So here is the first part of Brian's Story, a two part short story I felt like writing.  Part 1 is mostly for establishing the character and setting, so not much sexy time there.  Part two will have more erotica and weirdness, but it may be a little while what with my schedule.

My name is Brian. It’s been three days now.  Three days since I’ve left my apartment, and four days since I’ve done anything other than mope and sleep.  Sometimes I would watch some television to break up the tedium, but it’s just not doing it for me anymore.  I have to do something, but I don’t know if I have the strength, the will to face the shame that has been visited upon me, let alone show my face to my friends and family.

It happened exactly five days ago.  A couple of friends and I were hanging out at the local pub, nothing too special, and it wasn’t like it was in a seedy part of town so I wasn’t really expecting anything to happen.  Foolish, so foolish.

We were on our fifth round, and we were getting pretty rowdy, and from the stares we were getting we could tell it was about time for us to leave before we were forced to leave.  My buddy Anthony called a taxi to come pick us up, but it would still be a couple of minutes before it arrived.  The rest is still hazy, but from what I can remember I started talking to this pretty little blond across the way.  I don’t know what I said to her, but I definitely remember her slapping me, then kissing me deeply.  I am almost positive that’s where things went wrong, because I could not say where else this affliction could have come from but her.  She was probably a ‘spitter’, spreading it to others via putting sexual fluid in her saliva.

That would explain how, the morning after, I developed Genital Limb Disease.

At first, I thought, nay, hoped it might have been genderitis.  I woke up, still not quite finished with my hangover when I heard a woman yawn next to me.  Puzzled, I looked to my side for any sign of her, but there was no one.  Ignoring it, I sat up, only to feel a strange sensation on my chest.  It felt like someone was gently pulling on me, so I looked down, only to see two pert little breasts on my decidedly feminine body.  The girl screamed again, only this time I knew it was me.  I panicked, rushing from the bed and into the bathroom to check myself against the mirror in there.  All these thoughts raced through my mind, like “How am I going tell everyone?”, “Why did this happen”.  But, that was all cut short when I saw my reflection in the mirror.  This definitely was not genderitis.  The face that stared back at me was not the one I had grown up with.  It was smaller, my features much softer, cuter.  My hair had turned from unruly brown to almost perfectly straight light-blonde.  My eyes were a piercing shade pf blue, and I now had a cute button nose.  And I had no lips.  Or, I did, but they weren’t the lips to a mouth.  I had a tight little vagina situated right below my nose and extended down to my chin.  My new clit was so close it rubbed the bridge of skin between my nostrils. 

The rest of my body had received similar changes, but none as shocking as the new pussy that graced my face.  My new form was much shorter, perhaps 5’7” at best.  I was petite, my new female body lithe and graceful, and my small breasts and creamy skin only helped to accentuate that fact.  This was marred only by a now much larger penis that grew out from between my girly thighs.  One of the symptoms of GLD was that a male would retain his genitalia, albeit sometimes modified.  Mine was no exception.  I was a modest five before, but now my junk jutted out from my crotch like a snake, at least twice the size it used to be, and my balls felt heavier too. 

A loud, “Nooooo!” came from the bed as I screamed, slapping and pinching myself as I tried to wake up from this nightmare my life had so suddenly become.  It was no use of course.  This was now my reality, and there was nothing I could do about it.  Except cry, maybe. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the sobbing continued on the bed.  Distraught, but curious, I went back to my bedroom to check again if someone was there.  I was hoping that bitch who had done this to me was there so I could wring her rotten neck.  However, as soon as I ripped the covers off of my bed I was racked with pain.  I was like someone had kicked me right in the dick, but I knew no such thing had happened.  From the opposite side of the room I heard the voice say, “Fuck!”.  I turned my attention there, and was surprised to see a cock lying on the ground.  I wiped the tears away from my eyes and approached it with caution.  “Hello?” I said, but the voice came from the cock’s location.  Fearing the worst, I picked it up.  It had no testicles and it was warm.  I turned it around, and found that at the base of the cock were a pair of lips.  “What the fu-!” the lips moved in time wi-

No.  My lips moved in time with my words.  These were mine.  This cock was mine.  I knew where it was supposed to go, but I couldn’t do it.  The thought of shoving it back into the pussy on my face sickened me.  I chucked it back onto the bed, and began to cry again, ignoring the distant wails.

