The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Slut Zero

Many thanks to all the talented people who contributed to the VIRAL Anthology. 2020 has been one hell of a screwed up year, so I thought it might provide a little relief to write something even more screwed up. If you’d like to provide some real relief to those in need, please consider going to and give what you can.

The door to the office was only cracked a few inches open, but it reeked of sex.

That was her first impression, at least. Hospitals were places with lots of unexpected smells. Chemical smells, bodily smells, cafeteria smells, floral smells, medicinal smells, the cloud of cigarette smoke exactly thirty feet from the entrance from all the doctors and nurses who didn’t believe in their own advice. One expected those. They were nothing Lieutenant Amber Moore hadn’t encountered a hundred times before. Her career in the Armed Forces Health Surveillance Branch required it. But walking into the private office of one of the country’s preeminent epidemiology researchers and finding an unmistakable cloud thick with the odor of too-fresh fornication that effortlessly penetrated her mask… that was something new.

New was going around these days. The coronavirus, the shutdown, the rush to reopen, the predictable resurgence… everybody was learning as they went along, and these days, “expertise” was a warning label. The more somebody knew, the closer they had to watch what they said lest that knowledge get in the way of some very loud opinions up the chain. The best that Amber and her colleagues at the AFHSB’s Epidemiology and Analysis office could do was learn what they could, make recommendations, and hope that for once they whispered their findings in the right ears. As if trying to stymie the spread of covid wasn’t hard enough, they had to be responsible for maintaining the social order in the process.

She’d come here today on a tip from an old associate, Dr. Sasha Campbell. The two had done an internship together in med school a few years back, and Amber hadn’t been surprised that Campbell had shot right to the head of the field, landing the top spot at the top hospital, Saint Agatha’s research center. The woman was brilliant. She’d always been obsessed with being the best. The lieutenant was simply glad that the woman had gone into research that actually benefited the world instead of churning out cosmetic products that were marginally less harmful to rodents. The two had been friends, after a fashion, or at least friends of friends. But Amber had been in it for the greater good from the beginning, roundly dismissed as a wide-eyed do-gooder intent on squandering her education. Squandering: med school speak for not getting rich off of it. As for Sasha, well, she’d been on the other end of that spectrum. Nothing wrong with that, but her relentless ambition had meant Amber hadn’t bothered to keep in touch with her after parting ways. At least, not until she’d gotten that text yesterday.

Dr. Moore, this is Dr. Sasha Campbell. We knew one another back in school? Maybe you remember me. It’s been too long, and I hope you’re doing well. As well as anyone can be in times like these. I heard you’re with the AFHSB these days? Sounds like what I would have expected from you. Look, this is unofficial, but I think I’m onto something big. Something that could shake up everything. Can we meet? I have something you need to see.

That was it. Considering the source, though, it had been enough for Lieutenant Moore to charter a flight out here as soon as they could line up a pilot. Warrant Officer Sabatino wasn’t her favorite person, but he could fly a helicopter, which made him more useful to her than most of the boys on base. He’d done his part, only now Dr. Campbell didn’t appear to be in here. The office was dark and empty.

Nobody and nothing except that smell.

Decorum would suggest that Amber leave and try back later in the day or maybe tomorrow, but Sabatino was waiting on their chopper on the rooftop helipad. Unlike the suits, AFHSB E&A didn’t ferry their people around like this without consideration of expense. After all, she was only trying to trace the origins of the coronavirus, not hustle out to Fort Lauderdale for nine holes with some billionaire.

“Hello?” Gauging by the potency of that odor, it felt more likely someone had dropped a box of ejaculate samples than actually created all that by themselves. It was like a frat house had been dropped on a brothel. Still, Amber refrained from craning her neck too far inside the office; she didn’t want to cause a scene if Campbell were present and in the middle of something untoward. She wouldn’t mind if the middle hurried its way to the end, though. “Dr. Campbell, it’s Lieutenant Moore with AFHSB E&A. Are you in?”

“Come on in! I’ll be right there in a jiffy!” The reply was muffled, enough that Amber was sure there was a door in the way. Sure enough, upon accepting the invitation, she traced the source of the voice to a door in the corner of the room. It was a spacious office. Campbell was too much of a peacock to settle for less, Amber supposed. It featured both a conventional desk and a more modern standing style, as well as a work table piled high with papers, still more papers pinned to the corkboard above it. A plush leather couch was oriented on the opposite wall. There was a closet at the left, and a private bathroom identifiable as such by the tile floor that began just this side of the frame. It was from there that Dr. Campbell’s voice had come.

Amber browsed the papers on the table while she waited. Without knowing how forthcoming the doctor was apt to be, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little nosy. She’d encountered all sorts of people in her investigation, and there was no shortage of reasons why they didn’t want to share information. Guarantees of proprietary rights. Patient confidentiality. Fears of the insufficiency of evidence. Hell, some of them wanted a bribe simply to do their civic duty. So far in Lieutenant Moore’s searches, not one of these doctors had unearthed anything of substance. They had ruled out a few things, unchecked a few boxes, but that was it. Covid raged on unabated.

Campbell’s email, however, had assured her she had something big. Amber didn’t know the woman well, even less well than she once had back in school, but from what she remembered, that woman wasn’t the sort to boast without being able to back it up.

Her snooping didn’t last long enough to learn anything. It appeared the papers on top of the stack, the ones she could look at without having to deflect accusations of violations of privacy, were personal, not professional. Looked like Sasha was scoping out real estate, or going by the date of printing, had been a few months ago. May as well—buyer’s market, right now. A patch of vacant land west of town. She didn’t know the area well, but she remembered flying over it, seeing the name on her GPS. She liked to watch it during flights, keep tabs on where she was in real time. Made Sabatino complain she was second-guessing his nav system, but she didn’t have energy to cosset her chauffeur’s professional pride.

The bathroom door swung open, and there in the doorway stood a silhouette that fast gained colors as it entered the office. Amber tried not to let her jaw drop for too long. It wasn’t right to judge people by their looks. She knew that even better than most women. Being young and pretty and constantly in the presence of hairy horny soldiers meant Amber had endured enough harassment, leering and uninvited groping to have automatic defenses well in place. But this woman stepping out of Dr. Campbell’s bathroom… she was most decidedly not Dr. Campbell, but she was an instantaneous confirmation of the source of that smell.

Bombshell. There was no other way to describe her. The tits. Hell’s bells, the tits. That wasn’t even a word Amber used, not even in her own head, but what else could one call these things? They jutted out so far in front of her that they could almost be said to enter separately. This was in spite of the fact that they were supported by nothing more substantial than a spandex halter top that was so overwhelmed by these contents that it didn’t even try to address the smooth, flat tummy beneath it. An inconspicuous tattoo—FDNH—was branded near her waist at the left.

It was the only inconspicuous thing about her. The woman’s hips were built to match her bust, an hourglass’s hourglass, an ass so plush that Amber would have sworn she could hear those cheeks slapping up and down in their bikini briefs. Which was the only other thing she wore apart from a pair of white stiletto heels that kept her from stepping more than six inches at a stride and enough makeup to make a thirteen-year-old girl blush. Her hair was not blonde but rather pure yellow, pale and pretty and freshly tousled.

It wasn’t the lack of pants that soured Amber’s expression so much as the absence of a mask. A building full of covid patients, and this moron went unprotected. Christ.

The woman waved. “Hiya!”

But although Amber had entered in clinician mode, her military training quickly asserted itself in the presence of the bizarre. Bizarre was dangerous. “What are you doing in Dr. Campbell’s office?” Amber demanded.

“One of the security guards, I think,” the woman answered, turning and gesturing to the open bathroom door. Sure enough, a man in uniform with his chin buried in his chest all but ran out of there, zipping his fly as he hustled past the women and into the halls of Saint Agatha’s. Amber didn’t bother stopping him. She had no authority here, and besides, at least the pig had possessed the grace to look ashamed that he’d been caught. It was more than could be said for the half-naked woman grinning ear to ear at her. “Bye, um, guy!” She grimaced. “Would you believe I already forgot his name? Man, that’s kinda slutty, even for me.”

“This is a private office full of sensitive information of interest to the office of the AFHSB. That’s the U.S. Army, miss. This is not a hookup spot for teen sluts.” From the glassy stare in the woman’s eyes, it was plain that her insult didn’t land. Amber regretted the attempt immediately. You couldn’t slut-shame someone who introduced themselves as a slut.

Indeed, the slut only laughed. “Well it should be. Isn’t this place tits? Waaay nicer than my office at home. It’s all huge and comfy and stuff, with all these papers, like it’s so smart and everything. And the couch is so—”

Amber wasn’t about to stand there and have it explained to her how great the view of the ceiling was from one’s back. “Save it. What’s your name?”

The girl sauntered forward. Her tits didn’t stop jiggling when she moved. Big and somehow perky as they were, it wasn’t a given that they would ever stop jiggling. “What do you want it to be, baby?”

“You know, just… no.” Amber had to stop the woman’s advance by planting a hand on her sternum. That she tried to thrust her chest into the path of Amber’s hand was somehow unsurprising. Either way, this girl was all curves and ignoble intentions; Amber was a being of quick reflexes and refined training. She had the young woman planted on her ass on Dr. Campbell’s couch in seconds. The phone on the desk had a button labeled for security. Amber only hoped that they didn’t send the same cad who’d just shuffled out.

“You wanna play with me while we wait for the boys? You may as well. They said it was OK.” The girl patted the sofa next to her. Her thighs were splayed wide, and the wet spot in her bottoms was far too apparent. That smell was even thicker now, oozing directly from that place. It was sticking to the lieutenant where she’d handled the woman during the course of restraining her. Her hands smelled like she’d jacked off a bull. She would have ransacked the office for some hand sanitizer, but she was leery of turning her back on the little trollop, who was not masking her consideration of jumping Amber on the spot, either. She almost wondered if this was some bizarre prank, but in the era of pandemics and social distancing, nobody took this kind of risk for a laugh.

The call was placed. Security was on their way. As if being in the room during the phone call weren’t sufficient, Amber decided to give this poor curvy twit one last warning. The world had gotten cold and hard enough on its own without her adding to it.

