When Kevin first moved in with Natalie and Luisia, he'd been too relieved to do much of anything other than be grateful. Not only about finding affordable rent, but sharing a home with two gorgeous sisters? Admittedly, they were a bit older than him, but that hardly bothered him. If anything, it thrilled him!
Perhaps because of this, he hadn't taken the first changes seriously.
Now though... Now the blue glow of his computer screen lit his worried face as he spooled through articles on the net.
Resurgance of Beast Virus. Who is Safe?
Mutation Prompts Quarantine Fears.
Act of God or Escaped from a Lab? Questions Need Answering.
Kevin bit his lower lip as images flashed across his eyeballs. He knew this wasn't helping things. He knew what he was supposed to do. Everyone did since the last major Beastgirl outbreak fifteen years ago. If you see the signs, you call the Quarantine Office. Beastgirlism exclusively impacted women, transforming them, rewriting their DNA with that of various animals, but it could be treated. He knew this.
And yet, as if compelled, he delved deeper into that yawning black pit of information with a flick of his finger, scrolling straight to symptoms. There was a lot of them, that was for sure, each depending on what kind of beast the woman was turning into. Scales for a serpent. Fur for a dog-girl. A sudden expansion of the chest and tendency to moo with the cow-girls.
But the one thing they all had in common was the heat.
Kevin shivered, licked his lips. This was why the women needed to be quarantined. Whether due to the fever that brought on the changes or just a nature of the transformation itself, every beastgirl infected went into a breeding heat once they'd progressed far enough. And though beastgirlism didn't affect men, the pheromones the women emitted surely did. Few men could properly resist a beastgirl's influence, meaning any infected were required to quarantine until cured, lest they turn the men around them into dumb breeding studs.
Kevin shook his head as if to clear it. With grim purpose, he rose from before the screen. No more delaying. He had to call the authorities. He searched the gloom for his phone, before realizing he had likely left it in the kitchen.
Warily he peeked out of his room, scanning the dark hall. No one was about. Quiet as a thief, he slipped out of his room and padded down the hall, only to pause when he heard the tv in the living room.
"C'mon ladies, lift those legs. One two. One two. One two."
Natalie must be doing her exercises. Kevin hesitated, but avoiding her would do him no good. The kitchen was on the opposite side of the living room. He had to pass through. Men can't be infected by the virus, he reminded himself.
As if that was his real concern.
Steeling himself, trying to move as silently as possible, he stepped out into the living room. He tried not to look at the figure stretched out on the floor before the tv, lit by its phosphorescent glow.
"Mmmm... Kevin?"
Kevin stopped dead.
Natalie had cocked her head towards him, her body lit by the tv as she rolled slightly onto her side. At such an angle, it was impossible not to admire her curves. Her hips were wide but not fat, firm with the care she took in her middle age. Shapely best described her, with a mature, soft beauty wrapped in an exercise leotard that only further drew attention to her figure.
But the most striking part of her was the spots.
At first they had just been some blemishes along her arms and back. Kevin had assumed she'd had an allergic reaction to something, which was why he hadn't called the authorities before. Only when they darkened further did he begin to grow concerned. Now, they patterned down her thighs and across her back and arms, nestled among soft, gold and crimson fur. The fur of a leopard.
Natalie eyed him, and he noticed that her pupils had become slitted like a cat's. Her hair was a rich river of red that tumbled over her shoulders and fanned about her face as she tilted further to face him, her breasts wobbling in the confining, tight black fabric of her leotard.
"Ah. Hi, Natalie," he said. "Just... heading to the kitchen."
"Were you?" she said, lazily stretching, her breasts straining the shining fabric she wore. "Mmm. In that case... Would you mind grabbing me a glass of milk?"
"S-sure," Kevin said, hastening across the room and into the kitchen before she could say any more.
He flicked on the light, the harsh glow washing over the counters and linoleum flooring. His eyes darted about for his phone, but he didn't see it where he usually left it. Did one of the girls move it? He felt the beginning of panic and forced the tightness in his chest back down. No. No, it was probably just misplaced. That was all. He'd get Natalie her drink, then take a better look. The harsh light of the fridge washed over him as he opened it and rooted around for a bottle, reluctant to leave the coolness. Just looking at Natalie had made him hot and flushed.
To be fair, she'd had that effect on him even before her infection. He'd always admired the older woman. How well she kept her figure, and the certainty in which she did everything. A maturity of years and experience that made him feel oddly safe with her. Secure. Like she knew just what to do. It was so easy to go along with her. Even when she first began showing signs of beastgirlism she never panicked or acted out. She'd just gone on with her life.
But that had only been at first.
Kevin had sensed a change in the last week. Natalie had begun growing more brazen with her figure. She had never been ashamed of her body, but of late she had begun to fairly flaunt it. Wandering the house in nothing but her exercise clothes, which never seemed to fit her properly, stretching against her every curve, outlining her figure like the wild dream of some master sculptor. She'd begun lingering in the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Hovering around him whenever he came out of his room. Teasing him with delicate touches...
Kevin flushed harder. Stupid. Stupid! Was that why he'd waited so long? Had he finally thought he'd have a chance with the lovely milf? Fucking moron. With a sigh his questing touch finally found the cool glass bottle of the milk. He pulled back, shut the door and turned around.
And nearly rebounded off a pair of soft, pillowy tits.
Natalie stood before him, lazily wiping the sweat from her face with a small towel. Her breasts stretched the slick fabric of her leotard with her every breath, the subtle tang of her sweat mingling with a muskiness that made Kevin's head spin.
"Mmm. Thank you," she said, plucking the bottle of milk from his limp hand, her claw-tipped thumb popping the top off with a flick.
"Uh, y-yeah. Don't mention... it..."
Kevin trailed off as Natalie tilted her head back, downing the bottle with a lusty thirst. He watched her throat work, some of the cream spilling from the corner of her mouth, running along her chin and drip, drip, dripping onto the soft orbs of her breasts. She took away the bottle with a gasp, smiling down at him.
"Mmm. Just what I needed. Now... Kevin? Would you mind helping me with something else?"
He jolted back to the present, realizing he'd been breathing deep her scent. His face grew hotter than even before, and his cock had grown thick in his pants. "E-else? What um, what else?" he asked.
She lazily rolled her neck and shoulders, every movement further drawing his eyes to the way her soft breasts moved upon her chest. "Mmm. See, I've been so... stiff lately. I could really use a hand stretching."
