A new world order

by Kowalski

The archive was missing the bulk of this classic hetero muscle story, so I’ve restored the lost Parts for those who are interested.

Scientists completed the Human Genome Project in 1999, years ahead of schedule. The mapping of the human genetic blueprint marked the threshold for the future of medical science and for humankind itself. Mankind now had a the tools to manipulate the stuff of life. He could now play God with its own biology, presumably in the hope of preventing disease and doing away with infirmities and deformities that have plagued the human race across the millennia.

It would be years before the medical industry was able to read the genome map well enough to begin devising the much-anticipated cures and treatments. In 2008 the first FDA-approved gene therapy was introduced to the public. Pfizer's prescription drug Cytex permanently immunized the human body against diseases and infections for which medical science had the cure.

Smallpox, polio and a host of other maladies to which humankind was vulnerable were genetically “edited out” of the species within a year. After being genetically-altered by Cytex one's new improved genes could be passed down naturally to one's offspring and so forth through the genes of one's descendents. It was lauded as a miracle by some, an invitation to disaster by others. But the effects of “genetic reconstruction” felt like the most natural thing in the world to those who would undergo it.

Cures for certain diseases such as cancer, depression and the common cold would continue elude researchers. However as scientists came to better understand the genome map many other formerly elusive diseases surrendered their secrets and were cured once and for all. Birth defects were eliminated. Life spans were extended. Man's faith in his own boundless ingenuity and mastery of nature was restored to a position not seen since the Enlightenment. Naysayers began to fall silent.

By 2011 the human code had been completely hacked. Drugs designed to alter to the human genetic blueprint could now be made and sold at will, pending FDA approval. Competing drug companies now began to explore new cosmetic applications of the powerful new “superscience”.

A brand new chapter in human evolution was about to begin and the world itself was about to be turned upside down.

It was an historic day at Luna Genetics.

The executive board filed into the conference room, taking their places at the long oak table. Two female scientists sat at the far end of the table, fighting to contain their nervousness. Months of research and testing and many thousands of hours of hard work had led to this day. The woman in the lab coat whispered to her superior.

“These idiots are not going to want to hear any of it. I'd bet you a million bucks.”

The other woman seemed calm cool and collected to her young assistant.

As head of developmental research for Luna Genetics, Lisa Quinn had been through this process before. She was a tough cookie and could play hardball with the boys when the occasion called for it. Today the order of business was to present a final rundown of the benefits and specifically the known side-effects of Promade, the company's first mass-market drug and first ever true cure for male pattern baldness.

“You're probably right Kendra, but we'll lay it all on the table and let them make the call. I won't let any of this be on OUR consciences. When and if the shit hits the fan, these monkeys will be the ones who'll wish they were wearing diapers, not us.”

Ed Hollings, vice president in charge of product development, took his place at the front of the room and addressed the dozen or so top brass who were now seated.

'Good morning gentlemen… and ladies.”

He smiled to the group, and winked in Lisa and Kendra's general direction.

“Today the first ever over-the-counter “genetic treatment” will be introduced to the global consumer marketplace. Gentlemen, as I think you already know, we've got the goddamned killer app of all time on our hands here; the cure for male pattern baldness. Now, in a minute I'm gonna let our head of research, our lovely… Lisa here, tell us all exactly how it works.

But first I want to say that for those of you who've been here from the start, Jack, Dick, all the original Luna team who stayed with us during this long ramping up period… boys your ship is about to come in. Big time…”

He went on like this for awhile, gloating over Luna Genetics' pending success. Hollings was a middle-aged horse's ass who didn't understand any of the science behind Promade. He was more of a marketing dink. A fifty year old half-bald marketing dink. His specialty was ballyhoo, rallying the troops. Luna hired him away from Max Factor only five months ago but he strutted around the offices like he owned the place. Promade was his first big project with the company. The girls down in the labs had nicknamed him “the suit”, after his rather poor taste in cut-rate Italian suits, which he always wore to the office. For Lisa and Kendra it was hard as hell to sit quietly and listen to his self-congratulatory preening. They tried not to look at the nasty white stuff forming in the corner of his mouth as they steeled themselves and waited their turn to speak.

“…every man in the world is going to want Promade. It'll be more popular than Coca- Cola… ”

He was practically spitting on Lisa's notes.

“…More popular than fucking mother's milk for Christ's sake… and gentlemen… by god, WE… are going to have a corner on the market.” He pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. Lisa's binder tumbled onto the floor. He didn't even notice.

“Now, Lisa, get up here girl. We all want to hear your brief on Promade.”

His voice was condescending, rather like a lecherous uncle.

Lisa stooped over to gather her scattered papers while Hollings stood there lighting a cigarette. Every eye in the room was checking out her ass and Kendra was embarrassed for her friend, even a little pissed. Everyone knows there's no smoking allowed in the building!

Jerkwad!

Lisa Quinn righted herself and took her place in front of the room.

She peered through the lenses of her reading glasses at the room full of men and began her presentation in a cold scientific manner, reading from her notes.

“Like the Cytex series and other prescription meds that blazed the trail for us, Promade is gene therapy in pill form. When taken three times daily Promade is a cure for male pattern baldness. But we call it 'genetic maintenance' because the effects of the drug only last so long as the patient keeps taking the it. Promade is based on a genetic matrix derived from a pool of particularly exceptional male specimens. When taken as directed, Promade takes the genetic makeup of the patient and combines it with the Luna template. Sort of taking the patient's genes and the Promade genes and 'averaging them'. The longer the patient takes the drug, the more closely he approaches the Promade ideal. With each capsule he takes, his own original genetic disposition is 'averaged out' until eventually his own original genetic disposition is completely overridden by the Promade matrix.

If the patient goes off the drug, his original weaker genetic matrix reasserts itself.

“The drug works on the body as an amplifier to the lymphatic system of glands and the cardiovascular system of the user, increasing blood flow, especially to the scalp. Some of the unobjectionable side-effects of the drug include mild euphoria and a heightened libido. Focus groups that we conducted indicated that these side-effects would NOT hurt sales… if any thing they would only ENHANCE the Promade experience and serve as an inducement to all men to try the drug…”

“…even perhaps those who are not yet balding.”

She looked up from her notes and smiled. Heads around the room were nodding in the affirmative.

“The negative side-effects are no more alarming than those of alcohol or other substances that men have abused for centuries. High blood pressure, loss of motivation and slow imperceptible decreases in mental acuity should do no more to discourage the use of Promade than they have discouraged the use of Budweiser. All of these side-effects will manifest to varying degrees in the men who take the drug regularly. The stuff burns brain cells gentlemen. Make no mistake. Beyond that… we have determined that in cases where patients used Promade without interruption for longer than 6 months, 3 out of 5 those patients experienced not only the restoration of a headful of thick hair but also some degree of enhancement of his… sexual functions, this accompanied by an increase in stamina, a degree of enlargement of the sex organs and… patients reported… intensified orgasms.”

She paused.