“They’re on their way. I’d give it maybe a sixty seconds before somebody shows up to drag you out of the hospital by the scruff of your neck. Maybe press charges. I can’t say. But if this were my office, I know I would. For god’s sake, woman, aren’t you worried about getting sick? Getting innocent people sick?”

The woman sighed. “I know, I know. It’s not my fault, though, honest. Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I wanna spread it!”

You’ve been spreading something, all right, Amber wanted to say. But she bit her tongue. You couldn’t score points for sick burns when the opposition’s opening move was to self-immolate. “Well you could,” she said instead. “You ought to get yourself a mask. It’s not safe to be walking around in a hospital without one. Not for you, and not for anybody else.”

The woman merely shrugged, her weighty breasts bobbling enough that it was distracting even to the strictly heterosexual Amber. “I know that. I’m not that stupid. You can’t get this from the air, beeyotch. It comes from the 5G towers.”

“The 5G towers,” Amber repeated. “You can’t seriously believe that, not this far into the pandemic. Only a complete idiot—”

“It’s true, I swear! The other doctors didn’t believe me either, but I promise! It was on my facebook! I thought they might figure out a cure here, but they don’t even believe me enough to try. Serves them right.”

Amber shook her head. A pair of security guards were on their way down the hall now, striding purposefully. So much for mercy. This was a research hospital, not some country clinic. They didn’t look kindly on trespassers. “There’s no cure for your kind of stupid, lady.”

The woman frowned. “Oh, boo. You’re sure, Amber?”

The door swung open, and in strode the guards. Neither of them were the walk-of-shamer she’d seen earlier. No surprise there. The smaller of the two probably had a hundred pounds on her, most of it muscle. They made an instant impression on the woman on the sofa; her nipples, which had been visible before through her clingy top, now protruded like daggers. There was no missing a lengthy licking of her lips. The woman made sure of it.

“We received a call about a situation in here,” said the bigger one. “This office is a private area.”

They were looking too much between them and not enough at the real culprit for Amber’s liking. She explained, “I found her in here fooling around with a member of your team. What kind of operation are you running? Is that routine procedure, letting strangers into the restricted section and using a doctor’s private office for a booty call?”

The two shared a look. She’d struck a nerve, only she began to suspect almost immediately that it wasn’t the one she’d been aiming for. “Greg, why don’t you see that one out,” said the big one, gesturing to Amber, “and I’ll deal with her.” His grin for the blonde was pure testosterone. With that tang of sex still hanging thick in the air, no wonder.

“You got it, Bill,” said the smaller one, evidently Greg. “C’mon, blondie, let’s go. You’re done here.”

“Deal with me?” Amber snapped, wishing her own mask let the full measure of her displeasure show. “I am a lieutenant in the United States Army, and I’m here on official business of the AFHSB.”

“Yeah, and I’m the five-star general of the GTFO bureau,” Bill answered dryly. He drew close to Amber, apparently confident that looming would do the trick. The lieutenant’s eyes were on a level with the man’s pecs.

Behind her, the blonde was making her own plea. “Do I gotta? I’m, um, I’m supposed to be having another meet-up, I think,” the blonde insisted at Greg. Still, she stood up immediately at his command, the only trace of resistance the pout of a quivering chin.

“No you’re not,” insisted Greg, sweeping her into the hall with the slightest pressure on the small of her back. Even with Bill’s broad chest in her face, Amber could see he was ogling the blonde’s ass in those skimpy panties as she let him guide her. “This is Dr. Campbell’s office.”

Amber mostly ignored them. If not for that smell stuffing itself into her mouth with every breath, she would have forgotten them entirely. “I’m not screwing around here, security guard Bill. I’m here following a lead on the potential origins of the novel coronavirus.” Another instance in which her dress uniform did her a disservice. To a civilian, it was too easy to mistake for a neat blouse and pencil skirt. Naturally, the petite brunette didn’t fit this knuckle draggers’ preconceived notion of what a soldier looked like. She had identification on her, of course, though she wasn’t stupid enough to reach for it and risk this moron panicking and doing something truly stupid.

The blonde looked back over her shoulder at Amber as she was ushered toward the elevator at the end of the hall. “But… but I’m supposed to be meeting with—”

“Look, ‘lieutenant,’ I don’t know who you are or how you got in here—”

“I just told you.”

“—but your being in this office is a violation not only of hospital policy, but state law. So how about you start marching now, eh soldier girly?”

Greg’s voice was only barely audible as he depressed the call button for the elevator a ways down the hall. “Get on the elevator, miss. If I hadn’t heard a glowing report of your, um, behavior from Carter, I might be taking you in for processing.”

Amber’s face twisted in a snarl. “If you want to measure dicks with me, Billy boy, you better fetch a yardstick and some tweezers.” She made sure the redirection of her sight line conveyed which was for whom. “I have an invitation from Dr. Campbell, and I’m not leaving here until I meet with her.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Amber!” called the woman from down the hall. “We’ll talk real soon, promise! Don’t get your panties in a knot, baby doll! But I just… I gotta…” She stepped into the opening elevator, and a moment after her hand lashed out and seized Greg by the belt and pulled him in after her. From the upward angle of that limb, it was obvious the woman was kneeling already. Amber tried not to let the woman’s desperate ploy to get herself out of trouble distract her from her business.

Bill gave his buddy a parting thumb’s up, then turned back to Amber. “You got any paperwork on that?”

“Paperwork? I need a form to visit her office? Is this a hospital or the BMV?” the lieutenant demanded over the top of more babble from the two down the hall. She scowled in the direction of the elevator, leaning around Bill’s bulk to call out, “And you leave that poor girl alone, you asshole!”

The blonde’s voice echoed down the hall to her. “It’s OK—they said we’re done now.”

“Done? Oh, I haven’t even started on you pigs!” she shouted after them.

“Bye bye, Amber!” Only as the elevator closed did it finally click.

Her name. That shameless hussy had known her name.

Bill strong-armed her down a different hallway, but she wasn’t resisting. She probably wouldn’t have even if she weren’t puzzling over what had just happened. Amber hadn’t introduced herself, had she? No, she was sure she hadn’t. Amber had demanded the other woman’s name and gotten that cliché what do you want it to be reply, but she hadn’t said her own. And the woman had said it before, too, right before the toy cops arrived. It had felt weirdly familiar then, but their arrival had stopped the thought from coalescing.

No, that woman had known Amber’s name.

How in the hell had she known Amber’s name?

* * *

It was almost three hours before the situation with officer Bill resolved itself. Not about to make the embarrassing occasion a full-blown incident, she let him detain her while he “cleared things up.” A phone call to the number she’d provided should have done so within minutes; plainly, he had simply decided to waste her time as retribution for her slight against his micropenis. It never failed. The smaller the amount of power a man had over a woman, the greater the lengths he’d go to abuse it.

With a patently insincere apology, he returned her cell phone and released her from the waiting room turned holding cell, noting as he did so that (“as a courtesy,” the magnanimous son of a bitch had the audacity to say) he had confirmed that Dr. Campbell wasn’t in today. He even shared that she would be out for the next several days at least. From the downcast expression he wore as he passed it on, she suspected that he’d been ordered to be cooperative by a superior, though the man appeared to take some pleasure in getting to instruct her not to bother trying back for a while. Amber would make a complaint when and if life grew so dull that she had time to fritter away on the likes of Bill the security guard. Today had seen enough frittering as it was.

The sun was down now, and her whole trip appeared to have been a waste. She texted her CO to notify him that she might be a day or two yet while she sorted out the situation with her contact. There was no reply. Command knew that the possibility of a lead, however small, was a better use of her time than anything she could be doing back at base. She’d been given a long leash on this one, and the silence from command meant she had freedom to give chase.

Next, she reached out to Dr. Campbell. I missed you at our meeting today. Wait until you hear about what happened! They said you’re on leave? I hope whatever came up wasn’t anything serious. When do you think we can reschedule?

The reply came before her thumb had left the send button.


“What the…?” The lieutenant looked around, but there was no one. Not that she had expected anyone. She double-checked the number, but it was plain as day she’d gotten it right. Campbell’s initial text was right there in the same thread. Amber re-sent her message, just in case, but the same auto-reply returned.

What was going on here?

“Sabatino?” The voice from her phone was a sudden torrent of apoplectic accusations. “Sabatino, shut your hole! I’ve had a hell of a time with a breeze of a task, so you can either get your butt down here and help me, or… no, you know what? No or. Get down here. East wing, eighth floor. Double time, soldier.”

She explained on their way to their destination, at least what little he needed to know. Unfortunately, while Amber’s pale blue blouse and navy skirt wasn’t overtly military dress, he was camo fatigues head to toe. Not ideal. Still, once she got his jacket and hat off, she supposed he could pass for some weekend warrior here to visit a relative.

“Which is what you’ll tell security if they ask,” she explained. “Loudly—loud enough that you can be heard through a door. You were looking for the vending machine and got lost. Understood?”

“Wait, why am I—”

“Because I need to look around in that office, and that means I need a lookout.”

“All right, but here’s a truth bomb for you, lieutenant,” Sabatino said, snatching his jacket from her hands and thrusting his sleeves back into the arms. “There aren’t any patients on the sixth floor. I know, because when you disappeared all afternoon, I scoured the building looking for you.”

“Point being?”

“Point being that if somebody sees a man in military dress lurking near the same office you were hauled out of this afternoon, two floors away from the nearest patient room, all it’s going to do is get me arrested, and you right after. So how about we just work together and get this done twice as fast.”

She increased her pace. “Then keep up, fast guy.”

The two made their way back to Dr. Campbell’s office. In the kerfuffle, it looked like the guards had forgotten to lock up behind them. That oversight was better than any apology she might have received. After glancing to make sure nobody was watching, they slipped in, closing the door behind them. She left the light off, navigating by the fluorescent light filtering in between the closed blinds over the window looking into the hall. That smell had faded somewhat, even though the door had been closed, though it had been so pungent before Amber had felt like it had been filling her nose ever since. She couldn’t wait to take a shower.

In the meantime, she whispered a directive to Sabatino to stay near the door and keep his ears perked while she looked around for any intel. He looked like he was going to argue, but at least the pilot understood the AFHSB enough to know he probably wouldn’t know what he was looking at even if he held covid’s silver bullet in his hand. The wallpaper screen on Amber’s phone provided enough light to read by, though she didn’t dare hazard attracting attention with the full flashlight. If they caught her in here again, this time she might be in real trouble.

