A young couple.

I tilt my head upwards, letting the spray from the shower hit me directly in the face. My skin is much more sensitive now. I'm well into the third stage of my second puberty, and the sensation is both arousing and frustrating. I have been permanently horny for so long now, and since the heady rush of the first stage passed, completely unable to reach orgasm. I sigh deeply as I sweep back my wet hair; it has grown at an accelerated rate since I became infected and is now longer than shoulder-length.

The door to the bathroom opens with a slight creak, but I do not turn towards it, but focus my hearing. There is a few footsteps, bare feet on vinyl tiles and then the sound of a zipper, followed by the swish of clothing sliding over skin and dropping to the floor. I turn my head as the shower curtain is drawn open and my girlfriend enters the shower cubicle behind me. She smiles, her arms reaching out and circling my waist as she presses her body against my back. I feel the slight swell of her pot-belly against my lower back; her pregnancy is only just beginning to show. The baby she carries...our baby, was conceived during that now distant, but happy memory of second puberty's first stage.

"You okay?" Michelle asks as her hand slides over my hip and down to my crotch.

"Uh huh," I reply, letting out a long sigh as her fingers caress the crease that has formed there. "I think I must be close now."

I bite my lip and moan as a fingertip explores my, as yet, still sealed crease that will anytime now be my new labial cleft. My moan intensifies as her finger brushes over the residual head of my penis. Less than an inch of my formerly impressive cock remains; the foreskin that I had cut as a child has reformed to cover what remains as a clitoral hood. My silky smooth thighs tremble, and I squirm uncomfortably in Michelle's arms at the maddeningly arousing tickle of her finger on my oversensitive proto-clitoris.

"Mickey, please," I plead with Michelle to stop, the frustration of not being able to orgasm despite my constant sexual arousal too much to bear.

"I'm sorry, Sweety," Michelle says, softly drawing her fingers away from my almost completely transformed pussy. "This is the hardest part I know. It will be over soon. You know how much I want this to be completed so we can be back to normal between us."

I stifle a bitter laugh at the idea of normality. Nothing about the last few weeks has been normal, and the final change of second puberty will only be another chapter of our transformed relationship instead of a return to what we had. Michelle has been my rock during my transformation, her commitment to our relationship keeping me sane and preventing me from falling into despair. I had known Michelle was bisexual, or at least bicurious, before contracting second puberty. Watching movies or music videos together, she had often commented jokingly on which of the latest Hollywood starlets or singers she was attracted to. When I was a man, I cannot deny it had been a turn on for me to imagine Michelle with another woman. I had never imagined the other woman to be myself, though.

"I love you," Michelle murmurs, her lips close to my ear before she kisses my shoulder. "That has not changed."

I don't doubt her for a moment. When the changes had begun, and we realised what was happening, before Michelle had even realised that she carried my child, she had paused only for a second or two before embracing me and vowing that we could get through this together as partners.