By now the board was shifting in their seats. Some of them men were slapping each other on the backs. They came to the meeting expecting to have to wrestle with the moral issue of dangerous side effects but so far this sounded awfully damned good. No doubt half of them were ready to start popping Promade right then and there. Hollings sat next to Kendra and smiled proudly. He placed his cigarette hand on top of hers and patted it as if to say “great work, honey”.

Ash fell onto Kendra's notes.

Lisa could feel the men's eyes all over her. She pulled her suit jacket together and buttoned it as she continued.

“It seems the severity of these secondary side-effects can and will vary widely. Depending on the amount of testosterone naturally present in the subject, these side-effects can be cumulative over time… or, they may go unnoticed completely. But I would like to underscore some of the potential long term drawbacks of the drug and explain to you while R&D is recommending further study of Promade before launch. While we have not determined that there is any risk of mutation, there remains of course the risk of heart attack, the risk of unwanted or excessive hair growth… Beyond that there is no… I mean, we're not suggesting that Promade is chemically addictive.

It is not. But in the long term men might become addicted to the benefits, both physical and psychological. We can't know how these factors will play out over months and years…”

No one was listening to any of this.

There were other assorted concerns that Lisa addressed before she wrapped up her presentation. The board was deaf dumb and blind to anything but the thought of all that money. Hollings had been promising a cure for baldness. Lisa and the scientists “down there in the kitchen” had served what sounded like a new genetically-turbocharged Viagra. They'd make money hand over fist with this miracle drug.

Three weeks later, Donna Hughes pumped the barber chair with her dainty foot, raising her customer up to the proper level. Steve Gold sat in the chair and watched himself in the mirror. Actually he watched Donna in the mirror, in particular her tits as they peeked out behind his head. Donna could feel his eyes on her body but she didn't care. She was used to the attention and did nothing to discourage it.

“So, good lookin' what'll it be today? The usual??” She asked as she pulled the comb roughly through Steve's coarse hair.

“Yeah, just a trim Donna. I have to be back at the shop by two, I've got a big client coming by.” he replied.

Steve was the hot shot car salesman from the Porsche dealership down the block where Donna's best friend Karen Gray worked as a receptionist. He also happened to be Karen's new boyfriend. It was Karen who recommended that Donna move her Visage Salon to this area of downtown and now she sent Donna all the customers she could.

“Big client, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah, it looks like old Steverino's got another big fat commission coming his way by the end of the day,” he winked at her in the mirror.

“What a catch; cute AND successful…”, Donna thought to herself.

She loved the well-to-do sort of customers she'd been getting since opening this new shop. Business men and women, even some doctors. The classy assortment of people she got to see on a daily basis made her feel a little bit classier herself. She was not a bimbo, although certain people had made that mistake about her over the years. Donna's full figure and infectious laughter certainly made the 28 year old blonde popular with her male clientele. Big tits and a flirtatious nature had always been her ticket since she first blossomed in the fifth grade. In her dealings with men, and in life in general, Donna had always been comfortable using her breezy sexuality and humor to make friends and get what she wanted. But she tried like the devil to avoid being labeled as an airhead. Basically she was a warm-hearted, fun-loving girl, adored by men and by women friends alike.

Donna listened intently as Steve bragged about the commissions he'd racked up that week. She liked looking into his blue eyes in the big wall mirror.

Her mind wandered. Donna figured that the only reason he'd not made a pass at her so far was out of consideration for Karen. It didn't prevent him from ogling her whenever the three friends got together though. The bookish and demure Karen knew he still saw other women on the side, even though she was supposedly his new steady girlfriend. She was like a hawk and she kept close track of Steve's indiscretions. But she lacked the confidence or the brass to call him out on it. It hurt her when she'd catch him staring at her best friend's tits, but all men stared at Donna's tits. She did her best to let it go.

Since Karen and he began dating, Donna had become good buddies with Steve.

While Donna was not the smartest girl in town, she was smart enough to spot his type a mile away. The good looking, charismatic stud who's obviously not as smart as he thinks he is, always looking to “trade up”, even when he has a good woman who loved him. She'd had a lot of men like him over the years.

She'd LOST a lot of men like him over the years. She kept things strictly friendly between herself and Steve Gold. As he went on about his bonus package and the big new condo he was looking into, Donna tried to deny her attraction-her sexual attraction-to Steve. Darn it! Why couldn't she meet a nice rich guy like Steve? She suppressed a tinge of jealousy that she felt towards Steve and Karen.

“… say, we better wrap this up, Donna. Steve's gotta roll.”

Donna snapped our of her reverie. She made a few more quick snips and brushed the clippings off of Steve's neck with her bare fingers.

“There ya go sweetie. How's that look?”

Steve pulled his fingers through his hair and came away with some loose hairs.

“Looks good Donna.” He looked at the hair stuck to his fingers with concern.

Shaking the loose strands to the floor, he reached into his wallet.

“What's the damage, Miss?”

“Oh no charge to you Steve… you know that.”

He handed her a twenty dollar tip and pulled on his jacket, still looking in the mirror, concerned about his thinning hair. It was still in the early stages, but Steve Gold was nothing if not a big, vain baby of a man. The thought of losing his hair worried him.

“Thanks Donna… you're a peach.”

“Have you heard of this stuff?” She handed him a bottle from the rack of hair care products. It looked like a large jug of vitamins.

“Uuh… Promade? What is it?” He shook the bottle and scanned the label.

“I just got it in this morning. It's a treatment for hair loss. Some kind of gene therapy that restores the hair. Maybe you should try it… I mean… if you're worried about losing your hair.”

“Do you think I need it?”

Donna leaned across the counter, grabbed a tuft of his hair and jerked on it. Steve looked down and got an eyeful of her cleavage. She held a handful of loose hairs up in her open palm and giggled. Steve smiled and reached into his wallet again.

“How much… does that say six dollars?” he squinted at the price sticker.

“Sorry honey. That's… six HUNDRED dollars. It's a one month supply.”

Donna said apologetically.

“What?!” he grabbed the bottle, shook it again, read the label again. “How can this stuff be six hundred dollars?!? I'm not even bald yet.”

Donna blew on her palm, sending Steve's hairs flying in his direction.

Her breath smelled sweet. She stepped out from behind the counter and put her hands on Steve's broad shoulders and mockingly gave him a stern talking to.

“My boy, I think you can afford it. It's the newest thing. They're calling it the big cure.”

“I don't know…”, he replied, reading the label.

The yellow and black bottle didn't have much printing on it. Donna handed him a booklet that explained some of the science behind the drug.

“Six hundred bucks is nothing to a guy like you, just add some rust-proofing to that Porsche you're gonna sell this afternoon. Right?”

“Okay then. Better give it to me.” He gave her his plastic and grabbed the brochure from her hand. He'd give this Promade stuff a try.

“But please do me a favor though, okay? Don't tell Karen about this?”

“Why not? What's the big secret?”

“I don't know. It's a little embarrassing I guess.”

Steve was vain, but he didn't want the world to know just how vain he was. Six hundred bucks a month for a baldness pill he doesn't even really need quite yet? She sort of understood his embarrassment and promised him she wouldn't tell anyone. Donna was mainly happy to just make the big sale, her first since getting the Promade shipment in on consignment from Luna Genetics that day.