There was no computer, she noticed quickly. Dr. Campbell surely had one; she must have it with her. Damn. She looked around the office for anything else that might provide insight, but the file cabinets were locked tight, and she wasn’t about to risk a felony being caught opening those. (Besides, she couldn’t find a key.) What few professional papers sat out on Dr. Campbell’s desk weren’t recent, nor did they seem pertinent. Not forgetting that the mysterious blonde sexpot had recognized her somehow, she even checked the bathroom, in case the woman had left a purse behind or the like. No such luck. Only a woman’s suit hanging on a hook on the back of the door, and in here, a trace of the lingering sex odor.

“God, the smell. It’s like that woman slept with a whole football team in here.” She waved her hand in front of her nose.

Sabatino crossed the room and took a sniff. Then a bigger sniff. “Smells all right to me. For a bathroom.”

“The men’s barracks must be even worse than I heard, then.”

“Or maybe you and those security guards…”

Chuck caught the look on her face in the nick of time. Another word and it might have proved fatal. “Me and those guards… what? Go on, Sabatino. You want to finish that?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “No, ma’am.”

Amber returned to the office after a parting glare, but it was every bit as insubordinate to her efforts as her pilot. There simply wasn’t much to find. Those real estate papers; a box of office supplies; a legal pad, on which the only remaining marked pages contained some shockingly lurid doodles of penises, rendered in dark, jagged scribbles. They could only have been rendered by the idle hand of that blonde while she waited for her security guard boy toy. Here and there words were sketched alongside them.

never enuff
1st red then blond
2 horny 2 think
they hollowed me out but wont fill me

Whatever drugs that woman had been on, they must have made for one hell of a trip. One especially veiny cock had a word balloon issuing from it, reading “say Ah!” It was spraying its seed into the open mouth of a female stick figure (female, because of the two huge circles suggesting breasts). Stick lady’s own reply: drs need medisin 2

“Jesus,” muttered Chuck, reading over her shoulder. “Your doctor friend have a kid or something?”

“She’s not my friend, and… I don’t know. Huh.” Could that girl have been Campbell’s kid? No, that wasn’t possible. Sasha and she were around the same age, and the woman sure hadn’t had a ten-year-old kid when they’d been in school together. A little sister? She looked around, and there hanging on the wall by the door was a small photo montage in a black frame. With her phone held close to illuminate it, she searched for a family photo. There was one at her graduation, one out on a ski trip somewhere, another of her and an older woman that was no doubt her mother, one standing in front of a luxurious log cabin style house, another of her posed near a raft in a…

“No fucking way.”

Chuck peered at the picture. “What? What is it?”

She pointed. He leaned closed, squinted, shook his head. “I don’t see it. What? The bikini shot? Don’t feel too bad, Ash. You could have some curves yourself if you quit hitting the weights so hard.”

She punched his arm. “I’m not jealous, you moron. Look!” Her finger stabbed the image accusingly. “There!”

“Oh, you mean the tattoo? What’s that say? Is that… E… D… N H?”

“F. FDNH.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. So what? That some kind of chemical thing?”

“I have no idea.”

“So… why you looking at it like that?”

“Because it’s the exact same tattoo I saw on that woman.”

* * *

It was impossible. That was all there was to it. The two med students had never been close friends, but they’d been close enough that Amber hadn’t worried she wouldn’t recognize her on the street. Light brown hair that someone not prone to generosity in their description would call stringy. Medium height. Pale complexion. A little heavy, and not enough of that weight distributed where men might have liked.

It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t.

“It could be, though,” insisted her pilot for the fifth time on their flight back to base.

“No, it can’t,” she repeated. “You didn’t see this woman, Sabatino. Believe me, you’d remember her. You could watch porn until your wrist wore out and you’d still not forget the clip with this girl in it.”

“Don’t underestimate these wrists,” he joked, voice tinny through her headphones. “Besides, I told you, I got a lady friend now. No more porn for me.”

She rolled her eyes at the back of his head. “Is she near-sighted, or does she have some condition that makes her accidentally swipe right?”

“She has glasses, but she swears she was wearing them through the whole swipe, lieutenant.” He smirked. “Sure you’re not jealous?”

“Of her? Yes, but only because right now she doesn’t have to be here, with you. But listen to what I’m saying, Sabatino. Dr. Campbell just wasn’t made like that girl. No woman is made like that.”

“But you said she knew your name, didn’t you?”

“I must have said it at some point, or maybe she spoke to Campbell and was expecting me.”

“You said you were sure you didn’t say it. But come on, she’s got the same tattoo, Ash.”

“You live on a fucking army base, and you think it’s uncommon for two people to have the same tat?”

“I think it’s uncommon for two civies in the same office to have the same letters inked on their hip. What do you think that stands for, anyway? Names don’t usually have four initials, and none of them are the doc’s anyways. I’ve been racking my brain, but I can’t come up with anything. What you got?”

Amber wasn’t about to admit she didn’t know either, but since she wasn’t flying, she had the freedom to do some research. Searching for “FDNH tattoo” returned hundreds of FDNY firefighter tattoos. Weeding out those, she still couldn’t find any like the one—the ones—she’d seen. What could FDNH be? None of Campbell’s relatives as far as her limited mobile access to the database could tell. The doctor wasn’t married, but a boyfriend, maybe? An ex? But then why would that woman have it, too? Her relationships with men didn’t seem to last long enough to make it out of the parlor.

Finally, she fed it into an acronym database, and kicked herself immediately for not starting there. She had it.

“First do no harm.”

“Huh? It’s not that windy, lieutenant, relax.”

“No, dummy, I’m talking about the tattoo! FDNH—first do no harm. From the Hippocratic oath!”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t!” she yelled back over the roaring of the propellers. “Why would some random skank have that tattooed on them? The only way it would make sense was if that girl was Campbell, and there is no way that was Campbell!”

“It could be though,” he said for what was then the sixth time.

* * *

It was four in the morning before Amber called it a night after hours of poring through Sasha Campbell’s social media and the abstracts of her published work, going back years. She had found absolutely nothing suggesting the woman had the slightest inclination to plastic surgery. Campbell had gotten herself in better shape since med school, but there could be no mistaking those heaps of curves on the blonde. There were sparsely posted selfies, though none of them showed massive gains or losses of weight other than a spurt five years that was still not so sudden as to suggest anything unhealthy. Campbell didn’t color her hair. She publicly condemned extreme dieting programs. She had once tried, and failed, to run a half marathon back in 2016. None of her abstracts shared any Jekyll and Hyde formulae for radical self-transformation. There was simply nothing to link the two of them.

Except that one thing. Amber’s eyes were drooping, but she was engrossed. Her social media had been quiet the past few days. Since last week, there had been only a single post, marked that very morning, shared from a facebook group eloquently titled Americans For America First or GTFO!!!! It was an image of a metal comm tower poking out of the tree line of a forest, and the title read: BEWARE! 5G Towers Spreading Bill Gates Corona Virus! There was a paragraph that followed, the sort of vague, nonsensical pseudoscience that one might expect from that niche of the internet, some shell company doing Microsoft’s evil bidding. Just a stupid conspiracy theory that anyone with half a brain would dismiss out of hand the moment they saw the headline. (It was a shame how few people met that criteria, apparently; the post had over ten thousand shares.)

But as exhaustion dragged her under, Lieutenant Amber Moore was plagued by two thoughts. First, the question of why Sasha Campbell, PhD had so uncharacteristically shared such screed.

The second was the echo of a breathy but giddy voice declaring that she’d seen the truth about the 5G towers on facebook.

* * *

Amber awakened stiff and a little swollen. Maybe Bill had jerked her around more than she’d thought. She felt so lousy she was a little surprised that the med chief cleared her, considering she’d spent most of the past day in a hospital and had come out feeling light-headed and clearly retaining some water, even a little on the warm side. The covid swab came back negative, though, and that was the only metric they really cared about.

She felt energized, though, and wasn’t about to beg off her assignment. Not when she’d come to the conclusion that something very strange had happened to Sasha Campbell.

Then the lieutenant started digging.

“Told you so,” said Sabatino as they lifted off.

“Really? Told you so? That’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well I did,” he said, toggling a few switches as they gained altitude. “Guess the doc cozied up to a surgeon, eh? You ever think about giving it a go?” He cupped his hands in front of his chest suggestively.

She opted not to let him get a rise out of her for once. Yes, she was flat-chested, but she was still a lot better-looking than anything Sabatino would get his hands on. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just a case of a woman making some changes to her body, Sabatino. For one, it’s too sudden. She was tagged in one of her friends’ posts two weeks ago, and believe me, it rules out any chance she did something surgically. Or if she did, she was on her way to surgery the moment they took that pic.”


“But it gets weirder. I tried to contact her at the hospital again, and they told me she no longer works there. Since yesterday. Then I tried to get in touch with those guards, the ones who rushed us out of there, and they hung up on me in an instant. They’re hiding something. So I thought I’d try her at home, a little knock and talk, right?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Except her address is unlisted—as of three days ago! Her last address in our system is back on the east coast; she only moved out here earlier this year to head up Saint Agatha’s coronavirus task force. I called a few mutual friends of ours to see if they knew anything, and finally someone remembered Campbell saying she was subletting while she looked for her own place and that finally she’d found something, someplace secluded. Campbell told her she was tired of her place in the city, that she wanted to be able to ‘get away from it all.’”

“Does this ‘someplace secluded’ have any kind of coordinates to it? Because I can only make it so far on ‘fly southwest.’”

“Tower Road. I saw it on some papers in her office. There were brochures and stuff, so I figured she was only buying it as an investment, a land grab while the real estate market’s in the toilet. But I think that’s gotta be her place—secluded as it gets. That social media thing I told you about, the 5G, jogged my memory, but the street address… yeah, my memory’s not that good. The site must be too new to show up on GPS, but Tower Road is only a dozen or so miles long. We just need to find someplace to set down, and then we go in on foot. Don’t panic—I packed us some survival gear just in case.”

He scowled over his shoulder at her. “Are you serious? What if we go wandering off into the woods, never to be seen again! All to track down Bill Gates and Slut Zero?”

