Warning: the following contains scenes of stupidly implausible sex, ridiculous depictions of bisexuality, and raunchy physical transformations; it should not be read by anyone.

State of Emergency II
by Dexter Sinister

	The woman on the news sat propped up against a fire hydrant, her shirt destroyed by her massive breasts.  Both of them were perfect, taut spheres, and so massive that their cleavage nearly swallowed her face as they rested in her lap.  Her nipples, both three inches wide and six inches long, were spraying a steady stream of milk into the street before her.  She could only get out a few words in between moans, and the newscaster trying to interview her was having a rather hard time of it.
	"It was just a little [bleep]," the woman tried to explain, and then her eyes went wide and she lost control of her voice for a moment.  Gasping, she continued, "My neighbor's always flirted with me, but today he came home and he was just... oh god, he was all shoulders and muscles and oh god oh god..."
	When she descended into another series of plainly orgasmic moans, the news channel switched over to their other big story.  His name was Rodrigo Montes, and his breasts had destroyed a parking structure.  With breasts a hundred feet across and fifty feet high, the rest of his body was perched near the top, where he had been stranded for hours.  The news van had parked below him and extended the camera up on a crane to interview him.
	"I don't know why," he protested, red-faced, "I have no idea why this happened.  Maybe, maybe it was something to do with that hooker that gave me a BJ, but oh christ why did this happen?  Oh christ oh christ... listen, this is for the english news channel, right?  My mother only watches the spanish..."
	As the CDC helicopters dropped nets around Rodrigo, the channel switched back to the woman who was washing away the beachfront with her assets.  The newscaster was leaning close to best angle his microphone, and got deluged with a sudden outpouring of milk.  Giving up, he stepped back and turned to the camera.  "An epidemic, ladies and gentlemen, a sexually-transmitted disease that results in horrific disfigurement."  He slicked the milk off of his face, sputtering.  "Whatever you do, stay indoors and avoid contact, especially sexual contact... with... ahem...."
	He adjusted his belt, and the cameraman panned out.  The newscaster's pants were shifting, growing taut, the fabric stretching.  Frantically, he gestured for the cameraman to zoom back in, but was ignored.  "This is Brent Donaghue, reporting from... oh god...."  The newspaperman's pants exploded, a tangle of dicks bursting from its confines, each of them swelling larger still.  The feed cut abruptly to the newsroom, where the anchorman was staring, aghast, at his own monitor.
	Angelo snapped the television off with a tortured sigh.  His every fantasy was spilling out all over the city, and here he was trapped in his apartment.  As usual.
	The front door clattered open and then closed, and Angelo leaned as far out of his chair as he could to crane his neck around the corner.  "Morgan?" he called, and syre enough his roommate appeared a moment later, grinning under his stupid goatee.  "What's it look like out there?" Angelo asked eagerly.
	Morgan had two handfuls of grocery bags crammed to bursting with food.  "It's madness, absolutely crazy out there.  Looks like the end of the world."
	"So you went shopping," Angelo snorted.  "Typical."
	"I don't expect the stores to be open tomorrow, and they may have trouble getting deliveries for a few days afterwards," he answered pragmatically.  "I didn't want us to starve.  Bringing the food to you is lots easier than getting you to the food."
	"Yeah, thanks," Angelo grumbled, and settled back into his chair.  He wheeled himself around to face Morgan.  "So what did you get?"
	"Whatever I could grab," was the reply.  He shuffled through the bags. "Hamburger buns, hot dogs, microwave pizzas, some fruit, some pasta..."
	"You're cooking, huh?"
	"You know I never mind cooking for you, Angelo," Morgan replied quickly, "I mean, cooking for the both of us."
	Angelo rolled his eyes.  "Morgan, how many times to I have to tell you, I don't mind you being gay, but I do mind you being gay all over me."
	Morgan sniffed, and started stowing his groceries away again.  "I'll just take these to the kitchen..." he muttered.
	"Yeah, you do that."  Angelo snapped the television back on, rotating his chair so he faced the screen again.  The coverage was from the studio still, now doing an interview with some government official.
	"...with such a restricted infection vector, it should be relatively simple to isolate and quarantine the affected," he was saying.  "The CDC expects to have the outbreak under control within twenty-four hours."  He kept talking, but his voice seemed to be coming from a million miles away.
	"Angelo?" came Morgan' timid voice.  "Angelo, you're crying."  His roommate crossed the room, pulling tissues out of the box as he passed.  Angelo tried to fend him off, but the bigger man ignored him and dabbed his face dry.  "What is it?  Something... something on the news?  Something worse happen?"