Naturally she told Karen anyhow, the very next time she saw her.

Two weeks later Steve was at the bar having a few drinks with his pals Tucker and Paul Morton. The television over the bar had the local college basketball game on. The three old college buddies were watching it and talking it up like old times. Steve hadn't told anybody he'd been taking the Promade. But he was burning to say something about it to someone. His hair felt thicker already, but could anyone notice? He'd been ashamed of himself at first, of his vanity and how stupid it seemed to shell out such big bucks for a bottle of this new gene stuff. But by now he could feel it working, like, all over. He felt great!

“So Tucker, dude. Tell me about this girl you want to fix me up with.

Who is she?” Paul Morton said as he nursed his cold beer.

Tucker Hicks was fixated on the basketball game. It was the final seconds of a two- point squeaker. Final shot at the buzzer… NO good. The home team lost!

“GOD-DAMMIT ALL! SHIT!!”, Tucker slammed his hand down on the table in a loud macho asshole display.

“Whoa, easy does it Tuck. It's just the semi-finals.” Steve said as he ordered another pitcher for the table.

“What's this about a new girl for Paulie here?” Steve tried to get the conversation back on track. Girls were his favorite subject anyhow, ever better than sports.

“What? Oh… right. Cassidy's friend Sheila. You've met her I think.”

The agitated Tucker tried to cool down, gulping down the last of his warm beer.

“Doesn't ring a bell.” Paul said, searching his memory.

“Get out of my way. I gotta piss.” Tucker shoved the slight-of-build Paul aside and headed for the bathroom.

Steve followed Tucker to the rest rooms to take a leak and check his hair.

Paul stayed behind, wondering why he didn't get himself some new friends who didn't suck so much.

“Sheila… riiiiight… Sheila… that name sounds familiar. Dude, if she's the one I'm thinking of, she's a damn fine piece of ass. But isn't she black or something?” Steve said to Tucker as they stood at the urinals.

Steve could say the stupidest fucking things sometimes, but it gave Tucker cause to feel morally superior. It was the same in the locker room back in college when the two men were on the football team together.

“No she's Latino or something. Or white. Shit I don't know. Her grandmother was from Spain or Brazil or some shit.” Tucker said.

Steve Gold and Paul Morton both were well-acquainted with Tucker's fiancé Cassidy Peters. But she had virtually no interest in Tucker's friends so they never really hung out together as a group. Steve was too much the dumb obnoxious ex-jock type for well-to-do Cassidy. And Paul was just too, well, dull. Nice guy. And kinda cute. But dull.

“Yeah, this Sheila Martin is an old friend of hers from school days.

Her and her old man just broke it off and now she's moving back to town to make a fresh start. Cass figured Paul would be a nice safe guy for her, to maybe double date with… on the rebound you know. Ease her back into the dating scene. I told her it sounded like a good idea. You know Paul. That fucker can't meet girls anyhow.”

Tucker finished washing his hands and turned to find Steve still standing at the urinal trying to zip up. He seemed to be having a bit of difficulty.

“Hey Gold. What's the hold up over there?”

Steve Gold turned around and walked stiffly over to the sink. Tucker could clearly see the outline of his friend's wood through his jeans.

“ Got a rise in your Levi's, or what?”

Tucker was staring now. Steve was smiling big. He was just dying to tell someone about the Promade.

“Dude… you won't believe this shit. Have you seen the ads for this new stuff, Promade?” he said as he stuffed his arm down his jeans, trying to rearrange his member into a more comfortable position.

“Yeah, how can you miss 'em? They're on TV like every five minutes advertising that shit. I hear it's super expensive though.”

“It sure is expensive, but man I'm telling you it's worth it whatever they wanna charge for it.”

Tucker looked at Steve's hair. It did seem slightly thicker. He looked him up and down as his friend was still rummaging around in his ill-fitting jeans, looking for relief.

“Gold, if you wouldn't buy those things so god-damned tight they'd be more comfortable.”

Steve was laughing with pride and joy on the inside. Tucker just didn't get it. And he WOULDN'T get it until he had his nose rubbed in it. He leaned back against the bathroom door and unbuttoned his fly and let his dick flop out for his friend to get a look at. It appeared to be every bit of eight inches and stiff as a board. His balls looked like hen eggs. Tucker was stunned.

“What in the fuck…” he gawked at his friend's rod as it stood straight out from his body. This was not the same Steve he remembered from the locker room.

“I'm tellin' ya dude. I started taking those Promade pills only three weeks ago. The thing hardly ever goes down.”

“Is it bigger?”

“Shit yeah, it's bigger. And it feels great. Karen has been all over it too. You know I told you what a kinda prude she was. She fuckin' loves it. It's like she can't get enough of the ol' Stevemeister. Shit, I can barely keep MY hands off it”, he said as he carefully slid it back into his jeans and buttoned them up.

“I don't understand what this baldness stuff has to do with…”

Steve interrupted. “It's one of the side effects supposedly. I had to read up on it on their website. It restores your hair but it does something to your glands and the bloodflow. It's like all my senses are more intense and shit. Especially smells. I feel sixteen again. I'm horny all the goddamned time Tuck. It's great!!”

“You've been sixteen all your life, Gold. Don't blame it on the drugs.

Six hundred bucks a month… isn't that what they're charging for it?” Tucker Hicks scratched his head. His exceedingly wispy hair came out in loose handfuls these days. He had to get his hands on some Promade.

“Tuck, my man. You can afford it. You just got a raise, didn't you?”

“Yeah… well the thing is… I'm supposed to be saving for an engagement ring right now… Cass keeps track of all the money. She wouldn't have it.”

Steve excused himself after that. He needed to go pay Karen a visit.

The sooner the better. Tucker said nothing to Paul about his close encounter with Steve in the bathroom that night. He was too busy thinking of his own problems to go into an elaborate explanation of why he might have been inspecting their friend's pecker anyhow.

Tucker Hicks brought Paul Morton home after work a few nights later.

Sheila was back in town and was coming over for dinner. When the two men walked in the door they heard loud peels of laughter coming from the kitchen. He hadn't heard Cassidy laugh like that in a long time, not since Sheila's last visit. It was the laughter of two lifelong girlfriends who hadn't been together in ages. On the kitchen TV an advertisement for Promade was playing. Tucker and Paul walked into the kitchen but when Tucker tried to interrupt both women shooshed him and called for quiet so they could hear the rest of this hilarious commercial that they had all seen so many times before. The girls spoke the words along with the announcer.

“With Promade, you'll enjoy the full head of hair that nature intended. Reclaim the youthful look and rugged vitality you've been missing.

Enjoy life. Enjoy love. At work… and at PLAY…. Promade keeps you looking …AND FEELING… faaaantastic!”

