She took an extended leave from her job at the end of the school year and all seemed well and good. Though her pregnancy was difficult, with much morning sickness and discomfort, her doctor assured us that she and the baby were both perfectly healthy.

But it was not to be. Seven months into the pregnancy Kate had to be rushed to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. She miscarried in the night, losing a lot a blood in the process. Her doctor warned me there was a chance she might not pull through. I was scared to death of losing her. We all prayed for her recovery and in a matter of days her vital signs stabilized. She was out of danger.

We were both devastated by the loss of our baby. Kate especially.

She was released from the hospital a week after being admitted and returned home where she could recuperate more comfortably. I wanted nothing more than to put the ordeal behind us, but for Kate it wouldn�t be so easy. I hoped being home again and taking another summer to just relax would be enough to heal the emotional and physical wounds my wife had suffered. Instead, the summer signaled the beginning of a prolonged period of debilitating depression. For my normally even-tempered wife this was unprecedented and uncharacteristic. But that�s putting it mildly. Fact is she didn�t speak to me or leave the house or eat more than a few timid bites of food for weeks after she came home from the hospital. I didn�t know what to do. I felt like I couldn�t help her. And when she did finally break her silence, she was terribly sullen and withdrawn and prone to frequent crying fits. Her doctor gave us some pill called Sievenex to combat the depression and to offset the chemical imbalances in her body, which he claimed were the after-effects of a terminated pregnancy. Her sobbing fits stopped soon after. Her appetite returned, full force. She gained weight on Sievenex. Almost twenty pounds including a little bit of weight left over from the pregnancy. This might have compounded her depression were it not for the pills, which were working great.

After the miscarriage, Kate did not resume her birth control. Not at first. She wouldn�t be interested in me sexually for many months. In fact she wasn�t interested in much of anything for a long time. But eventually, slowly, her interest returned and we began to fool around again. About four months after the miscarriage, as summer wound down and the leaves began to turn, her mood improved considerably�again, thanks to the meds she was getting from Dr. Tinker.

The first time we made love again was awkward. We were reading our New York Times in bed one Sunday morning like we always did, drinking our coffee, eating our croissants. Kate was fidgeting and wrestling with her Business section. I was scribbling notes for an essay I was working on at the time. My wife was restless, almost agitated. She pulled her paper tight and let out a heavy sigh.

"What�s wrong, hon?" I asked, removing my reading glasses.

She punched at her pillow and tried to get comfortable.

"Nothing" she replied wearily, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

She stuffed half a buttery croissant into her mouth and tore off a huge bite. Her face looked tired. Her eyes, puffy. Not from one night of bad sleep, but from countless such nights. I caressed her shoulder and smiled sympathetically. She picked up her paper and stared disinterestedly at the article she had been reading. She sunk back into the pillows, gulped down her food and again let out another heavy sigh. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. She stiffened slightly, but I kissed her again, on her cheek, on her neck. Sensing that she was only waiting for me to stop, I stopped and returned to my notes.

Next thing I knew she was abruptly forcing her way between me and my note book, kissing me flush on the mouth. We didn�t speak. It was the first time since losing the baby that Kate had kissed me with real passion. It was as if she were fighting back tears as she pressed her lips firmly against mine. Nervous breaths escaped her nostrils until she relaxed, kissing me tenderly, then eagerly, even running her fingers along my chest and arms. I was not about to make sexual advances on her until I knew she was ready. But before I knew it she had taken my hand in hers and placed it between her legs. I tentatively probed her with my middle finger, and she responded by relaxing her body and giving in to her urges.

A heavy air that had dominated our home for months lifted that day. Kate confessed�with some embarrassment�that she had been feeling "randy" of late. That night she showered me with kisses and fondled my manhood with loving care, jerking me off for the first time in many years. We played at fucking, and came very close to it, but with no contraceptives on hand, we resisted the urge. The thought of risking another pregnancy at that juncture was, well� unthinkable. Nevertheless, Kate rubbed herself against my crotch, and touched my swollen member to her wet lips, whispering in my ear how badly she wanted to "fuck".

I was shocked by this. She�d never acted like this before. She�d never used that word before. At least not in the bedroom, to described the sex act. I was flummoxed. It was all I could do to keep from slipping my cock inside her and shooting off. But I resisted and contented myself with her busy hand.

Not wanting to get pregnant again, she went back on the pill. Dr. Tinker recommended a special "lighter load" birth control pill, "just in case" she should decide to go off it yet again and try to conceive at some point. Going on and off this new pill would be easier on her system than it would be with her old pill, he explained. Most pharmacies didn�t carry Libris, he said, so he gave my wife a six month supply that he kept on hand for his patients. I didn�t know anything about such things so I minded my own business. Surely her doctor knew best.

Cursing the condoms I was forced to use during sex in those days, we counted down the weeks until the first cycle was complete. Once the pill was back in effect, we screwed like bunnies. Kate, for her part, seemed intent on making up for lost time. Pressures of lingering pent up emotions�from the trauma and disappointment of the miscarriage�were finally released. The steam generated by all that sublimated guilt and frustration and rage seemed to channel through my wife�s body during our lovemaking in those first weeks after we resumed a normal sex life. On this new birth control pill the once lanky Kate packed on six more pounds. This was on top of the twenty she gained during her pregnancy. But as far as I was concerned, aside from a pudgy belly, the added weight was going to all the right places. Her bra size had gone from a slight 34" B before the pregnancy to a ripe 36"C at six months. She shrank back to a saggy 36"B in the time since, but after six weeks on these new pills Kate was sent digging around in her underwear drawer looking to call the 36"C bras back into service. I was delighted.

One morning as she sat atop me grinding away, I remarked that she looked incredibly sexy. Her breasts were full and flushed pink to match her cheeks. Her formerly deflated shapeless breasts had, at 37 years of age, grown into happy handfuls. I reached out to cup them as our hips pumped. She placed her hands over mine and clutched them to her chest. Her flesh was warm and firm as it filled our hands. Her body convulsed with a powerful orgasm that made her cry out. Kate was never a noisy person in bed, so this surprised me. She collapsed on top of me, heart beating heavily inside her chest. Her breasts, about the size of summer peaches, were slick with sweat and squished between us. We both enjoyed the funny slippery feeling. She propped herself up on one elbow and with her other hand caressed my face. Her eyes searched mine. But my eyes were fixed on her beautiful breasts, which hung from her chest like two fleshy teardrops, capped with puffy pink nipples, which she brushed against my rib cage.

"I love you John. So much."

I reached up and cupped one dangling breast and squeezed gently. Kate bit her lip and cooed.

"Mmmm, that feels nice."

I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. It was as if I threw a switch that caused her chubby leg to swing out and straddle me once more. Her pussy was sopping wet, oozing its moistness against my thigh. She rested her weight on her palms and leaned forward, on all fours, offering her perky tits for me to kiss. I think she liked the new feeling of these slightly larger breasts hanging from her chest. She rocked her upper body to and fro, testing their movement. Undulating her shoulders caused her breasts to sway slightly, swinging back and forth and bumping softly into each other. She dipped down low enough to drag a plump nipple across my lips. This caused my dick to plump. Before I knew it I was stiff again. She eased back, lowering herself onto me. Soon she was on another wild ride, body writhing, hips pumping rhythmically, picking up speed until the her ample frame was set to jiggling like jelly. I sunk my fingers into her soft thighs and pumped my hips in unison with hers. In no time she was shuddering from a second orgasm. Unbelievable. She was so turned on. The effect was hot. And very contagious. My wife�s sex drive had always been what I considered normal. At best. In reality, it was what most people would probably consider low.

Now though� things were different.

Kate was different.

The lifting of her depression and the venting of her pent up feelings about the miscarriage marked some kind of psychological turning point for her. From a despondent middle-aged woman in mourning (tender, hurting, even numb) to a raw, vulnerable, then passionate female eager to reclaim and reassert her sexuality; Kate was bouncing back wonderfully. I thought.

To my eyes, she looked as beautiful as ever. Shoulder length auburn (despite some streaks of grey) hair. Shapely (if a bit short and chubby) legs. And for the first time I could recall her butt had a nice full, round curve. As far as I was concerned, she was in fine shape. For a woman her age. Her face looked a bit worn from recent sadness but a new light shone behind those big brown eyes. The dark circles and redness were fading. The old mischievous flash was returning to her toothy smile. She reminded me of the twenty-something Kate I once knew not so long ago. The weight she�d put on didn�t look bad at all. In fact "she wore it well", I thought. There�s no tactful way to tell a woman this, but I was as flattering as I could be. She could no longer pass for thin or "lanky" now that she was carrying about 25 pounds of added fat. But somehow she looked better because of it. Younger even.

She would groan from time to time, declaring her intention to "get off some of the weight" but truthfully, she didn�t seem that concerned with it. She showed no shame in the bedroom either, seemingly feeling new pleasure in every ounce of her. And she really responded to my touch, more than ever before in all our years together. Her fuller breasts were a newfound source of pleasure, fun for her and for me. It became obvious to me that�though she may not have been crazy about her cubby tummy and pudgy thighs�she liked her bigger boobs. She�d never expressed any concerns or regrets about size in the past, but I suppose few B cup women would say no to a little bit extra up top. And that�s all it amounted to really, a little added fullness and firmness, the happy side-effect of her weight gain. She probably considered it the one good thing that came of her failed attempt to have a child. She simply looked healthy, radiant even. Just as she had during her pregnancy, except sans the big pregnant belly. To me Katherine looked incredibly sexy. At once younger and more womanly, if that makes any sense. I think she felt sexy too. In fact, I began to notice, in small ways, she was acting sexy!

One morning as she was dressing herself in the bedroom mirror�I remember it like it was yesterday�I lay in bed, watching contentedly as she made adjustments on a brand new Wonder Bra she�d purchased. She tugged gently on the straps as she nestled her "girls" into their black silken cups. Kate had never owned anything so racy or sexy in her life. I don�t know what possessed her to buy a padded bra, but I wasn�t complaining. Her breasts were displayed beautifully, contained and held aloft so as to make them cleave together enticingly. We both looked into the mirror, admiring the soft swells of flesh pushing up out of the sexy brassiere. She spied me observing her in the mirror and grinned. Her big brown eyes peered over the plastic frames of her reading glasses and caught mine. Her hair had grown longer and was hanging down in a morning tangle, shrouding her face. Staring out at me through dark strands of hair she straightened up and took a deep breath. She diverted her gaze from me back to her reflection in the mirror, acquainting herself with the look of her bosom in the clutches of the Wonder Bra. Her tits looked too big for that little thing. She pivoted on her heel and checked her profile, sucking in her stomach.

"So what do you think? Have I put on too much weight?"

The question was absurd. She was simply fishing for a compliment. She pulled the ratty hair out of her eyes and smoothed it behind her ears. My mouth hung open as she drew her hands down over the shiny fabric of her bra and pressed her palms against her boobs, compressing them slightly. She seemed to be checking the strange feel of the foam padding, assessing the assisted fullness of a 36" C Wonder Bra bust.

"I think you look great."

She smiled approvingly at herself, ignoring her outsized caboose.

"I think I look damned sexy."

What was this? My dear wife would never have said such a thing in the old days! Katherine Fuller was simply much too modest for that. To ever say something like that. What had gotten in to her, I wondered. How�d she go from feeling so horrible to feeling so damned good about herself? Maybe she was overcompensating for bad feelings she�d held onto for too long. Thinking it was probably "just a phase", I wrote it off. I didn�t quite understand it, but I didn�t question it too much either. Why should I? An outspoken free-loving sexually born-again Katherine Fuller was certainly welcomed in our home. Any time.

Besides, she was right. She did look damned sexy, fat ass or not.

* * * * *

Our sex life was changing every day, much improved from what it once was.

And I was loving every minute of it.

We�d always had a healthy sex life. But after so many years together, our love-making was an occasional thing. And it had become routine, with seemingly no surprises left for either of us. (We had as much fun jogging and playing tennis as we had in the bedroom by this point in our marriage. Sad but true.) But now all of the sudden we were having sex�that is to say, we were "fucking"�as if we were making up for lost time. Moreover, Kate�s personality was changing. My brainy no-nonsense wife was more turned on than I ever remember her being, at least since our first year together. And she was turned on more often, and more easily than she should have been. And her passion fueled mine.

Not that she was ever a prude. She absolutely was not. But she used to be reserved certainly, very controlling of her passions, discrete, quiet. Not prone to acting on impulses. Or even having impulses for that matter, not that I was ever aware of, even in the bedroom. Now suddenly�at age 37�she was totally free with herself in the bedroom. Not to mention around the house. As a writer I have always worked at home. Since her pregnancy Kate had been on extended leave from work and so we were home together all day every day. This was often the case in the old days too, during her summer vacations. But in all those years, we�d never done it anywhere other than our bedroom, on the bed. And never during the middle of the day. Something about the trauma of losing her baby though, coupled possibly with the change in birth control, and certainly the depression meds changed Kate. I mean changed her. They say a woman is at her sexual peak during these years, but she was acting as if she couldn�t help herself.

I don�t think I quite realized it, not fully, till the day we found ourselves on the kitchen floor tearing each other�s clothing off, for the first time ever in eight years of marriage. We�d started out making dinner together as we had a thousand nights before. But that night, somehow, a harmless squeeze of the arm, a peck on the cheek� it escalated into a passionate kiss, with Kate suddenly working her tongue down my throat, pressing her body against me, grabbing at my cock through my pants. I couldn�t believe it.

"Gee whiz, Kate� feeling randy tonight?" I asked somewhat uncomfortably as she urgently yanked on my belt buckle and undid my pants. A couple of uncooked steaks and an open bottle of wine sat on the counter. The evening was planned as a romantic dinner for two, but I never quite expected this. She didn�t respond to my question, just proceeded to work my zipper down and rummage around until she had my cock out and was stroking it to erection.

"I hope you don�t mind" she said as she smiled a devilish smile at me.

She was dressed the part, wearing a pair of black slacks, silver hoop earrings and one of the black knit blouses she normally wore to class. I hadn�t seen her dressed up like that in almost a year. A blouse that I remembered as loose and billowy now tented out over her chest, making shiny distress wrinkles across the apex of her bust. She was half unbuttoned, advertising her creamy cleavage. I kissed her and yielded to her invading tongue. She gripped my stiff manhood firmly and thrust her chest in my direction, forcing me back onto the floor.

"It�s nice to be spontaneous once in awhile don�t you think?"

I laughed softly while she rested on her haunches and undid the rest of her buttons. My cock was at full mast and bobbing in the air as I lay on our kitchen floor, my back propped uncomfortably against a cupboard.

"Aren�t you hungry?" I asked, reminding her of dinner.

"Aren�t YOU?" She peeled off her top, quickly unfastened the hooks behind her, shrugged off her Wonder Bra and flipped it across the room. Her peaches emerged from their confinement, rosy and looking very full. She offered them to me and I took them in my hands and gave them a tentative squeeze.

"GOD that feels good when you do that."

She moved up and pushed her boobs in my face. I sucked one nipple into my mouth then switched to the other, while Kate moaned and groaned in the background. "Oh, YES. Oh JOHN. Suck me." The noises she was making echoed in the kitchen. I thought the neighbors might hear us and wonder what was going on.

"These tits feel so good, John. I�ve never felt anything like it."

I pushed them together, then squeezed, then tugged gently on the plump nipples. Kate looked to be in heaven. She withdrew and stood up long enough to climb out of her pants, peel off her panties and stuff a piece of bread smeared with brie into her mouth. I kicked off my khakis and scooted down away from the cupboards. Kate licked her lips lowered herself onto me, holding her breath as she relished the feel of my swollen dick pushing slowly up inside her wet cunt. Doing it on the kitchen floor was a thrill for both of us, but right at that moment I think Kate would have felt the same thrill no matter where we might have been doing it. Her grunting and moaning made her sound like an animal in heat. She couldn�t be serious, I thought. I couldn�t believe this was my wife! She arched her back, throwing her chest in my face with each rocking motion of her hips, urging me to fondle and suck her as much as I wanted. She seemed to love seeing and feeling her breasts in motion judging by how forcefully she slammed against me. With each downstroke the entire weight of her body met with the hard kitchen floor beneath me, sending a jolt through her quivering flesh that seemed to heighten her pleasure. I cupped her breasts in my hands, trying to immobilize them. They resisted. Squeezing them I could swear they felt� bigger? Could I be imagining it?

