"Quarantine Curves: The Fem Virus Chronicles"
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Standing in front of the mirror, I couldn't help but marvel at the curious twist my life had taken. The mirror reflected back a vision of redheaded voluptuousness: my new self, courtesy of the contagious Fem Virus. Legally, my name was still Jason, but my reflection was anything but the old Jason. My reflection was a curvy and stunning redheaded MILF—a variant I never thought I'd qualify for.
Quarantine had been two weeks of adjusting to my new reality (thank you Fem Virus), and now I was itching to embrace the great outdoors again. Fresh air seemed like the only antidote to the cabin fever that had set in.
My buddy, Tom, had promised he'd take me out to the beach once I was freed from quarantine, and sure enough, there he was: punctual and probably as perplexed as I had been at first.
I swung open the door, feeling a strange breeze that seemed to come from places it never had before. There stood Tom, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"Dude, thank god you're here!" I said, my voice a sultrier alto than I was accustomed to. "Are you ready to head out or what?"
Tom blinked and rubbed his eyes like he was trying to wake up from a weird dream. "Jason, is that really you?"
"Well, I got the MILF variant of the Fem Virus," I replied with a smirk. "Front row tickets to the Jason transformation show."
Tom chuckled nervously. "It's... it's really you," he repeated, more to himself than to me. "Let's get to the beach then. You've been cooped up for too long."
We hopped into Tom’s car and headed for the shore. The new bikini I had ordered online felt vaguely annoying, especially the way the bottom constantly wedged itself into places I didn't really want to explore. But hey, I was determined to make the best of it.
We arrived at the beach, and Tom couldn't resist a playful dig. "Ready for a tan, or should I say a lady tan?"
"Just get me on the volleyball court, wise guy," I retorted, trying to wiggle the bikini bottom into a more comfortable position.
Playing volleyball with a body that bounced more than Flubber was quite an experience. Every leap and spike felt like juggling cantaloupes while keeping plates spinning on sticks. Meanwhile, Tom was having a field day at my expense.
"Why'd I wear something that doesn't accommodate bouncing sports?" I muttered after another failed serve.
Tom nearly fell over laughing. "It's like watching a slow-motion scene from Baywatch!"
Despite the teasing and wedgie-issues, we did manage a decent game. Eventually, even I started getting used to it, though not without several humiliating moments of adjusting the bikini.
Later, we lounged under a large beach umbrella, nursing cold drinks and reflecting on our college days.
"I swear, Jason—or should I say Jessica?—college would have been a riot if you'd been a girl back then," Tom said, clinking his drink against mine.
"Oh, imagine the keggers I could have crashed," I joked, raising my glass in agreement. "Actually, college would have been a minefield. I barely survived it as a guy."
"You were a disaster," Tom confirmed with a laugh. "You know, I think this might just suit you better."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, though the laughter hadn’t left my voice. "These boobs have veto power."
We reminisced, laughed, and drank like old times—only this time, I had a lot more curves involved in the fun. By sundown, it felt like the Fem Virus, quarantine, and bizarre new body were simply part of this never-ending comedy that was my life.
As the day ended, Tom and I stood at the shoreline, the waves lapping at our toes. "Welcome back to the world, Jessica," he said, wrapping an arm around my beach-bemoaned shoulders.
"Thanks, Tom," I replied, genuinely touched. "But seriously, quit calling me Jessica. It's still Jason, even if I do fill out a bikini a little too well now."
He laughed, but nodded. "Alright, Jason. Here's to whatever comes next."
And in that weird, uncanny moment, life felt oddly normal again. At least, as normal as it could be for a newly-minted MILF like me.