The ad featured a second-rate actor posing as a doctor who endorsed the drug. The men in the ad were mostly dim-witted studs combing their thick heads of hair to a searing rock and roll soundtrack, playing basketball with their shirts off, white water rafting. And most hilarious to Cassidy and Sheila were the adoring, big-titted bimbos that these happy men cavorted with wherever they went. Way out of line with what you normally see in television ads, more like something from a porno. Sheila was perhaps laughing most loudly, tears streaming down her pretty face. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect herself.

“Sheila, you've met Tucker before. And this is Tuck's friend Paul Morton. Paul, this is my best friend in the world Sheila Martin.” Cassidy said with an formal and dramatic movement of her boney arm.

Cassidy was acting like she actually knew and liked Paul. This was a first! Cassidy was never this gracious or nice to Tucker's friends or to anybody really. She was obviously in a great mood tonight.

“Nice to meet you Paul”, Sheila shook his hand and exchanged smiles with him.

Such a warm inviting sparkle in her eyes. Paul was attracted to her immediately.

“And nice to meet YOU Sheila.”

In another day and age he might have made more of a dramatic overture to her, kissing her hand, proclaiming her beauty. That's what he felt like doing, but instead he tried to break the ice with a joke.

“My bald friend and I have come about the Promade?”

Sheila busted out laughing all again. She was fed up with the lingering pain of her recent breakup. It felt so wonderful to laugh and she threw her whole self into it. It was like a tonic for her numb soul. She recovered and hammed it up for this cute friend of Cassidy's.

“Yes sir, step right this way. We've got what you're looking for. What would you like? The travel size? The economy size? Or perhaps you'd like to consider the lifetime supply”, she flipped her silky black hair back for emphasis.

Cassidy tried to be funny too. She took down a gleaming, hardly-ever-used frying pan from her well-equipped galley and held it up to her fiancé like a mirror, taking him by the arm. Tucker looked at his reflection and saw his distorted bald head.

“You've come to the right place my friend. It's never too late to start taking Promade. Might I recommend the industrial strength formula for you?”

Cassidy yanked on Tucker's thinning short-cropped curls without mercy.

Her attempt at humor had more than a tinge of domestic cruelty to it. He was angered and rather mortified at the same time. If it all weren't such a huge joke he'd love nothing more than to talk seriously about this drug that his pal Steve was having such spectacular results with. Sheila came to his rescue. Sort of.

“You know, seriously though, I've heard about that stuff. I hear it really does work. It's gene therapy you know. It cures the baldness.” Sheila said.

“Yeah, I hear it's been selling like crazy. But it's really expensive.

And if you stop taking it, it stops working. It's a swindle if you ask me.”

Paul added.

“Yep. Six hundred bucks a month. Who's gonna shell out that kind of dough for a little bit of hair?” Sheila asked as she mussed up Paul's own healthy head of hair.

“But… if it attracts the kind of lovely young women like they show in the ads, you can bet MEN will spend whatever they're asking for it”, she remarked with a sassy cluck.

Tucker knew there was more to Promade than hair growth. A lot more. He was tempted to argue the fact that someone they all knew, Steve Gold, was on Promade and having good success with it, but then he thought better of it. No use starting up with Cassidy right now. She could be such a royal bitch sometimes, when it came to his pal Steve. He laughed impatiently. Cassidy fired a penetrating glance at her soon-to-be fiancée.

“Well, you can bet my Tuck here ain't gonna be spendin' no six hundred bucks a month for no Promade. He's spoken for, aren't you honey.”

Tucker Hicks wandered into the main showroom of Chasen's Porsche with a big chip on his shoulder. It was noon, the day after Sheila and Paul's special meet and greet evening together and he needed a drink. The dinner went fantastic for the two unattached strangers. But later that night Tucker and Cassidy had gotten into an awful fight over the way she had embarrassed him, joking about his baldness, treating him like a piece of property in front of guests. After the couple retired to the bedroom he admitted that he was “naturally curious” about Promade. But Cassidy shut him down in a hurry, reminding him how expensive it was, essentially telling him that he was not going to spend “our money” on something so unnecessary as “some hair pills”.

End of discussion.

Karen Gray sat behind the receptionist's desk at the back of the showroom, surrounded by sickeningly expensive cars. She was on the telephone but she recognized Steve's friend Tucker and waved him over. Tucker didn't know Karen all that well. If he bothered to say more than five words to her he'd discover how smart and pleasant she was and that she was in fact the nicest girl Steve had gotten involved up with in a long while, perhaps ever.

But he didn't bother trying to get to know Steve's girlfriends these days.

They barely stayed around long enough to even keep their names straight anyhow. As Tucker looked at Karen he reminded himself that Cassidy was so much prettier than this office wench. An unfair judgement on his part, perhaps even completely inaccurate. But it was his way of telling himself that he was better off than his adolescent, womanizing best friend. Maybe his sex life was not as gratifying as Steve's, but HIS future wife was a former local beauty queen, a fact that didn't bring either one of them much satisfaction these days. (Cassidy still bragged about it like it was yesterday, and not nine years ago.) Karen replaced the phone receiver. She removed her reading glasses and stood to greet Tucker.

“You here to see Steve?? He's gone to out.”

Tucker noticed the cut of her clingy blouse. Karen's modest bust line served to remind him that even IF his soon-to-be former local beauty queen ball-busting wife was prettier than her, HE was still obsessed with a nice rack on a woman. Cassidy was flat like an ironing board. It was something he tried not to think about.

“Oh yeah… I suppose he's gone to lunch huh? Do you know where to?”

Tucker asked.

“Well, he just left. You might catch him out back if you hurry.” Her phone rang again and she took the call as Tucker exited the side door into the lot.

Behind the building at the far end of a row of Porsches, Tucker saw Steve's gold Porsche. He walked the length of the parking lot thinking of that mousey Karen and that huge cock of Steve's that she's been sucking and fucking every night. “I'll bet she's sitting there thinking about it right now, that whore.

I'll bet she can barely make it through the goddamned day. “What a slut”, he thought to himself.

As he approached Steve's car in the far corner of the lot he could see Steve was sitting in it. Just sitting there staring out the windshield.

Tucker waved at him. He didn't seem to notice at first, then he did notice.

Immediately Tucker saw a woman's head pop up from below the dash. She frantically arranged her hair in the rear view mirror and jumped up out of the car before Tucker was even twenty feet away. She bolted through the back entrance to the lot, tugging on her skirt as she disappeared around the corner out of view.

Tucker approached Steve's car as the power window rolled itself down.

Steve was breathing heavy.

“Steverinooooooo!” Tucker said loudly.

“Hey, quiet that shit down Tucker. What in the hell are you doing here anyhow?” Steve asked as he maneuvered his cock back into his business slacks and zipped them up.

“Who was THAT?” Tucker pried, almost contemptuously, stealing a glance at his friend's tool.

“Who, that? That was nobody. Some girl. I met her this morning at the coffee cart.”

Steve Gold checked his own hair in the mirror, admiring its thickness.

“Aren't you worried your GIRLFRIEND might catch you out here?”

As callous as Tucker Hicks could be, he actually felt sorry for Karen.

“What? Naw… she's on the clock. She's not allowed to leave her desk.”

