Hey, about that virus going around… my best bro and roommate said he came into contact with it, but since he’s “already Asian” apparently he thinks it makes him immune. How true is that? Cause ever since he brought it up things aren’t exactly adding up. He doesn’t seem sick, but he doesn’t seem normal either. Should I be worried? Hell, should I be worried about myself? I’ve stayed away from his room, so I should be fine, right?
Thank you for contacting our help line. We understand your concerns regarding the recent outbreaks of the flu. Please be assured that we are doing everything possible to contain the situation.
We recommend that you avoid contact with your roommate until we can confirm he is not infected. Please keep us informed of any changes in his or your condition. If you develop any symptoms, please contact us immediately.
Early symptoms may include fever, cough, body aches, heightened sensitivity in the pectoral region, and excessive sweating. Please note that we cannot predict how long the incubation period may last. We strongly advise remaining in your room and avoiding others until we can confirm you are not infected.
[BEEP]
You hear that ominous final tone, heart pounding in your ears. The help line's words echo in your mind - "Avoid contact with your roommate…" But how? You live in such a small flat. Keeping your distance feels impossible… yet the alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.
With shaking hands, you barricade your door using a chair wedged under the handle and a towering pile of laundry. It won't stop him if he truly tries to enter, but it might buy you crucial seconds to react. You tell yourself those seconds could make all the difference.
The days drag by at an agonising pace, each one blurring into the next as you remain sequestrated in your room like a prisoner awaiting judgement. You only emerge when absolutely necessary - dashing to the bathroom under cover of darkness or grabbing meagre rations from the kitchen when you're certain that your roommate, Jake, is out. Each time, your heart races and palms sweat, half-expecting to collide with him around every corner.
To keep yourself from going crazy, you throw yourself into mindless distractions like binge-watching television shows until your eyes get too tired, or playing video games. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the anxiety always creeps back in, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.
You can't stop thinking about what's happening to Jake… and what might happen to you if you're already infected. The thought of losing yourself, of being consumed by this virus until nothing remains but an empty shell - it makes you physically ill. You can't allow that to happen. You WON'T let it happen.
So you cling to the barricade like a lifeline, praying it will be sufficient to keep the monster at bay… even as a small, treacherous part of you wonders what it would feel like to give in, to embrace the change and see where it takes you. You shudder at the thought and clench your fists, forcing yourself to focus on the present. You can't let your mind wander down that path. Not now. Not ever.
On the third night though, you wake up drenched in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. Your head throbs like a drum. You stumble to your desk lamp with trembling hands and flick it on. The light seems too bright, hurting your eyes. You touch your forehead - it's burning hot. Panic rises in your throat as the horrible realisation hits: you're ill. You try to stand but your legs give out. Collapsing back onto your bed, you curl up into a ball, shaking and miserable. A wracking cough tears through your chest. This is only the beginning, you know. The fever is just the first symptom. More will follow, and then…
No. You can't think like that. You have to stay strong, stay hopeful. Surely someone will arrive soon. They have to. Until then, all you can do is ride out this fever in isolation, praying it doesn't get worse.
The next morning, you wake up feeling slightly better. The fever has broken, but your body feels heavy. You sit up and look around your room, but something feels off. It's like your room had shrunk overnight. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. Maybe you just need to eat something. You try to sneak out to get some food, but your legs feel like jelly. With some effort, you make it to the kitchen and grab a few snacks. Back in your room, you sit on the edge of your bed and munch on some crisps. You feel a little better, but still not quite right. You can't ignore how hungry you feel, like you haven't eaten in days.
You check if your roommate Jake is around, but the apartment feels eerily empty. You can't quite remember when you last had a proper meal - the days seem to blur together lately. On impulse, you pull out your phone and place an order for a juicy burger and crispy fries, already savouring the taste in your mind. As you wait for the delivery, you glance at your bed and freeze. The sheets are soaked with sweat, the damp patch sprawling obscenely across the mattress. You stare at it in disbelief, then look down at yourself. Your shirt clings to your skin, drenched in perspiration. "It's just the heat", you mutter, trying to convince yourself. "Nothing to worry about."
