Virus                           by: Destiny

 

Part 4

As they left the door of the complex on the way to the staff car that was waiting for them, Sam felt Greg's arms around his small waist. He had time to think what the hell is he doing, before he was flung to the ground as a gun shot rang out and a bullet missed them by inches. Who was shooting at them?

The armed guards of the complex leapt forwards spraying the area where the shots had come from with machine gun fire. Sam lay on the ground breathing heavily, only partly in shock. The other reason for Sam's panting was that Greg had pulled Sam under him to protect Sam from the sniper. As they lay on the ground with Greg's weight on top of his new breasts the hormones in his sensual female body went into overdrive. He was almost disappointed when the guards ran off after the unknown sniper, and Greg pulled him to his feet. Damn, thought Sam, I've got to get a hold of myself. "Are you ok." Greg's voice broke into his thoughts. "We have to go quickly, that was too close for comfort."

"You have no idea." Was the only reply Sam could come up with. The journey to the airport was both uneventful and swift. When they finally arrived there was an escort waiting to take them to the new British Aerospace VTOL jet which was to take them both to Zurich. After they had taken their seats on the jet Sam was able to relax, after the ambush at the complex he had been expecting an attack at any time. He began to think about the changes that had overtaken him, in less than one day he had transformed from a tall handsome man into a woman with the look of a porn actress, his new body had long blonde hair, DD breasts and legs to die for. On top of all of that his new body had raging hormones and he was having very mixed towards his friend. Damn, he thought, just what the hell is happening to me I'm not a woman I cant be feeling like this. Sam lay back in his seat as the powerful jet smoothly lifted of the ground for the short trip, and almost on the point of tears, prayed that something could be done. As the jet carrying Sam and Greg to Switzerland began it's journey the woman who was once an Iraqi soldier called Abdul smiled nastily. She had just finished her interrogation on one of the guards who had chased her from the roof of the complex. She had not killed him but no-one else would gain any information from the shattered husk of a body, his mind had been emptied by powerful hypnotic drugs. Just for good measure he was infected with the most contagious form of the virus she had been sent to spread. She turned away from the living corpse that was her victim and considered her next move. Once she had gone by the name of Abdul, but now she had decided that the name no longer suited her new exotic form, indeed anyone looking at her would never have thought that this stunning arabian princess was once a man. She had chosen to take the name of the woman who had feminised her, Natasha. It had seemed right that since she had taken Abdul's manhood that her creation should take her name, and later her life. This new Natasha considered he position, she had been sent into the world (along with other agents) to spread the virus upon the world that had left her country a smouldering nuclear wasteland. Like the others she had been given the name of a man that she was to kill, that man was Dr Greg Banks. Now he had fled the country bound for Switzerland. She decided to follow him, after all she had used all the supplies of the virus that she had been given. Yes, she thought, Greg Banks you cannot escape me.

Greg examined himself in the mirror of his hotel suite, he was sure that although his chest felt tender his basic body shape remained the same. He decided that if he was infected it wasn't the same strain that had infected Sam. Once he had completed his self examination he dressed in the suit provided and went to look for his friend. Sam was also checking himself in the mirror. It was really the first time that he had had time to look closely at himself since his change. As he looked at his reflection he still could not believe what he saw. The reflection that stared back at him was that of a beautiful young woman with well developed breasts. Still, he thought to himself, this isn't helping me, at the moment Greg is my only hope and I'd better go and see him. Sam walked across his suite, towards the huge closet, he still couldn't get over how his hips swayed from side-to-side and how sexy it must look. He opened the door of the closet and started to pick out some clothes, all provided courtesy of the British government. First he chose a plain pair of white panties and slid them up his legs, then he looked at the selection of bras available. After some internal debate he settled on sports bra which would keep his chest from bouncing around, next he pulled a pair of pantyhose on over his smooth legs, he wondered whether his legs would be naturally hairless. He then took a plain T-shirt and finished it off with a respectable trouser suit, he was damned if he was going to were a skirt if could help it. He slipped on a pair of flat sensible boots and walked through the connecting door to Greg's room.

Sam looked at the note and photograph that Greg had left him. He was to visit some addresses, show the photograph around and to take care of himself, Greg would meet him at the hotel in a couple of hours. Sam looked the photo, it was of a middle aged man with balding brown hair, utterly unremarkable. He was still fuming as he got into the staff car and ordered the driver to go to the first address on the list. He was even more angry when what he meant to be a firm commanding tone came out as a sweet soprano plea, the drivers reply of "Yes miss" did nothing to help matters.

Three hours later Sam was still furious when he returned to the hotel. He felt as though he had wasted the entire evening, all he had done was trail round various electronic and medical labs where no-one had recognised the man in the photograph. The fact that everyone insisted on calling him "Miss" or "Girl" had done nothing to ease his temper, and his damn hair always seemed to end up in his face. He opened the door to his room to see the man from the photograph standing there holding a pistol with a silencer. As he stood there staring the man pointed his gun at him and fired. He felt the bullet whizz by his ear and his only thought was; why can't I meet someone nice, or at least someone who can shoot straight? Then his already strained nerves gave way and he fainted.

 

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