I would find out soon after that in fact they were bigger.

* * * * *

Sex provided a release that Kate was surprised to discover she needed so bad. Maybe she even felt a little self-conscious about it. About the obvious change in her behavior. We talked about it. She tried to rationalize it to herself and to me. She told me repeatedly and a bit apologetically, "I can�t believe how horny I am these days" but always followed the comment with a kiss or a gentle stroke and some kind of observation along the lines of "but you have to admit, the sex has been better than ever."

I should have been more concerned than I was. She was exceedingly restless. Seemed to have no patience for reading, or conversation, simple things that had always been a preoccupation of hers. Of ours. We both loved to read. Katherine would read anything she could get her hands on practically, had a voracious curiosity, was a quick study of virtually any topic or issue. Nowadays, the closest she�d come to risking contact with the printed word was the occasional issues of Cosmopolitan and People she brought home with her from the supermarket. I was concerned, but I downplayed my concerns. She seemed healthy. She seemed happy. Her pleasure in the bedroom and around the apartment seemed to signal her recovery, plain and simple. Indeed she was recovered, to hear her tell it. And I was not about to question her on the matter.

My work life had been unusually quiet during this whole time. Katherine had juggled my finances in preparation for the baby, cashing out a few of my certificates of deposit, selling off some of my stocks. I�m horrible with all that stuff and always relied on her to sort it out for me. She managed our finances, paid the bills, made investments. It was her area of expertise, after all. I should have been working, earning, but we weren�t hurting for money for the time being. And I certainly didn�t mind the distraction of a sexually super-charged wife. It was like we were on a second honeymoon. And this one was better than the first. We both felt invigorated, young again.

The story would be nice enough if it just ended there.

But it doesn�t.

My wife met middle age with all the resistance, force and forward momentum that a healthy sex drive can provide. This was how she thought of it, how she came to justify her increasingly wanton behavior. At 37, she said, she felt "entitled". She deserved to indulge herself. Did I mind? Hell no. I indulged her. We both concluded that she was just "reaching her peak". But as time went on it became increasingly clear that this was more than just a woman reaching her peak. Kate was more than just a little randy. And when it became impossible to ignore the fact that her 36" C bras were becoming visibly and uncomfortably tight, I think she wondered what was going on. I know I did.

She lost much of the belly fat over the course of a few short months, but strangely she only shed a few pounds in the process. Her hips and ass retained most of the fat that had accumulated there over the previous year. But her bust line was� growing. She was now a full-blown 38" D! It was as if all that belly fat just transferred to her tits. She attributed it to the medications she was on. She asked me point blank if I thought she should check with her doctor about these apparent side effects. She probably should have, but I told her I thought it was probably nothing to worry about. And she concurred. Even if the pills were causing her to be horny all the time and were causing her boobs to grow a little bit, so what? How bad could it be? She looked great. She felt great. So what�s the problem? "I guess I don�t need a Wonder Bra, huh?", she reasoned with a satisfied smirk as she modeled her first 38"D brassiere for me one day. She looked statuesque. To hell with padding. A sturdy underwire and contoured spandex cups were more than enough to give my wife a noticeable hourglass figure and an enticing bit of cleavage.

One Saturday afternoon we took a walk downtown. It was a lovely Fall day and we both wanted to stretch our legs. I suggested we go to the book store. I had nothing to read, hadn�t bought a new book in weeks (longer, actually) and thought it would just be fun. I too had stopped reading pretty much by that point. For recreation anyhow. Reading in bed had become a thing of the past. Part of our old "boring" life. But Kate used to love perusing book shelves. She could spend hours in a book store with me just poking around. Maybe I could rekindle her interest in something other than sex, I thought. Not this day though. She seemed to have no interest in anything I showed her. And had very little patience for my dawdling.

As I shuffled along the dusty aisles of Carson�s Used Booksellers (one of Kate�s favorite places) my wife fidgeted, pulling on my arm, trying to tear me from whatever book I might start looking at. Eventually her fidgeting turned into exasperation.

"You about ready to get out of here? It�s a gorgeous day out, I don�t want to hang out in a smelly old book store all day."

I was not surprised by much of anything that came out of Kate�s mouth these days. It was a nice day out. But "smelly old book store"?

"But you love smelly old book stores" I joked.

"Yeah, right" she said, rolling her eyes.

She stood up on her tip-toes and reached overhead as if interested in a book on one of the higher shelves. But it was only a playful attempt to distract me, I realized, as her left boob grazed my arm. I couldn�t believe it. She was coming on to me right there in the bookstore. Worse, you could see her nipples poking through the fabric of the tight red sweater she was wearing. She brought her weight back down on her heels, producing a heavy bounce inside her sweater. A sly half-smile played across her lips as she feigned interest in whatever book it was she was holding. She surveyed the aisle for other shoppers then kissed me on the cheek, giving my arm a firm squeeze. "Come on, take me home."

The rustling breath behind her words made it sound like, "I�d rather be fucking than looking at books. Wouldn�t you?"

I paid for the book I had in my hand, a 1997 edition of the Physician�s Desk Reference. Kate showed no curiosity whatsoever in what I had purchased, commenting only on the book�s immense size. It was about a mile walk back to our condo. The book was heavy, but not too heavy. We left Carson�s and strolled along the downtown streets at a brisk pace. Kate huddled close to me and hanging onto my arm with both hands. From my other arm hung a plastic bag containing the 15lb. pharmaceutical dictionary.

I was in no particular hurry to get home, but at some point I noticed that Kate was kind of pushing/pulling me forward. "You in a hurry to get home?" I teased. She let go of my arm and her feet immediately carried her a few hasty strides ahead of me. Her buoyant chest bounced inside her red sweater as she danced backwards and flashed me her smile. "Come on, slow poke. I�m COLD." She rubbed her arms for warmth, drawing her shoulders forward. I could see two nips poking through fuzzy wool, more prominently now than back inside the book store. I picked up the pace a bit and we hurried out of downtown and up the hill towards our neighborhood. About three-quarters of the way home I complained that the heavy book I was lugging was making my shoulder sore. Kate teased me about "getting old". My feet were tired. I looked forward to getting home and kicking off my shoes. "Damn it, I am getting old!" I said, fishing for some consideration. I winced from the pain that was now clawing at my neck like a bird of prey. Kate laughed, apparently amused by my decrepitude. Or maybe she was just feeling frisky from the chill Fall air.

"Should I carry your books for you, Johnny?" she asked in a musical voice.

"No, I can handle it."

We reached Hilltop Park, a few blocks from our apartment, and something came over my wife. She should have been dog-tired, as I was, but the sight of the open expanse of the grass play field and all the colorful falling leaves sent her skipping on ahead of me.

"The park is so beautiful this time of year" she said to herself. I think she must have imagined I was skipping alongside her, but she was a good forty feet ahead of me and I could barely hear her. She turned around to see me lagging and circled back behind me. Prancing with funny mincing steps, her rack jumped up and down, stretching the fabric of her expensive sweater. She slipped her arms around me from behind and pressed herself into my back. I could feel her nipples even through the thick cotton material of my Gap windbreaker and the two layers I was wearing underneath!

"I can�t wait to get you home" she said into my ear, hugging me around the waist. Her breasts felt like balloons pressing into me.

"I wish I was already there" I said wearily.

"Let�s run. Come on."

She spanked my behind and once again darted off ahead of me, hoping I would run along with her. When she realized I wouldn�t she again circled back to where I was, all flushed cheeks and quickened breaths, daring me to race her.

"Come on. I�ll race you home."

"Katherine! What�s gotten into you?" I tried to dissuade her. "We�re almost home. I�m not going to race you. We�re not children."

"Why not? You said it yourself. We�re almost home."

My wife stopped and grabbed me by the waistband, pulling me to her. She gave me a sloppy open-mouth kiss. Her lips were cold and wet. A young couple walked by and threw us a look. Kate saw them but didn�t care. As if it were the first French kiss of her life she mouthed me roughly, sucking my tongue, drawing breath from my lungs into hers. I heard the guy mutter "check out the old people getting it on". Kate squeezed my sore neck, massaging it lovingly. "Come on, John. What�s the matter? Afraid I might beat you?"

Her eyes sparkled, looking around my face for a response. I hadn�t been jogging in a couple of months and felt pretty out of it. But something came over me. It was only a couple blocks. I�m not old yet. Suddenly I slipped from her arms and bolted across the field.

"Hey! No fair!" She yelped and gave chase. Her voice rang in the air like the voice of an excited teenager.

Right away I felt the soreness in my joints. Especially my ankles. Kate caught up to me without much trouble. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, smiling the biggest smile I�d seen on her face in years. Her head of hair waved behind her like a wild black flag. Her incredible body was in full-motion and was inching ahead of me. Seeing this, I lifted my knees higher into the air and tried to move ahead of my crazy wife. Katherine kept pace with me though!

Half way across the grass play-field my limbs ached. And worse, my breaths were short. My throat was dry. The cold air stabbed at my chest like a knife. I lurched forward, watching the ground beneath my heavy feet. Jogging was one thing, but sprinting was more than my 43 year old body could handle. I looked up again and found myself staring at my wife�s backside racing away from me, her full round ass and short but capable legs working like mad scissors, carrying her faster and further ahead. How could this be? I tucked the cumbersome book bag under my arm and redoubled my efforts to catch her but I couldn�t. By the time she reached the far side of the park I was doubled over in pain and gasping for air.

"I WIN! Ha haaaaa!" she came jogging leisurely back to me, retracing half the distance she�d just sprinted. When she got to me she was breathing heavy too, but not like I was. I thought I might throw up. My sides were aching, my stomach was in knots, and my pride was more than a little bruised. How did I get in such horrible shape? But I was in the same shape I�d been in for years. The question was, how did my wife beat me? And beat me so handily?

I wanted to sit down and take the weight off my poor ankles, but instead I threw my book onto the damp ground and straightened up, gulping down cold air, struggling to regain some composure. Kate�s giggles seemed almost cruel. I think she couldn�t help it. She wasn�t laughing at me specifically. I think she was giggling in disbelief, at her performance. She was visibly exhilarated, probably by the strange feeling of exerting that new body of hers for something other than sex. Her hair was mussed and partly stuck to her face from sweat. Her red sweater was bunched up and spotted with small sweat stains. Even so, compared to her I must have looked like a condemned building. "That�s the last time I race you." I gasped, mopping the sweat from my forehead. "That felt so good!" she said. "I haven�t run like that in years."

I don�t remember her ever running like that. I was never what you would call athletic, but I was always stronger than my little wife, could always outlast her jogging, and could usually beat her at tennis. She was three years younger than me, but no spring chicken by any means. My mind fumbled for an explanation. For an excuse. Damn it, she practically flew across that field. Could it be some added effect of these drugs Dr. Tinker had her on? Or was this apparent surge of vitality simply the result of all the frequent lovemaking? She was definitely well-nourished, but she wasn�t exercising or working out that I knew of. I needed to read up on Sievenex and Libris. That�s why I bought the Physician�s Desk Reference. Now I definitely suspected something wasn�t right, but I wasn�t going to play the poor sport and start drawing conclusions right there in the park.

"You need to get your exercise, honey" she said, putting her arm under mine for support. Apparently she didn�t think anything was wrong. Not with her anyhow. She picked up my book and we walked, slowly, the rest of the way home, all the while my mind wondering; what is going on with my wife?

The next morning I came into the bathroom while Kate was taking her daily meds. She chirped, "Time for nature�s little helper." I smiled and pretended to mind my own business while my wife proceeded to apply lotion to her self and rub it in. In the bright light of the bathroom I noted that her legs no longer looked so chubby. In fact they looked toned. Perfectly toned and shapely. Her butt was still full and round, but it too was nicely toned and firm, muscular almost. Her stomach was completely flat and her breasts, despite their size, showed no signs of sag. Thanks to recent her development Kate�s mammaries had the firmness of a young woman. The strange thing, I remember thinking, was that her legs never looked that good. Her stomach never looked that flat. And her hips, if such a thing is possible, her hips looked wider than I remembered. How could that be? I figured it was some misperception of mine. Her ass, which I had come to think of as fat, was simply meaty. Meaty and perfectly proportioned to her flared hips. But hips don�t widen. Maybe boobs grow, muscles gain bulk, tone and shape, but surely bones don�t, don�t grow. Not at 37 years of age!?

That afternoon, while Kate watched TV, I sat in my office and combed the index of the Physician�s Desk Reference looking for Sievenex and Libris. Curiously, I didn�t find either one of them. This gave me further cause for concern. No, alarm. I was alarmed now. I checked the pills Dr. Tinker had supplied my wife. They were plain white and plain yellow pills, in generic packaging, with no markings. My mind raced. What was he giving her? Instead of troubling Kate with it (I didn�t want her to know I was as alarmed as I was) I decided to talk with the doctor myself. I phoned his office and asked to speak with him. His receptionist told me the doctor was busy and couldn�t take my call. When I pressed, suggesting there might be a problem with my wife�s birth control, she resisted and told me she thought it was odd that a patient�s husband should be calling her doctor about such a thing. Her demeanor with me seemed unprofessional, and I told her so. I demanded to speak with her boss. Reluctantly, she yielded and put him on the phone. Dr. Tinker was as calm and professional with me as I was agitated and irrational with him. When I accused him of drugging my wife with pills that weren�t listed in the Physician�s Desk Reference he laughed. "Mr. Fuller, I believe I explained this to your wife. These drugs are very new on the market. That means they won�t be listed in the Physician�s Desk Reference until next year�s edition. If you don�t believe me I can put you in touch with the manufacturer and you can take it up with them, but�"

Suddenly I felt foolish and out of my element. Was I accusing a doctor of cooking up his own drugs and administering them to the unsuspecting public? I�d been to his office. He was a qualified professional as far as I could tell. Who was I to question his credibility? I abandoned the idea that he was doing anything unseemly. But I did inquire as to the side effects again. I didn�t want to explain to him how my wife had beat me in a foot race, but I did want to find out if these kinds of changes were considered normal and if so, when would they taper off.

"Yes, Mr. Fuller. To be honest with you, these drugs affect some women differently than others. Your wife�s increased energy and physical fitness is not uncommon with women who take Libris. Other women experience a drop in energy. Most women experience no side effect at all."

"But what about the� what about the breast growth??"

The doctor paused on the other end, apparently wanting to give me time to choke a little on my embarrassment.

"Yes. Yes Mr. Fuller. Sometimes a woman�s hormonal makeup responds to the drug in this way. It�s nothing to be alarmed about and shouldn�t be a continuing problem. Okay?"

I paused this time. My wife�s breasts had grown two cup sizes already. What did he mean, "shouldn�t be a continuing problem"? What did he consider a "problem", anyhow? What did I consider a problem? Why was I even talking about my wife�s breasts with her doctor behind her back?

"For the record, Mr. Fuller, how much growth has your wife experienced? What are we talking about?"

I felt uncomfortable answering this question for some reason. Besides, how could a pill that made my wife�s breasts grow also make her run faster? And how could it flatten and tone her stomach the way it had? Her breast size was only part of it. I really just wanted to end the conversation at this point.

"Oh, I don�t know. A cup size or two�" I answered matter-of-factly.

"Let�s say two cup sizes then Mr. Fuller. That�s significant, but perfectly normal. I wouldn�t worry about it."

"I know you said that increased energy and fitness are normal but�" I trailed off wearily, the words sounded nutso coming out of my mouth. Increased fitness?