Amber almost smiled at that. “Careful, your made-up girlfriend is going to worry if she hears what we’re up to.”

“I’m serious, lieutenant. I don’t wanna die just so you can do a forensic analysis of your college buddy’s mental breakdown.”

Amber gritted her teeth. It was harder to placate him when he was direct like that. “Look, I don’t know what we’ll find, but I know someone is trying very hard to keep me from finding out what Campbell found out. I want to know why. What if she found out something that could rewrite the playbook for this whole pandemic, and some enemy state went drastic to discredit her? Time to man up, Warrant Officer Sabatino. It’s going to be fine. We have our phones, and if I’m right, this road is named for a 5G tower, so we ought to be able to get a great signal. I even brought along some field provisions—you get to be like a real soldier for once. It’s going to be fine!”

* * *

“You said things were going to be fine,” he said darkly, some hours later.

“Not my fault it decided to rain,” Amber snapped.

“Oh, no. I remember the time we went through that wind storm on our way back from Albuquerque. You practically had a meltdown! Well if I get blamed for taking us into one storm, you get the blame for this one!”

Amber looked around, though there wasn’t much to see. The sun was setting, and it would be dark within minutes. It was raining hard enough that the canopy wasn’t doing much to keep the rain off of them, and their clothes were already soaked. Amber had at least brought a backpack that was insulating her gear, but—as Chuck had pointed out several times already—he hadn’t had the chance to pack. Finding a clearing big enough for the helicopter to set down had proved somewhat challenging, out in the middle of nowhere, a grassy clearing that looked like it hadn’t been traversed by humans in years. It was several miles away from Tower Road, and the terrain was proving less hospitable than she’d hoped. Now, four hours later, despite her phone’s assurance that it was receiving an incredibly strong signal, the best her spotty GPS could determine was that they were closer than they had been before.

“Come on, let’s set up camp. Time to accept we’re not getting there tonight. And honestly… I’m not feeling too great myself.”

“Great, sleeping on the wet ground by my covid-positive ball-busting lieutenant,” he grumbled.

“It’s not covid. Don’t be such a pussy. And we have a tarp to set up the tent on.”

“The tent. Singular. Not tents, plural. So I’m sharing one with your sick ass.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love my ass, Sabatino. Now come on, be a good boy and follow it up to that rise. Enjoy the view.”

They were halfway up the hill before Amber realized she’d just invited the warrant officer to check out her butt. And that he was. She even turned around to check at one point and found him staring right at it.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” Didn’t she, though? You give these army grunts an inch, and they thought they could give you five to ten back. Still, if she let him start leading now, he’d think he was in charge, and besides, she had dragged him out here. Maybe she owed him.

“My girlfriend would kill me for this. Not that she’s a Girlfriend girlfriend. Just… yeesh, I gotta watch myself.”

“Looks like you’re too busy watching me, Sabatino.”

* * *

The warrant officer harrumphed irritably. “This is ridiculous. You know that, right Amber? Wandering around the woods, chasing down your skank college buddy on account of a facebook post so stupid it’d make my Aunt Trudy blush to share it.” He clutched his blanket around him in the close confines of their pup tent a short while later. The canvas was keeping the rain off, but she’d insisted they not remove their wet clothes, considering their proximity. Both were shivering.

“Yours is not to wonder why, Warrant Officer. Now shut up and let me get some sleep. I’m beat.”

“Right, sorry to disrupt, Lieutenant. I’ll just be over here wishing I better recalled my wilderness survival training from Ranger school. Shit, I’m just so hot and wet and cold and blergh!”

Amber rolled over to face him. He really was pathetic, but she had to admit, she felt pretty awful, too. She’d been feeling gradually worse all day herself, and present conditions were exacerbating it something awful. “Look. I’m sorry, all right? But if I didn’t think this was worth looking into, I wouldn’t be. Now as for the cold and wet thing, would it help if I said you can get out of your wet clothes?”

“It’d be a start.”

“Fine. We’ll both just… yeah. Hands to yourself, all right? Think of your not-quite girlfriend. We’re only trying to weather the storm. That’s all.”


Without exchanging words, the two turned their backs to one another on either side of an invisible divider and began to undress. Outside, the rain beat down on their little tent, the interior of which was nearly pitch black. Nearly. Amber shed her pants, her jacket, her undershirt… and when she realized the wetness went all the way down, sniffed irritably and hastily shed her sports bra and underwear. Her blanket was merely damp from its brief exposure to those clothes, and she hastily wrapped it around her before tossing the clothes in a plastic bag. For now, she kicked it into a corner and laid back down.

Her nose buried itself into the corner of the tent, as far from her cohabitant as she could get. But it still couldn’t shake that smell.

* * *

“Moore? Hey Moore, you’re… are you awake…? Lieutenant Moore…?”

The lieutenant’s eyelids slowly peeled themselves open. A corona of summer sunlight pierced their tent’s interior. “Yeah? What is it?” She yawned languidly. “Damn, I was having the best dream, too…”

“Yeah, well… rise and shine.” He laughed nervously. What was his problem? Amber burrowed deeper into her blanket, sighing contentedly at the warmth of his bare skin against hers. God, that felt good.

This time, her eyes shot open in an instant. “What the fuck, Sabatino!”

He glared indignantly. “I’m sorry, what the fuck me?! I wake up and find you’ve crawled under my blanket and are giving me a handy, and you wanna know what my problem is?”

Her own blanket, abandoned, found a new occupant as the lieutenant threw herself beneath it, cheeks flushing. After a moment of futile searching, her head whipped and she accused, “Where the hell are my clothes?”

“They’re outside. I woke up a few hours ago when I saw it was light out and figured we ought to hang them out to dry. You can go get dressed, Ash. I’m not a creep or anything, Jesus. I just thought you might appreciate not walking around in wet clothes all morning.”

“Oh.” In spite of how angry she ws, she found herself murmuring an apology. Then a terse “thanks” before excusing herself to find her clothes.

Had she really woken up to the sensation of… her pilot’s stick? Man, she must really need to get laid. Not by Sabatino. Just in general. His being right here would make him the most convenient, though. Still, that was a pretty low bar.

True to his word, there were her clothes draped over or alternately suspended from a nearby tree branch right near her pilot’s. Only as she realized how very dry they were did she realize how late it was. The sun was high in the sky, close to midday, and though it was still plenty humid, it had nevertheless baked the moisture right out of her clothes.

That swelling had gotten even worse overnight. Her butt barely wanted to fit into her cotton briefs, and only by wedging them pretty deep up her crack could the waistband rise near to her waist. Then she got to the sports bra, at which point she finally began to wonder if something more unusual were going on.

She had boobs.

Not tits, quite, but boobs. The sort of boobs the onset of puberty had so long ago tricked her into thinking she would grow right before it oh-so-disappointingly stopped. As one of the pretty girls in school, she didn’t get teased about it much except from the even prettier ones who’d been more gifted in that area, and as one of the tougher girls, they hadn’t teased her about it twice. Still, these two things hanging from her chest were, for the first time in her life, hanging. There was underboob. A narrow strip where they stopped going down and actually went up again before meeting the flat skin of her stomach. Lieutenant Amber Moore had boobs.

“Can I come out yet?”

“Huh? Yeah, whatever,” she said absent-mindedly, still exploring these changes. Was her hair lighter? That wasn’t possible. Was it? Sabatino’s conspiracy theory about Dr. Campbell transforming into Slut Zero was suddenly sounding a little less insane. Not medically possible, obviously, but maybe some virus that caused localized swelling, and then Campbell had run with it and…

Her musing was disrupted by an outburst from her pilot. “Hey, sorry again about—Whoa!” Sabatino pivoted away from her so fast he actually fell to his knees in the grass. What was his problem?

Oh. She realized belatedly that he’d emerged from the tent to find the ranking officer of their missions standing in the clearing wearing nothing but her panties, and those splitting her ass like a thong, as she experimentally played with her burgeoning breasts.

She slipped on the bra. “Grow up, Sabatino. For heaven’s sake, act like you’ve seen a real live woman before.”

“Plenty of women, and one I hope to see again in the near future,” he snapped, snatching his own clothes guardedly, making sure he kept her out of his peripheral. “Just not any naked she-devils.”

“Oh, please.” She made for her pants, jumping up and down to stuff her expanded rear end into the camouflage material. Man, it was tight. She could hardly move in this stuff. With the heat of the day already bearing down on her, she skipped the jacket altogether, settling for the thin white tank top for cover. Almost a shame. These suckers deserved to be seen.

“How much further?” asked Sabatino as he broke down the tent.

Amber consulted her phone. Like yesterday, its claim of a strong signal seemed a lie. She held it at all angles, thrust it overhead for that extra few feet, but their location only flickered on and off on the GPS map screen, blinking out so quickly she only had a rough guess of their position. It would have to be enough, though.

“Shouldn’t be too far. We’re still a few miles from Tower Road, and then I guess we’ll see how far down Campbell’s cabin is.”

“Bully for us,” he grumbled.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t risk landing closer, Sabatino.”

“Stay right there, Moore. I think I see the perfect place to drop a helicopter.”

“Man up.”

“Fuck off.”

It was slow going, hiking through the trackless, forested hills. The canopy kept it a bit cooler, yes, but it also trapped in the humidity like a plastic bubble. Some places were so overgrown that they actually had to use their kit’s survival knife to slash through brambles. After a few tense hours of Amber gamely ignoring Sabatino’s eyes on her backside—she could hardly blame him if these pants looked half as tight as they felt—the pair stumbled through the trees and suddenly there ahead of them was a narrow gravel road. Compared to the uneven quagmire they’d been traversing, it was paradise.

With the underbrush no longer dampening sound in every direction, they could just make out the sounds of the highway in the distance to the south. For the first time since leaving their campsite, they even had a narrow view of anything more than a few dozen feet off the ground. In the distance, thrust up into the sky above the trees around it, stood a thin column of metal crowned by an array of technological equipment. Barely visible at the top were three red lights, pulsing on and off in unison.

It looked almost exactly like the grainy picture from Dr. Campbell’s final facebook post.

“Can we stop here for a while?” Amber pleaded, panting. There was no more pretending something wasn’t wrong. Getting sick from visiting hospitals was an inherent risk of her post, but after the web of bizarre coincidences and secrets she’d glimpsed the past couple days, she was worried that whatever was afflicting her could be something serious indeed.

