Hang out with the tombimboi, Drew.

"Hey, Brian! Long time no see!" Drew opens his door wearing a wife beater and boxers. You blush and try to tell yourself that has always been the way your friend answered the door. Then again, he didn't used to have massive, milky breasts almost popping out of his top and a bulge the size of a baby's arm in his boxers. He still has the same casual cocky attitude he always did, only with his chestnut brown curls cascading down to his shoulders, his waspish waist and heavenly hips giving him an hourglass figure, and his ass looking like two melons fighting in his boxers as he walks over to the couch, you've say that some things have changed a little. He still has impressive guns and taut legs, but his silky soft soft skin and feminine curves only stand out more in contrast.

But that's not his fault. He thought he was immune before he hooked up with a bimboi at a sissies and studs party, and you would have thought so too. His transformation was a big reason you became basically celibate. If a man's man like him can catch the Bimbug, what chance does a quiet normie like you have? You decide to ignore your initial discomfort and try to treat him the same as you always have. You'll spark up, relax, and play games or watch movies until it's time to crash. Drew certainly seems to have the same game plan, he's already hitting a joint and waving you over to the couch. "Come on, bro, have a seat. Don't worry, you can't catch what I've got from spit."

You feel awful, stammering, "Naw! I know that!" You didn't, exactly, and you are relieved to hear him say it. You sit next to him, ignoring how his bare legs brush up against your pants. Normaly you would be down to your boxers at this point too. It always run's warm in Drew's dorm so you spent most nights in your t-shirt and boxers or even just your shorts. You don't want to make your friend feel even more ostracized than you already have, so you take a huuuuuge hit and hold the smoke in your lungs until it comes coughing up. You feel your tension melt away and you slip off your shirt and jeans, saying, "This is more like it. Sorry I've been away so long. I just..." you trail off, realizing Drew knows exactly why and will spot any weak excuse a mile away.

"It's cool, Brian." Drew looks you in the eyes and you can see it means a lot to him that you're here. "I know it's a lot to deal with. Hey, I can barely wrap my head around it either. Like I still feel like me. I still think of myself as a man, but I also get these cravings and..." he trails off, a distant look of desire cloudy his eyes before he snaps back and laughs, "Heh. But don't worry, buddy. You aren't my type. Sides, I don't want to risk infecting anyone, so it's just been jerking off or fooling around with other bimbois or occasionally chicks for me. Heh. That's been the one silver lining. Most of these infected aren't like me. It's like they were just waiting for an excuse to be as slutty as possible. And when they meet a sexy butch bimboi like me..." he trails off as he notices you licking your lips and blushing brightly. "Heh. Sorry, I get carried away sometimes."

You brush it off, pretending you are as cool with it as you wish you were. "Hey, man, no reason to apologize on my account. You know I always got off to hearing about your sexual conquests, why should that change now that you are even hotter...I mean they are even hotter. Not that you aren't hot...it's just...heh I'm gonna take another hit and shut up." You realize as the smoke burns your lungs that you had never exactly told him how you used to beat off imagining his stories of hooking up with comely coeds.

Drew being the laid back dude he is, lets the revelation pass by as if he didn't notice. Though you can see his nipples tenting the thin fabric of his athletic shirt and his bulge beefing up in his boxers. You only hope he doesn't notice how boned up you are. It's a rare occasion that you are almost grateful for your smaller package, but your beet red blush probably gives you away.

You should have known this would happen. It literally always does when you get stoned. Drew used to joke that he wished all his dates were so easy to get in the mood. You'd laugh and excuse yourself to go the the bathroom and 'drop a load'. After awhile, you both got comfortable enough hanging out, that it seemed silly to both jerk off in adjoining rooms when you could just yank one out quicker side by side and then get back to chilling.

"Coooool. So uhm, I am gonna go drop a load. I'll uh knock before I come out." Drew stands up and you are stunned by the size of the shaft straining in his shorts. You are torn between wanting to keep a safe distance from a potential source of infection and being a good friend. Is it better to act like nothing's changed and invite him to toke and stroke along with you? Or should you accept the reality of the situation and let him have his privacy?