"Perfectly normal."

I didn�t want to go into further detail, about our sex life, about my wife�s libido. I certainly didn�t want to ask him about our little foot race. Change the subject.

"What about the Sievenex?" I asked.

"What about it, Mr. Fuller?"

I thought hard about the changes in my wife�s personality. She was happy about all the time. How could I complain about that? But she�d seemingly lost interest in reading, in teaching. Her appetite was out of control. Was this because of the medication?

"Oh, nevermind."

"How�s her mood? Still feeling depressed?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that."

"Make sure she keeps taking the Sievenex Mr. Fuller. This is very important. If she were to go off it, even for a day, her depression might return, possibly worse than before. If she�s having a good experience with it, I suggest you stick with it."

"Yes, well. Okay, thanks Dr. Tinker. Thanks for taking my call."

I felt like I needed to explain myself, or apologize to the man. The next voice I heard was his receptionist.

"Any time Mr. Fuller. If you or your wife ever have any questions or concerns, don�t hesitate to call us and we�ll set up a proper appointment."

I felt strangely reassured after my conversation with Dr. Tinker. I guess I wanted to feel reassured. Though my wife�s transformation would continue to thrill and puzzle me, my concerns about the drugs were put to rest for now.

* * * * *

I counted my lucky stars and vowed to try and keep up with Kate. Her increasingly frequent sexual advances around the house and even in public became a normal part of our life together. As soon as I let go of my nagging concern I began to really enjoy myself. Immensely. The old days of sex being an occasional thing were over. Now we were fucking every day, usually more than once a day. Often more than twice. And sometimes, some days� well, we referred to those affectionately as "lost days". We decided Katherine didn�t need to rush back to work, that she should just stay home for awhile and catch up on life. My savings could support us for awhile longer.

Complaining that her old wardrobe no longer fit properly, Kate splurged on new clothes. I couldn�t help but notice however that her new clothes were usually as form-fitting as the old ones, if not more so. Her tastes changed to suit her sexy new bod. Her sense of style seemed to emerge intact from the glossy fashion magazines that accumulated around our cluttered apartment. The 37 year old "plain Jane" school teacher who used to favor neutral Banana Republic tones now gravitated toward brighter colors. She was dressing younger. Too young for a woman her age? Perhaps, but if so, I wasn�t complaining. Kate loved her new figure, was proud of it, proud to show it off a little. The old Kate lived in her head, relied on her intellect to see her through, but the new Kate was more visceral, physical. More and more it seemed her body was the door to happiness, was the source of her new lease on life. If she wanted to wear tight skirts and funny heels and tops that showed her 38"D chest to its full advantage, who was I to discourage her?

Her behavior and her style made me feel old, of course. I was only 43, and she was only 37, but damn if she didn�t look years younger. She drew stares on the street, but not because she wasn�t acting and dressing her age. She drew stares because she looked hot. Men and women both noticed her, then they would look at me and try to put the two of us together. I know she got off on it, and so did I.

* * * * *

One weekend in early May Kate got it into her head that she wanted to go bowling. I don�t know where the idea came from. I think she thought she was being spontaneous. Spontaneity was her new thing it seemed. I hadn�t been bowling since I was a kid. It just wasn�t the kind of thing we ever did and I wasn�t very keen on the idea.

"It�ll be fun" was her main argument in favor of going.

I decided so what if it was dumb. If Kate wanted to go bowling, I�d take her bowling. It was one of the few times in recent memory that she�d shown an interest in anything besides shopping and fucking, so I indulged her. When I said yes, she was like an excited kid. When I laid eyes on the outfit she wanted to wear though, I wondered what kind of evening I was in for. A pair of short white shorts that looked like hot pants, and a tight white tank top with black spaghetti straps. I didn�t know where she found that thing. I hadn�t seen it before. Her cleavage was exposed, a good three inches of it, plus the snug black brassiere she wore underneath made her boobs pooch slightly around the cups. Everything she was wearing had that "too small" look that made all her other parts look delightfully "too big". I poured myself a stiff drink and tossed it back.

"Is that what you�re wearing?" I asked as she ransacked the refrigerator looking for a snack.

"What?" she replied innocently "You don�t like this?"

She bit into an apple and plucked at the hem of her top, pulling it down over her bare mid-drift. She looked like a wet dream, but I just couldn�t see going out in public with her dressed like that. Nevertheless, that was the whole idea.

"Don�t you think it�s a little racey?" I cautioned as she pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and tied it with a purple hair scrunchie. Maybe my wife was going through some kind of mid-life crisis, but that didn�t mean I should stand by and let her embarrass herself.

"Nonsense." She snipped as she climbed into a pair of wedge heeled shoes I�d never seen. The heels must have been four inches, the arch caused her calves and thigh muscles to flex and twitch. Her ass looked fantastic I realized. The bourbon burned my gut and loosened me up a bit. She moved in close to me and slipped one of her smooth legs between mine and lifted her knee into my crotch.

"You don�t think I look good?" She sucked apple juice from her lips and tilted her head. All I could do was kiss her neck. "She wants to go out and be seen" I thought to myself. She looked so fucking hot. Why shouldn�t she want to be seen? I grabbed one of Katherine�s big boobs with one hand and squeezed. She was quite a handful by now. I grabbed her firm behind with my other hand and pulled her body to mine. For once though she pushed me away.

"Later, loverboy. We�re going out, remember?" She grabbed my keys and handed them to me. I adjusted my boner and relented to her desire to go out and strut her stuff.

It was a Friday night and Valley View Lanes was pretty crowded. We had to wait for a lane. Kate announced she wanted to play pool while we waited, so we played pool. I would have been more self-conscious if I thought anyone I knew was around. The place was full of mostly working class types and young hipsters who were there for laughs. Kate didn�t know the first thing about how to play pool. I barely did, but I ordered us two beers and showed her what I knew about technique. The mirrors that covered the walls of the pool room made it impossible for me not to notice how old I looked. With Kate tarted up the way she was, and me in my khakis and polo shirt, we looked a strange pair.

Though she could barely handle the cue, she insisted I let her break the rack for our first game. When she bent over to take aim on the cue the ball, her rack strained at her top like it might plop out onto the table at any minute.

The other men in the vicinity couldn�t help but notice Kate. I�m sure she noticed them watching her, but she didn�t care. I think it�s why she came. I stood close by and made it clear I was her man. She moved the cue back and forth, clumsily brushing it against her boob as she tried to get a smooth stroke. She found something funny about the whole thing because she kept laughing and taking her sweet time with it. We had a small audience that was waiting to see what Miss Thing was going to do next. She jabbed at the cue ball sloppily. It caromed off the balls and off the table, landing on the floor in front of three men who were ogling her. Now they were laughing at her. Katherine jumped up and ran over to them to retrieve the ball.

"Gosh, I�m sorry."

"Looks like you can use a few lessons" a seedy looking guy said as he stooped over to get her ball. The other two guys slurped their beer and eyed me as their friend handed the cue ball to my wife. He put it in her hand but didn�t let go, forcing her to pull on it. "You should be more careful with flying balls. Someone could get hurt." Kate tugged on the cue ball. She turned and looked to me, but before I could step in, the guy released his grip and sent my wife wobbling backwards. Unaccustomed to the platform heels she was wearing, she stumbled and caught herself against our table, nearly knocking my beer over. I joined the three low-lifes in ogling my own wife�s tits as they jumped inside her tight top. This was all such a horrible idea, I thought to myself.

We played out our game in silence. Kate was through putting on a show for the time being, and instead stuck close to me and concentrated on her beer and making her shots. It took us forever to clear the table, we both sucked so bad. Eventually we heard our names over the P.A. system. Our lane was ready.

Bowling was no easier than pool for Kate to get the hang of. But she enjoyed it more. Away from the leering creeps in the pool room, she felt free to stretch her legs and dance around on the lane. There were loud-mouthed bowlers all around, but it was mostly overweight balding family guys out with their wives. So direct contact with them was unlikely. After her third beer and part way into our second game, Kate seemed to lose interest in bowling. By the ninth frame, she was getting cranky.

"Come on honey. It�s your turn."

Kate sat in the scorekeeper�s chair, squinting at the scores on the screen. She seemed to be trying to figure out why her score was so low, as if the computer had miscalculated it.

"I suck" she said.

I handed her ball to her. "Come on. Get up there."

She clomped up onto the lane, her ball banging heavily at her side. Her shorts were riding up and I could see part of her ass cheeks. I�m sure our neighbor�s could see it too. She hefted the ball up and held it in front of her chest and heaved an impatient sigh. Then she strode forward and dropped the orb with a thud onto the lane. She turned her back on the pins and walked away. I think she expected another gutter ball, but this time the ball rolled down the middle of the lane and softly toppled all ten pins. A strike.

"A strike! You finally did it!"

She turned around and saw the pins resetting. She jumped up and down once or twice. Having a reason to bounce her chest up and down for our neighbors and their wives seemed to please her. She shuffled off the lane and threw her arms around my neck.

"Nice shot honey." I said.

She hugged me and kissed me playfully on the mouth.

"I knew you could do it."

She looked tired. Or bored. Or both. She looked me in the eyes, looking through me with that pleading look that said she was ready to go home. I pulled away but she held on. "Let me go so I can throw my ball." She stood on her tip toes and whispered wetly in my ears, "Let�s get out of here. I�m ready to go." Her breath smelled like beer and her pony tail was looking frizzy. What�s more, her nipples were showing through her tank top. I kissed her on the cheek. "One more frame."

I closed out my tenth frame with one pin standing. Kate closed out her tenth frame with two gutter balls. I think she thought bowling would be fun, but the look on her face showed a complete lack of interest in the game. What she mainly wanted that night was just to go out and be seen, and now, it seemed, she�d had her fill. Walking out of the bowling alley she sidled up next to me and draped my arm around her bare shoulder. With her platform shoes on she was every bit as tall as me, maybe taller. She was quiet, sulking, tired. "What�s the matter? Didn�t you have fun?" (Kate yawned while she walked. I admired her boobs as they jumped in unison with her clomping footsteps. The laws of physics never sleep.) She looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, I guess so." She kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for taking her out.

Outside the night air was cold and I could see goose bumps on Kate�s skin. Her nipples were hard and plainly visible. She may have been in a quiet mood, but she was glad to be heading home now. So was I. In front of the bowling alley a couple of young guys stood smoking cigarettes. They recognized my wife and looked surprised to see her.

"Mrs. Fuller?? Is that you?"

They were two of her students from the business college. Kate must have seemed a sight to them. She squinted and racked her brain, trying to place the two males.

"Uh� STEVE? And� Robert!" She seemed surprised and relieved that she could recall their names.

"We were in your economics class. Last year."

"Right!" She perked up and shrugged off my arm.

"I�m Mr. Fuller" I offered. We didn�t shake hands.

Steve dropped his cigarette onto the ground and snubbed it out with his toe. "Gee, you look great." No one spoke for an awkward few seconds before Steve continued. "You� uhh� you gonna start teaching again soon?" His eyes traced up and down my wife�s body, bugging at the sight of her 38"Ds. His friend just smiled at me and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Oh, I don�t know. I�m taking a break from that for now." Kate crossed her arms over her chest and warmed herself, sizing them up in return. She asked how school was going, exchanged niceties, as it were. It was so cold I could see my breath. I thought Kate must be freezing in just those shorts and that tiny shirt so I threw my jacket around her shoulders and pulled her to me.

"Well� I guess I better get going� Steven. �Robert."

I dragged her away from her two former students and pointed us towards our car.

"Nice seeing you Mrs. Fuller!" Robert called from the distance.

She turned back and looked over her shoulder and chirped. "Nice seeing you boys. Take care now!" I could hear the two of them laughing as we headed off into the darkness of the parking lot. Assholes. They obviously assumed their teacher had gotten breast implants, how else to explain such a leap in size?

As we approached our old black Saab Kate began to shiver and shake from the cold. Without my jacket, I was cold too. I started the car and turned on the heater. "It�ll take a couple minutes to warm up" I said.

Back in the confines of our car, I realized something. I was pissed off. "Steven" and Robert, the people in the bowling alley, the creeps in the pool room. I was pissed off that Kate felt the need to wear what she wore that night. I was mad at myself for letting her go out dressed like� well, like a hooker. What was I thinking? As I stared out of the windshield, alone with my thoughts, I could feel Kate looking at me from the passenger seat.

"What�s the matter?" she asked sheepishly.

"Nothing."

"That was funny, running into two of my students here, huh?"

I was silent. I still understood, her need to be seen by someone other than me. But that outfit she was wearing showed a serious lapse in judgement. I felt ashamed of her, and embarrassed for myself.

"You mad about something? Honey?"

I probably hadn�t been mad about anything for over a year. It must have been obvious. I glanced sideways at her. At her dumb pony tail. Her tank top (which looked exhausted from an evening stretched over her big tits.) My jacket draped over her shoulders. As much as I loved her, right at that moment she looked ridiculous to me. Pathetic even. The heat started blasting out of the dashboard vents, just in time.

"You want your jacket back? baby?"

"You keep it."

I turned on the radio. I didn�t feel like talking. What was this "baby" stuff? She leaned over across the seat and kissed me, forcing her tongue, out of habit, into my mouth. She tasted like beer. My dick betrayed me and stiffened against my leg. I reached up under her tight shirt and felt up her boob, out of habit, through her shiny spandex brassiere. I knew she wanted it. Wanted to feel my hands on her. I was right. She gripped my erection through my pants and pressed her mouth harder against mine, breathing roughly through her nose. I pulled on her bra and she dipped her shoulder, shrugging the strap off. Tit flesh surged forth from its restraint and filled my hand. Her skin felt incredibly creamy and cool to the touch. I gave her nipple a tug and she moaned into my ear. "God that feels good. I don�t know if I can wait to get home." She unzipped my fly and slipped her hand inside my pants, grasping my naked manhood. This wasn�t the woman I married. This wasn�t the Katherine Fuller I knew only twelve months ago. Not even close. With nothing better to occupy her mind, and on a steady diet of birth control hormones, mood altering medication, and glamour magazines, Katie had become undeniably sex crazed, seemingly at the exclusion of everything else she once cared about or took interest in. I chose that moment, there in the parking lot of Valley View Lanes to call her out on it. To speak my mind. My criticism took the form of a tease.

"Mrs. Fuller�" I said, searching for the right words. I wanted to speak to my wife, the school teacher. I wanted to summon her from inside the big-titted bimbo that was climbing on top of me. Kate caressed my cock, gazed into my eyes, and waited for me to continue.

"�I think you�re sex crazed."

It was the best I could manage. I wanted her to sit back and think about what I was suggesting, that she was sex crazed. CRAZED. She continued to stroke my cock, placing tender kisses up and down my neck.

"It�s like you can�t get enough." I added.

"Kate�" I pushed her away "�you�re obsessed with� with this� with fucking."

I hated using that word to describe our love play. It hung in the air between us, a harsh accusation meant to cool her off. The car heater was blowing full blast, warming us. She let my words sink in I think, but they didn�t phase her. I think it only excited her more.

"I think you�re right" was her reply.

A smile flashed across her face in the darkness. Her eyes sparkled. Maybe I was hoping to open a dialogue but she mistook my words as an attempt at dirty talk, an invitation to fuck me right there in the car. I couldn�t reason with her. Not like I used to. She didn�t understand even basic attempts at conversation, it seemed. "God, I don�t know what�s wrong with me John� but� I do want to fuck you� right here." She whipped off my belt and undid my pants faster than I could voice an objection. My cock was hard as a rock. I was clearly aroused. Anything I may have said to the contrary would have been a lie. I leaned back in my seat and surveyed the parking lot. It was dark. No one was around. Kate unbuttoned her shorts and peeled them back over her ass along with her panties. She straddled me and reached around for the lever that reclined my seat. We both fell into the back seat with a bump. I wanted to laugh. I wanted her to laugh. But we didn�t. I think she was more turned on than she ever had been. Maybe because we were in a car, in public. Maybe because of the beers she�d had. Maybe part of it was the thrill of strutting around like a big-titted sex object all night, in front of other men, then being spotted by two of her former students. Whatever it was, she was possessed. She aimed my cock into her pussy and impaled herself on it. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she started her fucking motion. Her cunt was on fire and dripping wet. Slurping and slapping sounds filled the car as she bounced her ass off the steering wheel and smothered me with her naked tits. The Saab was rocking, Kate�s body heaving on top of mine, boobs hopping in the air, slapping softly against my chin. I erupted inside her after a couple minutes, and before I could go soft she tensed up and shook with a powerful orgasm of her own. In that moment I don�t think she knew where she was. I don�t think she cared.