“There’s only a few more hours of light left, Moore. Come on, we need to make good time. For all we know her place is right around here.”

“I… I just need…” She sunk to her knees. How could she feel so much energy and still be so fatigued at the same time? She felt like her nephew when he’d eaten too much Halloween candy right before bed, so jittery he was practically vibrating even as his eyes squeezed shut to sleep. A sense of purpose that had been driving her onward, coupled with a weariness all the way down to her bones.

The warrant officer frowned at his ranking officer’s show of weakness. “Fine. Sit there a minute, get some water in you. Drink whatever’s left. I’ll hike back that way, check if the cabin’s right off the highway. Don’t go anywhere, OK?”

She watched him go, taking a moment to mop some of her sweat off her brow. Sabatino wasn’t that bad-looking, she noted. In the face, meh, but he was in good shape. Maybe more lean than the wiry she’d always dismissed him as. Not bad at all.

Not bad was more than she could say for how she felt, though. She was sweating like crazy. Even though her clothes had been dry when she’d put them on, they were drenched now. Removing her tank top felt like a big improvement, the soft movement of muggy air down the open corridor of the road was a kiss on her bare skin. Then there were the pants. Frankly, they were becoming a problem. Next time she had to lift her feet more than a few inches off the ground, there were good odds those things were going to split wide open.

She stood, craning her neck after the direction Sabatino had disappeared. No sign of him. Good. Hastily the lieutenant shed her boots, then grunted and squirmed back out of the pants. She’d worn pants to a club that weren’t as tight as those. What had been meant as a brief respite from their confines, though, soon hatched into an actual idea. Amber fished the survival knife out of her pack and got to work.

Her pilot had plenty of time to take in the sight before he was close enough to speak without unnecessary shouting. “Nobody down that way,” he explained tersely, then gestured to her wardrobe modifications. “Now what the fuck is this?”

“The fabric must’ve shrunk when it dried out,” she lied. Was that a lie? Maybe it had contributed. “It was getting to be a pain, so… I fixed it.”

“Fixed it? Jesus Moore, what’s left of them covers less than my underwear.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. It was true; she’d taken her own underwear off and laid it on top of the pants, then sliced off material until there was barely more pants than panties. Then she snipped off some more, figuring her panties were going to be crammed up her butt anyway.

Then she caught herself grinning, and scowled. “Don’t read anything into it. I just didn’t want to be restricted.”

“And that’s why you took your shirt off? The restriction?”

“Oh my god, Sabatino, are you the wardrobe MP or what? Just shut up and enjoy it, OK? I don’t know how you ever landed a girlfriend working so hard to talk a woman back into her clothes.”

“She’s not officially my girlfriend, and.. well, whatever. If you’re happy, I’m less unhappy.”

“That’s the spirit, soldier. Now come on. Let’s do this.”

They set off northbound. Her hips were sore from travel, but things still felt a little better than they had. Still, it was rough going. Her training had taught her how to maintain a march over long distances, but right now, it just felt… wrong. Stiff. She tried varying her gait this way and that, adjusting—

“Moore. For crying out fucking loud, you have got to stop doing that,” her companion groused.

“Doing what? I didn’t do anything.” Had she?

“That… strut. I just can’t, Moore.”

Strut? Had she been strutting? It was really just sort of a heel-toe thing, letting her knees take the strain off her hips. Or something. She didn’t pretend to understand how it worked, but it did. “Can’t… what?”

“It’s not personal. I’m seeing somebody, OK? It’s not serious yet, but it might be.”

“Wherever you’re going, I am not following.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Just… I’m gonna take point.”

“If you say so,” she said. Once he hurried past her, she let her hips really sway. It actually felt much better. To think, she’d only been holding back because she hadn’t wanted to look too feminine. Nice of him to let her… oh. Strut. Maybe he’d been onto something.

He didn’t have a bad little caboose on him either, she reflected, over and over, for miles.

* * *

“It’s getting dark,” the lieutenant observed.

“I can see that,” snapped the warrant officer. “No, scratch that. Can’t see down to my own dick out here.”

Amber still remembered what his dick felt like, though hadn’t gotten a good look at it. It was figurative, anyway. “I know this is taking longer than we expected, but… do you think we should stop? Set up camp?”

“Do I…?!” He threw up his hands, exasperated. “Lieutenant, do I need to remind you that I left a six million dollar aircraft unattended for two days in a field that I’m not even sure we can find again?! That nobody even knows we’re here, and we have no way to contact them unless we find that cabin and it happens to have a landline or working internet? If it even exists?!”

“What do you mean, ‘if it exists’? I saw it. In Campbell’s office. You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe, Moore. Some doctor has a psychotic break and gets her tits done and now here we are trekking across the middle of nowhere in case she takes a break from doling out blowjobs long enough to babble out the miracle cure to the plague of the twenty-first century? Does that sound at all insane to you, because it sounds mother fucking crazy to me!”


“And you want to stop for the night within miles of our destination because it’s getting a little dim? With all due respect, Lieutenant, fuck that, and fuck you for suggesting it! We’re out of food, out of water, I’m hot, sweaty, bug-bit to hell and back, and I think I still a few rocks up my ass from sleeping on the ground last night. No fucking way!”

Amber Moore let him vent. He was right, after all. She’d put him through a lot. She was uncomfortable, too, and while she was fighting not to acknowledge it out loud, she was frightened of the changes she could feel taking place in her body. She was even more frightened that she was merely frightened, rather than maddened with terror. The need to press on was the only thing keeping her from dwelling on what it could mean that her body was transforming into a sexualized parody of itself.

Her boobs were definitely bigger now. The peek she’d taken when he was off peeing in the bushes had revealed that they were at least a few cup sizes above what they’d been two days ago. Her nipples had even changed, or maybe her boobs were simply so much bigger now that her old areolas looked tiny on these new whoppers. Yet the nipples themselves seemed to have grown, two hard red raspberries that hadn’t gone down all day. She hadn’t been able to make herself check to see whether she was sweating like a sieve down the crack of her ass and into her panties, or if her pussy really was that leaky. She’d probed down there briefly while his back was turned. It felt divine. So did her nipples. So did every faint breeze across every inch of skin she could expose. So did every single goddamn thing.

And all of it reeked of sex. In the air, on her skin, dripping from her companion’s pores. Hot, wet, slimy fuck sauce.

“I’ll sleep naked again.”

Sabatino waved her off. “Hilarious, but no. I wouldn’t camp out another night out here if you offered to blow me every night for a year. Fuck camping. We’re marching to that cabin, and that’s final.”

Amber forced a smile. “Worth a shot, right? Sorry, I’m just tired. You’re right. Thanks.”

His eyes narrowed, more suspicious of her meek agreement than he would have been if she’d simply made it an order. “Yeah, sure. Come on, lieutenant. Gotta be just over the next hill.”

* * *

It was in fact more than half a dozen hills. That 5G tower loomed larger at every crest when they caught sight of it, its trio red lights blinking on and off at its peak. Dusk held off night just long enough to reveal a driveway coming off the road. A dirty path, really, two tire tracks that were so new they were in danger of being overgrown again. No mailbox, no signpost, nothing else to point out its existence. On her own, she probably would have missed it. Amber was distracted trying to imagine Sabatino’s girlfriend, if her tits were as big as hers, if her pussy got as wet around him. No way. He was only looking good to her now—really fucking good—only because he was the only male around. Back in civilization, no way he could land a babe as hot as she was. Not even one as hot as she’d been last week. The only way he stood a chance with her was out here, nobody but the two of them where nobody could blame them for settling for the nearest available genitalia.

“No lights up there, but I think that’s a house,” Sabatino said, pointing up the trail. “If it’s not Campbell’s, we can at least knock and see if anyone’s home. Maybe they can give us a lift.”

She had no argument. Amber led the way this time, and if he still minded the sashaying of her ass in his face, he didn’t say anything. It was wearing him down, she thought with a smile. Good. Not that she meant to do anything, but it felt nice to have power over a man. Besides her rank. Because she out-ranked him. She did, obviously.

The house was surprisingly large, considering the remote location, a bi-level with a garage and a wrap-around porch along the back. Behind it, a trail led back down the hill to a small pond where the moonlight illuminated a dock with a pontoon boat tied on. On the surface of the water, spots of red light flared on, off, on again. She couldn’t see the tower itself for the trees, but it must be very close.

Sabatino pounded on the door, though they both knew it was unlikely anyone was home. After a few minutes of peering in windows, they gave up hope. Wherever Campbell had gone after being dragged into that elevator (for Amber no longer had any doubt that busty girl was, or had been, Dr. Campbell), it wasn’t home. The pair started checking for another way in. Sabatino was in the midst of suggesting they break a window when she found the back door had been left unlocked. Out here, there was probably a bigger risk of an animal finagling their way in than a burglar.

The interior of the house was spacious and comfortably furnished. They quickly confirmed this was Sasha’s place—pictures on the walls and some junk mail on the dining room table revealed that quickly. There were traces of dishevelment—discarded clothes on the floor of half the rooms in the place, cushions and pillows out of place and the bed practically torn apart—but that wasn’t Amber’s concern.

The smell. God, the smell. For the first time since leaving Campbell’s office, she felt sure it was more than her own nostrils playing tricks on her.

“You smell it, right?”

Sabatino nodded. “Yeah. Little funky in here. Somebody had a good time.”

There was no vehicle in the garage, and after a brief, pathetically desperate search for a smoking gun—a piece of paper with “THE CURE” written at the top, perhaps—they turned to more immediate concerns. The first priority for both was food and hydration, of which there were plenty of both. Amber wasn’t hungry, weirdly, but she drank close to a gallon of water. Sabatino guzzled quite a bit himself, then raided the fridge and feasted.

“I… I think I’m gonna take a shower,” she said. “If that’s OK.”

“You need my blessing or something?” Sabatino answered around a mouthful.

“No. Just…” She shrugged. It was a little surprising, maybe disappointing, he didn’t even make a crude comment. Oh well. “All right. Maybe Sasha has something I can wear, too, since you said this was… you know.”

“Sure. Least your buddy can do for you after coming all this way.”

