Antidote
The antidote! Anna rifled furiously through the cabinet set in the corner of the lab. She picked up a capped syringe filled with a blue liquid. “QSA-13.2” said the label. Shit! Wrong! She tossed it away. “QSA-8.4.” This syringe shattered when she hurled it angrily at the wall. “QSA-19.1.” Um... this one Anna pocketed. It was better than the others, but still the wrong antidote. Exhausting the options in front of her, she flung open the next drawer and began pawing through it.
Anna had been working late, using an electron microscope to analyze QS-24.8, a highly experimental new QS candidate. She ought to have been in full safety gear, but as it happened, she’d not bothered to secure the hood of her vinyl biohazard suit. It was hard to see well enough to work with the hood on. Yeah, she was breaking policy, but she was alone in the lab, no one to reprimand her, and it had been so long since they’d had any accidents... what could go wrong?
Well, she was paying for it now. The correct antidote would have been QSA-24.8 (which stood for QS Antidote 24.8), but some lazy idiot had messed up the filing system. Where was it!
It had seemed so simple... she’d bumped one tiny sealed vial of QS-24.8 with a vinyl gloved hand, and reflexively reached out to correct her mistake before it hit the floor. But the darn gloves made her too clumsy to catch the fragile three-milliliter vial. She’d fumbled for it, then dove to save it. Stupid! Stupid! If she’d just backed away and left the room, there would have been an incident report and she might have been put on probation, but she, personally, would have been fine. The glass vial had shattered on the tile floor (why was it tile, anyway?) and because she had dove for it, the liquid had splattered directly in her unshielded face.
Too late for regrets. Anna finished combing through the third and last drawer of the cabinet, finding nothing that was any better than the damn QSA-19.1. She paused before she injected it. 19.1 was almost four years out of date. It might provide a partial cure, but then, the presence of both QSA-19.1 and QS-24.8 in her system would certainly interfere with QSA-24.8, if she ever found it. She didn’t inject the QSA-19.1. Instead she called the records department.
“Pick up, pick up!” she muttered tensely to herself as she listened to the line ringing. Was anyone in records at this hour? Anna could only hope.
“Records department,” said a voice on the line.
“Dave is that you?” asked Anna rapidly. “It’s Anna. Dave, I need a vial of QSA-24.8 right now!”
“What? That’s restricted,” said Dave, sounding a little sleepy.
“Dave, I’ve been dosed! Please!”
“Who dosed you?” asked Dave, waking up a bit.
“It was an accident!” said Anna. “Dave, I don’t have TIME!”
“Alright, alright,” said Dave. “I’ll see if I can locate a sample...”
Anna heard keys clicking on the other end of the line. The wait was interminable, though in truth it was probably not more than a minute.
“Okay, there should be some QSA-4.8 in supply room 38C” said Dave.
“TWENTY four point eight!” shouted Anna into the phone. She was starting to feel a trickle of heat between her legs already. God dammit! She returned to the cabinet, still holding the phone to her ear. Maybe the antidote was here and she just missed it.
“Oh.” More clicking of keys. “If you’re in the Seahorse lab, there’s some right in the cabinet there.”
“I searched the cabinet!” insisted Anna as she rifled through it for the second time. “It’s not here!”
“Hmm... really?” mused Dave. “But if Johnson has been moving supplies...”
Anna wished she could punch him in the nose for wasting time. “Never mind why it’s not here, just find me another one!”
“...alright...” another pause. “There should be some in supply room 12A. That’s near Records.”
“Can you bring it to me?” Anna mashed a hand into her biohazard-suit-covered crotch.
“Okay,” said Dave, ending the call.
Anna realized after a moment that she could get the antidote more quickly if she met Dave halfway. She could call him back right now, but that would only slow him down. She pictured the facilities in her mind, the route Dave would likely take from Records to 12A, then over towards her...
The QS series was normally used as a criminal punishment. It certainly stopped misbehaving ladies from causing any more harm to society. And of course, there was a healthy black market trade in QS, though the Alsen&Alsen company would never admit it. There were some liberal protesters who considered it cruel and unusual, and noted the trend of it being used for increasingly minor crimes. But in the end money talked... and there was plenty of money to be had in QS-dosed women.
Anna herself tried to avoid thinking about that. She was a level 2 researcher, usually tasked with quality control of new QS versions. It wasn’t like she was in charge of the project. It was just a paycheck to her. She couldn’t afford to worry about the ethics of her work. Certainly she never expected to be dosed with it herself.
Anna finished unzipping and pulling off her biohazard suit. She could run faster without it, she told herself. And it was so... fucking... uncomfortable! A part of her mind recognized abstractly that the QS series beyond 20.1 caused compulsive undressing. She allowed herself another brief rub of her crotch through her blue jeans, then got moving. Dress code was casual at Alsen&Alsen, at least if you were in research.