* * * * *

As time went on we just continued humping away with new life and new vigor. The woman seemed inexhaustible. I did my best to keep her satisfied. I missed the old Kate sometimes. But I discovered I could love the new Kate just as much. More even. It was becoming clear that the new Kate was not as interesting, not as funny, not as sharp as the old Kate. All those orgasms and all that Sievenex just seemed to dull her mind over time. She made attempts to conceal it, but she was getting dumber every day. Eventually it became obvious, to me anyhow, that she just didn�t realize how stupid the stuff was making her. I should have put a stop to it, but she sure was more fun this way. And much happier.

She started to talk about babies during sex, confessing that she got off at the thought of fucking with the intention of getting pregnant again. "Knock me up, John. Knock me up" she would say. It started out as dirty talk I think. But it persisted. "What are you talking about?" I asked her one night as I was ramming away on top of her. Her long hair was spread across the pillow and her eyes were wide and bright. Her boobs lolled on her chest like jello domes. She was still taking the birth control at that point. "Just imagine your cum filling� filling me up. Think of our child growing inside my belly, growing bigger and bigger. Imagine my tits swelling, filling with milk, getting bigger and bigger, for the baby."

This was how I found out she wanted to make another try at having a baby. I was cautious at first, to say the least. This was crazy talk. A couple our age, with one miscarriage to our credit. Even Dr. Tinker was against the idea. But Kate decided she had to try. Said she would never feel complete until she was a mommy. That it was her great purpose in life. This was a new one on me. Even when we decided before to have a baby, she never claimed it was her great purpose, or that she would feel incomplete without one.

Sex got weird there for awhile. She loved to draw me to her breast, gripping the back of my head like an infant, getting off on the feeling of an eager mouth sucking at her nipple. Sometimes her behavior bordered on scary. I wasn�t sure it was a good idea to even encourage her. But maybe she really wanted and needed to have a baby. Maybe her crazed behavior would be cured by a baby. Maybe that�s what all this raging libido was for. Maybe these maternal feelings were being fueled by her surging sex drive, or visa versa. I didn�t know anymore. I wanted to keep her happy. And if she wanted a baby, I wanted a baby.

Eventually we agreed we would try again.

Kate went off of Libris and in no time at all she was pregnant again.

The second pregnancy, like the first, got off to a healthy start and seemed completely normal at the end of her first trimester. As the pregnancy progressed her libido cooled down. But not by much. By the fifth month of her pregnancy Kate was showing quite a bit and had outgrown her 38"D cup brassieres. She moved up to a 38"DD. She seemed, with each passing day, to grow more radiant and centered in anticipation of motherhood. By this time, I thought, she should not be having or wanting to have sex. Being off the Libris, I thought, her sex drive should settle down. But I thought wrong. Nightly, against her better judgement she begged me to fuck her. She knew the answer would be no. It was like a game with her. Or maybe it was sheer force of habit. I think she mainly just wanted me to know how horny she was. How much she missed getting off every night. She compensated us both with incredible nightly tit-fuckings and contented herself with me lavishing my attention on her ripening milkers. We went to sleep each night with me squeezing and sucking on her boobs, despite (or possibly because of) the fact that they were now exceedingly tender and firm. She couldn�t get enough it seemed. My mouth was perpetually sore. One night after a long and exhausting session of sucking and squeezing and licking we discovered The Nipple Orgasm. If I sucked and pulled and licked her long enough (at least a half hour of intense stimulation) her body would eventually seize up and shudder from a mild orgasmic wave that emanated from her sensitive nipples throughout her body. Kate was thrilled with this new discovery, as if she�d discovered the Mississippi. It became her new favorite form of gratification. Every night I was cornered, coerced or commanded to suckle her and work on both nipples until they were elongated and swollen. After two weeks of nightly prolonged stimulation, her nipples were huge and showed plainly through everything she wore, whether they were hard or not. Some nights in the middle of the night I would awake to find a boob in my face, with her whispering, "Please, honey. I�m so horny." I felt like a human breast pump. I half expected her to start giving milk, from all the intense sucking I was doing on her.

She cupped her breasts and evaluated their size, firmness and tenderness almost all the time. It was her hobby. By the sixth month of the pregnancy she excitedly announced that her 38"DD brassiere was digging. A fact that came as no surprise to me. She was fitted with a 40"E maternity bra that seemed too small by the time we got it home. A week later she needed a 40"F. I couldn�t even picture her with B cup breasts anymore. Her huge bumpy areola was now bigger than her whole breast once was. Her nipple was as thick and long as the first joint of my thumb!

All was going just fine until, one morning, without notice, the unthinkable happened. Kate was rushed to the hospital with the same abdominal pains that had ended her first pregnancy. That night she miscarried again.

As before, we were both devastated.

I was probably cautiously optimistic about the second pregnancy, and probably had prepared myself slightly for this eventuality. More than my wife anyhow. And for a week or so after the miscarriage, she was inconsolable and distant. I made sure she kept right on taking her Seivenex though and, surprisingly, after two or three weeks, she was able to shake the whole thing off. We had been through this before of course. But something about going through it the second time made it easier to see the importance of getting on with life. Good advice, I know. Easier said than done. But this time Kate bounced back very quickly. Almost like she was eager to put it behind her as soon as possible. Thank you Sievenex.

At Dr. Tinker�s insistence Katie went back on Libris right away. The chemical hormonal imbalance produced by her first miscarriage was effectively anticipated and circumvented. In practically no time we were back to normal�to our new normal, that is. We seemed to pick up right where we left off, before all this talk of babies. My wife�s body responded to the Libris as it had before. That is, her libido responded. Her metabolism responded. The extra fat melted away. Her energy surged. A month down the road, it was as if she�d never been pregnant. Her tummy was flat, with no trace of a stretch mark. Her face thinned out and even her skin seemed clearer. The fine wrinkles on her forehead and her crows� feet softened until they virtually disappeared completely. Unbelievably, as before, she looked rejuvenated, even better than she looked before the pregnancy. And unbelievably, as before, her tits maintained all the growth she�d experienced while pregnant.

Now her taut little 5�6" body now sported two huge 38" F cup gazongas that totally overwhelmed my hands. Nearly as big as her head, her exceedingly heavy teats overwhelmed her small frame. Katie took it all in stride. If a second miscarriage was a heartbreak for her, she didn�t show it. To the contrary, aside from the occasional mention of mild back pain, she seemed unfazed by the experience. She was openly delighted with her little "consolation prize" as she referred to the additional growth spurt.

Though it took me a little while to adjust to the visual effect of Katherine with even bigger boobs, she seemed completely centered and at ease with her burgeoning bust, to the extent that she seemed to almost take it for granted. Whether she was pretending with this or if she really did take it for granted I�m not sure. But one thing I know for certain, it was damned hard for anyone else to take it for granted. Impossible in fact. Kate�s chest was now the first thing you saw when you looked at her. It was impossible to hide or even diminish. For the casual onlooker it was now ludicrous to even pretend to not notice. Men and women (her husband included) couldn�t help staring at her tits. She teased me about my difficulty in maintaining eye contact with her. Told me I was "as bad as those creeps on the street". But part of her, I think, liked it. Liked being able to draw stares, from creeps and gentlemen alike. To make any guy dumb with desire. She soon grew accustomed to it anyhow. I think.

(At least I tried not to stare. Still do.)

As before, Kate�s libido grew stronger and more insistent, as if her sexual appetite was increasing along with her bra size. Was this a psychological side-effect of her more sexualized self-image? Or was it purely the drugs. It was all so overwhelming. I found it very difficult to focus on work and was perpetually late with deadlines. The quality of my work suffered too. But at that point I didn�t care. Not really. Not yet anyhow.

Once again we were fucking morning noon and night. When we weren�t fucking, Kate�the queen of our modest little castle�fed herself, flipped through fashion magazines, lounged and paraded around in skimpy outfits. She was making herself into a living breathing advertisement for sex. And the sex was better than ever. (Her tits were big enough now to engulf my six inch cock completely!) But I began to notice that our lovemaking wasn�t always as passionate as it had been. Sometimes Kate would seem to be just going through the motions, with an almost bored feeling, like she was hungry and just wanted a quick bite to tide her over until dinnertime. Or worse, like she just wanted to distract me, for the sheer sport of it. To simply remind us both how easily she could get my attention, get me hot, get me off. This I didn�t like.

We were doing it so often. Maybe that was the problem. I suggested this to Kate at one point, trying to point out that the passion seemed lacking, trying to figure out where it might have gone. But she wouldn�t have it. In fact she suggested that I was the one who wasn�t passionate enough, that I wasn�t impulsive enough, that I wasn�t trying hard enough. She was more passionate than ever. In fact she couldn�t even discuss it without getting turned on. Maybe she was right. It seemed almost too easy to get her off at this point. But satisfying her was another matter. Always had been.

Used to be that satisfying her curiosity, her intellect� that was the big challenge. Now though, the challenge�my challenge�was to satisfy her physically, emotionally. And it was a full time job. Physically she was insatiable. Emotionally she was all over the place. Not that she ever felt depressed, or sad. Her negative emotions, whenever they emerged, took the form of temper tantrums, or childish willfulness, or passive-aggressive game-playing. Physically and emotionally Katie was becoming a real handful. And I was finding I simply lacked the stamina to keep her happy every minute of the day. If she seemed in any condition to return to work I would have suggested it. Frankly though, at this point, she was already too far gone.

I decided it was time to pay Dr. Tinker a visit � this time to set up a proper appointment and talk about the Libris that had turned my wife into such a nymphomaniac. It had been some time since I�d actually accompanied my wife�s to the doctor.

When we stepped into the waiting area, I wondered at first if we were in the right place. Dr. Tinker�s office had been recently redecorated, I could smell the new carpet and paint. The place hardly resembled a doctor�s office anymore. The former grey and beige d�cor was now warm orange and pink tones. The carpet was thick and lush and matched the upholstery of the modern waiting room furniture. The place looked expensive. We approached the reception window, where a nurse sat pulling on her chewing gum and flipping through a magazine. She was heavily made up, like she�d be better suited working at a cosmetics counter than in a doctor�s office.

"Hello? We�re here to see Dr. Tinker? Katherine Fuller? We have a 3 o�clock appointment."

The woman gobbled the string of pink gum and snapped it between her teeth as she sized me up and down.

"Mr. Fuller. I remember you."

I recognized her voice now as the woman who I�d spoken with on the phone a year prior. Somehow she wasn�t what I�d expected. She stood up and tugged on her short nurse�s uniform. A tall woman, she had a body to die for. Her uniform looked like it might give out from the pressure her curves exerted on its stitching and buttons.

"And you must be Katherine." She extended her well-manicured hand to my wife. The two women eyed each other up and down. "It�s been awhile since we�ve seen you."

We were ushered to a small examination room and told to wait for the doctor. After ten minutes, Kate grew restless. She sat on the examination table, beckoning me with her index finger to "c�mere". I approached her and she put her arms around my neck and kissed me. Her tongue darted around, twining itself with mine. She seemed happy to be there. Must have been thinking of Dr. Tinker�s pills, how they had changed her. For the better. She reflexively pulled on the open collar of her blouse and exposed herself to me slightly.

"Katherine. Not here. The doctor�s going to be here any minute."

She pouted and smiled at me, tracing her knuckle along the length of my erection through my pants. Dr. Tinker burst in and I jumped back from my wife.

"John? Katherine? Good to see you again."

He shook our hands and smiled warmly. He was sporting a Fu Manchu moustache, which I thought quite strange. For a doctor. His cologne was powerful and filled the little room. He looked half my age. At least he acted half my age. Judging from the gray at his temples, we were both fortysomething.

"So how is everything with you two?" He directed his question to my wife, his patient.

"Just fine doctor."

"How have you been feeling?"

"Great. Better than ever."

"Well, you look just great."

My wife�s tits were four cup sizes larger than they were when we started coming to Dr. Tinker. What did he mean she looked just great?"

"How about your depression?"

"What?" my wife asked. I think she�d forgotten why she was taking the Sievenex, that is, until the doctor jogged her memory.

"Oh, that." She let out one of the girlish giggles I�d heard coming from her more and more these days. "No. I�m not depressed no more."

"That�s just fine." The doctor said with a toothy grin. His eyes roamed her cleavage.

"Still taking the Sievenex then?"

"Yes, doctor. Every day as you prescribed." I interjected, drawing his stare away from my wife�s chest.

Dr. Tinker rolled up my wife�s shirt sleeve to take her blood pressure. I wanted to say something, wanted to readdress the issue of my wife�s raging libido. Of her continued breast growth. Certainly by now he must agree that this was beyond the realm of "perfectly normal". How to broach the subject?

My wife fingered the placket of her blouse, absent-mindedly tracing the upper slope of her breast with her brightly-painted acrylic fingernail. Dr. Tinker coolly pumped air into the fabric cuff that inflated and tightened around her upper arm.

"And we�re still taking the Libris too?" he asked me, acknowledging my previous concern about the drugs.

"Yep!" My wife chirped.

"Doing alright with it then? Any complaints?" He arched one eyebrow as watched the little red needle that indicated her blood pressure.

Katherine said nothing. If anyone would have asked me, I�d have said she should have been more concerned at that point over the changes in her. Or concerned at all, for that matter. I caught her gaze, gave her a look designed to urge her to say something. Anything.

"Well, I don�t know if it�s a complaint, but�" She bounced her eyes off her jutting bosom and smiled, looking back up at me and at the doctor. "�I don�t know if y�all can tell but my boobs are a lot bigger."

I cringed at my wife�s choice of words. Dr. Tinker tried not to smile too wide as he released the velcro wrap around my wife�s arm and jotted down some figures on her chart. He stroked at his moustache as he flipped through the pages of my wife�s file.

"Let�s see� you were� mm-hmm�" he looked back at her in mock-seriousness. "Yes you have seen some growth, haven�t you."

If he was attempting to be cute or act surprised or conceal his fascination, it wasn�t working. I can read faces. To me he appeared to be nothing less than pleased with the results. I watched my wife peer down at her cleavage. She too seemed pleased with the results. Fuck, I was pleased with the results! But where would it end? And more importantly, were her brains turning to boobs? It certainly seemed that way to me. I was concerned for her well-being, damn it.

"Why don�t you take your blouse off and let�s get a look at� I mean, let�s examine you."

I was invited to leave the room if I felt the need. I stayed. Katherine removed her blouse and handed it to me. Her brassiere looked like it was strangling her big boobs. Soft flesh swelled from its spacious cups like bread dough. Dr. Tinker and I both stared quietly at my wife for a moment, our eyes glued to her overtaxed 40"F bra. Katherine appeared proud, completely unashamed.

"Um, let�s remove the bra too, Katherine" the doctor said, gesturing at her bust with his ball point pen.

My wife turned her back to me, inviting me to unfasten her. She was on the last row of three hooks, and even those were pulled tight and threatened to tear away from the fabric they were anchored to. When the last hook was released the elastic of her bra snapped back under her arm pits and the spacious cups went slack on her chest. Her boobs surged forward and dropped a few inches, coming to rest just above her belly button. Her nipples pointed out away from her body at diverging angles from each other. They were now spaced more than foot apart and seemed intent on putting more distance from each other, and from her. Dr. Tinker stared with rapt interest and took a seat on a small stool in front of my wife, looking soberly up at her magnificent tits. The full measure of my wife�s incredible growth seemed to take him a bit by surprise.

