked girls within easy viewing.

“Yeah, put that one aside,” Sean said, eventually. Kelly hadn’t picked up on any subtext, although she had added a few KitKats to the pile. And, and Sean thought this was a good idea, some breathmints.

“Uh, one more thing,” Sean said. He pointed to the girl in the jean shorts. “She doesn’t belong to me.”

“No trouble, sir. We’ve been running a lost-and-found all day,” the checker said. He finalized bagging up. “Someone will find her. And if not, we’ve got a new stock worker. Thank you. Have a great day.”

* * *

The power went out soon after they got home.

“Great,” Sean complained. Kelly and Ceci just craned their necks around, curious at the lack of lighting and the silence. They were docile as cows, and one of them already milkable. Sean noticed how much they watched him, and in tandem, always one or the other constantly keeping an eye on his position, his needs, his level of comfort. If he frowned that they would whisper to each other about it.

“I’m going to find a radio,” he told them. “You girls… you go take a shower.” They all smelled like sex, and it was hard to think with the fumes of wet, furious fucking in the air. Maybe the virus was affecting him. Like he would’ve fucked Kelly in a supermarket a few days ago, spattering her fluids all over the tile floor.

They started to disrobe right in front of him. Sean almost told them to stop — there was an open window — then shrugged. And it was nice to admire their bodies. His bodies. Kelly was ripeness itself, with long legs and a pair of 50s-era hooters that popped out of her chest. Everything about her was plush, down to the inviting sworl of hairs leading into a pink and popping pussy. Ceci, of course, was dominated by her oversized jugs, which had at least slowed down their relentless milking. She was thinner, otherwise, and there were still traces of the regal stature in her angular hips and nose. But otherwise it was pure fuckability, all the way.

“It doesn’t HAVE to be together,” he called after them, lamely, but they had their arms around each other, hands trailing on the tops of their rear ends. Kelly had been a very good girl, keeping his sperm inside of her.

They didn’t have a radio. Or rather, they did, but it was busted.

“I’m going next door,” he shouted. To the neighbor. But the shower was already going, and there was already squealing and cooing from that direction. It to be dark in there, with the power off, but they didn’t seem to mind.

What am I gonna do with Ceci? Sean asked himself. The girl had turned her brain cells into milk glands. Kelly wasn’t exactly vying for Rhodes Scholar right now, and she was easily distracted by shiny things and boys or the promise of boys. But she was a genius compared to Ceci. Had she always been that dim? Or was it just that distracting to be having mini-orgasms all the time from two over-developed tits?

He had taken her home, it hadn’t seemed fair to dump her in an empty apartment. But with great milky tits apparently came great responsibility.

* * *

“Hi,” Sean said.

Candice just sucked on a blowpop and looked back at him.

She was one of the bigger post-virus girls he had seen, and a lot of it had gone to her lips. Candice had oversized pillows for lips, and they practically crackled with sugar and sweets. They were covered with lipstick, mixed with dried corn syrup, and looked hard to pull open.

“Ummm..” she said, finally fishing the lollipop out. “Hi. Sean? Was it?”

“Yeah. Hey, do you have a radio? That I can borrow?”

Candi considered it. She cocked her head to one side, and scrunched her eyebrows halfway down the bridge of her nose. Her hair was askew and oily, and she wore a light pink bathrobe with, Sean guessed, nothing underneath. She tugged at a nipple and confirmed it.

“I think so?” she said. Her voice was practically a purr, it was so throaty and rich. Like it had been dipped in chocolate. It was an interesting contrast to Ceci’s girlish squeak and Kelly’s cheerleader-next-door bubbling.

They looked at each other, at an impasse. Sean readjusted his thinking once again.

“Can I come in and look for it?” he said.

“Oh, yes! Of course!” Candi said. “Please!”

He stepped inside, sniffed. Scents had become so much more important in the past forty-eight hours. With a single searching breath he could tell if Kelly was unusually aroused, or if Ceci needed to be milked, or if the girls were going to start rubbing each other in the back of the car while he stopped at a deserted gas station.

