Me: "I knew I should be listening to those survivalist youtubers. We have no bottled water, no weapons and we've got just 3 cans of beans. Why do we even have these? I don't even eat beans. This is just Samantha's doing, buying stuff just because they were on a discount."
I kept mumbling to myself as I made a list of our meagre supplies. By the looks of it, we won't even be able to hold up for a whole week in our home before needing to venture our for supplies. Still, it's better to have a list of stuff that we need urgently than just collecting anything we find outside the apartment. With a sigh I close the cabinet and turn around.
Samantha was sitting on the couch, a worried look on her face.
Samantha: "Can we talk for a bit?" She asked, avoiding eye contact, with my hoodie covering most of her head, leaving just a bit of her nose exposed.
Me, as I sit next to her: "Is it about your family? Did you get a response from any of them?"
Her: "No, its'... I mean... I'm infected."
Before I can utter another word, she removes the hoodie from her head, revealing her hair, now so long that it reached the middle of her back, her eyes, now a striking very light blue colour, and her lips, now fuller and even redder. Now that she mentions it, I can notice that her breasts, before a medium size, are pushing against the hoodie, stretching it. And the sweatpants are filled out to the brim with her more thick thighs and stretched by her widened hips. I jump from the couch, my eyes wandering around the room like those of a wild beast, looking for any exit from the situation.
Samantha jumped on her feet aswell, ready to explain the situation.
Her: "No no no wait, don't worry. I mean, do worry, but don't panic, please!"
Me: "Not panic? You're infected. How? When? We haven't moved the fridge from the front door since..."
She cut me off.
Her: "It happened on my way back, in the metro. That bimbo woman, the one that was breastfeeding, she subdued me and... She put her big milky tit in my mouth and then..."
Me: "But almost a full day has passed since then. I don't understand."
Her: "Remember the news reporter? She said that women are able to resist the virus for extended periods of time. Up to days. I didn't want to hide it from you, I swear. But I couldn't bring myself to admitting what has happened to me. I just got gathered the courage to tell you this."
I approached her, just a little bit.
Me: "And now what."
She looked at her changing self, biting her lower lip as one of her hands reached and runs over her boobs, then a strained expression ran trough her face and a barely audiable moan, before she removed her hand and tucked it into her pockets.
Her: "I have to leave, soon. Maybe even now. I can't stop thinking about by growing tits or your cock fucking my plump lips until you cum and fill my mouth with cum and then you... Sorry, I get distracted by such thoughts very easily by such thoughts. And.. I don't want to leave, I don't want to be like all those women, but if I stay here, you'll get hurt."
I cut her off and hug her, her bigger tits pushing her away from me, but I still manage to pull her head into my embrace, intentionally avoiding kissing her. The situation is truly royally fucked, but at least for a brief moment, I can give her some comfort.