"Have you experienced any discomfort, Katherine?"

"Huh? No. Nothing like that.

"Any tenderness?"

"You can call me Kate."

Showing great doctorly restraint, perhaps because I was present in the room, Dr. Tinker simply observed my wife�s luscious tits like the fine specimens they were.

"Fine, Kate. Just fine�any stretch marks?"

This question seemed directed sideways, at me, as if I�d have a better idea of this than his patient.

"Yuck! No way! No stretch marks. Gross!" Kate curled her lip in disgust.

The doctor surveyed my wife�s tits, looking for any trace of stretch marks or veining or blemishes of any kind. He placed his ball point pen in his teeth and reached out to touch them. He placed his two open palms under my wife�s breasts and lifted them slightly, checking their weight. Then he spread his fingers and gave them a cursory squeeze, checking their firmness.

"I guess they do feel kinda tender some times. Very sensitive" my wife offered.

"Uh huh�"

He touched her areola lightly, peering at her thick nipples, seemingly looking for something in them, something it had never occurred to me to look for. My wife bit her lip and looked at me, seemingly nervous, or excited. Dr. Tinker pinched lightly on my wife�s left nipple. Kate jumped in her seat, causing her knockers to waggle back and forth, pulling her off-balance for a few moments before coming to rest again. Her nipples stiffened and grew visibly larger before our eyes.

"Sorry. They get real sensitive" my wife said, rubbing her nips with her fingers in an attempt to warm them.

"There has been some enlargement here� Mrs. Fuller." He stared at my wife�s erect nipples, because he could, because he was the doctor. But the way his mouth hung open, I knew what he wanted to do.

"The areola also." He held his thumb and forefinger apart, "Almost five inches diameter."

Kate didn�t look surprised.

I sure wasn�t.

Was he?

Dr. Tinker seemed unsure whether to appear surprised or non-plussed. Did he have base measurements in her charts? Surely doctors don�t record such things. If he did, he would�ve noted that the two dark saucers staring out at him were once, not so long ago, petite fair little things. No bigger than a half-dollar.

"Kate, your nipples are oversized. Here..." he pointed to the base of one nipple with his ballpoint pen, careful not to touch it "they are considerably thicker than normal, and somewhat distended."

Something about the way he said this made it sound like it was her fault. Or our fault. I thought about how much we both sucked and pulled on those things. Kate could suck her own nipples by this point. Maybe he knew.

"Are they getting too large?" I asked in all seriousness. I felt like an idiot. Dr. Tinker looked at me and paused, long enough to let me feel even stupider for asking.

"Too large?" He turned back to my wife and handed her the crumpled brassiere. "I can�t say, Mr. Fuller. You seem perfectly healthy to me Kate. Are you concerned your nipples are too large?" I helped my wife refasten the hooks of her bra.

"Sometimes they, like, show through my tops� but it�s not, like, a problem or anything." She slipped on her blouse and buttoned it across her chest. Her nipples were still fully erect and tented the thin fabric as if to show the doctor what she was talking about.

"Very well, Mrs. Fuller. Kate. I�m giving you a clean bill of health. Your heart is strong. You seem very fit. You�re as healthy as any 25 year old. Clearly the Libris has triggered some growth here, but I think we�ve seen all the gains we�re going to see. After a year the patient rarely experiences any further� you know, changes."

He reached out to shake my wife�s hand. She climbed down off the examination table and threw her arms around her doctor�s neck and gave him a full-breasted hug and kissed him on the cheek. I don�t know what came over her. It seemed completely inappropriate, but maybe it wasn�t.

"Thanks so much, Doc. For everything. You been such a help." Dr. Tinker smiled at me uncomfortably and pulled away from my wife. He shook her hand, with forced professionalism, throwing the door wide open as he stepped one foot out into the hallway. "I wish you could help my old man here the way you helped me."

Huh? What was she saying? Was this an attempt at humor? My wife�s blurted words escaped out into the hall, echoing throughout the office. I felt embarrassed, like I wanted to go gather each one of them up and stuff them�and her�in a sack.

"Katherine�" I muttered.

"What are you saying, Mrs. Fuller?" Dr. Tinker replied with a chuckle, stopping himself in the doorway.

Kate looked back at me. She was blushing, and smiling her bright wide toothy smile.

"I just�" she fought to express herself.

"Nothing, doctor. Thank you." I said decisively.

She turned from me and spoke up. "I guess it ain�t your specialty, doctor. Not your field� nevermind�" The musical lilt of her comment drew Dr. Tinker part way back into the room, back into the conversation.

He pulled the door behind him and looked to my wife, allowing her to continue.

"What is it?" He leaned against the door jam, Kate�s chart folded at his side.

"It�s just�" she pulled away from me, gathered her long hair and dumped it over her right shoulder. She threw an accusing glance down at my crotch, then turned to address Dr. Tinker. "�I don�t know how to say it, but� my husband� that is� I get�you know� I get real aroused."

Dr. Tinker and I both just listened. Kate seemed to need help articulating herself, but none was forthcoming. The word "aroused", to hear her use it, sounded like borrowed from a more sophisticated woman�s vocabulary.

"Maybe it�s too much. I never been, ya know� I never been, like this�"

She fanned herself with her hands, as if to say, "like I am, as I am, hot like me".

"Are you having any difficulty in the bedroom?" Dr. Tinker asked my wife.

"Difficulty? No! I ain�t, I mean it�s not� um� it�s just�" she looked at me, reluctant (or eager) to continue. I was speechless. She lowered her voice, "Shit�it�s� it�s my husband. Sometimes it�s like, no matter, like, what I do, he doesn�t, like, get as� ya know� he can�t, like�. I mean�"

"KATHERINE." I grabbed her arm but she resisted.

Dr. Tinker motioned for me to keep calm and let her speak.

My wife continued. "�I dunno� maybe it�s jus� me� maybe I�m� too much for him. I really like, you know, I love having sex." (I was mortified. Why was she doing this?) "I guess I wish he, you know, wanted it bad as me� sometimes it�s, like� it�s like, you know�. Sometimes I feel like I could just go all night, ya know??"

Where was this coming from?? I glared at my wife. She pretended not to be, but she was enjoying this. I was thoroughly embarrassed. More than that I was totally ashamed. Of her. She sounded like� Well, she didn�t sound like her. She sounded like a whore. We fucked all the time, whenever and wherever she wanted. Now she feels the need to complain to her doctor that I�m "not enough" for her?

"Katherine� John�." Dr. Tinker could read my outrage. He pulled the door shut. The metal latch clacked behind him, puncuating the tension in the tiny room. He sat back down on his little stool and searched around in a nearby cabinet, pulling out a flimsy white box with writing on the side that looked like it said "Staminex".

"It�s not that it�s not my field, but, well�" he slit the tape seal on the box with his pen and broke open the flaps, pulling out a handful of cardboard packets.

"How old are you Mr. Fuller?"

"Why? What difference does it make? I don�t need a�."

"He�s 44" my wife answered.

"John, I want to give you these. No charge." He scribbled onto the back of a plain packet of pills. They had the same Tinkerbrand look that the Libris and Sievenex pills had. That same unofficial suspicious look.

"I want you to try these for a month."

He pressed them into my hand and clasped his hand around mine. "They�re not on the market yet, but I�ve been taking them for almost a year now." He winked at Kate who was standing there chewing her thumb. "They�ll make you feel ten years younger" he promised.

Staminex? I scanned the label in disbelief. This one really sounded made up.

"What do you mean they�ll make me feel ten years younger?"

Kate took the stash of pill packets from my hand and crammed them into her purse.

"Well, I don�t want to exaggerate, but just between you and me and the lamp post" he leaned in close and lowered his voice for emphasis "�let�s just say you�ll be up all night."

Katherine bit her lip, hanging on Dr. Tinker�s every word. She squeezed my hand in hers.

"It works much like Viagra. But it�s different. This is totally new. It�s better. By far."

"Better? How?" I resisted. I didn�t need Viagra!

"Trust me, Mr. Fuller. Just try it for one month."

He gathered Kate�s paperwork and slipped out into the hallway. The swinging door blew a waft of his cologne back into the room, bidding us a fragrant adieu.

"He will, doctor" she said as Tinker turned his back and disappeared down the colorful hallway. Then she whispered to me, pulling me to her bosom, "You will."

* * * * *

I guess curiosity got the better of me. That, plus Kate�s nagging.

I started taking the Staminex that night. I felt more than a little foolish as she watched me wash back the first pink barrel-shaped pill. I didn�t need a virility drug. I didn�t have "erectile dysfunction", if that�s what this stuff was designed to cure. I don�t know what either one of us thought this stuff would do. I think Kate was satisfied just knowing I was taking something to boost my sex drive. Other than that nothing changed. Not at first anyhow. Kate was horny as ever, and I was happy to oblige her.

After two weeks of taking a Staminex pill every morning I started to notice the change. My sex drive did get a nice boost. My orgasms didn�t come as quickly as before. I could fuck for almost a half hour before I�d explode. And usually I�d be ready to go again in only a few minutes. The orgasms themselves were fantastic. I�d never had orgasms like that in my life. Knee-buckling orgasms. And the semen I was producing, even after just a couple weeks on the drug, was ridiculous. Thick white hot streams that leapt out of my cock with unnatural force. And in such quantity. I could make quite a mess. It felt incredible. If I�d been reluctant or suspicious or too proud to take Dr. Tinker�s little helpers at first, now I was completely sold on the stuff. Kate sure wasn�t complaining, but I think she�d been too oversexed for too long at this point to notice any subtle improvement I may have been experiencing. She was getting off. That was all she seemed to need to know. It was enough to her just to know I was taking a pill.

I came home one day from an afternoon meeting with my editor and made a bee-line for the bathroom to do something I hadn�t needed to do in two years. I needed to jerk off. This was an emergency. Katie was home, but I needed instant gratification. My cock had been stiff and was aching for immediate relief. Claire Jensen had called that morning with a new assignment for me. She insisted that we meet in person. This was unusual, but I welcomed an excuse to get out of the house and away from Kate for a couple hours. We were hardly ever apart, even for a little while.

Claire is not an unattractive woman, but I�d never given much thought to her. Not in that way. She was just a funny, often bitchy little magazine editor that I worked with from time to time. We weren�t even friends particularly. I think that�s what appealed to me about the lunch meeting. I thought I might give my cock and my brain a break from all the constant stimulation.

I got to the restaurant first and ordered a beer. Claire arrived a few minutes later. I waved at her from the table and watched her make her way across the dining room. She was flat as a board, I noted. And shorter than my wife by a few inches. In fact, she reminded me of the old Kate. Physically anyhow. Maybe even a bit thinner, and rougher around the edges. With the incredible bodacious piece of ass I had waiting on me at home, I could honestly say this woman was "not my type". And that was the point.

What a relief it was to sit down and eat and talk with a woman who was not looking to get off.

She ordered an iced tea and a lunch salad. I ordered a cheeseburger. She started in with some casual chit chat, then quickly started talking about the piece she wanted me to write. Against my better judgement, I found myself checking her out. Ogling her in fact. I guess it was a new habit I�d picked up, from spending so much uninterrupted time with my sexy wife. I wouldn�t even have noticed, except for the fact that at one point she sort of sneered at me and put her jacket back on. I guess I must have been looking at her tits.

I tried to make friendly small talk with her while we ate. I was surprised how happy I was to sit and spend a little time with another woman. And it was work-related. I didn�t need an excuse to be here. My small talk didn�t get me very far though. Claire seemed agitated. Perhaps I�d been more obvious with my ogling than I realized. She stabbed at her salad and steered the conversation back to the assignment. The magazine wanted an article about the pharmaceutical industry. Specifically they wanted an investigative piece about a rogue doctor who was really a pharmaceutical industry wonk who was only posing as a doctor. I might have realized how shocking this was had I been paying closer attention. Instead I found myself staring at Claire�s mouth, the shape of her lips, her blue eyes, her shaggy blonde hair. After she finished her salad she abruptly excused herself to go to the bathroom. I noticed as she walked away what a great pair of legs she had. I felt my manhood stiffen under the table. What would it be like to fuck her, I wondered. Our waitress came by our table to refill our water and I commented on her "talent". When I touched her arm she pulled away from me like I was some kind of fiend. What was I doing? I realized it must be the Staminex messing with my mind, fucking up my judgement.

I felt ashamed for grabbing the waitress, and was glad Claire hadn�t been there to see it.

When she returned, her face appeared flushed. She looked at me suspiciously then removed her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. She awkwardly apologized for being gone so long and smiled at me and asked me how my lunch was. Again, against my better judgement, my eyes darted down to the open neck of her shirt, searching for something. I stopped myself, averting my gaze to my napkin, thanking her for the lunch. I tried not to look at her at all. It was as if I couldn�t stop myself from ogling and flirting with the opposite sex. Claire went on about the article, but I felt distracted, unfocussed. My persistent erection was causing me some discomfort. I tried to think about baseball, taxes, anything to be rid of it. Claire pushed an envelope of notes my way, explaining that everything I needed to know to get started on the article were there. We finished our business, then�to my surprise�Claire ordered a cocktail. I ordered another beer. Her mood seemed much lighter, especially after a drink or two. She complimented me on my tie, said I looked like I�d been going to the gym. I didn�t know what was going on. Had I flirted with her? Had I offended her? Was she now flirting with me? She complimented my cologne. I assured her I wasn�t wearing any, but she insisted I was. By the end of our meeting she was arranging for an excuse to meet again the following week. When I left the restaurant she actually hugged me, lingering for awhile as she embraced me and told me she was "very pleased" that we would be working together on this piece. Her female scent filled my senses and stayed with me after we parted company.

By the time I got to the car my erection was straining inside my pants. I tried to just ignore it. By the time I returned home though, it was still there. Claire�s smell still filled my head. Her legs, her ass, her dirty blonde hair. I reminded myself that she wasn�t even my type. I remembered that I�d described her many times to Katherine as "that little bitch Claire". I tried to convince myself that I wasn�t attracted to her, but as I walked through the front door I realized I really wanted to fuck her. Why did I feel that way? Before Kate could catch me I kicked off my shoes and snuck off to the bathroom, dropped my trousers and whipped out my cock. It was hard as a rock and felt great in my hand. The head was swollen and purple. It occurred to me that the past three hours of my business lunch was probably the longest I�d gone without sex in days, weeks maybe. I was losing track of time. I couldn�t even remember what Claire and I talked about. All I could remember was her clothing, her rough laugh, her mouth. "God, what would she look like with bigger tits?" I wondered as I started stroking myself. My swollen balls hung down between my legs, my fist bumped into them with each pump of my fist. I wanted to get this over with, wanted to cum, wanted to get Claire off my mind. The Staminex was working too well. It was almost ten minutes before I unloaded, coating the inside of the toilet bowl with my thick spew.

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. The bright bathroom light revealed something I should have realized sooner. My cock was larger. Visibly larger. How could I not have noticed? How could Kate have missed this development? I guess Kate was too self-absorbed, obsessed with her tits to notice a little bit of growth on me, but it was enough for me to notice. It felt thicker, and was obviously a bit longer. I found a tape measure that Kate kept around to measure herself with and stretched it along the length of my erect shaft. Almost eight inches! I heard Katie in the hall.

"John? Johnny? Sweetheart� where are you?"

She fumbled with the locked door.

"Honey? What are you doing in there? Let me in."

I fastened my pants back up and tucked in my shirt. In the mirror I still noticed my cock showing through my pants! Amazing.