But with Candi’s apartment, he smelled… gas. Thick, choking fumes of gas.

“Candi? Stand right there. Don’t touch anything,” he said, with a calm he didn’t feel. Then Sean took a few quick strides into the kitchen, where a burner was on full blast with no flame attached. The kitchen was a toxic stew. He turned off the flow and retreated out back, gagging and coughing. The windows, at least, were open, which probably explained why Candi wasn’t dead.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, clapping her hands together. Her bathrobe fell open, to show a set of full curves, as well as patches of sugar attached to her belly and the undersides of her tits. “That was so stinky!”

“Candi, how long was that…?”

“I was hungry,” she explained, around the sucker. Or had she put a new one in her mouth? “So I tried and tried and tried to get the burner going, but it wasn’t gonna work, so I gave up. I’m sooo hungry! I’m having lots of candy but it’s, I don’t know, it’s not filling me up and stuff?”

She had large liquid eyes. Sean heaved a sigh, and didn’t bother hiding it from her.

“Lets get that radio, and maybe you can come back with me?” he ventured.

Candi licked her lips and jumped up and down to show her appreciation. He ran forwards to stop her, concerned about the tap of her heels against the ground and any potential for sparks. She smelled like a chocolate shop, gooey and rich. Not as straightforward-erotic as Kelly in one of her ruts, but wet and sensual. He let her go only slowly, and she left bits of her behind, streaks of stickiness all over his shirt and pants.

The radio was in the bedroom. “Do you have any batteries?” Sean asked, finding it empty and unplugged. “Batteries? You know?”

Candi pondered for a moment, searching through her saccharine-sloppy mind for anything vaguely double-A. Finally she brightened, and reached down underneath her bathrobe. What emerged was a seven inch vibrator, still running, dripping with faintly translucent juice.

“Here,” she said. “I think there might be batteries inside of it?”

It was practically a candy cane, and it even smelled a little minty. Despite himself, Sean’s mouth watered, just a bit. He shook his head. It should’ve been gross. Instead it was… appetizing.

“You’re coming with me, Candi,” he told her. He justified it on the grounds that she might die without him. And besides, with Ceci already there, he was all set for milkshakes.

* * *

The girls were a lot more hairless when he came back in, the third girl in tow. Sean was a little hesitant to introduce a third girl, but Kelly barely batted an eye. She had more important news, anyway.

“All our hair fell out!” she said, not displeased. Both her and Ceci came out all smooth, licked completely clean below the neck, not a single hair to be found. His girlfriend was comfortably naked, with her arms around her friend’s waist, droplets of water still beading off both of their taut and reworked bodies. “It just… came out and stuff!”

They all sat in a circle around the radio.

“…and men are being urged to do their part to satisfy the new, rather rambunctious needs of girls in their immediate vicinity or neighborhoods. Congress has begun talk on a so-called ‘Finders Keepers’ law that will incentivize men to keep good care of the girls they come across. And now, we’ll turn to traffic with… Susannah. Please. Careful with the teeth. Turn to traffic.”

Sean had half-expected total societal collapse. But then a jingle played for a hastily slapped-together advertisement, offering vans convertible trade-ins. “Have a lot more passengers?” the voice-over man leered. “Need a bigger backseat? Need easily cleaned seats? Have you considered the Econoline?”

It was a relief.

The power came back on, right afterwards.

And while he made dinner, the girls held a peaceful pow-wow, where some sort of pecking order was established. Which involved him fucking Kelly while the other two watched, with paper and pencils, taking notes on what he liked to the best extent of their alphabets.

Milk for dinner was locally provided by their personal dispenser. It was creamy and rich, and afterwards, he spurted a short burst onto Ceci’s tits while she lovingly massaged them over a beet red cock.

And then for desert they all watched a Disney movie while Candi moved from lap to lap, checking them over for anything to lick.

That was not the end of the virus by a long shot though.