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The Futa Infection is spreading. Caught in throes of futa-passion with her lovers, Danielle and Jackie, Dr. Sandra Lee wants nothing more than to be transformed into a futa as well! But if she gets what she desires, who will she please first? Her husband and his naughty fantasies? Or Mary, the sexy, innocent nun?
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
“Christ.” Fourteen hours later, she slumped against the side of her locker in the staff room. “That was a hell of a shift.”
Mary nodded. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned her head back against the ratty old couch. “It’s been forever since I’ve had to do a caesarian. But Emily has a healthy baby. And her husband won’t be raising her alone.”
“God,” Sandra groaned. Why had she ever gotten into medicine? Why not something more relaxing, like bomb-disposal or junior-high science teacher? “They don’t pay me enough for this.” She looked down at her scrubs, spattered with flecks of blood. “Damn. I’ve got to clean up.”
Mary colored at her language, but nodded. “Me, too.” Levering herself to her feet, she looked in the mirror and sighed. “It’s amazing how much you want to scratch your nose at a time like that.”
Absently, Sandra walked towards the communal shower, put in for doctors who had to work double – and, at time, triple – shifts, taking off her clothes as she went, leaving Mary to undress alone. The younger woman was lovely, but also oddly shy, considering her profession, where she saw people naked almost every day.
Of course, there’s a difference between delivering a baby and getting naked in the shower.
Sighing, she stood under the hot water, letting it sluice the blood and sweat and worry away. Her eyes closed, she lathered her hair, rinsed, then reached for a bottle of body wash. A quick rinse, and she would be ready to call Todd and tell him she was on her way home. Maybe the girls would still be at their sleepover, and they could finally…
A choked gasp broke her concentration, and she opened her eyes, blinking them to clear them of the stinging suds. Mary was looking at her crotch, an expression of almost comical disbelief on her face.
She swallowed. Oh. Yeah. Whoops.
“Can you tell me when you got a...a schlong?”