I opened the door and emerged into the hallway, where I met up with my wife. The floor was strewn with our unwashed laundry and plastic bags. She hadn�t left the house all day. She�d been playing dress up all afternoon, she cheerfully informed me, as if to account for how she�d spent our time away from each other. She was wearing nothing but her string bikini, which she plucked at and tugged on, positioning the small triangles of fabric so they would hide her areola.

"I�m so glad my hubby�s home." She leaned forward and gave me a long sloppy wet kiss, running her hands over my chest, pushing me against the wall.

"Did you miss me?" she asked in a baby voice. She sounded like she was drunk. "I got good news. I think your little wife needs to be fitted for a new bra."

She stepped back and drew her arms to her sides, pressing her boobs together, forming a sweet valley of flesh for me to feast my eyes on. The mere suggestion that her boobs might still be growing always made me hard. The Staminex heightened my arousal. "All my F cups bras are too tight" she said as she hauled out my cock and pulled on it. "Ooooh, nice and big� for me�."

* * * * *

We weren�t surprised to discover Katherine needed a G cup. Her 5�6" frame was now obscured by a fantastic rack that distracted all attention from her pretty face. She didn�t care. She loved her huge tits. The bigger the better. Her sex drive, accordingly, was through the roof. So was mine. Our home life became like an extended porn movie.

Kate gave up the idea of ever teaching again. The very thought of it seemed alien to her. She asked me how she ever did it, as though she had no memory of it. She not only lost interest in handling our household finances, she was flat out unable to deal with it. She was unable to deal with much of anything besides shopping and eating and dressing herself. Anything else just seemed like such a bore and a huge effort for her. It made me sad in a way. She used to be so smart. Smarter than me in many ways. Patient. Hard-worker. She loved teaching. Loved working with her students. Now, I realized, she seemed like a child, needy, helpless, simple-minded. She was aware of this, but she seemed to be getting used to it. Seemed to enjoy it in fact. Enjoyed being taken care of. And whatever loss of intellect she�d suffered, she made up for with personality and sex appeal. The change in her was total. Alarming. I tried not to notice. Told myself it was all okay. Maybe her libido was �on� all the time, but now mine was increasing to match. After five weeks on Staminex my formerly average cock was nine inches long and quite thick. Kate noticed finally, after I pointed it out to her. She didn�t believe it at first, said it "doesn�t look that big". I was a bit crestfallen, but I knew better. My balls were bigger too, about the size of large hen eggs, and were producing copious amounts of spunk. It was so exciting. I was all of 44 years old, but I was having the sex of my life and thanks to the Staminex I felt younger and more energetic than I had in years. My wife was 38, pushing forty, but she looked like a girl in her twenties. I couldn�t believe it. If we were part of some crazy experiment of Dr. Tinker�s, I didn�t care.

One afternoon I stood in my boxer shorts and a tee shirt washing five days� worth of dirty dishes that I�d let pile up in our kitchen sink. My cock hung heavily between my legs like a dead weight. We�d just finished eating lunch, which started out as a late breakfast in bed but turned into an early afternoon fuckfest. Kate lay in bed, wrapped in wet sheets, watching television. For the first time in memory I was able to fuck her until she couldn�t take any more. And I still had surplus energy so I decided to get on top of some of the housework.

The telephone rang. It was Claire Jensen, from the magazine. It had been a month since we met for lunch. My first deadline had passed, she informed me. I had no idea. I hadn�t touched the piece, I realized. Like a fool I lied and told her I�d been making good progress, that I�d have something to show her next week. I racked my brain, but I couldn�t even remember what the article was even about. So unprofessional of me. I had completely forgotten about the assignment! Claire was curt, almost abusive with me on the phone. Nothing like I remembered her being at the restaurant. Her voice in my ear sounded sexy.

"John� did you talk to the manufacturer?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. I told her I had, "of course."

Had I met with Tinker? she wanted to know.

"Yes, Claire. Many times." I answered back.

I wondered what she was implying. Was this some kind of come on? What did Claire know about Dr. Tinker? Blood surged into my limp cock. I could feel it plump against my thigh, stiffening. In no time it swelled to its full nine inches, tenting my boxers. Instinctively I reached down and straightened it out, positioning the head up against my stomach where the waistband held it in place.

"Well, I�ll be very interested to see what you�ve got, John. Very interested. When can I see your piece?"

Holy shit. I pulled down my underwear and stroked my cock helplessly in front of the kitchen sink. In the background I could hear Kate laughing at an episode of Married With Children.

"John? You there?"

"Uhh� oh� yeah�"

"Look, can we just meet? Like� TOMORROW? I�ll buy your lunch."

Claire�s voice sounded rough and sexy over the phone. She really wanted to see me again. I could tell. I wanted to see her too. "Wha� what do you want to know about� Tinker?" She knew all about Dr. Tinker. Was she seeing him?

"I need to know what you�ve found out so far, before we go any further with this. Just bring me everything you�ve got. I want to see it."

I grabbed a dish towel and spurted into it. My knees buckled as she rambled in the receiver, telling me the time and place. See you tomorrow. Okay. Fine then, see you tomorrow. Oh god. Fuuuuuck. My cum splashed into the dish rag and dribbled out onto the floor, onto my bare foot. My dick was throbbing. What was I thinking? Was I considering fucking another woman? The Staminex had warped my mind. How did she even know about Dr. Tinker? I didn�t get it, but I was looking forward to an interesting lunch.

The next day I dressed myself for my meeting with Claire. I tried on three different shirts, anxious to look my best. Kate noticed this and seemed suspicious. I had to convince her that Claire was just my editor. I rattled off excuses: this was just a business meeting, I needed to work, we needed the money. We were far from broke, but Kate believed me. I felt horribly guilty. Looking at myself in the mirror, with my sweet, beautiful, tit queen fingering my hair and kissing my ear, I wondered how I could even be considering what I was considering. Was I insane? Kate should be enough for any man. I loved her, more than ever. Maybe I just needed to get out more. See other people once in awhile. The thought of Claire seized my mind. I couldn�t shake it. I had to have her. Kate�s hand reached around and petted the bulge in my trousers, staring fondly at it in the mirror. Her hand looked so delicate and graceful as it worked my zipper and unbuttoned me. My proud cock emerged from its housing and Kate�s eyes widened.

"I love your dick, John. God, you�re so big now."

My pants fell to the floor as she reached from behind and gripped my manhood with both hands. Her naked tits mashed into my back, spreading apart, emerging somewhere under my arms.

I needed to be at the restaurant in thirty minutes. But maybe I could get in a quickie with Kate before I left.

"I�m actually sore from fucking you all morning" she whispered in my ear as her eyes fixed on my huge dick. She choked it at the base and watched it swell further. I could feel my balls twitch with excitement.

"I couldn�t fuck you right now even if I wanted to."

She turned me around and dropped to her knees and started worshiping my cock, kissing up and down its length. She tickled my balls and squeezed a glob of pre-cum out of the swollen purple head. As she licked up my jiz and wrapped her lips around my cock, I closed my eyes and thought of Claire, of her mouth, her rough voice, her blonde hair. Was she seeing Dr. Tinker too? Were her tits growing too? How big were they? My wife�s huge balloons bounced softly against my thighs as she worked my cock with her hands. I lowered myself to my knees and kissed her on the mouth, tasting my salt on her lips and on her tongue. I fingered her pussy. It was wet and loose. She grabbed my hand and pushed it away.

"I�m too sore, lover. Just sit back."

She pushed me onto my back and hovered over me, her G cup udders hanging down past her elbows, smothering me. I felt her take me in her hand again and smear me with her spit, then she scooted back, dragging her big boobs down my chest until she�s wrapped my cock in her soft cleavage.

"You like that?" she asked as she gathered her tits in her hands. Her bright-colored nails dug into her pliant flesh as she wrangled her tits and abused my cock.

I just sighed and rolled my head around, unable to talk. She felt so fantastic. I couldn�t wait to see Claire.

"No one can fuck you like I can. No one can titty fuck you like me."

I could feel the cum welling up inside my balls, beginning to surge. I bucked my hips.

"God no. Kate� fuck� you feel so fucking great."

She lifted up and grabbed my dick at the base, trying to prolong my orgasm. I needed to get off. I jerked my hips up and down, forcing her hand into action. She let go. Teasing me.

"What�s your big hurry, lover? Got an important meeting to go to? With Claaaire???"

She took her right tit in her hand and tweaked the nipple. I grabbed my cock and pumped. Kate knelt before me and cradled her boobs in her arms. "Cum on my tits. Come on. Cum on your wife�s big boobs." My cock felt huge in my hands as I pumped it with speed and force until my cum leapt from it, shooting out in thick ropes that splattered my wife�s tits and her neck and face. Before I was done it was dripping off her. She was still smoothing it off her, digging it out of her cleavage and sucking her fingers when I buttoned up my shirt and tied my necktie. I hadn�t worn a tie in ages, why was I wearing one today?

I straightened myself in the mirror, shaking my trousers until my semi-stiff dick was angled down the left leg hole. Kate sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, drenched in cum. She looked pretty as a picture, like a complete whore, so sexy. In my mind I strayed from our bedroom, turned my dim thoughts away from my incredibly fuckable wife. I thought of Claire. I would fuck her too before the day was out.

I walked into the restaurant that afternoon feeling like Casanova. Maybe I owed Claire a month�s worth of work, but that figured only vaguely in my clouded thoughts. She didn�t seem overly concerned with that. This was just lunch. A late lunch. More than just lunch though, this was a social call. An affair. Claire wanted to "see what I had", what I�d "gotten" from Dr. Tinker. I could barely contain myself. She sat at the same table we ate at a month before, wearing a smart dark blue skirt and matching dark blue sleeveless blouse. The contrast with her shaggy blonde hair was incredibly sexy. I adjusted the knot in my tie and crept up to her from behind. I put my hand on her skinny shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She whipped her head around like she might haul off and hit me.

"Oh! It�s you." She smiled, slightly amused.

"It�s me" I said, full of myself.

She leaned away from me, looking me up and down. I looked her up and down, disappointed to see that she was still flat as a board.

"I should have smelled you coming through the front door."

What did she mean? Bitch. I was clean. I ignored the comment.

"Still wearing that cologne I see." She waved her hand in front of her face as if someone had let off a stink bomb nearby.

"I don�t know what you�re talking about, Claire." I said with a confused smirk.

"Yeah, right." She smiled back and took a drink of water.

After a brief awkward silence, she took a deep breath and held it, as if gathering her thoughts. Just as she started to speak, she erupted in a fit of coughing. Our waitress arrived with our water. Claire gulped it down and cleared her airways. I checked out the waitress. What a fucking babe. Red hair, tight clothes, such a fine piece of ass. What was it about this place? It was only the first time since our last lunch that I�d been out to eat in a restaurant. I looked around and made a quick mental note of every comely lass in the joint. Two tables over a couple of women sat together, both well dressed working women. Well groomed. Three tables over a young thing, couldn�t have been older than nineteen, dressed in a skimpy black dress, perky little tits. God how I�d like to fuck her, I thought to myself. What was wrong with me? Claire kicked me under the table to draw my attention.

"John! What do you want?!"

Claire had ordered her salad and a glass of wine. The waitress�visibly irritated�needed my order.

"Same thing she�s having."

This time we didn�t "talk business" until after we ate. I made small talk during lunch, but didn�t make much headway. Claire was civil, if a bit catty. We both ordered a second glass of wine.

"So, let�s see what you�ve got." She said point blank, folding her fingers together, elbows on the table.

I think I must have blushed. Is this how all women talked these days?

"In good time. Impatient, aren�t we?" I countered.

Claire sipped her wine and tightened her gaze at me. Replacing her glass on the table cloth, she brushed off her lap and looked out the window over my shoulder at the setting sun.

"John, what�s the deal with you? What�s taking you so long? It�s not like you."

"What do you mean?"

"On the phone you said you saw this Tinker."

"Right. I�ve seen him, lots of times."

"Okay." She leaned forward, her interest piqued. "So just tell me about it. What�s his story? If we�re going to go ahead with this I need to know. Give me something, anything."

I felt anxious. I wanted to get out of the restaurant, into a hotel room, a car, an alley� anywhere else. My dick was hard, docked uncomfortably down my pant leg. It would be so much easier to just show her. Why did she want to talk about it?

I told her that I�d visited Dr. Tinker, that he�d given me pills. This satisfied her.

"Really? Wow. That�s great. So he doesn�t know who you are?"

"Huh?" What was she talking about?

"You doing a follow up?" She gulped her wine, gestured to our waitress for a third glass.

"I can see him whenever I want. All I have to do is make an appointment. He�s been� very helpful." I looked into her eye, thinking she�d catch my meaning. My foot came into contact with hers under the table. She pulled away. I smiled and winked at her.

"So� you think you�ve got this under control?" she asked as she paid the check.

"Oh, I�ve got it under control. No problem."

"Well that�s what I needed to hear. Let�s get out of here."

She inserted her credit card back in her Daytimer then got up from the table and headed for the door. I followed her out, eyeballing her ass. I wanted to fuck her so bad. She seemed to know what she was doing. I was in her hands.

I walked with her out to her car. Claire told me she thought it would be great if I could get her samples of whatever it was Dr. Tinker was peddling.

"If I could get samples of this stuff, that would be great." She said as she inserted the key into the door of her Passat. I stood close to her, uncomfortably close. She opened the door and pushed me aside with it, giving me a weird look.

"You really need to go easy on that cologne."

"So you want me to get you some Libris?"

"Yeah. Is that what it�s called?"

"You want the Sievenex too?" I asked dumbly.

"Sure thing, whatever the mad doctor gave you. Let�s get some. I�d like to run some tests."

I stared at her mouth as she spoke to me, my cock wanted what it wanted. Her mouth was so sexy, her lips so moist. The wind blew through her hair. I touched her hand, not knowing what to say or how to say it. She awkwardly took my hand and shook it.

"Can we talk, Claire? Inside?" I motioned to her car.

"Sure" she flipped her power locks and I moved around to the passenger side and got in.

"What is it?"

The inside of her car was quiet, muffled, private. I could smell her scent. She could smell mine. I wanted to kiss her.

"Well� I don�t know� where do we start?"

"What are you talking about?"

I looked at her, scanning her, from her pale blue eyes to her petite upturned nose to her sexy little mouth, down her neck, along her chest, into her lap.

"John, what are you doing?" She scanned me, sizing me up, trying to figure me out. Her eyes came to rest in my lap, and flared at the sight of the bulge in my trousers.

"Why did you invite me here?" I asked.

"I wanted to hear about this Tinker. Wanted to know what you got so far."

"So far?" my cock throbbed. I wanted to take it out and show her. I pulled on my pant leg, adjusting myself in her bucket seat.

She looked away, staring out the windshield. Then she looked back at my crotch, then up at my face, then back down at my crotch, at my cock.

"I think we�re through here John. Don�t you?" She was blushing.

"Claire�" my eyes penetrated hers, looking for something, for a sign "�I don�t know how to say this� I think you�re�" her brow hardened, in disbelief. She stopped me.

"John. Stop."

"I think you�re, a very� attractive woman."

"You should get out now. This is inappropriate."

"Why? I�m very attracted to you� I thought you�"

"Stop it! I don�t want to hear this." She locked both hands onto her steering wheel and looked far off into the distance. Then she trained her glaring eyes on mine.

"Do you even know what Libris does? Or Sievenex?" I pleaded.

"What??"

"Or Staminex?"

"What�s Staminex."

"Staminex. It�s what I got from Dr. Tinker."

She looked me up and down, like I should be gone from her midst.

"I�ve been taking it for weeks now, Claire. And it works. It works great."

"I don�t care what� wait, what did you say? You�ve been taking WHAT?!"

"Staminex. That�s what I�m talking about. It�s amazing. It�s all amazing."

"Amazing, huh?"

"Yeah, amazing." I felt stupid, like all the blood had rushed from my brain into my dick and �amazing� was the only word I could think of.

"How�s it �amazing�?" She softened slightly, laughing at the sad effort I was making to communicate.

