Your Lesbian Aunt

"Well you're the expert," said your aunt Leslie from the other side of her kitchen counter. "And you're the smartest kid I know."

"Not a kid any more, Aunt Les," you replied flatly, staring at the piece of paper in front of you. It was a page of the medical report from her recent diagnosis of the disease. Her prognosis was serious. Another report was next to it, which you had already read through, which pretty much said the exact same thing. "Yeah I... I don't know what else to tell you," you started, shrugging at your aunt. "I can run another test with my kit but these are probably accurate. I've worked with these labs. "

"God damnit," sighed your aunt, her spunky veneer slipping now, her expression crestfallen as she took off her glasses. "I was hoping for a different third opinion." She rubbed the bridge of her nose irritably. Your aunt Leslie had known she was a lesbian since she was eight years old, and other than one very brief failed experiment she tried during high school, was certainly 100% sure she was not into men and never would be. This was going to be a big problem, and you knew it too. You had called her Aunt Les your entire life, and it was as much her name as it was a descriptor. No wonder she had gone to two different doctors to confirm the test, then finally came to you in desperation.

You could see that desperation in her appearance. The woman was a spitting image of your own mother, only Leslie wore her hair shorter than her sister. It was a sort of pixie cut, not exactly dykey, but it definitely gave her a different vibe than your mother's longer locks. Leslie usually dyed it a different hue every week too, but today it was more of her natural color, albeit slightly dishevelled from how stressed she was. She was also dark around the eyes, obviously not getting much sleep, but aside from that your aunt Leslie was a gorgeous woman. Feminine features, fit but full figure... she was the kind of lesbian you normally only saw in porn, except this woman was real and related to you. Over the years she brought numerous equally gorgeous girlfriends over to family dinners and admittedly those memories of your aunt and her girlfriends sharing kisses at the table stayed with you on many sticky sleepless nights. Your eyes drifted to the cleavage afforded you by a missed button of your distracted aunt's shirt and you felt a twitch between your legs and a twinge of sympathy in your stomach.

"I can run another test," you said, pushing her medical reports to one side then sliding your testing kit case between you and unsnapping the clasps. Your aunt smiled at you, her tired expression softening around it.

"Thanks, John," she said quietly. There was really not much point to doing another test though, you thought to yourself. Unless BOTH labs got her samples mixed up with someone else, your aunt was definitely infected. But you loved your aunt, she was a strong woman who helped instil in you a lot of the personal qualities that you liked about yourself. The least you could do was help her make sure of her cum addiction diagnosis.

With everything setup now you snapped on a glove then picked up a cotton swab.

"This is a pretty quick test. The machine will give a fairly accurate reading, though it's not as sensitive as what those doctors would have used," you explained. "I'll just need to do a swab. Open your mouth?"

Leslie leaned over the kitchen counter, expressing more cleavage, which you pointedly tried not to look at, and reached over to her open mouth. You quickly swabbed the inside of her cheek, probably a little too quickly to get enough of a sample to do a proper reading, but your professionalism was suddenly being over

taken by nerves. You dropped the cotton swab into a tiny tube of yellow solution, sealing it before giving it a shake, then slid it into a handheld device with a small screen on it.

Your aunt tapped the counter impatiently as you both waited for the machine to finish processing. There was a beep, finally, and a big purple box with a few symbols and lines of text popped up on the screen. Your eyes widened at the numbers on the readout. Noticing your reaction Leslie leaned over to try and get a better look at the screen but she couldn't understand what any of it meant.

"What? What is it?" she asked hurriedly. You swallowed, brow furrowing. This was really bad.

"You definitely have it," you said, as calmly as you could to not panic your aunt too much. She exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes.

"Fuck," she swore, finally convinced.

"It's... and it's pretty serious," you added after giving her a minute to let it sink in. Your aunt looked at you, concerned but resigned. "Look, the markers in your sample were off the charts," you continued, showing her the screen and pointing to a bar that was reading 89%. "This is one of the more advanced cases I've seen, Aunt Les. If you don't get this sorted out soon your... well your life is in danger. Have you had any treatment yet?" Now that you were saying it out loud the reality of the situation was starting to hit you as well. Seeing the genuine concern on her nephew's face your aunt tried to offer a comforting smile.

"Uh... I've been drinking a lot of milk?" she tried, shrugging. You blinked at her, and then spotted the empty two gallon jug of milk by the sink. There was even an unwashed glass next to you on the counter that had obviously had milk in it.

"Are you serious?" you said, incredulous. "That's not the same thing. Wait when did you get these reports?" You grabbed one of the pages and scanned for a date.

"Ahh... a month ago," she admitted guiltily. You almost fell out of your seat.

"A month?" you shouted. "We need to get you to a hospital now! I'm serious." You would have been furious at your aunt if you weren't worried she was about to drop dead on you. Leslie put her hands up defensively.

"Alright John calm down," she said, standing up. "I'm still feeling fine. It's not like... like..." She started to sway and her face paled.

"Aunt Les? Aunt Les!"

You got to her just in time to catch her before she fell over and sat her back down on the kitchen stool.

"What... what happened... John?" she said, slightly dazed as you rested her head and arms on the counter.

"You need treatment... now," you said crossing your arms, trying to think of options but really only coming up with one.

"Treatment..." Leslie repeated weakly. She pushed herself off the kitchen counter to sit up, barely finding the strength she needed to do that in her arms. You held onto her to keep her from toppling. "You have a badge right?" she said, looking up at you. She was referring to the official badge that meant you could provide dosages to addicts whenever they needed it... whoever they were. Nodding in reply you felt that twitch in the front of your pants again and swallowed. "Then... do what you have to do," your aunt said.