	It took a long moment for Angelo to gain some measure of control, and he grouchily gestured at the television, which was now showing commercials.  "They said they'll have it under control by the end of the day tomorrow," he croaked.
	"But that's good, isn't it?"
	"It's a disease that transforms you into... into your fantasy self," Angelo explained.  "That woman, that man that they were interviewing... they were astounded that their secret fantasies had jumped them from an alleyway.  You could see it on their faces."
	"Yeah, well... sometime there's too much of a good thing, yeah?" Morgan tried.
	"No, you idiot," Angelo snapped.  "Don't you see?  My fantasy self has legs and lungs that work right.  My fantasy has a face that never hit the dashboard of a car at 80 miles an hour.  I could... I could finally have a life worth living, but... it's all going to get cleaned up and swept away before I can get there, just like... just like everything else for the past fifteen years."
	"Oh... oh, I'm sorry, Angelo," Morgan soothed, and hugged his roommate tight.  "Maybe... look on the bright side," he offered.  "If they round it all up, they can figure out how it works, and... and use it in a medical application."
	"Yeah, for how much, and how long from now?" Angelo responded listlessly.  "It's no good, Morgan.  Stuff that good doesn't happen to me.  What the hell are you doing, anyway?  Get the hell off of me."
	Morgan retreated quickly.  "Sorry, sorry, just trying to... comfort you.  Listen, I'll go fix some sandwiches or something."
	"Yeah, you do that," Angelo muttered, leaning away from his roommate.  As the other man left, he punched the television's volume up again.
	"As an update, our own Brent Donaghue is now with the CDC, receiving treatment.  Our best wishes go out to you, Brent."

	The sirens kept going at all hours that night, punctuated with enormous grunts and moans and sighs, the possible sources of which danced in Angelo's mind as he tried to sleep.  The air conditioner was busted, so the windows had to remain open, whispering their tantalizing intimations to him as he tossed and turned.
	He was vaguely awake -- was that the front door again? -- and blearily looked over to the clock next to his bed, which read 4am.  Angelo rolled over, not without difficulty, and tried to sleep.  That was when he saw the silhouette in his doorway, reflected in the closet mirror, and thrashed against his bed sheets to turn back towards the door.  "Whoa, whoa, who's there?  I've got a gun!"
	The figure crept forward.  "Shhhhh," the shadow whispered.
	Angelo shouted past the shadow to the door.  "Morgan!  Morgan wake up, there's somebody in my room!"  But the silhouette reached forward and placed a finger across Angelo's lips.  A very feminine finger, long and elegant, tipped with a glossy red manicured nail.
	"What the--" Angelo stammered, and stilled in surprise and fear.
	The woman crept closer, her silky-soft skin running across the backs of Angelo's hands, up his arms, and then down his sides.  His breath went ragged suddenly, and he shook with desire.
	"I'm... I'm dreaming," he breathed as she loomed over him.  Her hands slid into his boxers, and she chuckled throatily.  Angelo froze, face white, and then fury overtook him.  "Goddammit, Morgan!  Get the fuck off me!  What the hell do you think you're..."
	He snapped on the light, and standing before him was... not quite Morgan.  Morgan's sister, perhaps... if Morgan's sister had a dick bobbing up from her crotch, right above her slit.  Angelo backpedalled across the bed, staring aghast at the figure before him.  Small, pert breasts hung from her chest, and her sides swept in and then back out, accentuating a perfect waist and hips.  The legs were long and toned; the rounded ass was tight and just as pert as the cute little breasts.
	Buried in a nimbus of blonde hair was the face of Angelo's roommate, significantly softened and without the goatee Morgan had always sported.  The lips were full and cherry red; the eyes glinted bright blue.  But it was Morgan, still, and Morgan, certainly.
	"What the FUCK, Morgan?" Angelo demanded.  "What the -- what the FUCK?!?"
	Morgan seemed to deflate on the edge of the bed, face breaking and eyes welling with tears.  "I thought you might... I thought you might like me like this," came a slightly higher voice than Morgan usually had.
	"So you jumped me in my bedroom?" Angelo sputtered.  "The fuck happened to you, Morgan?  You... oh god, you... you got the disease."
	The blonde head bobbed.  "Yeah.  I went out, I called some friends.  I found an old ex that had stumbled into it."
	"And you went all... hermy?" Angelo waved at the now-flagging prick over Morgan's new pussy.  "That's not your kink, man.  What the hell, you didn't want to be a girl."
	Morgan took a long breath and wound up the courage to respond. "I wanted to be a girl if it meant I could have you.  I thought, maybe you would... maybe you would be with me if I had tits and a pussy and these hips.  And I could give you the... thing, I could give you your fantasy body."