-----------------

I must have passed out at some point in time, because all I remember was bawling like a child, and then it was night again.  I got up on shaking legs, my body still naked after checking the terrible changes that had happened to it.  My eyes were still very sore and puffy, but I was done with crying.  Now I had to figure out what I was going to do. 

I thought about calling the hospital, or the police, someone to help me get my new life in order, but the thought of even picking up the phone paralyzed me with anxiety.  I wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be.  Which was all and well, because I wanted to be as calm and collected as possible before I confronted anyone about my condition.

Speaking of, I looked at the bed, and what lay there on the covers.  With no small amount of apprehension I approached it and picked it up, and noticed how good my new soft hands felt against my detached cockflesh.  With an air of detachment I studied six inch penis that also held my mouth. 

Though it was average size, it was quite thick, and I could barely touch my thumb to my index finger when wrapped around my cock, although my hands were smaller too.  I worried if it would even fit in the cunt on my face, but I wasn’t going to be trying that soon anyways.  I then flipped it around to get a better look at my mouth and its very odd position.  On the base of my dick, blended perfectly with the flesh were a pair of pink, soft, and fairly plump lips.  I opened my mouth wide and saw that I still had all of my teeth, a tongue and even a uvula.  I had no idea how my mouth could exist like that on my cock, but then again science in general knew very little about the disease. I idly ran a finger over them and marveled at how they felt.  “God this is fucked up,” my detached lips said, “Watching my own mouth talk in my hand, dammit!”

I just about threw it again, but knew better and set it on the bed.  Instead of getting angry, I tried to think about the positives, of which I soon realized there were few.  “I suppose I should be grateful.  At least I am still in ‘mostly’ one piece” I said aloud, trying my hardest to convince myself, “Could be much worse.  Could’ve ended up like that woman in Toronto whose body locked her up while it escaped.  Or that dude in Hermosa Beach, had all of her limbs, even her boobs turn into cock pieces except for her neck.  Poor girl can’t even put herself together. “ 

“Yeah.  Yeah, this could have been a lot worse. “I said, “But, how I am supposed to hide this shit?  I’ll have to wear a surgical mask, or a bandana like I’m some freaking train robber.”

I clenched my fist tightly, but managed to control myself.  Yeah, things were going to be tough.  There was a government mandated policy about having to keep afflicted workers as long as they adhered to the prevention codes, so work wasn’t going to be an issue.  I was a programmer anyways, so my face wasn’t technically a problem (although it would forever be…).  It would be an issue literally everywhere else though.  Getting a girlfriend was out of the equation, unless she was post change or wanted to be.  There were definitely women (and men) out there who wanted that.  Going out in public would be terrible at the least, and extremely stressful at best.  Just because I covered up my change with a mask wouldn’t mean people wouldn’t profile me.  I would get treated differently.  Dining out was also a big no.  No way would they let me plop my cock down on the table so I could eat.

It was at that moment another terrifying truth reared its head at me.  I hadn’t eaten in almost a day, and my stomach agreed for it started howling and gnawing at my gut.  I really didn’t want to eat though, for obvious reasons.  But if I didn’t, my condition was only going to deteriorate.   So I pulled on some sweats and a t-shirt that had been way too tight for me, but now barely fit, picked up my dick/lips and went to the kitchen.
There was no way in hell I was going to stick my penis in me.  I was a man after all!  Instead, I placed my penis on top of a tissue box and placed it on my small dining room table.  I really didn’t feel like cooking, so I grabbed a cup of Greek yogurt from the fridge, figured something easy to eat would be the best idea for my first time eating like this.