"Do you even know what these drugs do?"

She didn�t respond. She didn�t know. But her smile said she wasn�t offended, or angry. I wasn�t in danger of being thrown from the car.

"Libris.. is a birth control pill� that causes breast enlargement."

"HA HA!! I knew it!" she burst forth with laughter.

"Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy but it�s true. Too true."

Her face was getting very red.

"And Staminex� it�s� it�s like Viagra� but it, well� it makes your� you know� it�s enlarges�. the penis."

She opened her mouth to let out another loud "ha ha", but instead she dropped her hands from the steering wheel and reassessed me, looking at me like I was out of my mind.

"It�s true. I swear to you. It works."

"And� you�ve been taking this stuff, for the article? Great idea. Just great."

I didn�t know what she meant about taking it for the article. "It�s not like No-Doz", I said. She laughed again. Told me I was funny. I squirmed in my seat and pulled my slacks tight against my thigh, showing my stiff rod in full relief. Claire�s eyes bulged out of her head.

"Jesus. Is that thing real?"

She looked around the darkened parking lot to see if anyone was watching. I put my hand on myself, grabbed my shaft and moved it beneath the thin fabric of my pants.

"My god, John. Stop that. What are you doing?" She watched what I was doing with rapt awe. "Is it always like that?"

"No not always. Only when I�m, you know� attracted to someone."

I leaned over and kissed Claire on the mouth. She stiffened and resisted, but allowed my tongue to probe her mouth. To my surprise she kissed me back.

"We shouldn�t be doing this. ��..you�re married."

"I want to show it to you."

"Oh god." Again we kissed, this time with some passion. "No." Claire touched my face and allowed me to put my hand around her tiny waist.

"I think you�re so fucking hot, Claire. I always have."

I spread my legs and tilted myself toward her. She kissed me and put her hands on my arms, my chest, muttering something again about "the article". I felt her hand brush against my crotch, her delicate fingers cautiously confirming what her eyes would not believe. Cautious touching gave way to gripping. Her childlike fingers barely reached around my shaft.

"My god. I�ve never felt anything like it. Fucking hell. You�re huge."

"I want to fuck you, Claire."

"Um, I don�t think so. Let me see that thing." She said as she yanked on my belt and unbuttoned my slacks. "Might be fun trying, but no way could that�" She took my meat in her hands and gasped, "�no WAY would this thing fit in me. God, look at it!"

I leaned back and let her feel up the biggest cock she�d ever seen.

"Come on Claire. Is there somewhere we could go?"

"I�ve never felt anything like it. Fuck, you�re huge."

She was repeating herself. This was a good sign. Maybe she was loosening up. I really wanted� really needed to fuck this hot little bitch. I kissed her hard, cramming my tongue into her mouth. She responded by tugging on my dick, flexing her bony arms, and talking about that fucking article for some reason. I slipped my hand inside her blouse, feeling for tits she simply didn�t have. I found her nipples. They were just nubs, like pencil erasers. I pinched them and she gasped.

"Let�s go somewhere." I said.

She bent her head down, looking at my cock, pulling it. I put my hand on her head and gently moved it down. Claire kissed the head of my cock.

"Jesus, you take baths in that cologne of yours, don�t you" she said as she poked me in the ribs and kissed me again. I wanted to be inside her so bad. The urge was overpowering. Unbelievable. I couldn�t help it. I snaked my hand under her skirt and found the moist folds of her pussy. She was wet and ready.

"I want you Claire. I want to fuck you."

She paused a moment, lost in thought. She seemed to want to say something to me. She said nothing as she returned to sucking my cock as best she could, moving her lips along my nine inches, squeezing me with both hands. I pulled her up, trying to pry her loose from the driver�s seat. "Come on, take off your panties. Let�s do it. No one with see."

"Mmm, no. No John. No way." She spoke to my dick, and to herself. "You�re way too big." her voice sounded strange, soft, sweet, like a child. Protests sounded like hyperbole, like she just wanted to exaggerate the challenge, build the excitement of fucking a cock that was "way too big".

"Come on. Let�s do it." I pleaded.

She ignored my plea, and went back down on my cock, pumping it, working it, hoping this would please me. After ten minutes of work she seemed visibly worn out from the effort. When another couple passed by the car Claire crossed in front of my body, sitting on my lap, blocking their view. She kissed me, like an old girlfriend, until the couple were in their car and had driven away. The parking lot was nearly empty. The restaurant�primarily a lunch spot geared to business people�was closed. The car was completely dark. She returned to her manual stimulation of me, determined to get me off. Again I pulled her up out of her seat. She felt light, like a young girl. She hiked up her skirt and straddled me, straddled my sex, rubbing her damp cotton panties along the length of it.

"We can�t John. You�re too big."

"I�m not too big. Come on� you gotta try." I bucked my hips and she held me to her non-existent bosom, enjoying the feel of the thick hose sliding up against her pussy. I pulled back her panties and pushed her away, trying to angle my cock into her. She resisted.

"I can�t."

"Yes you can."

"I can�t�" she wimpered, "I�m not on the pill�"

Was this an excuse not to fuck me?

"Do you have any rubbers for that thing?" she asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Come on, let me put it in you. I�ll pull out before�"

"No. No way." She squirmed and tried to climb off of me. I held onto her and kissed her. She relaxed and sat back down, straddling my dick. I wanted to fuck her so bad. Wanted to stretch her tight pussy, fill her up. She grinded her cunt against the base of my cock. I pumped my hips with hers until we started a rhythm.

"That feels good, huh?" I said.

Her eyes were closed. She looked dazed. Her breathing was short and quick. She seemed to be gulping down air.

"God that stuff you wear is overpowering John� you gotta lay off that� stuff�" she tensed up slightly and climbed off of me. I unhooked her bra and pulled it off. She seemed happy to be out of it. Her nipples were hard as diamonds. I flicked them with my tongue, thinking how great she would look with a pair of real titties. With one hand I grabbed my dick and aimed it up at her hovering snatch. With my other hand I tugged on her panties. Straddling me the way she was, they wouldn�t come off.

"No John. Please. I can�t."

I pulled until I ripped through them. I tore them away from her narrow hips like I was peeling a banana. She clutched her shredded panties and tried to move away.

"Claire. Come on. I want you. I want to be inside you."

I felt the tip of my cock push against her opening. She relaxed her body and pleaded with me to stop, but she seemed to be surrendering herself. "I�ll never forgive you� you bastard�" she whispered huskily as I slowly pushed into her. "You better�OW� pull OOH � you better fucking pull out�." "Don�t worry." "Oh fuck." "It�s okay." "Oh, GOD." I pushed, she relaxed, carefully bringing her weight down on the biggest dick she�d ever fucked. I hit bottom with a good four inches to go when she withdrew, seething, then came back down on me. Tears trickled down her face. She stared into my eyes, looking for me, as if she wondered who I was, why she was there. I forced myself deeper into her and she winced in pain.

"God damn you." She pushed back, tilting her hips, trying to take more of me into her compact little body. I pumped my hips, lifting her into the air. Her head bumped softly against the ceiling. She cried and grabbed the back of the car seat and held tightly.

"Oh fuck. Oh god� GOD� why did I let you�."

I picked up speed, could feel myself about to explode. We both started breathing heavier. The car was rocking. I started to grunt, I could feel it coming on and so could she.

"Pull out. Pull out." She climbed off but I held her waist, pulled her onto me. I wanted to unload� inside of her.

"Oh, god Claire. I�m gonna cum." I rammed her with as much force as I could.

"OUCH!! Pull out. PULL OUT JOHN. STOP IT. YOU�RE HURTING ME."

I held back my release as I held onto her, fucking her body like a doll.

"Fuck! It�s hurting! Stop. Stop. Please. Let me off." I ignored her, even when she pushed off my chest with her fists. I just pumped her more gently, pacing myself. "Oh god, oh god, oh god�" She sobbed. "Why did I let you do this�" She was wet with sweat, and tears. My dick slid in and out of her strained hole. Why didn�t I stop? Why couldn�t I stop? I felt her hips take charge, her own orgasm betraying her. She propped herself and summoned whatever strength she had to continue. Her let her dirty blonde hair hang down, wanting to hide her face. Sniffles and coughs interrupted her gentle sobs. I could tell she was feeling it now, wanted it. Her little body soldiered on, began to draw on my manhood, milking me.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fuck you."

I increased my efforts. My own body seemed to take over, its own satisfaction imminent.

"Oh god, Claire. I�m gonna cum. I�m coming."

"PULL IT OUT!"

"no"

"GOD DAMN IT, I SAID Noooo-OHHHH my GOD!!!!!!!"

She jumped up but couldn�t jump high enough. I hiked my hips into the air, lifting both our bodies off the seat. My dick surged inside her, blasting the gates of her womb with my seed. I pumped and spurted as she convulsed in orgasm, our bodies grinding until we were both spent. My cum poured out around the base of my cock, trickling down the crack of my ass, soaking her car seat.

Immediately she climbed off me and jerked her skirt back down. I think she was in pain. She was short of breath. She rolled down her window and fresh air rushed into the car. She inhaled deeply and took relief from it, fighting back further sobs, wiping the tears from her cheeks. I reached over and touched her face but she blocked my hand. I had to work to refasten my pants over my cock, which refused to soften. I hated putting it away. We both sat there in silence for a few moments. Again I leaned over and kissed her. She helplessly kissed me back, without passion, taking in more fresh air through her nose. She opened her eyes mid-kiss and glared at me. "Stop now. John. Get off me." She said with my mouth pressed to hers. I kept kissing her, put my hands on her tits. She shoved me back.

"Get the fuck off of me already!"

I sat back in my seat. Claire looked furious, hurt, stunned, confused. I was confused too.

"Get out of the car."

"But�"

"Get out."

"But�"

* * * *

I felt a little bad about how our encounter had played out. But as soon as Claire pulled out of that parking lot� I started feeling better. I felt great in fact. Fucking another woman gave me a huge rush. My manhood was still stiff inside my pants. I maneuvered it until I could get it to jump down my leg. Still it tented out the fabric, showing plainly. But no one was around to see it. I lurched back to my car, wondering when and if Claire and I would "get together" again. I wanted her to like me, wanted her to want me. She wanted that article from me. I knew that. So I would get busy on the article, go back and review those notes she�d given me a month ago, if I could find them, get it together for her. No problemo.

First though I would check in with Dr. Tinker and get her samples of Libris, and Sievenex.

She needed �em.

And I needed to lay in a fresh supply of Staminex anyhow.

I replayed the afternoon in my head, and rubbed my cock as I wound through the city streets in my Saab, headed for home. My mind must have wandered, because I realized after a hour of driving that I was lost. How could that have happened? I�d lived in that city for fifteen years. It wasn�t possible for me to get lost!

I looked around for street signs. Nothing looked familiar. It was dark. Most businesses were closed. The neighborhood looked pretty seedy. I pulled over to ask a woman for directions.

"Excuse me. Could you help me?"

A beautiful tall brown-skinned woman approached my car and peered in. I was in the wrong neighborhood for sure. The woman�s face looked tired, but her eyes were gorgeous. Her tits were strapped down by a tight tube top that glittered under the yellow street light. She looked hot.

"What do you need, honey?"

"I�m a little lost I think. Can you help me?"

"Forty bucks." She looked at me with a bored expression, waiting for me to figure out what forty bucks meant.

I dipped into my wallet and removed forty dollars and handed it to her. "I really only need directions�" I said as she opened the car door and hopped in.

Her long legs crowded each other for space in my small car. Dark brown thighs that went on forever before disappearing under a green mini-skirt. Her cheap perfume smelled good. Good and strong.

"Directions, huh�"

I looked at her mouth, her full painted lips. A car pulled up behind me and honked it�s horn. The woman checked behind us then instructed me to pull around the corner. I obliged.

The street I turned onto was dark. She told me to stop the car and turn off the engine.

"What do you like?" She asked me. She adjusted her tube top. Her big fake tits stood out in the pale light. I felt blood surge into my cock. For some reason my pants were already undone. I didn�t care.

"I really just want to get home� my wife�"

"Uh, huh." She leaned over and pulled back my pants, clearing a space for my dick, and for her head. My hand went of its own free will to her hard round tits and felt them up. I realized, dimly, this woman was a pro. I was glad she was there. She waggled my cock around. She seemed surprised, or amused. "My my� whuddawe got here?" Her fingers stroked my length and tested my thickness. She flashed me a smile, her teeth gleamed brightly. "You somethin� else, arent� ya daddy??" She bent and put her thick lips around my thick dick and slowly lowered her head, easing me down her throat. The she pulled off, licked her lips and pushed me back in my seat.

"You just sit back and let Honey take care of this pretty thing of yours."

Honey sucked my dick like she was trying to suck it off of me. Her head bobbed up and down like a piece of machinery. I came, forcefully, relieving myself into the back of her throat. When I was done she straightened up, fixed her lipstick in my mirror, told me how to get back to the highway and was out of there before I could finish fastening my pants.

By the time I finally made it home, Kate was climbing the walls. She practically tore my clothes from my body and jumped me right there inside the front door. I was more thrilled than ever to bury myself in her boobs, to lose myself in her fantastic body. She was like a playground, all for me. I felt like the luckiest man in the world. Over the course of the rest of the evening we fucked our way from the living room to the bedroom without much talk until we both drifted off to sleep, exhausted.

* * * * *

I awoke late the next morning in a haze, my head throbbing. I always got headaches if I forgot to take my pill first thing in the morning. I felt dehydrated, drained. I staggered into the bathroom to piss and take my pill. My cock felt heavy, leaden. It hung over the toilet like a fleshy sock, leaking a dark yellow stream of piss into the bowl. Kate had fucked and sucked the life out of me the night before. Not to mention "Honey". And Claire. I was barely conscious but it was coming back to me. The previous day�s events were foggy in my mind, like a dream I had to strain to remember. But I felt proud. Of my conquests. I shook off the last dribbles of piss, lingering to feel up the meaty appendage dangling between my legs. I couldn�t help but admire the thing. It was soft, for a switch, but still thick, and so long, covered in ugly pulsing veins. Where did all those veins come from? It looked like a foreign object, attached to the junction of my legs and my torso, grotesque, captivating.

Kate lie in bed sleeping. I shut the bathroom door, turned on the spigot and stepped into the shower. The jets of warm water felt good on my tired body. I busied my soapy left hand, stroking myself under the shower. I thought of the professional blow job I�d spent good money on the night before, of Claire�s head bouncing off the ceiling of her car, of Kate�s tits, Kate�s fantastic fleshy pillows, smothering me, smothering my cock. God, how I loved that woman.

Without thinking I employed my right hand, putting it to my cock in front of my left, gripping it like a baseball bat. I couldn�t believe how great this thing felt. It was so big. I said a silent thanks to Dr. Tinker. Fucking genius. The tighter I squeezed and pumped my dick, the larger it swelled in my two hands. I came against the shower curtain with staggering force. I practically saw spots in front of my eyes. Globs of my semen knocked against the heavy plastic, mingling with the water, running in rivulets down into the tub and down the drain. My knees were weak. My head felt light, like I might pass out. I dropped my erect cock and watched it bob and weave in the air in front of me, heavily. It looked gigantic. I steadied myself against the wall and waited while blood retreated back into my body, where it was needed. The gnarled tree branch that stood out in front of me went slack, slumping downward, jumping slightly with my pulse, until finally it hung straight down like a fresh kill. The head was still engorged, the size and color of a ripe plum. I rubbed my eyes and focused on it. It was hanging down to almost my knee!

I pulled it up again and lifted it into the air. My balls hung from the base, rubbing against my thighs. I spread my legs slightly and felt the air move around my sack. The whole apparatus had grown larger in the night! I whipped open the shower curtain and checked myself in the mirror. I looked like I had a foot long salami and two tennis balls stuck to me. I took out Katherine�s tape measure and extended it along the length of my shaft. It was just under twelve inches! The thought both thrilled and scared me. How could this be? How long had it been yesterday? I couldn�t even remember. My head felt thick and fuzzy. Physically I felt great, but mentally it was as if I were moving in slow motion, like wading through molasses. Twelve inches?? This wasn�t possible, was it?

