The coffee sloshed from the mug splashing the kitchen table, as a thought occurred to Robin. Feeling her heart thump in her chest, she worried about which variant strain of the F-virus, she'd contracted. Terrified it was a bimbo strain, and that she was taking too long to consider that idea, a squeak of fear slipped out.
She thought back to her university studies.
私は浮気女ではない。
Je ne suis pas une pouffe.
No soy un...una una piruja.
She felt the tension ease, as the words came back to her. The pronunciation a little off, and certainly weird in her feminine tones. But she was fairly sure, she wasn't turning into a giggler.
Checking her reflection in the chrome surface of the kettle, her cleavage loomed large. But she was relieved not to see an Asian face looking back at her. A shudder causing her to pull the dressing gown tighter. A more extreme variant seemed to be spreading there. Both in the form it imposed, and in it's resistance to treatment.
She scanned her tablet and found two of the more recently infected.
It was clearly a bimbo strain of the virus, and Robin doubted, she'd last the course of treatment for her restoration to manhood. Either from simple stupidity, and forgetting to take the pill régime, or from lack of will, with her body proving too... too intoxicating, the pleasures it gives too addictive.
Her slender fingers still shook despite her research, as she arranged her appointment. It was an injection followed by a course of pills that she'd need to take for a fortnight, until she... No! ... until he had fully recovered.
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