He looked down on the floor and noticed that his lady friend forgot her panties. He picked them up and sniffed them like they were roses. The scent filled his senses. Sex was a whole new experience, even to this oversexed 30 year old. The smells, the tastes, the persistent surging in his loins. It was even better than when he was sixteen. And he felt so energetic. He'd always been muscular and athletic, but the drug was making him even stronger, throughout his body. He could feel it.

“Are you going to lunch or something?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Why, you wanna come?”

Tucker looked at the wet spot on the passenger seat and rolled his eyes.

“Can we just take a walk someplace? I need to talk to you about…about all this.”

Steve Gold agreed to front Tucker Hicks the money for his first month's supply of Promade. Tucker convinced himself and Steve that he'd be able to afford the monthly expenditure, all that was needed was for Cassidy to be… “persuaded”. If she could see and appreciate the results, he reasoned, then she would see it his way and would agree that the drug was worth the cost. At least this was his hope. He began taking Promade that afternoon with an immense excitement that made his heart beat a little harder. His expectations were through the roof.

Maybe that Steve wasn't such a jerk after all.

For the next month he took the pills as directed, carefully monitoring himself for new hair growth and for any other kind of “developments”. He was careful not to let Cassidy see him taking the pills, which were surprisingly large and almost painful to swallow. As the days and weeks passed he grew paranoid. When Cassidy finally found out what he was up to would she all of the sudden see things his way? She might just as easily go ballistic, whether the drug worked its miracle or not. It was impossible to predict how she would react. But he took the pills anyhow and some of his hair began to grow back.

Paul and Sheila meanwhile began seeing each other quite a lot.

Though she was reluctant to dive into another serious relationship right away, Paul managed to become her new best buddy. Soon the two were nearly inseparable. Sheila found work doing what she knew best as an aerobics instructor at a local health club. She found herself a little apartment near Tucker and Cassidy's place. Paul was head over heels for her but he tried to conceal it. He was smart enough to know that part of the reason why Sheila liked him-the reason that Cassidy had hooked them up in the first place-was that Paul Morton was no Romeo. His reputation with women who knew him was that of the “good friend” type. Considerate. Unthreatening.

So Paul and Sheila took it slow, learning all about each other, as friends.

They took long walks, went to movies, dinner. Although their new friendship was platonic, their evenings and weekends together soon shaped up into what appeared to be a bonafide courtship. One special evening Paul cooked dinner for Sheila. That was the night she really opened up and told him her life story, about how her immigrant grandmother used to be Cassidy's mother's housekeeper, about her past loves, and particularly about her last boyfriend “John” who she had caught cheating with another woman. It was a great catharsis for Sheila to talk it all through with sweet and sensitive Paul who behaved himself like a kid brother that night. That was the first time she ever stayed the night with him, talking all night, cuddling, kissing each other sweetly, and finally drifting off to sleep with the windows open.

By the end of the month they had worked their way up to their first awkward attempt at intercourse, at her place, in her bed. “Paul, it's okay. It's okay. Don't feel bad about it.”

Paul Morton's slightly below-average cock had refused to perform. The smallish pink thing was limp in Sheila's hand as she lovingly caressed it.

If she was disappointed she was awfully good at hiding it. Paul tried with all his might to fight back the tears. He was always ashamed of his small dick and over the years only a few girls had ever seen it. None of them had commented on it, but he knew he was below average. This was the first time he'd ever been unable to get it up however. It was the pressure, the stress. He was so crazy about Sheila. She was so sweet, so pretty and smart. Just perfect for him. He'd wanted to tell her he loved her that night, but had decided against it, knowing that she was still recovering from her recent breakup. He didn't want to scare her off. He wanted her so much. He wanted to ravage her but his body betrayed him.

“I'm sorry Sheila. I'm so embarrassed.”

“Don't be. It's totally normal. You shouldn't be embarrassed.”

A tear escaped and trickled down his cheek.

“Oh you poor thing”, she said as she took his head in her arms and hugged him to her.

Her chest was rather small, but with his face lying against the softness of her bosom, Paul could feel her love radiate from inside her. He sat there quietly listening to her heartbeat while she ran her fingers through his hair. He'd worried that she was perhaps disappointed in him but the pounding of her heart sounded like jungle drums of passion in his ears.

She was still aroused. Paul felt his manhood stir slightly. Sheila noticed it too and soon it was fully erect, all four and a half inches of it. She lay back on the bed and spread her legs for her lover. Paul raised up and guided his cock toward her warm glistening pussy and inserted it. The feeling was smooth and soft and wonderful. Sheila looked down, unsure if he'd even put it in. She smiled up at him as he pumped away at her. She could barely feel him. Before she could get anywhere close to orgasm, Paul collapsed on top of her. He was finished. The couple tried but he was unable to get it up again.

“You're so wonderful Sheila. So beautiful, so sweet and funny. I love being with you so much…” he blathered, trying not to say “I love you.”

His heart was bursting with love for her, and she could sense it.

“I'm so happy I found you Paul. So happy… I can't even tell you”, she reassured him.

She flashed her pearly whites. Her smile was disarming. Paul looked into her dark brown eyes… he just wished he could apologize, or explain, or… something. He felt so ashamed of his puny dick! It had plagued him all his life but only now that he was in love with this beautiful creature did he truly feel the anguish of his smallness. And she could sense it.

“Paul can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Well, don't take this the wrong way. But you know that Promade stuff we were joking about on the night I met you?”

“Of course, how can I forget the night I met you? But why do you bring THAT up?”

“Do you know anybody who's using it?” She asked with a coy look in her eyes.

Paul was not aware that his two closest friends were both taking the drug. Neither was Sheila.

“No I don't. But I hear it's working for guys who do take it. I read about it in the papers”, Paul sat up in bed.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. I've been reading about it too, it's weird. I know it's so expensive but I guess it makes sense that they'd charge so much for something they know guys are gonna pay through the nose for”, she mused.

“I'm surprised Tucker hasn't tried it. He's really losing his hair fast”, Paul said as he pulled up the sheets and flicked on the bedroom TV, turning the sound off.

“Have you heard about any of the side effects?” Sheila asked.

“Side effects? Like what?”

“Well, I guess it was approved strictly as a baldness cure, so they're not supposed to advertise certain side effects of the drug. But it's supposed to make your, you know, your THING bigger. So I'm told”, Sheila worked up a naughty smile for him, then she chuckled nervously.

“What are you talking about?” Paul asked, half excited, half appalled.

She DID think he was too small!

“It makes your cock bigger. Supposedly. Something about the gene therapy. It affects your glands and your bloodflow. So I've heard.”

“Where did you hear this? Do you know someone who's taking it?” Paul asked. He felt more inadequate than ever somehow. She pitied him! Why else would she call him “poor thing”. He felt sick all of the sudden.

“I used to know someone who was taking it. He's probably still taking it. He swore by it.”

Sheila's smile left her face. Paul wondered if she was referring to her old boyfriend. He hoped he was wrong. He didn't want to ask her who the guy was but he had to know. Before he could muster the nerve to ask, she answered for him.

