Indian Variant
“I could probably get with him,” he thought. “Just walk up and say a few words and he could be plowing me tonight…” His mind drifted for a moment before he snapped himself back to reality. He was straight, he reminded himself, he always had been. But still, he couldn’t exactly control his subconscious. These intrusive thoughts had started when he caught the Gender Virus on his way back from a business trip to India, and had been growing in frequency ever since. The virus had taken hold after he’d gotten home, probably passed on to him from a shared drink at his hotel’s bar. Who knows how many more he had infected on the flight back, spreading the virus’s gift to others before he noticed the symptoms and quarantined himself. It had certainly worked its magic on him, giving him the toned, brown skin, the thick, dark hair, the pouty lips, the generous curves of a gorgeous Indian woman. He had done his research once he got his diagnosis, leafing through hundreds of victims’ experiences online to learn everything he could about the virus.
The majority of cases were of the standard variant: The victim changed physically, but their mental processes were still unchanged. They were themselves, mentally, just with a body of the opposite gender. It was the rare cases that scared him. A small percentage of cases, usually the more exotic strains, went for the mind as well, implanting certain… urges into the mind of the victim to ensure further transmission of the virus. As his changes progressed, Michael had learned very quickly that he was going to be a part of the unlucky few. It was the worst the first few days after his changes, when he’d had a friend lock him into his room to stop himself from making any decisions he’d regret. The more he progressed towards his female body, the more he knew what he needed. Any distraction free moment, he found his mind drifting to his body’s new needs. He could hardly look down at his new lips without imagining them wrapped around some lucky guy’s cock, not to mention the constant dull ache of lust he was starting to feel around anybody remotely attractive. He could feel it coming on more every day, pushing the career goals and ambitions he used to have further back in his mind as a new goal started to take hold: He needed to find a man. As ridiculous as it felt, the only future he could see for himself now was as a girlfriend, a wife, a mother - The more feminine it sounded, the more right it felt. He knew the urges would just get stronger and stronger until he was forced to give in. Maybe It was time, before his body chose for him. At least he’d be doing it on his own terms.
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