I placed a spoonful in front of my lips, which opened wide and licked the yogurt off the spoon.  The sight of those pouty feminine lips licking the spoon like that, even if they were mine, sent an erotic shiver up my spine.  I shook my head, clearing up such disgusting thoughts.  Besides, something was wrong, for I felt the yogurt go into my mouth, and even swallowed it, but it didn’t feel like any of it went into my stomach.  I thought it might just have been that my stomach was so hungry I couldn’t tell, so I went and got an apple from the fridge and fed that to my mouth as well, with little issue.  Except, I was still hungry.

I was also becoming very horny for no readily apparent reason.  I also felt something ‘churning’ in my detached dong, but I figured that maybe meant I was digesting the food.  I turned away for several minutes as I threw a frozen burrito into the microwave, but when I turned around I nearly dropped it on the floor.  There was growth underneath my lips.

I set down the plate, careful not to drop it.  As I got closer, the shape became more obvious, more familiar.  They were a pair of large testicles, resting right beneath my lower lip, even pushing on it a little as a matter of fact.  They were bigger than I remembered, bigger than golf balls.  I touched one, then quickly retracted my hand when I realized they were very much real.  My mouth let out a sad wail as I gazed upon my new balls. 

“Maybe, it’s, like a delayed reaction?”  This time I picked them up and felt their heft in my hand, then set my cock back on the table.  “Well shit, there’s no way I’ll be able to hide that under a mask!”

I probably would have complained longer, but I was still hungry.  Accepting it as just another nail in my coffin, I fed my mouth the burrito, careful not to let it touch my testicles.  As I chewed, I had the strange sensation of my lips brushing against the weighty sack, something that bothered me immensely.   What was also bothering me was the raging erection my detach penis now sported, along with the massive tent in my pants.  I could smell my pussy too, dousing me with pheromones as its fluid coursed down my chin.  I wiped it away with my shirtsleeve, not eager to begin anything even though my body said otherwise.

I managed to finish the food, although I was certain I would need to take one very cold shower now.  Or I would have, but I was still so damn hungry!  I shot a dirty look at all my trouble, the penis on the table, and gasped at what I saw.  My testicles were swelling up, growing larger.  In mere seconds they had grown to the size of oranges.  “What the hell!  Stop!”

And they did, but I had a feeling as to why they had grown.

Wishing so very much I was wrong, I grabbed a banana and fed it to myself.  Once more a wave of need washed over me, and seconds after my balls grew again. 

It was the food.  The food was staying in my cock.  And though it disgusted me, something inside me knew how this had to end.  I didn’t want to do it, but it was that or starve to death, and I wasn’t ready to die, even if my life was over.

Not without some small part of apprehension I lifted up my now heavy dick, which was quite erect and throbbing with need and pressed it gently against my pussy lips.  I was so wet that I almost shoved it all in at once, but I was able to take it slow with concentration.  It felt far better than I had imagined, and it wasn’t painful, but it was still an insult to me.  That I would have to feed myself by fucking my face only made me want to finish the deed sooner.  I began to pump into my tight cunt, the muscles in pussy and my throat milking my shaft with more enthusiasm than I care to admit.  It did feel good though, and the dual sensations of giving and receiving made my head go numb with pleasure.  It was like the best blowjob I had ever had, and then some. 

It didn’t take long either.  In little more than a minute I felt the tingle at the base of my cock, and then I came, squirting my hot nutrient rich seed down my throat.  I thought I would gag, but I couldn’t taste anything going in (thank god!).  There was a lot of it though, and as I came I finally started to become full.  When I had recovered and my dick had stopped spurting I removed it from my face with a wet ‘slurp’.  I placed it in the sink and washed it off, taking notice that my testicles were once again gone.  I cleaned my pussy as well, wiping away the excess cum that drooled out of it. 

