Tom is almost home free...

Tom pushed the loaded shopping cart up his street, thankful to have safely escaped the mall and its relentless, ravishing patrons. He was pondering about the fate of the lanky guy he had seen being pushed into the staff area by the three sexy checkout chicks until he had made it to the register himself.

The alluring young ladies there had almost fought over the chance to serve him, trying to entice him with suggestive gestures and sultry promises, flaunting their tight tantalizing figures shamelessly for his viewing pleasure.

There was no denying they were all utterly desirable in their skimpified store uniforms but Tom knew better and he wondered if anyone would ever see that other guy again. It was clear that they were getting bolder and more aggressive as fewer and fewer men were appearing in public.

Tom’s hopes had plummeted when he spotted the new vaccines and cures being freely peddled at the front counters. On an instinctive level he knew that ever more men would see them as a salvation–more like an excuse to give in to their base primitive urges–relying on these snake-oil cures to save them.

His ass burned from being pinched and slapped, his clothing was badly disheveled from being pulled and pawed at. He was just thanking his lucky stars that none of the excitable seductresses had stooped so low as to follow him home…yet. It was only a matter of time though before their appetites drove them to more **** measures.

He had actually seen a state patrol car for the first time in a week but it was surrounded by a moaning, gyrating mob of rearing-to-go beauty queens, so he could only guess what the officer within had been doing to draw their lusty attention. It couldn;t have been anything good.

They were like vultures, once one of them had got past your defenses, they all wanted a taste. A few months ago it would have been every red-blooded male's wet dream but in these dark days a guy had to be more careful, more resilient. Tom almost wanted to weep at the poetic irony of it all.

He was almost home safe and he let himself feel a glimmer of relief, away from all the titillating temptation and the cock-hungry crowds of stunning women, until he saw Mrs Hope.

Mrs Hope had been… was their next-door neighbor and had been one of the first in the neighborhood to be 'transformed'.

She had returned from visiting friends in the state capital a few weeks back and nobody had recognized her at first. She was in her mid-forties and hadn't been much to look at before it happened.

Tom liked her well enough and she had been a good, friendly neighbor but she had also been overweight, beginning to show the usual signs of life’s wear and tear.

…But when she returned home from the city that had all changed… drastically.

Her advancing years had seemed to have melted away from her, as had her gathering rolls of body fat. Her hefty bosom showed no signs of sag or droop anymore but instead appeared magical refreshed sitting full and high on her chest.

Her entire body seemed to have changed, becoming delightfully lush in some areas and breath-takingly slender in others. Her skin had smoothed and wrinkles vanished, even as her coffee-coloured hair took on new shine and luster, growing in dark and thick again. It was only by looking into her flawless face and dazzling amber eyes that anyone could recognise who she once was.

The entire neighborhood had been stunned, Mrs Hope looked transformed but as it was in the early days of the virus many attributed the change to cosmetic surgery or some new beauty regiment.

…but that wasn't all that had changed in her. From his bedroom window next door Tom watched her, prettily prancing about her home in outfits so daring and revealing that a seasoned hooker might blush to see them. They sure achieved the results she had been looking for though.

At all hours of the day and night Mrs Pamela Hope received and entertained 'gentleman' visitors. The loud feminine moans, male grunting and wet, fleshy noises from next door had left little doubt to what she was doing. Even Tom had begun to masterbated furiously to the glimpses he caught through curtained windows and the sounds of her loud screaming in ecstasy night and day.

She hadn’t been subtle about any of it and only later did Tom realize that had all been part of her devilish designs.

One afternoon he had stood at his second story window, stroking himself and looking down as Mrs Hope was fucked naked up againt the sliding doors of her sunroom. She had been pressed hard up against the polished glass, her huge soft tits pancaked out wide on the cool surface as their elderly balding mailman–what a goddamn cliche, Tom had thought at the time–humped her vigorously from behind while pulling her pretty head back by her hair.

He was pretty sure she had caught him watching because after her smokey, half-lidded gaze had scanned past his window because her performance and volume improved dramatically. Tom hadn’t lasted much longer after that, splashing his hot seed onto the windowsill at the sight of her.

Eager men of all ages, shapes and sizes had actually begun queuing at her door. It didn't seem to matter to her if they were married, retired or even barely legal school students. Pamela Hope took all comers one after another or in groups without prejudice.

The women of the local neighborhood had been outraged, and eventually stormed the house en mass trying to recover their menfolk.

In the end that had been the evidence Tom needed to prove for himself that females were far more susceptible to the new disease than males. It had only taken that brief physical contact to spread the infection. A few days later many of these same wives and mothers began displaying signs of erratic behavior themselves. Their appearances had growing young and more sensual, their sexual proclivities increasing alarmingly. Thus the fall of the suburbs had begun.

Tom was chagrined but certain that if his own sisters hadn't been watching him like a hawk, he would have been amongst the crowds of guys lined up at her door for a bed-rocking round with the busty MILF temptress as well. Thankfully Brit and Jess shamed him long enough to recognize that something was dreadfully wrong and then he had begun to take vital precautions.

It had been soon after that Tom realized that many of the men entering these new houses of carnal pleasure–they were popping up all over his neighborhood–were not, in fact, coming back out of them.

The sheer numbers of these insatiable XXX-infected women seemed to be increasing exponentially whilst the numbers of men visibly dwindled.The implications of that observable fact chilled Tom to his very core.

So there was Mrs Hope, who had been the harbinger of the epidemic in his home neighborhood and she was lounging luridly in her front doorway wearing tight-fitted black lace lingerie as bold as brass. Her outfit was so sheer and form-fitting that her gi-normous, creamy tits were all but spilling out of the demi-bra and she was crooking a long manicured finger seductively for Tom to come chat to her.

Like hell he would…

Tom frowned, it was half self-preservation instinct and half thoughtful inspection. Mrs Hope's breasts hadn't been nearly that big when 'it' had all begun but he had been noticing them swell fractionally with each passing partner she took. It had been something of a fixation of his as she continued to flaunt herself a short hop (right over the fence), step (directly into her welcoming arm) and leap (straight into her bed) away from him.

…and now they were so gloriously immense that she couldn't fit even the largest bra sizes. Could this be one of the symptoms of the XXX-virus?

He shook himself out of his lewd contemplation as she began to swaggering towards him, those whopping great melons swaying heavily with each strutting step. With a burst of frightened strength Tom gave the cart a hard push and began running for his front door...