	"Morgan, that is seriously fucked up," Angelo told his roommate flatly.  "Jesus, what the hell, this isn't reversible!  You'll have that twat the rest of your life, now!"
	"I'd hoped I might have something else, too," Morgan answered, voice now shaking with tears.  "You didn't want me like I was, maybe you'd want me like this.  And you did want me."  There was a hint of steel to the new, feminine voice, now.  "You were on fire for me back there."
	"Before I knew you were a guy!"
	Morgan stirred from the edge of the bed, leaning closer.  "Before you knew I was me," came the soft reply.  "But that was before you knew what I was offering, wasn't it, Angelo?"  As she tipped closer, her breasts hung down, swaying slightly.
	"Wha what?  I don't know what you mean."  Angelo flailed as he tried to creep backwards, but the sheets tangled around his legs.
	She glided up over him, her breathing soft in the evening light from the window.  "Your fantasy body, Angelo.  Everything you might want.  Legs and lungs that work.  Whatever face you might want.  And whatever face you pick, I'll love it just the same."
	Her knee had pinned the sheets under her, and she settled her soft body against his.  "One little fuck, Angelo.  That's all I need from you.  Just the one.  I've wanted it so long.  And you can shove your prick up into my nice, wet pussy, now.  A pussy all for you, Angelo.  This pussy was created so your dick could be up inside it."  Her pert breasts settled against his cheeks.  "These tits were made so you could bury your face in them as you fucked me, as you got your fantasy body.  Just close your eyes and imagine what you want to be like, Angelo, it's that easy.  Just make a wish and you can have anything you want.  And I... I get you."
	Angelo's heart was hammering in his chest.  His lungs were pumping for all their might.  And his prick... his prick was standing at full, painful attention, quite ready to sign up for Morgan's insane plan.  And Angelo was not far behind.  When soft hands drew down the hem of his boxers, he did not resist.
	"Don't you worry, Angelo, I'll do all the work," Morgan promised, running two fingers up the length of his straining hard-on.  He shuddered, and she leaned forward chuckling.  Her lips ran up his jawline as she crawled forward on top of him.  Her nipples, hard and sharp, ran up his chest, and he found his hands closing around her rounded ass.  Her hips gyrated once, then descended onto him, neatly swallowing his prick.  She gasped as he entered her, and then jammed her hips down onto him until the lips of her pussy closed around the very root of his dick.
	She was as good as her word, doing all the work that his blasted legs could not.  Her hips bounced up and down, grinding her pelvis against his as she gasped and moaned.  His fingers dug into her fleshy ass; his lips found a bouncing nipple and closed around it.  Her fingers dug into his hair and pulled him close into her.
	Soon her moans were mounting in pitch and her downthrusts into his hips grew more and more insistent.  Angelo's own anatomy responded, and his dick swelled within her, so hard it seemed like it would burst.  Suddenly and finally, she came on top of him, squealing and thrashing, bashing him up against the headboard.  A moment later his orgasm exploded into her and he clutched her hips close, fingers sinking into the pliable flesh.
	She was laughing, then covering his face with kisses, and rolled off him to the side.  "Oh god, that was fantastic, I've always wanted you so much, Angelo, and maybe having this twat forever isn't so much a price to pay..."
	But Angelo was gasping for air, desperately unfolding his body from where she'd compacted him into the corner of the bed.  His lungs were on fire; his head was swimming.  He coughed and sputtered, chest heaving.  He seemed to be trapped in an eternity of fire and pain until, quite suddenly, the pain lifted like curtains drawn from a stage.  His eyes snapped open.
	His torso was stretching, elongating, unfolding from the cramped and twisted form that it had been in.  He kicked his atrophied legs, beating the bed sheets off of them.  They fell away from legs that were lengthening and stretching, too.  He looked on, astounded, until he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated: longer, bigger, thicker, stronger.  He could feel his body stretching out across the bed, his increasing weight sinking into the cushions, muscles cording themselves around bone and ligaments.  He laughed, and it was a deep, resonant sound.
	"Oh my god, Angelo," Morgan gasped.  "You really go for broke, don't you?"
	Angelo laughed again, opening his eyes.  "You don't know the half of it, you little bitch."  He reached down between his legs and lifted up his prick, which was itself lengthening and thickening, turning into a massive rod of pulsing flesh.  He stroked it idly, and it responded immediately, rising up.  He shifted on the bed onto his knees, and thrust the monstrous thing at Morgan's face.  "Suck it."
