Arapocolypse (Part V)

I ask her when she succumbed to the disease, and how she might have gotten it. She paused, looked down at herself, groped her soft flesh, and stood there; eventually muttering something. I asked her to speak up, and she said she didn't notice what happened to her. She claims that she felt ill, passed out, and woke up when I screamed.

She begins to examine herself again, and I have to remind her about my leg. She nods and gets on her knees to look at it. She mentions that she'll have to take my pants off, which was something I was dreading, and I am reluctant to admit, hoping for.
My leg looks like it's on backwards, and is covered in scratches and blood. We both wince at the sight of it, and she takes out a tub of  some sort of ointment she has (presumably some sort of antiseptic or mosquito repellent,) dips her hand in it, and rubs it on my busted leg; it burns like sulphuric acid made of bees that are made out of fire. She holds the tub up and squints, and notes that it should stop infections and/or parasites.

She looks down at me again, and notices something that I was practically praying that we could avoid. My erection, disappointingly average in size, was harder than it's ever been and in plain view. She blankly examined it, smiling, enjoying what she sees. She looks me dead in the eyes with a hungry, disquieting grin.