“It was my ex-boyfriend John. The one I told you about. He'd heard about Promade from this friend of his before it was even on the market. He got hold of some before it even came out. Not like he needed it.”

What did she mean by that? “Not like he needed it.” Was he bald? Not bald? Hung like a horse? What?? Paul's heart sunk to the pit of his stomach.

Sheila suddenly seemed lost in thought, replaying some sad episode in her previous relationship perhaps. Or maybe she still loved the guy. Shit!

Dammit!

“He didn't need it? What do you mean? Was he losing his hair?”

Sheila put her hand on Paul's and squeezed it. “Let's not talk about him, okay?”

Now Paul was really worried. She saw tears well up in his eyes. She kissed him flush on the mouth, hoping to change the subject. Was she thinking of her ex? Was she missing the feel of his big dick filling her up?

Yes she was. Paul felt Sheila's tongue slip into his mouth and entwine itself with his, then he felt her shove her tongue even deeper, crushing herself against him with surprising force and passion. His member suddenly stiffened against her leg. She took it between her thumb and forefinger and started stroking. It felt smaller than one of her tampons, she thought to herself. Sheila pushed Paul back into the pillows and straddled him, guiding his erect little cock into her dripping wet snatch. Paul moaned with pleasure, his mind reeling, his heart racing. Sheila closed her eyes and proceeded to grind her clit against his pubic bone. Her flared hips suddenly began to gyrate in a perfect machinelike rhythm. They were the fluid, time-tested moves that a new lover can only assume were perfected on the guy or guys who came before him. Sheila was unbelievable on top! Paul reached up and squeezed her pert little breasts and a sigh escaped her lips. Her hips pumped and undulated in wider circles. His tiny cock would fly out of her, but it always seem to fly right back in. It was like he couldn't miss!

Finally she came. Her eyes went wide and she smiled brightly down on Paul, staring deep into his eyes as she shuddered from her first orgasm with him.

After a few moments of silence, laying wrapped in each other's arms, the Promade commercial came on the TV. The couple both watched in silence, neither one said a word about it until a few minutes later. Paul spoke first.

“So your ex. This John. Did that stuff make his cock bigger?”

The question only quieted Sheila, forcing her once again to think of her ex's huge cock. It had been above average BEFORE he'd started taking the Promade. Eight inches long and a full six inches in circumference. She could only just barely wrap her fingers all the way around it when she first met him. In the three years she spent with him she'd stretched to accommodate his size. Towards the end though it took two hands to handle it. In two years' time she grew to love John Crane's big dick. Too much in fact. That was the problem. He was an insensitive jerk with damned few redeeming qualities. Except for that one outstanding feature of his. She'd wanted to leave him for a long time but could never bear the thought of kissing that sweet dick of his goodbye. One day he came to her and told her all about Promade. He had the inside scoop on it, on its rumored “side effects”, and though his hair wasn't thinning he convinced Sheila to pitch in and help him invest in a bottle of the stuff. The sight of his penis slowly growing to nine, then ten, then eleven inches was an amazing miracle beyond their wildest dreams. He stretched her pussy to capacity when he fucked her, just like he had when they first met. Sheila paid for the second bottle herself.

In the last month before their breakup Sheila had enjoyed intense nightly fuckfests like she never imagined possible. She never felt so… filled up. So satisfied. She couldn't believe it. Every morning her body would still be burning from the previous night's lovemaking. She tried once and for all to forget about his shortcomings and began to think of marrying him. One day though she came home early from work and discovered John banging the neighbor, an unattractive woman he barely knew. It was stupid, like he wanted to get caught. Or didn't care. Or he couldn't help himself.

Sheila decided to make a clean break of it and left him that day. He never apologized. Never begged her to stay.

“Yeah, it grew”, Sheila replied matter-of-factly.

“Do you think it would work on me?” Paul asked.

The corner of Sheila's mouth curled up into a tiny smile. Paul was just the opposite of John. So sweet and sensitive, if only he weren't lacking down there he'd be the ideal man.

“I think it might. I have no way of knowing but you'll never be sure unless you give it a try.”

She pulled on Paul's limp member. It felt tiny again, like a little boy's wiener. She suppressed a chuckle and tried to imagine the his embarrassment. She felt tender, almost motherly toward Paul. She knew that she could never let him know how large her old boyfriend really was. It would destroy his ego. She'd said too much already and besides, that was all in the past now. She sucked his tiny cock into her mouth like she was sucking on a baby's finger. Paul's mood perked right up.

“I could put it on my credit card”, he thought aloud, his mind made up to try it.

After two months on Promade Steve Gold's penis growth seemed to have slowed down to a crawl. When he wasn't selling cars to keep up his AND Tucker's new “living expenses” he was fighting off the constant demands of his huge cock. He was boffing other women as much as he could, but his come-on lines were getting stupider and less effective all the time. Only the most desperate, sometimes even ugly, girls would get in his car with him. He was masturbating more than he ever had in his life. He found himself disappearing into bathroom stalls wherever he went… to relieve his blue balls. And still it was never enough. He could smell women wherever he went.

The sight of a nice tight ass or, god forbid, some exposed cleavage would send him into a frenzy. He could barely make it through the day without dragging Karen behind closed doors for a mid-day hand job. It was the first time he really truly saw the value of having a girlfriend. He came to feel damned lucky that he had a steady girl who was with him at work and who he could go home with and fuck every night. “She understands my needs”, was what he told himself. Backroom daytime hand jobs seemed extremely tawdry to this nice old fashioned girl but Karen willing, as long as they didn't get caught by the owner. She knew by now that it was the Promade that was affecting Steve. She found it rather fascinating. She had been looking for a husband when she first met Steve. Someone to settle down with. Now at the ripe old age of 36, thanks in part to Steve's constant horniness, she was experiencing a belated sexual liberation. She surprised even herself. Her life was like something from one of the cheap romance novels she was addicted to. Steve finally got around to telling her about the Promade, to explain what was happening to him. It was too much effort for him to keep lying about it. She pretended she didn't already know and accepted the news calmly, giving him her complete approval. She loved Steve and was more convinced than ever that this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She met Donna for lunch at the neighborhood sandwich shop, as usual, and shared all her intimate secrets with her.

“I know he's still terribly immature and a bit dumb. And I'm aware that he still looks at other women, but Donna he bought that condo for me. I think this is it. There's been a change in him I think. I think I've been a good influence on the big lug. I don't know, do you think I'm imagining things?” Karen smiled, thinking of the previous night's lovemaking session as she took a bite of her egg salad sandwich.

“Well you know I've never thought it was a good idea to think you can change a man. But it sounds like he's really starting to come around, Karen.

You really seem happy these days… for the first time in a long time. I'm really happy for you guys.”

Donna smiled back at her friend, her pert nose crinkled in that cute way of hers.

“And in the bedroom things are… my god Donna it's intense. It's almost more than I can handle. Some mornings I can hardly walk into work, if you know what I mean.”

“Just be thankful you have a desk job honey.” Donna blurted out a bit too loudly, making herself laugh.