The lieutenant studied her body in Sasha’s bathroom mirror before stepping into the shower. The changes. Holy god, the changes. She didn’t even know how big her tits were now. The sports bra, sized for a girl with hardly any bust at all, had been smashing these things down all day such that she’d only half-realized the extent of it. They weren’t just big. They were huge. The sort of breasts that a modest vocabulary would fail to adequately describe. Jugs. Knockers. Big fat titties, that’s what they were. Suckable fuckable slutbag bazoombas.

The rest of her had similarly realigned itself to cater to the adolescent male gaze. Her waist was thinner, her once perfectly defined abs now invisible beneath a thin but inviting layer of padding. Her hips were wider. In back, Amber’s butt was bigger still, but nonetheless perkier. She watched over her shoulder as the smallest bounce on her feet set it into endless waves of mesmerizing jiggles. It looked fake. It was fake, she supposed. And god willing, temporary. Mostly temporary, at least.

Her mons pubis was hairless now, as were her legs, her armpits, basically everything but the hair on her head, a clean slate of perfect, unblemished skin. Her moles, her freckles, all gone. Once she removed the hairpins holding it in place, it was longer and lighter than it had ever been. Still not blonde, but light brown and heading in that direction. Her pussy was jarringly, porntastically pink, all traces of nuance or imperfection erased, replaced by a thin pink line for men to stick their cocks in. It was a pussy that should only belong to a girl in those anime things one of the guys she’d been in Basic with. She was a living fetish now.

Other changes were subtler. Her eyelashes looked longer, irises brighter and now more blue than green. Her lips were plumper, and their resting position seemed to leave her mouth very slightly parted. It made her look stupid. It made her look slutty. Everything about her looked slutty.

As she stepped into the shower and tried her hardest to ignore the pleasure that accompanied even the most sincere efforts at washing herself, she wondered how Sabatino hadn’t noticed. She’d been behind him most of the day, she supposed. Maybe he didn’t think of her like that, hadn’t been checking her out. Maybe he’d just thought she’d been retaining water. Maybe he was really that good of an unofficial boyfriend to his unofficial girlfriend. Or maybe he’d always thought she was hot enough that the transition from cutie to hottie had gone unnoticed.

She didn’t take long, rinsing off the grime and sweat and replacing them with the floral body wash Sasha had on hand. Half a bottle of the stuff scrubbed into her flawless skin later, she could almost miss the sex stench flooding out of her. She stumbled out of the shower dripping wet, having forgotten to grab a towel. There was a linen closet in the corner though.

“Oh, no…” Amber whined upon opening it.

It was bigger than any cock she’d ever actually seen. Girthy, veiny, straddling the line between pretty pink and wrathful red, laying out on a pile of fluffy white towels like a gift. There was a suction cup on one end.

She shouldn’t. That was obvious. Every ounce of medical know-how in her body screamed that reusing another woman’s dildo, a sick woman’s, a woman whose body was afflicted by the most bizarre and disturbing virus Amber had ever seen, was… was…

Well, it wasn’t the worst idea. It was a shower dildo, after all. That meant it would be at least pretty clean. And she had to know what was going on inside her pussy. It would be scientific. Yeah. She would quietly, briefly, very scientifically fuck the shit out of this huge fake cock.

This time, the shower was hot. It took her a few tries to stick it to the right height on the wall, but finally, it aligned perfectly with her slit. Hot water streamed down into her eyes as they flew open at the sudden bundle of sensations emanating from her pussy.

Pleasure. Pure pleasure.

There was no telling whether the sheer size of the phallus was filling her, or if her pussy had adjusted to be so tight as to squeeze anything lucky enough to be inside it like a handshake at a job interview. Her anxiety over whatever all that was happening to her melted away under the cascade of water as she relentlessly thrust her expanded, expanding hips against Campbell’s dildo. She forgot all about the outside world, about whether she even wanted a cure, about explaining to her parents why their only daughter looked like a porn star, about the nagging suspicion that the disease was more than just physical. More than just a disease.

They were inside her now, and she wasn’t sure she wanted them to leave. Not that what she wanted seemed to matter in the least.

At some point, she realized the water was cold again.

When she emerged from the shower, towel held easily in place by her new bust, the clock in Campbell’s bedroom notified her that she had been in there for over three hours. How long had the water been cold before she’d noticed? Embarrassed at how she’d been exposing herself all day, she rummaged in her friend’s drawers for something normal she could wear, setting out a simple yellow t-shirt and a pair of shorts that, according to the tag, should be several sizes too big. There were no bras here that would fit her, and unsurprisingly, Sasha’s wardrobe had been bought for her original body and not the reinvention of it that now afflicted Amber, too. Accordingly, the t-shirt fit like a coat of paint, and the shorts were a non-starter. Underwear too, until she found a little pink thong that rode up her slit but at least technically kept her from being naked below the waist.

It would have to do.

Amber returned to the living room, where her pilot was dozing on the couch. The light streaming in from the bedroom awakened him enough to squint in her direction. “Moore?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

His eyes closed again; from his lack of reaction, she doubted he’d been able to see clearly enough to realize she was half-naked for him. Not for him. For anyone. No, she chastised herself. Not for anyone. Just half-naked, for no reason at all.

“Get it out of your system?”

“Get what out of my system?”

“You were pretty loud in there, lieutenant. Don’t sweat it. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He’d heard her coming? That was so embarrassing. And made her really horny, for some reason. Hornier. Fuck, it smelled better around him. The soap’s masking of that scent was long faded. Or maybe it just made everything smell even better. “Thanks. You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know. There’s a bed.”

He grunted. “You take it. I’m fine out here.”

“It’s a big bed.”

His eyes still didn’t open. If they had, and if they’d noticed the wet spot already darkening the patch of her thong, he might have answered differently. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before, OK? Really. I was just dehydrated and grouchy. Now go on, go to bed. We’ll check this place out in the morning.”

Amber sighed. She really wanted to look around tonight, but she could barely keep her eyes open. Besides, what was going to happen in a few more hours: she’d start to look even hotter? At least Sabatino would finally have to acknowledge her theory about Dr. Campbell had been right. Or had that been his theory? She couldn’t remember.

It was hard to think about anything except whether he’d feel half as good as that shower dildo. Her mind was already made up: she didn’t mean to leave this cabin without finding out.

“Good night, Sabatino.”

“Night, Moore.”

* * *

“Moore, wake up!”

She’d been successfully ignoring him for some time now, but this time he was actually shaking her. With a groan, she rolled over and opened her eyes. It was bright in here now. The clock on Campbell’s night stand read 10:44.

“OK, OK, I’m awake,” she said accusingly. “Where’s the fire?”

“It’s… you,” he answered.

After basking for a moment in his stare, Amber stood up and examined herself in the full-length mirror mounted on the closet door. It wasn’t that different from last night, but she’d studied herself long enough then to be able to pick up the newest progressions. For once, it wasn’t her titties that first drew her gaze. (They would be for anyone else, but the ascent from gigantic to colossal wasn’t enough to startle her at this point.) It was actually her hair. It had grown six inches in two days, hanging most of the way down her back. It ought to be a tangled mess, left loose during her long, fitful sleep, but instead it hung down in perfectly straight honey blonde waves. She stared admiringly.

There were plenty of other things to notice, too. Her eyes were now bright blue orbs sparkling from beneath heavy eyelids that made her look either half-asleep or stoned. Or mid-orgasm. Her lips were thick, full and pouty, and the automatic opening now looked like an unspoken invitation to shove a cock between them. Whatever had happened to her whole pubic region had transformed her so that the thong now looked like it covered even less, the straps no longer horizontal over her hips but slung up and over at a high angle, the triangle of cloth now barely covering the front-most portion of her slit. Her legs were thicker, her thigh gap more prominent. The stitches along the side of the shirt had ripped as her bust pressed them past their limit.

Her toenails were pink. Fingernails, too, and longer as well. Had that been happening all along?

If she’d walked past this version of herself on the street two days ago, she wouldn’t have recognized herself—and not for lack of looking. Objectively her resemblance to her former self—her real self, she half-heartedly amended—was stronger than Sasha’s had been, but only because Amber had always had a pretty face. Evidently this virus left the preexisting sexiness less warped. Which was madness to even think, but it was obviously true. Nevertheless, anyone seeing her would do at least a double take if not outright stare. Amber was a walking advertisement for the thrill of fucking.

“What the fuck is going on, Moore,” Sabatino asked cautiously behind her. She saw his eyes lingering on her ass, and gave it a little shake for him. Just for fun.

“Whatever Campbell got, I caught it,” she replied. “I started noticing it yesterday, and it kept getting worse.”

“Yeah, ‘worse.’ I mean… look at you, Lieutenant.”

“You really didn’t notice?”

He shifted his feet guiltily. “I’m not blind. Or maybe I am. Shit, I always knew you were, you know, cute, or attractive, or whatever. But you’re a doctor, after all, not some trophy bimbo. You help people.”

She really wanted him to get to the point, but it did feel pretty nice listening to him talk. Trophy bimbo. She sighed. No, wait, he’d said she wasn’t a trophy bimbo. Still a compliment. Good. Amber was putting her body on the line for science, after all; surely she was at least due a compliment or two.

He continued, “And besides, you usually dress in fatigues. I didn’t know how, ya know, big they were. Err, you were. Whatever. Yesterday, I guess I figured I was an idiot who’d never really noticed what had been right in front of him. Damn, Moore, why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? Would it have changed anything?”

He frowned, but there wasn’t much of a counterpoint. “All right. So you’re a doctor. What do we do now?”

“First things first. How are you feeling, Sabatino?”

“Me? Fine, I think.” His eyes widened, suddenly realizing the implication of the question. “Oh, shit. I’m not… am I gonna…?!”

“Any unusual swelling, sensitivity, change in energy levels?”

“Just the same swelling you’ve been causing since you busted out those damn cutoffs,” he mumbled. She let the crudity slide. “But no, I feel a little tired, but I think just because of yesterday. Nothing weird.” If he could catch what she had, what would it even do to him? Would he get big boobs and perfect skin and a swampy pussy, or would it do something different? Something told her, though, that he wouldn’t have to worry about it. A doctor hunch, she guessed.

Sabatino tried and failed to pry his eyes off her chest when he addressed her. “So… what, do we call somebody? We have to tell somebody about this, right?”