I went to the medicine cabinet and took out my last packet of Staminex. There was only about a week�s worth left! No problem, I thought. A foot long cock should be enough for this lifetime. I downed the my pill, drank a private toast to Dr. Tinker and shuffled back to bed and snuggled up next to my sweet wife.

Whenever I think back on my tryst with Claire I feel ashamed. Her pleading with me to stop while I forced myself on her, I can scarcely remember it, but I know I was mortified. Then there was the hooker. What was I thinking? The testosterone or whatever it was that made Staminex work had obviously clouded my mind, had possessed me, made me want to go out and spread my seed around town. I should have flushed the remainder of the pills down the toilet, but I finished the rest of what I had. I would enjoy the rest of that week, lavishing my attention on Kate, in hopes of rubbing out the guilty feelings I had about Claire and "Honey".

Kate was thrilled with my growth. If her body was like a playground for me, mine was a playground for her. We fucked each other, ordered pizza, fucked, sucked, slept, and fucked each other without regard for the time of day or anything. She kept me hard all day and all night. Just the sight of her, the smell of her, the constant presence of her boobs (which were too big and beautiful to bother stuffing into a bra) kept me turned on, whether I was awake or asleep. She kept me that way, kept the blood flowing into that raging perpetual hard-on. I didn�t even bother to answer the phone, or do laundry, or wash dishes, or take out the trash. Though my cock was tireless, I felt weak and stupid, drunk from too many orgasms. Kate took over for us, ordering our meals, getting fluids into me, helping me to the bathroom. She thought it was funny. Even when she could stand no more, she would still tease the cock with her tits, brushing up against it, rubbing oil into it, playing with the oversized balls. She even talked to it, ignoring me completely. It became like a game to her to see how many times she could get it off, a game that ceased to be much fun when she realized it was inexhaustible. Then the game became a thrill, a way to keep me horizontal, helpless, drained of strength, unable to think or speak. Though that last week is a complete haze now, I seem to recall that we both loved it. The cock loved it. I was pretty out of it, and for awhile there I just had to lay back and let the cock have reign over the body.

Then the Staminex ran out.

Kate could barely accommodate my cock by that point, without straining herself. She loved the look of it, and the feel of it, and my stamina. But the thought of it growing any longer or thicker seemed ridiculous. We both agreed enough was enough. I would not call Dr. Tinker for a refill.

In the days that followed�the first days off of Staminex�my head cleared considerably. As the drug was flushed from my system I came to my senses for the first time in over a month. For me, the initial thrill of being hung with a footlong schlong turned to a kind of shock. Attempts to dress and look normal and be comfortable were frustrated by the cumbersome size and weight of this thing. And the huge balls forced me to walk differently, slightly bow-legged. I had to constantly be aware of it else I might hurt myself, or leave myself open for embarrassment, or discomfort. The dick was powerful, but somehow it made me feel vulnerable, awkward, self-aware. Sometimes the mere sight of my wife�s cleavage would send the blood rushing into it, out of my body. Then the pants would come off. My head would feel light. I would have to relieve myself if I wanted to return to normal. Katie was only too happy to oblige. It made her feel useful, needed, essential. Testing her power over me, she came on to me at the supermarket one day, eager to put me under "her spell" as she called it, eager get me back home, back into bed, and fuck me to my senses. It was all a big game to her, but as I slowly did come back to my senses, I realized I would need to gain some self-control. I would fight, if I had to, to resist her. I pleaded with her to order new bras, to contain herself, to show some modesty, some mercy. She preferred going braless, which now, as I think back on it, was perfectly insane. But nothing she had fit anymore, she would insist. I knew she was probably right. I convinced her to let me take her shopping for new bras, bras that fit. I assured her that the support and shape a bra would lend her huge hangers would look incredibly sexy, and reminded her that she could wear something other than loose tee shirts and sweat shirts. This idea appealed to her. So she agreed to go back to wearing a bra, and we went shopping. She felt vindicated�or took special pleasure anyhow�in discovering that she was now a 46" H. The old woman at Custom Intimates was non-plussed, and a bit put off by Kate�s demeanor, but she seemed satisfied knowing she was helping this poor girl get some of the support and coverage she so desperately needed. But she was none too amused when my credit card was declined. Then was visibly perturbed when my second credit card was declined. I paid her in cash, $350 for three 46" H brassieres.

I discovered my bank account was almost cleaned out. I hadn�t worked in almost a year. The article I was supposed to do for Claire� It was the first time I�d thought about Claire, or the article, since� I had to count the pills to count the days. It had been a week!

I rushed home, realizing I owed Claire at least a telephone call. Hopefully I�d be able to stall her a few more days until I could catch up and get this article together. What was it about? I never knew, even from the beginning. I couldn�t believe how lax I had been. And now my money was gone. Our house was a complete sty. I looked over at Kate sitting in the passenger seat of my Saab, chewing gum, checking her makeup in the mirror. The new bra looked fantastic on her. The old woman assured me these bras would "minimize" her burgeoning bust, but somehow they made her look even bigger, more cantilevered. Kate angled the mirror down to look at her chest. No way it could have fit in that little mirror, but she admired herself all the same. I could feel my cock jump inside the loose pants I was wearing. Kate looked over at me and thanked me for "the presents". Her seatbelt stretched over her huge bust, cutting between her twin peaks, emphasizing them. She shook her shoulders to show me she was still "all that". The car swerved and my cock surged. I could feel it snaking down my leg, brushing against my knee. My head grew heavy. I tried to concentrate. Needed to get home.

I managed to make it home. As soon as I was inside our apartment I removed my jacket, unfastened my pants and let them drop to the floor. Kate threw her packages down and went to the refrigerator. The light from the fridge bounced off her hot body as she rummaged around searching for something. I was broke! I needed to think. I couldn�t. I stood staring at her and stroked myself. Kate shouted out, "There ain�t nuthin� in here� I�m hungry� There ain�t even nuthin to drink�" I stared at her tits and ass hanging out of the refrigerator. We needed groceries. We needed money. I looked around at our place. It was strewn with garbage, dirty clothes. Pictures on the walls were either crooked or missing. "Oh god� how did it ever get this bad?" I wondered aloud as I closed my eyes and focused on my all-important orgasm. The fridge door closed with a thump. I opened my eyes and looked at Kate�my well-nourished wife�looking at me. She had a simple smile on. She just stood there, watching me, helpless me, pumping my huge cock. She looked so hot in a black silk blouse, knotted just beneath her huge rack. She posed for me, shifting her weight, bending over the kitchen counter, showing me her deep cleavage. I pumped harder, faster.

"John??? �you okaaaay?" she asked as she sipped a glass of water.

I fell back against the wall and lowered myself, lifting my cock straight into the air. I pumped it weakly, wanting to end it. I went down onto my knees, supporting my upper body with one hand, pumping my shaft with the other. My balls hung down and scraped against my leather belt. I looked out across the dirty carpet. Empty liter soda bottles, month-old food containers, newspapers. FORECLOSURE NOTICES! I tried to keep the tip of my cock from touching the dirty floor, holding it up close to my chest. I noticed our neglected answering machine. The little red light was blinking. Finally I blew my load, watched it shoot across the filthy rug, onto my jacket. I didn�t care.

* * * * *

Claire had tried repeatedly to reach me. She�d left various messages, ranging from hostile and angry, to weirdly pleading, to just pissy, to concerned. Her last message simply informed me that the article had been canceled. Don�t bother calling. Fuck you. I dug around and found the folder with the notes about the article. I needed money. Could I possibly get back in her good graces? I pulled out the brief, scanned the information she�d given me that first day we had lunch. The whole thing gathered around my battered brain like two big gorilla hands, shaking my head.

"A rogue doctor� working for an Eastern European pharmaceutical company� possibly dispensing untested drugs somewhere in the United States� goes by the name of Tinker� Josef Tinker� Interpol says� may be armed� F.B.I. thinks� notorious� wanted on two counts of this, five counts of that, eight counts of the other�"

Holy shit.

I immediately phoned Tinker but there was no answer.

I drove down to the plaza where I remembered his office was located. All I found was an empty space for lease. The lights were on, but all the furniture was gone. I could still see the orange and pink carpet through the narrow hall windows. It looked brand new. But all the furniture was gone. I tracked down the building management and called them up. I grilled them about a Dr. Josef Tinker as if I were still investigating that fucking article. When did he move in? When did he move out? What do you know about the guy? Where did he go? Do you know how I might reach any of his patients? No one seemed to know anything. No one seemed to remember anyone ever coming or going from the office in question. They recognized the name Tinker, but had nothing to tell me that was of any use whatsoever. The flesh sock hanging down between my legs felt shriveled and lifeless, for the first time in longer than I could remember. I felt scared, angry. What had I done?

I called Claire, hoping for some lead. Something to go on.

I was told she was on pregnancy leave.

Panicked, worried for Katherine�s health, I scheduled a doctor�s appointment for her. I took all her Libris and Seivenex and hid them in my office until I could take them with me to the doctor and ask him about the stuff. I explained to Kate that Dr. Tinker had left town for some reason. She didn�t seem especially concerned or curious as to why, which was just as well with me. We took her to the doctor two days later. He turned out to be a she. The fact that Dr. Mullins was a woman somehow filled me with confidence that Kate would be in good hands. The fact that she was a rather attractive woman gave me cause for concern though. Even though I was the one who�d do most of the talking during this visit, I tried not to make too much eye contact with the doctor, tried not to notice her chest. The woman had curves that no white lab coat could camouflage. I needed to maintain control of The Monster.

Dr. Mullins gave Katherine a full physical, allowing me to stay in the room with her while she did it. She was quite charmed by Kate who seemed to enjoy being checked out by a new doctor. Dr. Mullins, even after only a cursory examination, assured us Kate was in excellent health. She was skeptical when we informed her Kate was a couple weeks shy of 40. She remarked that this was "amusing, but impossible", as if I were trying to put one over on her, as if I needed to lie, to explain why a girl like Kate would be with an older guy like me. I insisted that it was true, and Kate cheerfully backed me up. Dr. Mullins grew serious. She�d just been informed that the young lady in front of her wasn�t my daughter but my young wife. She straightened herself and made it very clear to me that Kate, in her estimation, had the body of a 19 year old!

Was she suggesting that Kate might not even of legal age? The cold accusatory look that came over her face seemed to suggest this. I told Kate to get out her driver�s license, feeling I needed to prove myself.

Kate wasn�t much help, answering "My what?? My DRIVING license?"

Was she acting dumb on purpose? I grabbed her purse and pulled out her plastic Hello Kitty wallet. Her driver�s license wasn�t in it. I asked her what she did with it. She didn�t know. She hadn�t driven anywhere in over a year. She didn�t remember. I looked at her face, her smooth innocent face.

"I�m sorry." She smiled and touched my hand.

I felt uncomfortable. Dr. Mullins appeared embarrassed, or disgusted, or a little of both. Kate made things worse when she softly pleaded, "Don�t be mad. I love you."

I�d forgotten how simple she could be. I�d also forgotten how young she looked now. Her arms, thighs, waist, all looked so thin and lithe and smooth and toned. She fidgeted on the examination table, crossing her hands over her knobby knees. My god, the doctor was absolutely right. She did look 19! I restated the facts. My wife was no 19 year old. Dr. Mullins assured me, in no uncertain terms, that Kate was not 40. She couldn�t be. If she was it could only be because she was some kind of freak of nature. She said this with a kind of gentle sarcasm, as if, obviously, Kate was no freak of nature. Just because a woman has large breasts, that doesn�t make her a freak.

Dr. Mullins told me she was confident that blood tests would bear her out, as if to put me on notice. None of this surprised me particularly, but hearing the doctor say it, with such conviction, something in the tone of her voice, concern for Kate, mixed with some vague contempt for me, and a distaste, possibly, for us both, for us as a couple anyhow. I wanted nothing more than to come clean with Dr. Mullins about the drugs. I wanted to know, ultimately, if it was safe for Kate to quit them.

Mindful not to offend or upset Kate, I carefully described the "symptoms" my wife had experienced while taking her current birth control. Increased vitality, energy� "and, well�"

Kate interrupted, demurely, "my breasts� they grew"

The doctor told me what I already knew, that birth control can often cause a bit of breast growth. It was nothing to get panicked about.

I wasn�t sure I wanted to get into the fact that Kate�s tits had gone from a B cup to an H over the course of a year. Wasn�t sure I wanted to admit that we�d been taking prescription medications from a "rogue doctor". Who ever heard of such a thing?

"If you�re concerned, I can prescribe something else for you."

We all pondered Kate�s breasts. Kate most of all, I think. Going off Libris meant her breasts would probably stop growing. She must have decided she was happy with what she had. She arched her back, as if feeling the strain, and announced, "I think I�d like that." Her voice sounded soft and girlish, like a child.

"Poor thing" I thought, pitying my wife for being saddled with those heavy boobs. For the first time I allowed myself to consider something even worse; thanks to the Seivenex, Katherine was probably brain damaged. Thankfully she�d run out of Seivenex many weeks ago. How simple-minded would she be if she were still taking it, I wondered. I put my hand on her bare shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, even though Dr. Mullins� eyes registered their contempt for me because of it.

* * * * *

Ever since she heard her doctor say she had the body of a 19 year old, Kate hasn�t been the same. Nor have I. I can�t get around it. I know better, I know my wife is fortysomething, like me. But only because her birth certificate tells me so. I�m only six years older than her. But she looks at me now with those big brown eyes and I feel like all she sees is an old middle aged guy.

She told me just the other day how I am "aging gracefully". I was crushed by the comment. She tried to smooth things over, telling me how she "loves the distinguished writer type" how she thinks "older men are sexy". Then she asked me for twenty dollars. What could it mean other than that she sees me as old?

If what Dr. Mullins says is true Katie (as she now prefers to be called) has aged in reverse. That maniac Dr. Tinker turned back my wife�s life clock twenty years. Now she�s got her whole young adult life ahead of her, to live again, but without the use of the intellect she once was so proud of. What kind of life will she have, trapped in the body of a dim-witted, huge breasted girl? How long before this old man doesn�t suit her anymore. She can barely add and subtract, but I can still do the math. When she looks in the mirror and sees a 23 year old, how will she feel about the 50 year old man in her bed? When she�s 30, I�ll be pushing 60. I can�t bear to think about it.

Her tits have stopped growing, thankfully. And her libido has calmed down somewhat from its former all-consuming peak, which is good for both of us. When she was craving sex every minute of the day, she had absolutely no interest in anything but fucking and eating and sleeping. I must say, she�s much more interesting�and sexier�this way. I�ve seen her really flower recently, taking interest in the rest life has to offer for the first time since all this started. She�s even taken to reading again. Mostly magazines, but it�s a start.

Her sex drive is still strong though. Mine has gone back to what it was originally, I guess, which causes problems sometimes. Katie can be demanding, unreasonable. I try not to disappoint her. She can be irrational, defensive, childish. And her temper gets the best of her sometimes. At the moment we�re in the middle of a big fight, over nothing. (She wants me to take her to Mexico for a week on the beach, but we were just there a month ago. So she�s not speaking to me until further notice.) Any attempt to get my wife to talk about her behavior, any appeal to her maturity and intelligence is shot down, met with name-calling or game-playing. She can be infuriating at times. More and more I actually feel like her father and I hate it. I hate that she can make me so angry.

(Oh, She just came into the room. Said she wishes I would just get it up more often.)

Yes, I still have this ridiculous cock, which I suspect is the only reason Katie sticks around. Problem is, my stamina isn�t what it was a couple years ago, and the act of sex wipes me out. I�ve begun to have chest pains, just from getting an erection. I can�t tell Katie.

END