Immediately after I felt the intense burn of shame, like I had just masturbated after being told how evil it was.  My stomach twisted into a knot, and I surely would have thrown up had I even been able too.  My mouth made retching noises in the sink and I had to give it credit for trying. 
This was just all so wrong!  I was supposed to have a normal life!  I wasn’t supposed to end up like this, having to blow myself for a goddamn meal.  I had dreams, aspirations, and now they were all fucking dead because of this disease.  I looked down at the cock in the sink, and the mere sight of it filled me with impotent rage.

That’s when I started breaking things.

---------------------------------

That was three days ago, and I am still stuck here, a prisoner in my own home.  I have several voicemails and texts from friends, family, and work, all of them unanswered.  Several of my friends even came by to see if I was in the apartment, but thankfully they left when I didn’t answer.

I know I’ll have to face them sooner rather than later.  If they don’t call the cops to find me, my work will.  I am at this moment torn between just going out myself, of my own free will.  Or, just waiting as long as I can until the manager has to come and unlock the door for emergency services.  At least the second one would buy me more time. 

I really hoped for the latter, because the apartment was a mess.  I had broken most of my dishes and one of the chairs, tore picture and paintings from the walls, and broke my laptop, which lay in several pieces on the kitchen table.  I felt a little better afterwards, but I knew constantly venting my rage wasn’t a permanent solution.  I managed to pick up most of the debris, careful not to step on anything sharp, but the rest of it I just tossed into a corner. 

Currently I am sitting on the small couch in the middle of my apartment, sitting in an oversized robe with my detached cock in the left pocket, watching the news.  I had mustered up enough courage to take a shower, thankfully with little issue.  My smart phone rested on the arm of the couch, its notification light blinking.  From my position, I could also see the door that led into the apartment, the safety bolt securely in place. 

I had just ‘eaten’, something I was growing more accustomed to but still not quite comfortable.  I made sure to wash myself very thoroughly after every meal, for the idea of some cum sticking to me made me nauseas.  I was flicking through the channels, not really looking for anything when my phone rang again.  Anthony’s face, an average looking Irish man with a red goatee, popped up on my screen.  I ignored it.  The phone rang for a little, then it went to voicemail.  I breathed a sigh of relief at once more delaying the inevitable.

Then I heard his voice from the other side of the door.  He shouted, “Brian, I know you’re in there!  I saw your mobile profile on Steam!”  He banged hard on the door as he said this.  “If you don’t open this door, I am going to kick this fucker in!”  I didn’t doubt him either.  Anthony was a nice guy, my best friend even, but I had also seen him pick up a full grown man at a bar and chuck him clean across the room.  A door was not going to be an issue.

I rushed to door, my heart pounding in my chest.  I braced my back against the wooden frame, my mind going blank as I struggled for the right words.  He banged on the door again, which only made it that much harder to think.  “I’m gonna count to three!”

Fuck!

“One!” I fumbled desperately with the lock, making sure it was as tight as possible.  “Two!”  Dammit, he was really going to do it!  “Thr-!”

“Shit, all right!” I jumped, surprised at my own voice. “Just, don’t break the door please.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?” he yelled back.

“Just gimme a minute, and I’ll open the door!”

“One minute Brian!”

I rushed back to my room, and ripped a scarf out of my dresser.  Wrapping it quickly around my face, I tightened up the robe as best I could before I reached the door.  It took me several tries to unlatch the door because my hands were shaking so badly.  I unlocked the door next, and my rose in my throat as the knob turned.  I backed up slowly as the door opened and in walked Anthony, and someone else.  That person was coincidentally, literally the last person I had wanted to see.  Anthony stepped in as his girlfriend, Mary flowed behind him.  Anthony was a redheaded, tall, thick and barrel chested.  By contrast, Mary was dark haired, skinny, curvy, and had a rack that could and had pop buttons off of shirts.