You strip off your clothes and step into the shower, hoping the water will wash away the unsettling feeling. As the steam envelops you, you can't help but notice how your muscles ripple beneath your skin, more pronounced than before. You shake your head vigorously, splashing water everywhere. You step out and towel off, but a glance in the mirror makes you pause. Your skin has an almost unnatural sheen to it, glistening under the harsh bathroom lights.
You throw on fresh clothes and try to ignore how they feel tighter than usual. The doorbell rings - your food has arrived. You rush to answer it, eager for something normal to focus on. As you take the bag from the delivery person, you can't shake the feeling that their eyes linger on your body a moment too long before they leave.
Back in your room, you tear into the burger ravenously, barely tasting it as you devour every last bite. But as you finish and lick the grease from your fingers, a wave of dizziness hits you. You grab onto the desk for support, breathing heavily.
Now would be a good time to call that help line again.
You pick up your phone and start dialing, but as you do, a huge headache hits you. You drop the phone and clutch your head, groaning in pain. What's going on? You feel like you're losing your mind. You try to focus, but the pain is too much. You stumble back to your bed and collapse onto it, clutching your head. You can't think straight. As you close your eyes, your conciousness fades away, and you drift into a restless sleep…
You slowly blink open heavy eyelids, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through gaps in your blinds. Your skin feels hot and tingly, almost feverishly so. You groan as you try to sit up, muscles protesting from days of disuse, but there's a new tautness to them that catches you off guard.
Glancing down, you notice beads of sweat rolling down your bare chest, which seems… different somehow. More defined, more muscular than you remember. Your shirt clings to your skin, damp with perspiration. You peel it off with a grimace, the fabric sticking to your body.
Jake's concerned face swims into view as he leans over you. "Dude, wake up," he says, his voice sounding distant through the ringing in your ears. He looks different too - more chiselled, bigger pecs than usual. "You've been out of it for like, three days straight."
Three days? The thought sends a flicker of panic through you, but it's quickly drowned out by the strange sensations coursing through your body. You lick your dry, cracked lips and try to speak, but your voice comes out as a raspy croak.
"Water…" you manage to grate out. Jake grabs a glass from your nightstand and holds it to your mouth. As you drink greedily, you can feel the cool liquid sloshing in your expanded chest, which rises and falls rapidly with each breath.
Jake sets the glass aside and frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "I had to break down the door, man" - he says, gesturing to the splintered wood and broken furniture littering your room. The sight makes your head pound harder.
Fragmented memories flash through your mind, but they slip away like sand through a sieve, leaving you grasping at nothing. "I… I don't remember," you mumble, rubbing your temples. Little do you realise though, the virus had been violently rewriting your DNA while you were passed out, transforming you into a muscular, hyper-sexualized parody of masculinity - a hung, dumb jock bro with no thoughts beyond chasing his next high.
Jake frowns, his brow creasing in a way that makes him look almost stern. "Well, try to eat something. I made you some chicken soup - your favourite." He nods towards the steaming bowl on your desk.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed with a grunt, muscles screaming in protest. The room spins dizzily around you, and you grab onto the mattress for support. In the mirror across from you, you catch a glimpse of your reflection - gaunt face, wild eyes, and a body that looks… different somehow.
As you lift the spoon to your mouth, you can feel Jake watching you intently. The soup tastes bland compared to how ravenous you feel. You polish off the bowl in record time and slam it down on the desk. Sweat pours down your face and chest, soaking into the sheets beneath you. Your muscles twitch and flex involuntarily, as if eager to be put to use.
Jake's eyes widen as he takes in your physique - the bulging pecs glistening with sweat, the rock-hard abs clenching and unclenching with each labored breath. "Dude… you're fucking jacked," he marvels, reaching out to run a hand over your slick chest.
You moan at his touch, arching into it like a cat in heat. Your nipples are hard, almost painfully so, and ache for more stimulation. Jake seems to sense this - he leans down and drags his tongue over one of the sensitive nubs, making you gasp.