“I just hope he proposes soon. I feel like I'm in competition with all these other women out there. I know he loves me. I just want to settle down, you know? Maybe it's my insecurities getting the best of me but I want that ring on my finger”, Karen whispered across the table.

“Well, I'm just happy that you're happy. And I'm happy that so many guys are buying this Promade stuff. I'm making a killing on it, ya know? I wonder when they're gonna come out with Promade for women? Do you ever wonder about that?”, Donna asked offhandedly.

“I never thought of that. You mean a pill that makes your boobs grow?”

Karen furled her forehead skeptically. She considered her C cuppers to be quite large enough, thank you.

“I guarantee you they'd make a fortune off it.” Donna answered as she quickly tucked her arms together comically, making her boobs swell up and down out of the top of her blouse.

Two guys sitting across at the counter noticed this. One of them dropped his coffee, causing a commotion. Karen was blushing with embarrassment but Donna wasn't. The two women had a good laugh and got up to leave.

“For better or worse honey, nothing attracts a man's attention like cleavage. It never fails.” Donna said under her breath.

“I suppose you're right about that”, Karen agreed.

Later that night Karen was cleaning up the living room, feeling pretty great about her life. As she rifled through a stack of old newspapers she came across Steve's open briefcase. What Karen found inside shocked her and made her sick. It was Steve's secret stash of porno mags.

“Why would he be so stupid and leave this here where I can find it?”

she wondered aloud to herself as she thumbed through the trashy magazines.

There were almost a dozen of them, all featuring women with gigantic augmented breasts shaped like balloons. Some of the pages were stuck together. There were also tissues in there, and a small tube of lotion.

Karen attributed it to his weakness. The Promade was doing this to him, making him horny constantly. Part of her thought that maybe he should stop taking it, even though Donna had assured her that it was totally harmless.

Another part of her (she was surprised to discover) actually enjoyed the fact that her man Steve was such a horndog. She parted the curtains and looked outside at Steve in his shorts and t-shirt, washing his car. She could see the bulge in his pants from fifty feet away. She always knew that he considered himself god's gift to women. But lately she herself felt he was god's gift… to HER. He was a Superstud. The kind of guy who just LIKED these kinds of magazines, she figured. She decided not to take it personally. At least he was staying home with her most nights. She just told herself it came with the territory.

Karen couldn't believe that this was the guy she'd wound up with. Only a year ago she was dating Leonard Grimes, the balding, slightly paunchy guy from the bookstore. Leonard sure never kept a stash of tit mags. He didn't have a Porsche to wash either. He took the bus. After almost a year with Leonard she'd reconciled herself to the idea that he was perhaps the best she could do. At the time she really just wanted to settle down with someone and Leonard was thoughtful, loving, and available. Karen dated him off and on for almost a year, and talked herself into falling in love with the guy, even though she suspected maybe he was a latent homosexual. Then one day Steve hit on her at work, inviting her out for an after hours drink. It was the first time that “his type” had ever hit on her. She was stunned and almost said no. He was younger than her and he certainly wasn't that bright of a guy. But he sure was attractive. She went out with him on a lark and didn't resist when he kissed her in the car that first night out. On their second date his hands were all over her body. It all seemed quite sordid to her at the time, but also totally exhilarating. Steve made her feel like a woman, a desirable sexual woman, for the first time in her life.

She'd been playing catch up with him ever since, and was loving every minute of it. As she flipped through an lone issue of “Woman Inc.” she marveled at Steve's weird taste in girlie mags. “Woman Inc.” was a lifestyle magazine similar to Cosmopolitan that catered to powerful business women.

She noticed that many of the CEOs were quite sexy. They all wore sensible business suits, with tailored jackets often held together with one button which strained to contain their bosom. Karen inhaled and swelled her 36 C chest out. She looked at herself in the living room mirror and noticed her nipples were showing through her T-shirt. She smoothed a palm over one stiff nipple and cupped her breast lightly. She felt old. Saggy. She gazed back at the stack of big boob magazines in Steve's brief case. Every woman was endowed with huge 40” inch chests it seemed…. nothing smaller than an E cup. She put his briefcase back, thinking that she'd have to keep a watchful eye on her old man in the future.

Promade was a raging success all over the country. Men began to talk about Promade openly. In the streets, on television, at work. The jokes about the silly commercials continued, but the drug was quickly taking its place in the mainstream. The sexual side effects were well known by now.

Bald and unbald men alike bought Promade by the truckloads.

Seemingly overnight Luna Genetics became the biggest name in the pharmaceutical industry as well as the fastest rising star on Wall Street.

Through the success of Promade alone Luna Genetics saw its stock shoot through the roof and embark on a sure and steady ascent that would scarcely ever see even a minor dip in price per share. Savvy investors the world over bought Luna Genetics. From the big money players on down to the small timers and a record number of first time speculators; they were all making money hand over fist. The ranks of Luna Genetics' shareholders included some dedicated Promade users who still had discretionary income with which to play the stock market. But an increasing majority of the shareholders were women. Women saw what a raging success the product was and rightly surmised that Luna Genetics, preying as they were on the bottomless vanities of men, would be a gold mine for many years to come.

Nearly two months after starting on Promade himself, Tucker Hicks was enjoying a thickening head of hair. His bald spot was slowly filling in with curly blonde hair and Cassidy even commented on it, as if it were just some natural turn of events. His cock however was not experiencing the rapid growth that Steve's had. It was slightly longer by just less than a half inch, and his erections seemed more frequent, but it was nothing dramatic.

Nothing that Cassidy had taken notice of during the couple's infrequent lovemaking sessions. Although as his hair proceeded to fill in, he noticed that Cassidy treated him a little nicer. The Promade was working, it just wasn't working fast enough to suit Tucker Hicks. He came to resent his buddy Steve even more. Sometimes he even hated his old friend. Why should HE have all the money, and all the women, and all the hair, AND all the cock? He owed Steve twelve hundred dollars already and would soon be forced to ask for another six hundred. Something about his little plan no longer made sense, not even to him. Hopefully he'd be ready to come clean with Cassidy next month.

Paul Morton was bringing up the rear, having started on Promade all of three weeks ago. The weakest and least athletic of the three friends felt the drug go to work right away. After only a few weeks he felt infused with a new vitality and energy, like he'd never felt before. He was still no he-man, not by a long shot, but to him the Promade felt like a great dose of testosterone. Most amazingly, his cock had begun to grow larger. It was now over five and a half inches fully erect, well within the “normal” range.

He'd confessed his love to Sheila by now, partly as an expression of his gratitude. And while she still insisted on taking things slow, she felt closer to him than ever. Paul's happiness over his new growth was no secret and she was happy for him.

Back at Sheila's apartment, Paul cooked a special weekend dinner for his new lover.

“Isn't it time for your pill, honey?”

Paul looked up at the clock. It was only five minutes past the hour he was due. Sheila seemed to keep better track of these things that he did. She picked the bottle of Promade up and shook it. It was half empty and made a loud rattling sound. She took out one of the large pills and raised it to Paul's mouth.

“Open up like a good boy. Thaaaat's it. Take your medicine.”

