Woman with blue hair dances and removes her Christmas lingerie to show off her breasts

Doctor Peterson stared forlornly at the image that filled the screen. The young woman was undoubtedly beautiful. Her blue-dyed hair was a bright contrast against the red of her Santa hat and she appeared to be singing along to a tune he could not hear. Running her manicured fingers up and down her body she stroked her soft skin and traced her curves with her silver nails. In the process she tugged down the cups of her lingerie set to reveal her soft breasts and jiggled them with a gleeful smile.

As attractive as she was, however, her playful beauty was soured by the words in the bottom right of the screen: Mr. Bert Cooke, 54.

Tapping a key on the keyboard he watched as the image shrank back into rows and rows of similar camera feeds. Without looking he knew there were precisely seventy-two feeds and he was all but certain that the number would be seared into his mind for the rest of his life.

If he was truly honest with himself, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. This was a small town and the affected families were looking to him for hope, for some solution to the plight they found themselves in. But this was like nothing he had ever seen and quite frankly he could not even wrap his head around the delivery mechanism for the infection, let alone anything else.

All the families had the same story: as they had been opening gifts on Christmas morning, a family member had opened an unknown parcel. In doing so they had released a cloud of red dust into their faces, which they had inhaled. No more than a minute later and those who had breathed it in had been transformed into giggling young women who had no recollection of either their families nor any events prior to their transformation.

But this alone presented so many questions. How much dust was required to induce transformation? What catalyst would be potent enough to create such a rapid change? Did skin contact factor into the process in any way? Were the transformative compounds different for different genders or ages?

Doctor Peterson would have been the first to admit he was out of his depth. He and his small team of medical staff had done what they could to try and piece together the puzzle but none of their findings seemed to provide them with any meaningful answers. There had been no discrimination between victims that much they knew. Young, old, male, female, rich, poor, every societal bracket had been covered and each victim had been personally targeted with their gifts addressed specifically to them. In his eyes the very range in victims seemed all too calculated, however he had chosen not to let any of his suspicions be known to his staff: if there really was a mastermind behind this, the fewer people who suspected as such the safer they were.

At that moment the doctor heard the door behind him squeak open and turning around he was met with the sight of a beautiful woman.

Classy blonde woman wearing black lace and silk holds red notebook and black fountain pen

Before he had even taken the time to look at her he could sense the air of imperiousness she wore like a cape. Trusses of sleek blonde hair lounged over her shoulders and she was dressed in a fur-trimmed black jacket with golden buttons, a black silk and lace skirt and a pair of towering black heels. He was far from a man of fashion, but even he could tell that her outfit was not a cheap one, an impression only accentuated by the bright pearl bracelets around both wrists, the delicately polished nails she boasted and the stylishly tied leopard-print neck scarf.

She carried with her a red leather notebook and a fountain pen, and for a moment he panicked that she might be a reporter from out of town. But the sheriff had posted several officers around the hospital to keep the victims in and – more importantly perhaps – the family members out, and he was sure they would not have just allowed anybody in. Therefore she must have had credentials. Her dress certainly was not what he would expect of a medical professional, but then he was hardly in a position to turn away any potential aid based on their dress sense.

‘Doctor Peterson, I assume?’ she said with an expression he could not quite read. She seemed almost amused.

‘I am,’ he nodded, ‘please tell me you’re from the CDC?’

‘I am,’ she echoed, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. To assuage any concerns she flashed him her badge. ‘Given the urgency of the situation, doctor, I think we had better get to business straight away. Tell me, are these all of the affected individuals?’ She scoured the screen of camera feeds with bright eyes.

‘All that we know of,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘We’re a small town and the hospital was everybody’s first port of call when things went sideways. It’s possible there are still a few out there but we’re confident we have the majority quarantined and we don’t have the manpower to start raiding every home in town. Folks are already shook up enough as it is.’

‘Fascinating,’ said the woman without tearing her eyes from the screen, ‘the success rate is phenomenal.’

‘Excuse me? If you ask me whoever did this is a sick bastard.’

‘That may be true, but as a medical man surely you have to admit that this event is at least intriguing. Based on the range of subjects there appears to have been no resistance, nor any defects in the compound that would result in decreased or differing symptoms. From a purely objective standpoint it cannot be denied that this compound has been impressively successful.’

‘I suppose,’ frowned the doctor. He didn’t like the way this woman was talking, but then he had never met anybody from the CDC before. He supposed working with extreme cases like this on regular occasions must desensitise them to some degree.

Continuing to analyse the screens, she spread her notepad on his desk and scribbled furiously. ‘Tell me, doctor, have they made an effort to resist their incarceration?’

‘That depends on how you define resist. When we first bought them in they never made a peep. None of them so much as batted an eyelid when we took them from their families, just thought it was all a big joke.’ He paused. ‘Not that they can even remember their families anymore. Once we got them in their rooms, though, they went bloody mental. Kicking, screaming, crying, the works.’

‘They don’t seem perturbed.’

‘Not no more. It’s the damndest thing, I tell you. As you might imagine when everything started we were pretty rushed off our feet. One of our staff was in trying to restrain one of them and he didn’t even realise he was wearing the reindeer antlers he’d had on at home when he got the call. Soon as the girl saw them she settled right down. We tried similar things with the rest of them and it worked straight up. I couldn’t tell you why, but all these poor bastards seem to have a… well I’d call it an addiction, to Christmas.’

‘Fascinating,’ the woman repeated, continuing to scribble in her notebook.