This story was generated by user zach3 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write a story with dialogue where The Fem Virus was very contagious and only affected men. It would change their genders and make them women. When my friend caught it he had to stay in quarantine for two weeks. Finally I was able to visit him, he sis’s he wanted to head to the beach for some fresh air. So I went up to his front door and knocked on it. When the door swung open a saw a Busty and Curvy redheaded MILF in a sexy looking bikini strut over and look at me with a smile. “Dude thank god you’re here, are you ready to head out or what.” The MILF says to me. I was confused at first but I found out that the MILF in front of me was my best friend who had gotten the MILF variant of the Fem Virus. At the beach my friend and I played some beach volleyball of course my friend struggle with the bounce of his new tits and ass but soon began to catch on but kept having to pick his bikini bottoms from his crack. We had a few drinks and reminisced on our old college days laughing about much more fun they'd be if he was a girl back then as well Write the story from the friend who caught the virus perspective.
Response: Standing in front of the mirror, I couldn't help but marvel at the curious twist my life had taken. The mirror reflected back a vision of redheaded voluptuousness: my new self, courtesy of the contagious Fem Virus. Legally, my name was still Jason, but my reflection was anything but the old Jason. My reflection was a curvy and stunning redheaded MILF—a variant I never thought I'd qualify for. Quarantine had been two weeks of adjusting to my new reality (thank you Fem Virus), and now I was itching to embrace the great outdoors again. Fresh air seemed like the only antidote to the cabin fever that had set in. My buddy, Tom, had promised he'd take me out to the beach once I was freed from quarantine, and sure enough, there he was: punctual and probably as perplexed as I had been at first. I swung open the door, feeling a strange breeze that seemed to come from places it never had before. There stood Tom, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "Dude, thank god you're here!" I said, my voice a sultrier alto than I was accustomed to. "Are you ready to head out or what?" Tom blinked and rubbed his eyes like he was trying to wake up from a weird dream. "Jason, is that really you?" "Well, I got the MILF variant of the Fem Virus," I replied with a smirk. "Front row tickets to the Jason transformation show." Tom chuckled nervously. "It's... it's really you," he repeated, more to himself than to me. "Let's get to the beach then. You've been cooped up for too long." We hopped into Tom’s car and headed for the shore. The new bikini I had ordered online felt vaguely annoying, especially the way the bottom constantly wedged itself into places I didn't really want to explore. But hey, I was determined to make the best of it. We arrived at the beach, and Tom couldn't resist a playful dig. "Ready for a tan, or should I say a lady tan?" "Just get me on the volleyball court, wise guy," I retorted, trying to wiggle the bikini bottom into a more comfortable position. Playing volleyball with a body that bounced more than Flubber was quite an experience. Every leap and spike felt like juggling cantaloupes while keeping plates spinning on sticks. Meanwhile, Tom was having a field day at my expense. "Why'd I wear something that doesn't accommodate bouncing sports?" I muttered after another failed serve. Tom nearly fell over laughing. "It's like watching a slow-motion scene from Baywatch!" Despite the teasing and wedgie-issues, we did manage a decent game. Eventually, even I started getting used to it, though not without several humiliating moments of adjusting the bikini. Later, we lounged under a large beach umbrella, nursing cold drinks and reflecting on our college days. "I swear, Jason—or should I say Jessica?—college would have been a riot if you'd been a girl back then," Tom said, clinking his drink against mine. "Oh, imagine the keggers I could have crashed," I joked, raising my glass in agreement. "Actually, college would have been a minefield. I barely survived it as a guy." "You were a disaster," Tom confirmed with a laugh. "You know, I think this might just suit you better." "Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, though the laughter hadn’t left my voice. "These boobs have veto power." We reminisced, laughed, and drank like old times—only this time, I had a lot more curves involved in the fun. By sundown, it felt like the Fem Virus, quarantine, and bizarre new body were simply part of this never-ending comedy that was my life. As the day ended, Tom and I stood at the shoreline, the waves lapping at our toes. "Welcome back to the world, Jessica," he said, wrapping an arm around my beach-bemoaned shoulders. "Thanks, Tom," I replied, genuinely touched. "But seriously, quit calling me Jessica. It's still Jason, even if I do fill out a bikini a little too well now." He laughed, but nodded. "Alright, Jason. Here's to whatever comes next." And in that weird, uncanny moment, life felt oddly normal again. At least, as normal as it could be for a newly-minted MILF like me.
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