She was the last person I wanted to see because I was now the one person she wanted to meet.  She had always been very curious about GLD, and had even confided in our group of friends that she had some desire to get infected.  Anthony passed it off as an effect of the alcohol, but I knew better.  And now she was here, and I had to keep my guard up.

When they first laid eyes on me, in my smaller and feminine form, two things happened.  First, there was a look of understanding from the two, and second Anthony gently placed his hand on my shoulder before he shoved me into a chair.

“Alright,” he said in a calm tone, “Tell me what happened, I won’t judge.”  Mary stood behind him, but I couldn’t get a read on her.

At first I couldn’t say a thing.  The words caught in my mouth.  I was both terrified at being found out, and at the same time I was so glad that I could finally get all of this hiding over with.  That my best friend was here too made things a little easier.  That being said, the tears started flowing about halfway through my tale.  Mary was kind enough to hand me some tissues.  Neither of them said a word, waiting patiently for my story to end. 

It was only after I had collected myself and wiped away the tears that they spoke.  Anthony was first.  “I won’t say I understand what you’re going through.  No way I could.  But I do understand you not wanting to tell us.  Still kind of hurts though.”  He patted my back reassuringly.  “But, we need to do something about this.  I am going to call the hospital so we can get you evaluated and registered.  Is that ok?”  I nodded in silence.  “Alright.  I am going to go call them now.”  He went into the kitchen as he dialed the number, leaving me alone with his girlfriend.

She sat next to me, which caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on edge.  She tuned to me and asked, “So, how does it feel?” 

“Terrible…”

“You’re lying.  I bet it felt great.”  She looked me up and down, undressing me with her eyes.  Her hand reached up for the scarf, but I swatted it away.  “C’mon,” she pleaded, “Just let me see, please!”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s when she jumped me.  She landed on my lap, grabbing desperately at the scarf as I struggle to push her off.  However, given my small stature, my muscles were much weaker too, allowing her to easily dominate me.  So I screamed for Anthony instead. 

He came running back in, yelling at her to stop, which she didn’t.  I the end, he had to rip her off of me by force.  “What the hell were you thinking?!” he all but screamed, “How could do that to him, in his state?!”

“I just-“

“Not right now!  Just-go somewhere else for now, I can’t even talk to you.”

They’re relationship had not been so solid last I checked, and the signs were visible.  Mary shot him a glance as she went to the guest bathroom and closed the door.

“You okay man,” he said, his face red with embarrassment at what his girlfriend had done.  I replied, but couldn’t hear myself.  Panicking, I reached into my pocket, only to find my mouth was missing.  I mimed the same to him, and the to the bathroom door.  “Hurry,” I screamed form inside the bathroom, “I can feel her-mmfff!” I was cut off as she squeezed my mouth shut.  Then another sensation, one I knew all too well.  I felt a warmth, then a resistance.  She was fucking her with my missing penis!

Anthony and I rushed to the bathroom door, only to find it was locked.  “Open up Mary!  Please don’t do this!”  He banged on the door as I yanked futilely on the door handle. 

“No Anthony, I want this!  And you can’t stop me!”  She was right too.  I was holding back with every ounce of my will, but I knew I was about to cum.  I fought it, but her ministrations were too much and I soon came inside her.  “Yesss!  I did it!  Ah, I can feel it working already.  So fast!”

“Stand back!” he yelled.  I moved out of the way just in time, as his foot met the door, shattering the wood and knocking the hinges loose.  He lifted it up and tossed it on the floor, and was greeted with the site of his naked girlfriend, post orgasm, lying on the floor with my dick stuck up her cum dribbling twat.  He moved as though to pick her up, but I stood in front of him.  With my mouth free, I spoke, “Don’t go near Anthony.  She fucking crazy.  Besides, if you get any of that ‘stuff’ on you, you’ll change too.”  The pained expression in his face told me all I needed to know. He didn’t want this for her.  He couldn’t date her anymore either, unless he wanted to get infected too.

