I set the sheaf of papers down on my table, sighed, and took a seat. I could hear faint voices at the other end of the lab. Most of the workstations were empty, though. Almost all of the computers were off. Just a week ago there’d been two dozen of us in here, working around the clock, desperately trying to make some progress against NLF. I had been optimistic enough to think we were actually getting somewhere. Optimistic, or foolish, or both.
Every day, fewer of us showed up. We had all been exposed, obviously. It was a global pandemic. It was literally everywhere. Some were more resistant than others, but as far as we could tell everyone on the planet was carrying it within them.
We didn’t know what it was. A virus, a bacterium, some kind of latent gene that was getting triggered somehow. We had loads of theories, but no answers.
I started going over yesterday’s work again. Dr. Olsen had found some patterns that looked promising. Signs of patterns, at least. It was minimal, probably nothing, but it was literally all we had to go on right now.
For the thousandth time, I cursed the fact that nobody but us took this seriously. Most major health organizations treated it like a hoax at first. An illness that started as a fever, and within hours swelled a woman’s breasts, reduced her IQ, and shot her libido through the roof? Sounded like the backdrop to a poorly-written porno. It was only our little lab here on the west coast that decided to look into it seriously.
Long story short? It was true. Somebody dubbed it Neuro-Libidinous Fever, and the name stuck. Not that anybody else cared. We tried to put the word out, show that the test cases we had were real, but we were laughed out of the room. The closest we came to actual attention was some late-night talk show host doing a throwaway joke about the illness in his opening monologue. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, (some starlet I can’t remember the name of)?” he said. The crowd thought that was a riot. Meanwhile, my colleagues and watched our thirtieth patient burn her brains out in the course of an afternoon.
It happened so fast. The symptoms came all at once, in a wave. A fever, quick and severe, came out of nowhere. Midway through that, the patient’s body would begin to shift. Breasts swelling, features softening, hips widening. Within hours confusion began to set in. Less than twelve hours from the onset of the fever, the patient was overwhelmed with lust, unaware of anything else going on around them. We watched MBAs and college professors turned into giggling whores, five and six of them a day.
By the time the rest of the world accepted what was going on, it was too late. World leaders were quietly replaced as they suddenly became too preoccupied with sex to think about politics. Cases spread like wildfire. Entire cities effective shut down as thousands of women at a time had their minds melted.
Now, as far as we know, over 99% of the population has gone through all of the symptoms. A very hopeful estimate is that there are over a million women in the world left who are like me - still possessed of their original minds and bodies. More than likely it’s far less. It’s been quite a while since we’ve received data from the outside world.
I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Good. That’s probably Dr. Olsen. We can continue going over the findings from yesterday. Even if this is hopeless, we need to keep trying, need to-
That’s not Dr. Olsen was my first thought.
Yes, it is was my second, much more terrifying thought.
She smiled from ear to ear, tits bouncing as she walked. Her stern, weary demeanor was gone, replaced with that of a care-free schoolgirl.
"Mary!" she chirped. "I’m so glad you’re here!" She stepped up, embracing me before I could stop her. She was so warm, so soft. She smelled incredible. I tried to pull away, but couldn’t manage it before she kissed me, deep and full on the lips.
I pulled away, shuddering. Only then did I notice how hot to the touch my skin was.
Hope you liked it, Anonymous! Thanks for asking. Big-scale stuff like this isn’t really what I usually think of to write. I’m more naturally drawn to the smaller, personal, one-at-a-time stuff. This was a fun challenge. Thanks!