Angie yelped, feeling a sting to the back of her neck. A hand jerked to slap the insect her instincts told her must be there. There was a drop or two of blood smudged against her palm when she brought it back round.

The sting-point tingled.

“What is a virus?” a voice asked behind her. Angie’s head whipped around in turn, seeing a man there, smirking, tucking a small syringe away into a leatherette case.

The tingle spread; her neck was ticklish, heat rumbled slowly up and down her spine.

“To us, it’s an infection,” he said. Angie thought how attracted to him she was. That was new, she was pretty sure. The back of her head was starting to tingle. “But that’s millions, billions even, of that virus all active. What about individuals?”

Angie blinked, startled into it by blonde ringlets at the edges of her line of sight. Her hair was changing.

“An individual virus is so simple scientists don’t even call it life.” These were all sounds, and some part of A found them familiar. She noticed more the tingle in her chest; her big, firm, ripe breasts. Her jiggling ass. Longer legs made the man seem shorter. Her jeans ripped at the seams, peeled away.

“It has two goals,” he said. “Exist, and reproduce.” A moaned eagerly, and turned so the man could help her do just that.