"Fuck bro, you taste so good" - he growls, laving attention on your chest with lips and teeth and tongue. "I just wanna… fuck…" He grinds against you, his own arousal evident through his straining pants.
Your head lolls back against the pillow as Jake worships your body, lost in a haze of sensation. The fever rages through you, stoking the fires of lust burning in your veins.
Jake sits up abruptly and strips off his shirt, revealing his own impressive physique. "Gotta get these sweaty clothes off," he grunts, shimmying out of his pants to reveal a massive erection straining against tight wet underwear.
He dives back onto the bed, covering your body with his own sweat-slicked one. You can feel every hard plane and ridge of muscle pressing against you as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.
You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up involuntarily to meet his. Your cock throbs, harder and bigger than you've ever been before. Jake licks his lips as he feels it straining against the fabric.
"Holy shit, you're hung too," he marvels, palming you through your pants. "Fuck bro, I just wanna suck you off so bad."
He starts tugging at your pants impatiently and you lift your hips to help him, mind hazing over with a desperate need for stimulation. As your massive cock springs free, Jake's eyes widen and he licks his lips hungrily.
"Damn dude, that's fucking huge," he breathes before diving down and swallowing as much of you as he can.
You groan loudly, head falling back against the pillow as Jake works your shaft with sloppy enthusiasm. Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him in place as you start to thrust shallowly into his mouth.
"Fuck yeah, suck my cock bro," you grunt, voice deeper and more aggressive than usual. "Gonna fucking nut down your throat."
Jake moans around you, sending delicious vibrations through your aching flesh. He takes you deeper, nose pressing against your pelvis as he swallows around your length.
It doesn't take long before you're cumming hard, vision whiting out as you shoot thick ropes of cum directly into Jake's stomach. He gulps it down greedily, not spilling a single drop.
As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse back onto the bed, panting heavily. Jake crawls up your body with a shit-eating grin, licking his lips.
"Fuck dude, that was intense," he says, voice rough from the thorough cock-sucking. "You taste so fucking good."
He leans down to kiss you and you find yourself returning it eagerly, tongue delving into his mouth to taste yourself on him. Jake grinds against you, his own erection straining against his pants.
"Gonna fuck you now," he growls against your lips. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it."
You moan in agreement, too far gone to care about anything else. As Jake lines himself up with your hole, you realise that all you want, all you need, is to be filled by him completely. Your body aches for it, craving the stretch and the fullness only his massive cock can provide. You look up at him with lidded eyes, pupils full of lust.
And as Jake slams into you balls-deep on the first thrust, you scream in ecstasy and surrender yourself completely to the transformation. Your old life fades away like a distant dream, replaced by this new existence of constant arousal and indulgence with your best bro.
Jake sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic grunts and growls. The room fills with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and both of your wanton moans. You meet each thrust eagerly, relishing the delicious burn of the stretch and the intense pleasure-pain of being used so roughly.
"Fuck yeah, take my cock you dumb slut," Jake snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he rails into you. "Gonna fucking breed this pussy."
You can only moan in response, too lost in sensation to form words. Your own cock bobs lewdly with each thrust, drooling pre-cum onto your stomach. Jake leans down and captures your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as he continues his relentless assault on your ass.
The coil of pleasure winds tighter and tighter in your gut until finally it snaps, your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream into Jake's mouth as you cum untouched, your cock pulsing out thick ropes of jizz between your bodies.
Jake hilts inside you one last time before stilling, his cock throbbing and twitching as he shoots load after heavy load deep into your guts. You can feel the heat of it flooding your insides, marking you as his property.
And as Jake rolls off you with a satisfied grunt, already snoring softly, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep, unaware of how different your life will be from now on. Your old aspirations and inhibitions have been replaced by a single-minded desire to spread this feeling of warmth in your groin, to be with your bros, to lift and pump, to fuck, and man… you're a total stud now. Tomorrow you'll probably go to the gym and pump some iron with your best bro Jake - and you couldn't have it any other way.
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