“Not yet. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“What? Look at you! This is… it’s… we have to…!”

“Walk yourself through that phone call, Sabatino. ‘Hi, this is Lieutenant Moore. I suddenly turned extremely fuckable, send a medevac ASAP please.’ They’d never listen. We need to look around, see if Sasha found anything before she…”

“Turned into a slut.”

“Before she decided to enjoy the side effects of her unfortunate illness,” she countered. Wet as she was, it was tempting to her, too. Chuck couldn’t hide the erection she’d given him even through his fatigues. Was it big? It looked big. Would it taste big?

“Just… let me work, OK? I saw last night she has an office downstairs. I’m going to take a look.”

“Uh, don’t you think maybe you should, you know, put something on first?”

“Nothing fits.” She didn’t bother pointing out what she’d realized belatedly last night, that she could just wrap a towel around her waist. It felt better to let her skin breathe. She’d had to sleep with the sheets off. How long had Sabatino studied her new body before bothering to wake her up?

He followed her downstairs to the office she’d noticed last night, this time saying nothing about all the extra sway in her hips. She didn’t seem to have a choice any more; trying to walk normally felt awkward. Wrong. (Selfish?) The office was a small room between a home gym and the exit to the garage, largely devoid of decoration. It looked functional, though. Presently there were papers scattered all over the broad oak desk, as well as a laptop—hopefully the very one whose absence had disappointed her at Saint Agatha’s.

“What the mother fuck…” said Sabatino as he took it in. Amber gave him a look, but really, she’d been thinking the same thing. Most of the papers in here had been defaced, and in similar fashion. A single huge letter per sheet, scribbled furiously in thick rows of red ink. There was no discernible pattern to the letters. C, F, L, E, another E, A catty-corner to a G, an S… and so on. Left to right, top to bottom, no matter how she looked, it was nothing more than the fevered scrawlings of a lunatic. The only half-intelligible aspect to it were a few crude doodles of cocks in every shape and size. Both soldiers recognized the artwork as the same style from the notebook in the office at Saint Agatha’s. Beneath those scribbles, the papers otherwise seemed to be a combination of blank sheets from the printer tray intermixed with items reclaimed from a recycling bin. Bills, junk mail, discarded forms from the hospital of no real significance. None of it made any sense.

Until she started flipping down through the stacks.

Beneath the C, an O. Beneath that, another C. Sure enough, scrawled across a fundraising letter, the damning K.

“‘Cock.’ It says ‘cock.’”

“Just because I have huge titties doesn’t mean I can’t read, ya know.”

They split up, each sifting through a few stacks. The L pile lead down to read “LIKKME” followed by several pages of explanation marks, then a page with three letters side by side along with their own punctuation mark: PLS? Near the C was a second stack starting with S that she suspected paired with it, together forming a pronouncement of “cock starved.”

One E was atop a slightly thicker stack. Amber mumbled the letters aloud as she made her way through it.


“This is… insane,” declared Sabatino, setting down his own pile without even repeating what it had said.

Amber had no rebuttal. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get into the computer. Maybe there’s something in there.”

Campbell’s computer chair was upholstered in fabric, and looked liberally stained. The stench rolling off of it was so intense Amber didn’t need to be told what had created those stains. She slid it back, bending at the waist over the keyboard.


She glanced back. His eyes were glued to her crotch. “Go ahead and look. I don’t care.”

The laptop was password protected, no surprise there. Neither her medical nor her Army training had covered hacking computers. With a quick look around, however, she realized it didn’t need to. A post-it was buried beneath another pile of papers nearby. (She didn’t feel the need to guess what the F on the top page might initiate.)

Password: 1stdonoharm, it read, under which was added as an aside, don’t lose this again!!! The i’s were dotted with hearts.

The password, however, didn’t work. In case of typo, she tried a couple more times, but there was nothing doing. The automated hint, “hippo,” meant nothing to her, and she cursed hippos in general under her breath.

“No, isn’t that, you know, Hippocratic? Like on the note. That’s the doctor oath, right?” She looked back at him, trying to ignore the surge of wetness budding in her cunt at him correcting her. “Don’t look so shocked. I used to watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Well it’s not working,” she pouted, trying one last time.

Sabatino looked at the post-it, at the laptop. “Caps lock is on.”

Caps lock. Jesus. The sort of computer “malfunction” young people had to troubleshoot for her grandmothers.

“We’re in.”

The laptop was still in the state Dr. Campbell had left it in. Open on the front page and autoplaying before she could hit pause was a pornhub video, some musclebound brute with a cock almost as big as that shower toy sticking it to some fake-titted blonde. She caught herself watching rather than closing the tab until Sabatino cleared his throat. Reflexively tapping alt+left arrow took her back out of it, but there she saw the terms that had led to the video. hot wet slut doctor fucked by huge huge cock, read the search bar. It was currently on page 15 of those results. There were so many tabs open that the browser couldn’t even accommodate text on them. The lieutenant had to go to them one by one to close them, each time treated to the sound of a couple mid-coitus, often on a set that bore the most token resemblance to a hospital room.

She wiped away a trickle of moisture leaking down her thigh, hoping Sabatino was watching the screen and not her coochie. (Coochie? When did I start calling it a coochie?) Not sure where else to dispose of the fluid, she sucked her fingers clean. It tasted like she smelled.

Finally, more than two dozen tabs of lady doctor porn later, she found something else. It was a folder in Dr. Campbell’s personal cloud storage. The file names were simply numbers counting up from 01, all of them mp4s. Amber selected the first one and double-clicked.

The video showed a woman Amber recognized as Dr. Campbell, though even there, it was impossible to miss their shared symptoms already manifesting. She was sitting right here, evidently recording herself with the laptop’s camera, perched in her chair in a women’s business suit with buttons straining, glimpses of skin showing between them.

“My name is Dr. Sasha Campbell,” the recording began, her voice austere. “I am the lead epidemiologist at Saint Agatha’s Hospital Research Center. I am recording this because I believe I have been infected by something the likes of which modern medicine has never before seen. The first symptoms were first formally and definitively measured yesterday morning on my way into the office, though I believe they began much earlier. Those symptoms include swelling, especially in the breasts, hips, and buttocks, an increase in vaginal moisture, as well as psychological effects such as difficulty concentrating, distractibility, and sexual arousal. These symptoms manifested over the course of the past six to eight weeks, and though gradual, are now undeniable.”

Two months? It had taken two days for Amber’s case! The video wasn’t waiting for her to fume, though.

“It is possible I have discovered a new covid strain, a covid20. Considering what I’ve been working with, this is the most likely explanation. A mutation, perhaps? I’m at a bit of a loss in all this. Regardless, I can’t keep denying this is happening to me any more. Last night I made the decision to self-quarantine for a period of two weeks.” She chuckled ruefully, glancing around the office. “Been crashing at my office for so long that I barely remember the place. It’s peaceful out here, at least.

“Whatever this is, I’ll keep track of it here and study it until it’s safe to go back. For now, we already have one epidemic on our hands. In case this is a new strain and not a novel reaction to something else, I can’t risk spreading it. Hell, I don’t even know who to tell. If I should share this video with anyone—assuming I even could. Internet is for shit out here. But if word gets out that Sasha Campbell mutated covid and initiated a new pandemic, it could ruin my career. Ruin lives. Worse yet, it’d take me out of the covid fight. I can’t let everybody down.”

Sasha sighed. “For now, I guess I’m on my own. Even if I’m fucking terrified. This is Dr. Sasha Campbell, signing off.”

The video ended.

Sabatino, less squeamish about the chair, sat down in it and rolled closer. After selecting the next video, Amber settled into his lap without a word, relieved he had the decency to not complain, as well as to avoid apologizing for the presence of his cock pulsing beneath her ass.

17 Hours After First Recording, read a caption on a black screen as it played. There was Sasha again. She had changed clothes since the last video, and the presence of sunlight in this video clarified that the previous video had been taken at night. The outfit looked normal enough except for the telltale clinginess Amber understood only too well.

“I got home last night at around nine o’clock PM and soon fell asleep. It is possible fatigue is one of the symptoms. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I missed my bed. In any case, I slept for close to sixteen hours, and when I awakened, I observed the symptoms had intensified severely. My… My god. My hair is longer. Lighter, too. It defies everything I know about medical science, but I’m certain of it. My clothes don’t fit right. There are also… olfactory side effects, hallucinatory I suspect, but I’m not sure.”

“The smell,” Amber whispered.

“The rate of progression is much more intense—I got out of Saint Agatha’s in the nick of time, I hope. My bras don’t fit any more. Over the past two weeks since I first attempted to take measurements, I estimated an increase of sixty cc’s of growth. Since yesterday, there is an increase of roughly seven hundred. I don’t even know how accurate that is given the primitive methods at my disposal. It may well be more. The change is very noticeable to the naked eye.” She sighed. “Oh fuck it, it’s my own video, can always delete this later.”

Sasha stood up and lifted her t-shirt, peeling it up and over the heavy slopes. Those were some tits, all right. Big, round, soft, squeezable titties. Amber reassured herself that hers were still bigger with a little self-fondling. Those stitches gave a little more at the stimulation.

The video continued with Sasha’s face out of the frame, the voice coming from her boobs. “As you can see, they’re… large. More sensitive, too, by far. It actually feels better without anything covering them—easier to think without anything touching my nipples. Aside from that, other swelling is increasing too, if not quite so pronouncedly. Still much faster than before. I’ll work on a metric for gauging my butt growth—save that as a highlight for the next video, maybe. Fuck.

“I texted Alice that I had a family emergency and might be gone for a week or so, but to let me know if anything out of the ordinary happens. I hope I got out in time. Took forever to get even a damn text through. Those Teledigm sons of bitches swore that tower would make sure I got a great signal out here, but surprise surprise, I can’t even get into my email. Guess that’s not really my big problem right now, though, is it? Sasha Campbell, signing off.”

“Is that true?” Sabatino asked softly. “It feels better if they’re uncovered?”

“What, my titties?”

She felt his breath quickened, couldn’t help but gasp as his cock stirred. “Yeah. Your… titties.”

“I dunno. I think so. It felt clearer yesterday once I got my shirt off.”

