Why me? Why would I be one of the unfortunate ones that contracted the Femvirus? I was happy as a man. Very happy. I don’t want to be a girl. I don’t want to wear skirts or dresses. I don’t want to wear make up or do my hair. I don’t want to shave my legs or sit to pee. It’s just not me.
I’ve been a nurse in the intensive care unit for a decade now, and I thought I had seen everything. People shoot themselves with nail guns, break bones trying to be acrobats, and lose all sorts of objects in their anuses. Of course, there are also the people who are actually sick.
He said his name was Jason, though he could barely get any words out. He was sweating and shaking and coughing. We got him a bed as soon as we could and started to run some diagnostics. It was difficult though because he was thrashing and writhing around like he was on fire. His temperature was through the rough, his heart was beating double time, and his breathing was ragged. I had to get the two male nurses on the floor to hold him down so that we could do a blood draw and run some tests.
While we were waiting for the lab results, I had to see to a couple other patients, but I dropped everything when I heard a shrill scream from down the hall. The odd thing was, it sounded like a women, but there were only men in that end of the hall. Knowing how much Jason was suffering, I popped my head into his room. What I saw completely shocked me.
I could barely recognize the young man I had admitted. He had stripped off the standard hospital gown and lay in the bed completely naked. He was covered in a slick sheen of sweat and looked like he had lost as much as thirty pounds. It almost seemed like his waist was caving in before my very eyes. Wet hair was matted to his face and neck, though I could have sworn he came in with a buzz cut. His heart monitor was beeping at a furious pace, and I could smell vomit in the room. “Jason?” I said.
He turned to look at me, and his face seemed somehow altered. Perhaps his cheeks were sunken to make his cheekbones seem more pronounced. Oddly, despite his obviously awful condition, his face seemed almost radiant – smooth complexion, shining eyes, plump red lips. But then another jolt of pain coursed through his body, and he emitted a shrill scream. A woman’s scream.
That’s when I noticed what had been bothering me most about Jason’s appearance. His penis was gone. As a nurse, you get used to the site of people’s genitals. So I hadn’t been at all shocked by the sight of a vagina between someone’s legs, but this someone had been 100% male when he arrived. Now I understood what was so odd about his appearance; he was getting more and more feminine every moment.
Just then, Jason clutched his – or technically HER – chest. Despite her efforts to restrain them, large breasts were swelling beneath her shrinking hands. Hair continued pouring from her scalp as her hips and butt rounded out. As the changes finally slowed, Jason’s attempts to stop her breasts from growing changed as well. Dainty hands with long nails began groping and rubbing her new tits, and then one hand began snaking down to the pussy which had blossomed between her legs. Jason’s heart was still racing, and she was soon screaming again, but this time they were screams of pleasure. And plenty of other nurses were poking their head in to find out just what was going on.
The lab is still trying to understand the strange compound they found in the young man’s blood. Jason is still under observation, but she prefers to go by Jasmine now. I’ve also had to add a few new reports to her chart: bruises from rolling around on the floor, and irritated skin around the genitals from excessive friction.
I used to get teased a lot for being a male nurse. Sure, it’s a traditionally female job, but there are more and more men in the profession. And why not? For one thing, it pays pretty well, and you get four days off a week. Furthermore, every now and then they need some real muscle in the hospital. It’s also nice that most of your co-workers are female, providing plenty of hook-up options. And once and a while you get to take care of some smoking hot chicks dressed in nothing but a paper gown.
One day, as soon as I showed up to work, I could hear someone moaning. This wasn’t moaning in pain, mind you. This was the husky, desperate cry of a woman experiencing pleasure. I got hard immediately and tracked the sound to a room at the end of the hall. The patient wasn’t assigned to me, but as soon as I saw her, I didn’t care. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and she was furiously shoving three fingers deep into her pussy, bucking her hips wildly on the bed. I quickly entered the room and closed the door behind me. Before I could even introduce myself as her nurse, she was stripping off my hospital scrubs. She bent over the bed, sticking out a perfect bubble butt, and I took her from behind thrusting like mad until we both screamed in pleasure. It was the craziest thing I had ever done at work and the greatest sex I had ever had.
But I should have checked the patient’s chart first. It turns out that the bombshell I couldn’t help but screw had been admitted to the hospital as a man the day before. Some as yet unidentified malady had transformed him into the busty little nymphomaniac who had fucked me silly. And as I was soon to find out, the compound that had transformed her was still active in her fluids when we had sex. Halfway through my shift, I started to feel feverish. Mid-afternoon, I passed out at the nurse’s station. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed myself, dressed in one of those silly paper gowns. Every part of my body hurt. My muscles felt like mush, my bones felt like fire. My skin felt like it was stretched too far. I started screaming in a hoarse, unrecognizable tone. But in the midst of all the pain, there was one agony that loomed at the front of my mind. I was horny.
I reached down to my crotch so that I could rub my cock and maybe achieve some pleasure to alleviate my misery. Instead, my fingers slipped right into a hot, wet slit. A wave of pleasure rose up inside me, and as I began pumping my fingers in and out, it simply grew larger. There was a tingling in my chest as the skin stretched around swelling breasts. When I experimentally stroked a stiff nipple the pleasure crashed over me, wiping away all pain as I cried out in a sexy alto, “Oh fuck YES!” No wonder that patient had been so obsessed with sex in her female body. My first orgasm as a woman was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced, and I had to have more.
Of course, when the details of what I had done came out, I was discharged from my job. Consequently, I no longer had insurance and was promptly discharged from the hospital as well. Having been fired for scandalous behavior and with no proper ID and an intense craving for sex, there seemed to be only one logical option for me to pursue. I still get paid for making people feel all better, but my friends no longer make fun of me for my job. These days, they get downright excited when I dress – or should I say UNDRESS – as a nurse.