‘I guess it is. Once we figured it out we did our best to keep them satisfied. Play Christmas carols into their rooms, got trees up in all but a few and gave them festive clothes to wear. They only really go for the lingerie, though as you can see that doesn’t tend to stay on for long.’

‘Speaking of which, is this not an unusual means of recording the subjects?’ she tapped the screen with her pen as though to indicate what she meant. Almost all of the women being filmed were stripping or performing for their camera.

‘Subjects?’ Doctor Peterson said, ‘Until a few days ago lady they were innocent people.’ When she didn’t respond he brushed off his indignation and replied. ‘When they had calmed down pretty soon they realised we were watching them. They kept trying to tear the cameras down like they didn’t want to be watched. Turns out it’s the opposite. One of them managed to pull it down and started performing like them online cam-girls… that’s what people tell me anyways,’ he added hurriedly, a flush of embarrassment staining his cheeks. ‘Once we knew they weren’t going to hurt themselves we took the cameras down for all of them. They only stop to eat, drink, sleep and relieve themselves, and even then their hands wander from time to time.’

Still the woman’s gaze was fixed on the screen. Doctor Peterson felt as though he could have just as easily left her a note explaining the situation for how much she was paying attention to him.

‘I didn’t see any quarantine measures in place when I entered.’

The doctor shrugged, though of course she did not see it. ‘We’re a little place, miss, we don’t have much of that fancy stuff. What we had we put up to start with, but lucky for us it doesn’t seem to be contagious.’

All at once she turned to him, her face the picture of excitement. She looked as though she had just been told she had won the lottery. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked urgently.

The unnerving delight in her expression frayed the doctor’s confidence and suddenly he felt very uncomfortable in her presence. ‘As sure as we can be. The lab has done what they can to confirm it and everything correlates to a non-contagious nature. Not to mention the fact that we’ve been in direct contact with these victims collectively hundreds of time over the past few days and not one member of staff has shown any signs of potential infection.’

He had not thought it possible, but her grin grew even wider. ‘Fantastic news. Of course we will have to conduct a few additional tests of our own, but fantastic news nonetheless.’ Taking up her notebook she snapped it shut and along with her pen slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket. In the same motion she produced a thin powder compact.

His stomach churning, Doctor Peterson tried to maintain his composure. ‘You’re not from the CDC are you, miss?’

She laughed and the sound made his blood run cold. ‘God, no. But I have to say your co-operation has been most useful, doctor.’

Sudden rage bubbling up in him he stormed across to her and stood over her with a murderous glare. ‘Then would you explain to me exactly what you are doing here?’ he roared.

Despite his superior size she seemed unconcerned and disinterested in his eruption. ‘Gladly. I represent an organisation of wealthy, privileged individuals far beyond any form of government you understand. I suppose you might say we are a higher authority. We have rather… unique tastes, and we have been working on something recently that is going to make us a great deal of money and provide us with some more physical benefits as well.

‘It took us some time to perfect and we burned through more than a few test subjects to hone the recipe, but fortunately for us there are plenty of people society doesn’t tend to miss if they disappear. As with all new drugs though we needed a larger focus group, a population that could provide us with sufficient ranges in age, gender, race, physical health and cognitive ability. Fortunately for us, your little town fit the bill.

‘Tell me Doctor Peterson, what is the one day of every year where the majority of the population are willing to open a package without first knowing who it is from?’ She did not wait for an answer. ‘It wasn’t difficult really. All we had to do was identify a suitable list of targets from the town’s various databases and wrap up our delivery capsules to look like Christmas gifts. We sent out eighty, so clearly a few went astray or unopened, however for our purposes these subjects are exemplary.

‘I have to say, I am ecstatic with the results. Even we weren’t sure that the compound was non-contagious. For our purposes it is best that it isn’t. Everything else seems to be working perfectly. The imprinted cognitive and physical needs have worked particularly well. In this case we had the subjects crave festive items, but the specifics are interchangeable so the next test batch will have far more… erect things on their mind. The memory wipe appears to have worked too, not to mention that the physical changes are truly remarkable and a testament to the work put in by my organisation.’

As she had spoken, Doctor Peterson had withered on the spot. ‘I… I don’t understand… I called the CDC…’

She shook her head. ‘No, Doctor Peterson, you called us. All emergency calls out of the town have been externally re-routed and intercepted by my organisation. Now that you have completed our observations for us, we will be taking your patients off your hands. As far as the wider world is concerned the victims of these terrible pranks will be moved to a secure institution where they will be kept safe and quarantined as the government works on a cure. Naturally, the truth is they will be sold off, but I think it best we keep that between us, don’t you? Given their Christmas fixation they will be worth a little less than future batches, but they will still serve their purpose well enough and I can assure you they will all find a home who makes good use of them.’

‘No,’ Doctor Peterson growled, suddenly furious, ‘you won’t get away with this.’

She smiled coldly. ‘Oh, Doctor Peterson, we already have. You see that secure institution we are transferring the victims to, the hospital staff will be coming as well. Tragically, due to their lack of quarantine resources they fell prey to this terrible infection, just like their patients. I’m sorry, Doctor Peterson, but it looks like you have contracted it too.’

The doctor’s blood ran cold, but before he could make a move away the woman flipped open her powder compact and blew a thick cloud of red dust into his face.

In less than an hour, the woman who had been Doctor Peterson had her own room in which to perform in front of her own camera. And while she waited for the pretty blonde lady to take her away and find her a big, strong master to serve, she enjoyed exploring her new, horny body…

Naked blonde woman wearing only a Santa hat licks her fingers and then masturbates next to Christmas tree

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