“Oh. I mean, not trying to pressure you or anything, but… if you think it’d help, you could… you know…”

“Sure,” she said automatically. It took a little doing to squirm out of Sasha’s shirt, but she almost immediately felt better. Amber could tell her pilot felt better too. She adjusted herself in his lap, wriggling around to get more comfortable. Not a lap dance, quite. Just… squirming.

“Your girlfriend won’t mind, will she?” she asked belatedly.

“Huh? Oh, no. Just… being supportive.”

“Thanks, Chuck. It means a lot. If you wanna take anything off, too, feel free.”

“I’m OK.” Did he say “for now”? She’d expected it so hard that she thought she’d heard it.

Amber skipped past the next few videos and double-clicked one further down the list.

32 hrs after 1st recodring

Sasha was topless from the get-go this time. Maybe naked altogether. She was bigger, as big as Amber was now. The face was different, too; she looked much more like Slut Zero than herself. That shading of fear that had tainted her eyes in the first two videos was dimmer now. Or maybe the woman herself was dimmer.

“I don’t even know why I’m still doing these stupid things,” Sasha began. “Yeah, my tits are huger. My ass is rounder. My snatch is juicier. All my hair below the neck—gone. Blah, blah, blah. None of it’s surprising any more, just the agonizing progression of whatever sick joke made this disease.” The doctor on screen twisted and posed to display each trait as she counted them off. It looked like one hand had settled between her legs after she sat down.

Amber suddenly realized she was playing with herself through her thong, too. Through Sasha’s thong. Fuck, this was hot.

“I’m beginning to think it’s not a disease. They… It’s too perfect to be a disease. The symptoms too much like some boyhood fantasy. Diseases give you fevers and headaches and respiratory problems, not a smoking hot rack and a cunt just perfect for pounding and fucking and cock after dick after cock and dick.” She took a breath, steadying herself, enormous boobs bobbling up and down from the simple act of breathing. “I checked, after that last video. It’s definitely tighter. When I stick my fingers in it, my pussy squeezes them. Massages. I’ve never heard of a disease that trains your pussy to be a more pleasing cock sleeve. Ugh, did I just call myself a cock sleeve?

“It’s true, though. I’m so horny I’d fuck anybody who asked right now. I’ve never had a gay thought in my life, but if a woman knocked on my door right now I’d be sitting on her face as soon as I could tackle her. Not sure how long it’s been since the last video, but I’ve basically been frigging myself like crazy the whole time.

“This is man-made. Whatever it is. It has to be. Think, Sasha, think! Fuck, it’s hard to think though. Maybe one more. One more little… yeah… like that… They just… talk so much clearer now…”

Sabatino and Amber watched for several minutes as Sasha propped her feet up on the desk, straddling the camera, and masturbated with shameless abandon. It was a different dildo than the one Amber had enjoyed last night. In fact, as the lieutenant arched her back into her own first orgasm of the day, she spotted it on the floor beneath the desk, discarded and forgotten. Poor thing was lonely. Maybe she should…

No. Not with Chuck here. No need to make him jealous. She guided his hand between her legs, moaning even louder than Sasha on screen. He deserved this. Cunts like hers were made, literally made, for men’s enjoyment. Amber didn’t just feel the fulfillment of her new body’s purpose; she heard it, a whisper in the dark corners of what was left of her mind.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“I… I forget.”

She kissed him.

Cock throbbing in time with his quickening pulse, Chuck reached past her to click on another video further down. The last one.

???? hrs l8r

It was Slut Zero. She was perfect. She was so achingly perfect that Amber reached out to touch the screen. That paused the video, so Chuck slapped her hands away and resumed it. She put them back to work on her titties and her pussy to keep herself from doing it again. Pleasure was the only thing that could hold her attention enough to fix a course of action in her head. On screen, Sasha pushed the screen back further on the desktop to make sure the camera had a better shot at her nakedness. At the edges of the screen, they could now make out the stacks of scribbled-on paper in what looked to be the same arrangement they’d found them in.

“You guys, I figured it out! Isn’t that awesome? I figured a thing out! Now I know what you’re thinking, Sasha Campbell, the ditzy little diddler from all these porny videos I’ve been making, figuring out a smart thing? But for real you guys! It all makes sense now.”

The two watched with bated breath, Amber’s all the more so as she came again, snatch clamping down possessively on Sabatino’s fingers. Instead, however, the woman rose to her feet, planted one foot on the desktop and started pounding her pussy with that same now-discarded dildo like she was trying to drill her way up into her throat.

“First, though… it’s time to reward myself,” she announced as she fucked hersef. It was poetry in motion. It was a portrait commemorating the human capacity for the gift and receipt of pleasure. It was the eclipse that prophesied the collapse of civilization. It was the trumpet that heralded the dawn of a new age.

Amber’s pussy sang along in harmony.

Campbell’s self-congratulatory reward went on for some time. After a while, Chuck’s free hand found its way to where it belonged, squeezing her fattened titties in elated disbelief. She came so hard that the fear she ought to be feeling actually shone through the haze of bliss clouding the rest of her mind. If only for a moment. As the erstwhile preeminent epidemiologist screamed out orgasm after endless orgasm, Amber wriggled out of her thong and squatted down before the warrant officer. He helped her get down his pants, no mean feat over those boots of his. She practically inhaled him into her mouth, and muscle memory that she had no recollection of gaining took over. That girl, whoever she’d been, dissolved in Amber’s perfect slut mouth and ceased to exist forever.

He came in seconds, but he hadn’t yet reached his second one when Sasha began talking again. Not that she meant to stop. Ever.

“Wow. OK. So what was I saying? Oh, right. That I figured it out. I guess that’s not totally true,” she muttered sheepishly. Amber wished she could watch her while she blew Chuck. Listening would have to do, if she could hear it over the other thing. The woman’s voice was high-pitched now, breathy and needful and promising everything. That doctor would make one hell of a phone sex operator.

God, the taste was even better than the smell.

“So technically, they told me. But let’s be honest, I wouldn’t be able to tie my friggin’ shoes without help any more, so it had to be this way. We all have to be this way. That’s what they said. I was just the first. They can’t have us telling everybody what they’re up to, right? Or dumb-dumbs like me—like the old me—would ruin everything.”

There was a giggle. A gasp of pleasure. A sigh of relief. Amber was pretty sure the girl had just gotten herself off again. She came from how unbelievably hot that was. And because they told her that she was supposed to come. Then Chuck flooded her mouth again, and the orgasm dragged on as she swallowed and choked around it.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, you guys. I didn’t really have any choice. They only let me say and see what they needed me to. I really did try to warn everyone at first, but I don’t think anybody would believe me now. I’m basically just a jizz disposal site at this point, you know? But I am sorry. I texted Amber Moore at the AFHSB. The Army will go first. It was really hard, though. I mean, spelling? I never would have managed without their help. I’ll spread them to the lady docs at the lab next, just to make sure. They’re getting everything in place for them now. They won’t have to be afraid like I was. No one will, ever again, forever. The new age.. The last age…”

“Fuck me,” Amber pleaded, crawling up into Chuck’s lap. But he was shaking his head now, pushing himself up to his feet. Was she light-headed, or was the room actually getting brighter? As she dove at him, slamming him against the wall and grinding her pussy against his cock, she caught a brief glimpse of the screen, where Sasha’s eyes were blazing with blue-white light.

Chuck pushed her back, and when she launched herself after him again, he threw her to the floor and ran. Amber chased, of course—he was the only real cock for miles. Once she would have outpaced him easily, but her muscle tone had corroded itself to make way for sweet, enticing curves. Plus, he was wearing boots. Super unfair. Seeing she was hot on his trail, he sprinted down the only path in sight, toward the dock. There he launched himself onto the pontoon and threw the rope off its tether. There were oars, yes, but the pole would be faster. He pushed off the murky bottom and skimmed out across the pond.

There was nowhere to go, of course. But as Amber dove into the water and disappeared beneath the surface, she accepted that there never had been.

Sabatino watched for Lieutenant Moore—or whoever this woman was now—to resurface, but he wasn’t about to slow down. As the raft neared the middle of the pond, several hundred feet from shore, he finally let himself wonder if she was all right.

“Moore!” he yelled down into the water. “Moore, can you hear me? Amber, where are you!”

The water was as smooth and as dark as the glass bottle of his favorite beer. What he wouldn’t give right now to be back at base, knocking one off with the guys, spinning another lie about nailing the hot lieutenant on one of their field missions. His secret quasi-girlfriend. They all thought he was quite the stud—or quite the bullshitter. He wished now that he had been. He wished he didn’t know that her pussy was the instrument that had been made to end the world.

He wished he knew when he called for her again—“MOORE!”—if it was because he was afraid she had drowned, or was afraid he wouldn’t get to fuck her before he died.

There was no answer. He peered every direction for signs of her crawling back ashore. In the direction of Sasha’s cabin, beneath the shade of the surrounding woods, he could just make out the presence of a rectangle of light in all the colors of the rainbow scintillating through the office window. To the right of that, just atop the next hill, rose that 5G tower, its own red beacons faintly visible in the bright midday sky.

His eyes paused when he noticed them. They were flashing, not that slow pulse they’d seen the night before. Flashing on and off like some kind of signal, only too fast for him to understand it. What were they—

Amber burst from beneath the water, flopping onto the raft and sucking in that sweet ocean of air they had denied her as she’d crept along the bottom toward the boat. There had been no reason to be afraid. If they wanted her to breathe, they would give her a shape that breathed water. The rocking that accompanied her arrival threw him off balance and he tumbled to his back near the edge of the raft. She whipped her hair back over her shoulders, her naked, perfect body gleaming in the sun, the faintest glimmer of red light catching the droplets as they flew through the air.

“Moore? Lieutenant, what are you—”

Her mouth opened, and from within burst a hiss of static and a metallic screech that accompanied her moan of pleasure as she mounted him. Her pussy sunk down to the hilt on the first go. Caressed him. When he tried to buck her off, it held her implacably atop him.

“They said you get to be the first to fuck me, Chuck. They said I’m to make you happier than any human man in history. Isn’t that nice of them?”

“Amber, who—”

His words, her screams of delirious pleasure, were drowned out by the deafening cacophony of trees snapping like matchsticks, the roaring thrum of an engine. The sky was blotted out, the only light flowing from Amber’s eyes as she threw her head back and howled her welcome to the end.