Her nipples were so fucking hard. She couldn’t resist reaching up and pinching them as she hurried along. No! There was no time for that! She balled her hands into fists and ran with a fresh spurt of adrenaline.
She had to stop and yank her jeans off. They were intolerable, stifling, suffocating. Her dress shirt soon followed, but that at least she could remove while running. Sort of.
She was determined to keep her underthings on. She wasn’t going to give Dave a full view! Her slick tunnel was preparing itself for him, flushing and seeping and flexing internally as she ran. Her stubborn little clit prodded up stiffly. The urge to stop and masturbate was becoming almost overpowering. Her knees felt weak.
She arrived at the wide corridor that Dave was sure to pass through. She didn’t see Dave as she came to a panting halt. Better call him. Her phone! She pawed at her panty-clad posterior. Shit. She’d left her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, five minutes behind her in the sprawling Alsen&Alsen corporate campus.
Anna couldn’t go further, because from here there were three possible routes Dave could be taking. If she picked one she might miss him entirely.
She could wait here... or she could go back for her phone. “Day!” she tried yelling. She didn’t get an answer.
Day? “Dave,” she tried and failed to enunciate. It came out as “day.”
Fucking hell. She couldn’t close her lips fully to make the “v” sound. That meant she was beginning stage 3.
QS-24.8. QuickSlut-24.8. Quickly and painlessly transforms the unlucky subject into a sexual plaything.
She was keeping her bra and panties on, though. Anna was determined about that. As long as she got the antidote in time, she’d recover (mostly) to normal. Her one hope was that Dave would turn the corner and inject her with what she needed. The last thing she wanted was to... expose her naked self to him... entice him to inject her with... that fat cock, instead of a syringe... mmm...
Anna shook her head. Her imaginary picture of Dave’s swinging cock remained as clear as day. Fuck, she wanted that cock.
Where WAS he? Anna paused in her masturbation on the tile floor of the main hallway. She resumed plunging her hand under her soaked panties, pawing at her tits with the other hand, and moaning. She noticed analytically that her mouth was now fully stuck in an O-shape, ready to receive. She traced a finger around her lips and her mouth reflexively, out of her control, sucked on it. Her soft skin was covered in an unnatural amount of sweat, and darker fluids... whatever materials the QS-24.8 didn’t need as the bioengineered virus constructed a perfect fucktoy out of Anna’s body.
Anna noticed with some distress that her breasts had slipped out of her bra cups. They looked too big and firm now to have ever fit the cups. She managed to laugh at the thought. It was hopeless. Even if she’d managed to keep the bra on, nothing about a stage 4 QS-24.8 subject would ever be modest.
There was a click in Anna’s throat, and abruptly she stopped moaning. Her vocal chords were no longer working. Anna thought, not for the first or the tenth time, about how incredibly tight and uncomfortable those panties were. Her ass had certainly expanded quite a lot; the discomfort was not purely mental. It was pointless to try to keep the panties on at this point.
They were too tight! Anna couldn’t slide them down. She tried to tear them, but of course by this point she was weak as a baby. The QS virus had been gradually taking over her nerves, removing her muscles from conscious control.
There was a strange feeling, like an electric tickle. Her body suddenly moved by itself, her greedy hands pulled away from her erogenous zones. Anna found herself on hands and knees on the cold tile floor. Her back arched, presenting her firm panty-clad rump for anyone coming into the hallway from the labs, and her blank cocksucking O-face and bare tits to anyone coming from the other end. The arousal was so much worse now that Anna couldn’t touch herself anymore. She needed to be fucked, more than she needed to breathe. Coming in second place was the intense discomfort caused by her panties.
Footsteps approached, not in a hurry.
“If you’d just stayed in the lab, there would have been plenty of time,” said Dave from behind Anna. He must have taken an alternate route to the lab for some reason, one that avoided this corridor, and come back to find her here after seeing the lab was empty.
“It’s not too late!” Anna tried to say, trembling in place, forgetting for a moment that she no longer could speak. She was a solid stage 5 now, perhaps thirty seconds from the truly irreversible stage 6, which finalized the changes and deleted the QS-24.8 virus along with the detailed cellular record of what QS-24.8 had actually done. If Dave injected her with the antidote right now, at stage 5, she would almost fully recover. Anna knew that, because she was a researcher. Did Dave know it?
Anna would have sighed in relief if she could have, when Dave tore away the thin fabric panties, letting her cartoonish ass spring free. As he mounted her from behind, using her like the inanimate blow-up doll she was, all she could think through her orgasmic pleasure was: Stupid! She’d been so stupid!
Her mute throat emitted a soft, feminine “uh!” as sudden tingling momentarily blotted out the other sensations.
Dave didn’t seem to have noticed, not pausing in his fucking.
So that was what stage 6 felt like, she realized as the tingles faded irreversibly.