He is a solid ten stud.

"Thank you for coming by so late. I am Dr. Franklin Fuques. I know all of this seems shady, but it's safer to hide in the shadows for now until I can substantiate my research." He extends his huge hand and you notice a few things immediately when you shake it.

1.) No wedding ring.

2.) He rubs your palm slightly with his index finger.

3.) He absolutely wants to do a lot more than hold hands, which he is also doing for too long for an introductory handshake.

You've fallen for snakes before, so you are careful to watch your step around a handsome hunk like this. The lab coat and meticulously manicured five o' clock shadow make him look like he's trying to dress as the movie version of a rogue scientist, and his gleaming green eyes and thick, but supple lips make you willing to pay the price of admission for more of his show. You say, "Nice to meet you. I'm Chase Cassidy. I'll warn you that I'm almost obsessively skeptical, but I will hear you out, whatever you have to say."

Dr. Fuques smiles and you feel like you drop double digit IQ points. You dig your nails into your palm until just shy of bleeding to regain your focus. You follow a few steps behind him out of an abundance of caution, and to check out his toned ass in those tight khakis he's wearing. There has to be some kind of trick. Dudes this hot get modeling gigs, not advanced virology degrees. You google Dr. Franklin Fuques while palming your phone and the only images you can find are so blurry it could be anyone. You reserve a final judgement, but are highly suspicious.

His choice of labs isn't exactly helping allay your suspicions either. He's cleared out the 'massagers' and stripper clothes at least, but mostly it's entirely empty. This has been the most world altering pandemic in the history of mankind and it's being investigated out of a sex store stockroom converted into a lab that's little more than a fridge, a centrifuge, and a microscope. The 'doctor' must sense your disapproval, because he offers as an explanation, "I know this looks rather spartan, but I assure you there is more than meets the eye."

You think but don't say that he looks rather Spartan and more than meets the eye too, but you suspect that's exactly what he wants you to think. You patiently wait for his pitch, hoping you don't look too eager to catch it, when he drops a bombshell. "My theory is that the so called bimbug is actually an symbiotic organism that feeds on sexual fluids. My research indicates that it is not possessed of any will or intelligence of its own, but merely a desire to survive and spread. It also suggests that the current 'virus' is in a weakened state due to radiation absorbed upon entering Earth's atmosphere. But, what if I were to keep a sample of so called infected blood and repair it with experimental gene therapy? My theory is that the resulting organism could 'infect' anyone and create transformations that fulfill all sorts of ideals, including masculine ones."

You struggle to keep up. Aliens? It certainly explains why this virus acts more like some kind of sci fi trope than an illness. A weakened strain? It would make a lot more sense than why this mutagen has only worked one way so far. A pure pathogen? Well, you definitely can imagine Dr. Fuques as one of these hypothetical masculine ideals. Unless, "Wait a second, doctor. Are we speaking hypothetically here? Or have you actually experimented on yourself?"

The dashing doctor actually looks impressed by your accusation and again you have to remind yourself not to get sucked in by his sexiness. "A most astute observation! I have indeed." He points to his ID tag from GenYXsis Labs with a fading photo of a much scrawnier Dr. Franklin Fuques with muddy brown eyes and completely different features. "I was able to complete the gene therapy at the lab I work for, but I didn't trust them not to weaponize or otherwise pervert it's pure form. I used this off the books lab to perform tests and finally to inject myself with a sample. You can see the effect it had on me."

You are almost eeriely good at detecting lies and half truths. You have to be in your line of work. You can tell Franklin isn't lying, or at least doesn't think he is, but you also know he's leaving something unsaid. You cut to the chase, asking, "And what would phase two of this experiment entail? Further human testing?" You hope you didn't sound hopeful when you asked that.

Franklin licks his lips and yours feel thirsty all of a sudden. "Well..." he takes of his apparently useless glasses and locks eyes with you, "my theory is I can spread this symbiote by having sex with you. So..."