	"I don't know if --" Morgan began, but a meaty hand landed on the back of her head and jammed her mouth over the huge dickhead.  Morgan squirmed and protested, to no avail.
	"Don't worry, in just a moment you'll be begging for it," Angelo promised, feeling a prickling sensation spread out across his skin.  He could feel the pores opening up into the night air, and soon the whole room smelled of his musk.  Morgan went from fighting to hungrily sucking as if her life depended on it.
	"That's a good little girl," Angelo sighed, his voice rumbling as his body settled into its new form.  "A good little cocksucker.  My little cocksucker."
	He didn't have her stop until morning came and her belly was taut and round, full of his cum.  "Let's see what's happening outside," he growled, and strode to the door.  Morgan whimpered slightly and  staggered after him.

	Angelo stepped out onto the street with purpose.  The morning sun fell on his bare, tanned skin and his lungs drank deeply of the crisp morning air, with just a hint of the nearby sea.  Morgan followed after, a trace of embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she displayed her firm new body to the world.  Angelo looked to his left and right, nodding with satisfaction.  "This is a new day, Morgan."
	A pair of joggers rounded the corner and were halfway to the two of them before they noticed, and came to a sudden, startled stop.  Angelo turned to face them, smiling with the confidence of a god, and approached without any hurry.  The two women took a single step back, and then his scent overtook them.  Their eyes dilated; their hearts hammered in their chests; they panted with desire.
	"Which one of you ladies would like to ride this first?" Angelo asked casually, gesturing to his massive rod, which was already rising up from where it dangled between his knees.  They both leapt forward at once, elbowing each other back to get ahead.  Angelo laughed, and pointed at the one on the right.  "You'll have to wait.  But you can help me in the mean time.  Would you like that?"  She nodded so emphatically that her head might have fallen off.
	"You, then," he pointed to the other.  "Why are you still dressed?  Fix that, and bend over.  Immediately."
	The woman hurried to comply, peeling off her running shorts and bending over to present him her pert little ass.  He swung a thick hand against it, the resulting smack echoing off the housefronts on either side of the street.  She staggered forward, and he directed the other woman to steady her.
	He hefted up his still half-hard prick and guided it to the dripping pussy presented to him, pressing its wide girth up into her.  She gasped and grunted as he spread her open, panting slightly.  "Keep her still," he directed the first woman, and then added, "Just wait until it's completely hard, bitch.  Then you'll know what it's like to get fucked with a real cock."  With that, he threw his hips forward into her, once, twice, three times, then again and again, rocking the girl forward and back.  She moaned as her pussy was forced wider and wider around his meaty rod, and shortly after was squealing as she ramped up and over into orgasm.
	Her legs gave out; he caught her and lifted her back up against his body, his prick still rooted up inside her.  He began to pump her entire body up and down as he whispered into her ear.  "You've heard about the outbreak, I'm sure.  Now it's your turn to change into your fantasy.  Wouldn't you like that?"  The girl merely whimpered as another orgasm drew her body tight against his.
	"You're a very pretty girl," he told her, "but I must admit I've always preferred blondes.  Wouldn't you like to be a blonde, with hair down to your waist?"  As he suggested it, her close-cropped brown hair lightened and spun down her back.
	"That's very good, but still... something missing, isn't there?" he continued as he bounced her up and down on his prick.  "I mean, you've got no ass or tits to speak of, have you?  You're just a little stick of a thing, and where's the fun in that?  I like girls with nice, big tits, and a big, round ass.  Don't you?"  He grinned as he felt her ass expanding into his pelvis, the soft, cushiony flesh pressing up against his abdomen.
	He shifted his grip on her so that one hand could cup her breasts as they blossomed across her chest.  Soon they filled his hand, then overfilled it, spilling out to either side.  He squeezed, pleased with their firm resilience, and traced a finger up to her lengthening nipple, which was hard and bright red with her arousal.
	"Oh no, that's not nearly big enough, that's still so tiny," he whispered to her, and her breasts continued to spill out, between his fingers and over his hand, until with every thrust up and down her breasts were rolling and bouncing, and he chuckled into her ear.
	"Now where did the other one go?" he asked, and found her kneeling in front of him, eating out her friend's pussy as it plunged up and down on his rock-hard cock.  "Ambitious, that's good."  He lifted the first girl off and all but tossed her to Morgan, who staggered under the girl's exaggerated weight.
	"Now before you bend over," he told the next girl, who had already divested herself of her clothing, "take a good look at your friend, there.  What a pity that she's so plain.  So flat.  Hardly any curves to speak of.  I prefer a much fuller figure in my women.  Can you think bigger than that?"