“But I-“ he stammered.

“No, let me help you now.  I can’t get infected again, so I’ll handle her.  You go grab something to tie her up with so she can’t cause any more harm.”

He nodded slowly.  “I want you to know, I don’t blame you,” he said, crestfallen. “I shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“It’s fine.  You couldn’t have known.  Now hurry, before she comes to her senses.”

I watched her while he left.  She was still lying on the floor, enjoy the afterglow of cumming.  I was able to remove my mouth from her slick hole, cum oozing out as I did so.  I had just placed it back in my pocket as Anthony returned with a box of zip ties.  As fast as I could I bound her feet, then sat on top of her so I could bind her hands as well.  She resisted, but I was quicker than her and in seconds she was fully restrained.  Then I told Anthony to call the hospital once more, letting them know there would be one more victim.  I also told him not to come back.  He wouldn’t want to see what was going to become of his girlfriend.

He understood, and went into the hall to place the call.  I got off of Mary and sat away from her just outside the bathroom.  The changes were happening fast, and she began to moan in pleasure as her body began to split apart.  I watched on in fascinated horror as she fell apart before my very eyes.

Her breasts were the first to go.  A natural G-cup, her breasts were heavy on her slender frame.  They fell off to either side of her body, her chest flat save for a girthy cock and balls where each breast had been.  Likewise, her breasts had grown large vaginas on the back of them, their purpose obvious.  Her hands and feet then split apart.  The skin where her wrists and ankles met the rest of her body puffed up, then raised out in a near perfect circle.  Then her hands and feet simply slipped off her body.  On the end of each abbreviated arm and leg was a new cunt, and likewise her hands and feet had grown a dick where they ended.  Her head was last, and that was probably the worst, to me at least.  Her neck began to lengthen, like she was a giraffe.  When her neck was nearly two feet long, it sort of ‘pinched’ in the middle.  Her head fell off, but I was able to catch it and lay her on the floor safely.  The two equal lengths of neck changed then, becoming more defined until it was obvious that she now had a dick both under her head and between her shoulders.  They even had testicles too, proportional to their size. 

Mary looked up at me and said, “Amazing.  Do I like beautiful Brian?”

“Nope.”
-------------------------------------

I placed her hands, feet and breasts in a plastic bag and set them near her body.  I wrapped her head and neck in a towel for privacy’s sake, and took off the ties too.  She wouldn’t be going anywhere soon in her condition.

The ambulance and police arrived shortly after that.  I was questioned and interrogated, but with Anthony’s testimony it was all over quickly.  I was rushed away in the ambulance as Mary was taken away to separate facility to test her mental health first. 

It wasn’t as bad as I ah imagined, getting my life back that is.  The people at the hospital were very courteous to me, and once it was declared that I wasn’t dangerous to the general public, I got registered and had the required therapy and ‘physical rehabilitation’ laid out for me.  I would have to attend for a month, with the sessions helping me adjust to my new body, and once that was over there would be talks about getting my old job back or finding new employment. 

Even telling my friends and family went fairly smoothly.  Of course, my parents were distraught, at first.  However, we were able to console, and things are more or less back to normal for us.  My mother even helped me pick out some new clothes.  My friends were even easier and their support helped restore my confidence in myself, in a way that no therapy ever could.  Anthony got over Mary pretty quickly too, which was for the best because she’s still receiving treatment after having been assessed as a ‘infectious’ individual, meaning she was likely to spread the disease of her own will.

All in all, things are looking up. I decided to keep my original name, something the hospital therapist said might detriment my recovery, but I still think of myself as a man.  I still have issues about my body, and I try to go out in public as little as possible, but I am no longer bound to the fear that had so gripped.  In fact, the only way my life has really changed is I can’t eat at restaurants anymore.  That’s okay though.  I am taking cooking classes instead.  And therapy starts next week, so things are looking up.

End Part 1.