He felt silly when she talked to him like this. But he liked it. Paul choked down the pill. It always hurt to swallow the Promade pills, but Sheila seemed not to notice. Every time she fed him his pill in this teasing fashion it would result in an instant erection for Paul, and tonight was no exception. In fact he'd not experienced his “little problem” since that first night together with Sheila. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth and pressed her tight body up against his, driving him back against the refrigerator. Her passions didn't surprise him as much as they had at first.

Of course he loved it when she forced herself on him. As she probed his mouth with her tongue, Sheila reached down and unbuckled his pants and pulled out his stiff member, right there in the kitchen!

“Ooooh, I think it's even bigger than it was yesterday”, she cooed in his ear.

She giggled as she pulled on his cock roughly, like she was trying to lengthen it. It was painful but in a good way. She slowly dropped to her knees and brushed Paul's rigid member against her soft cheeks. She scratched his little balls lightly with her fingernails and it gave him a chill. His prick sprung up in the air from the sensation. To him it looked huge, compared to what he was accustomed to. Sheila traced her tongue along his shaft sexily, wrapping her lips around its head. He felt like a man. Sheila proceeded to suck him off.

She had never been able to get her lips around her ex-boyfriend's cock head, let alone take it in her mouth. She enjoyed feeling Paul's cock glide over her tongue and bump against the back of her throat. One of the benefits of a small cock, she thought to herself as she looked up at Paul. She loved pleasuring him this way and enjoyed having another “growing boy” to play with again. She only wished the Promade would work faster. She bobbed on his cock like she was trying to make it grow by suction alone. Soon Paul spurted onto her tongue. It wasn't much and she swallowed it all. She rose to her feet and kissed her lover on the mouth. Paul could taste his own saltiness on her lips as they kissed. For the first time ever his cock didn't go soft after sex.

As she slipped one thigh between his legs she could feel his manhood still completely stiff. This excited both of them. She unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied out of them and climbed up on the counter, spreading her legs for her lover. She wanted him inside her. Her pussy opened up and glistened under the bright kitchen lights. Topped by a large black bush, with outsized dark lips, it occurred to Paul that Sheila's pussy looked… well, sorta big. He kissed her neck and shoulders, working his way down. Sheila unbuttoned her tiny blouse and unclasped her front hook bra. Her smallish nipples were puffy and sensitive. Paul nibbled them, making her squirm. Then he moved down and nuzzled her bush. The sweet smell of her sex filled his nostrils. It smelled strange but pleasantly familiar to him, like a familiar smell from childhood. Nothing had ever smelled so intense or so wonderful, he thought to himself. His mind reeled as he buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking it, probing it with his tongue. Sheila spread her legs further apart and her opening widened. Paul's chin slipped in as he sucked on Sheila's clit. He inserted a finger into her pussy, then another. He could fit his whole hand inside her with no difficulty. Before he had a chance to give this much thought she pulled him up and drew his hips close to her. His prick slipped into her well-lubricated hole with no effort whatsoever, almost like it was sucked in by a back draft. He felt no resistance inside her until she drew her muscular legs together. He felt the walls of her vagina close around him, soft and wet. As he began to pump away Sheila bit her lip. Wonderful feelings flickered through both of their bodies. As Paul bumped and grinded into her clit, her mind still wandered to thoughts of her ex's fat ten inch cock. How big was it now? And who was he fucking with it? Did she miss the bastard? Or did she simply miss the feeling of his meat sliding in and out of her, stretching her? God yes did she ever miss that feeling.

She reached for the bottle of Promade and knocked it over. A dozen or so large brown pills spilled out onto the counter and she grabbed a handful.

Paul huffed and puffed. Premature ejaculation was no problem for him this time. Sheila kept her legs locked around his waist and pulled him deeper and deeper into her. As he rammed his hips against hers, her titties jiggled ever so slightly. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with desire, her mouth wet. She put one of the pills to Paul's mouth and pushed it in with her fingers. He'd already taken his third and final pill of the day, only a few minutes ago. The indications on the bottle warned not to exceed three pills a day but he made no effort to resist as he felt Sheila's slender finger's probe his mouth, shoving the pill to the back of his throat. It turned him on. As he swallowed the overdose, Sheila kissed him hard and increased the force and tempo of her hip thrusts. Paul's dick whipped in and out of her sloppy cunt with great speed, he could feel her moisture spread down the front of his thighs. Sheila could barely feel Paul's manhood inside her though. Her only stimulation came from his pubic bone colliding with her swollen, sensitive clit. She couldn't cum this way.

She focussed, trying to will an orgasm. The sight of a large zucchini sitting by the sink only reminded her of what her burning body was hungry for; to be stuffed full with a man-sized cock.

In her palm she still had a handful of the pills.

As she tightened her grip on Paul with both strong legs and pulled him deeper into her she thought perhaps she could feel the head of his cock bump inside her. Maybe? She couldn't tell. She thought back to how cautiously and carefully she once had to fuck her ex in the early days, how she could barely fit him inside her and what a terrible thrill it was their first time. She put her hand to Paul's mouth and inserted another Promade, like a mother feeding vitamins to a child. He swallowed it down. Part of him was afraid of what she was trying to do but he didn't stop her when she inserted a second pill and then a third… then the rest into his mouth. He counted, six… no, seven of the large pills. Over three days' worth! Sheila locked down on him with her own mouth. She forced the pills into him with her tongue. It gave her a wild thrill. She thought she knew what she was doing.

She felt extremely naughty. Paul swallowed the pills one by one, without water, pushing the pain and the panic out of his mind. Sheila smiled back at him, staring at him with that wild look in her eyes as she finally reached a shuddering climax.

Paul felt her pussy clench around the base of his boner.

Sheila shook like a leaf and imagined Paul's manhood swelling larger inside her.

Promade was a raging success all over the country. Men began to talk about Promade openly. In the streets, on television, at work. The jokes about the silly commercials continued, but the drug was quickly taking its place in the mainstream. The sexual side effects were well known by now.

Bald and unbald men alike bought Promade by the truckloads.

Seemingly overnight Luna Genetics became the biggest name in the pharmaceutical industry as well as the fastest rising star on Wall Street.

Through the success of Promade alone Luna Genetics saw its stock shoot through the roof and embark on a sure and steady ascent that would scarcely ever see even a minor dip in price per share. Savvy investors the world over bought Luna Genetics. From the big money players on down to the small timers and a record number of first time speculators; they were all making money hand over fist. The ranks of Luna Genetics' shareholders included some dedicated Promade users who still had discretionary income with which to play the stock market. But an increasing majority of the shareholders were women. Women saw what a raging success the product was and rightly surmised that Luna Genetics, preying as they were on the bottomless vanities of men, would be a gold mine for many years to come.

Nearly two months after starting on Promade himself, Tucker Hicks was enjoying a thickening head of hair. His bald spot was slowly filling in with curly blonde hair and Cassidy even commented on it, as if it were just some natural turn of events. His cock however was not experiencing the rapid growth that Steve's had. It was slightly longer by just less than a half inch, and his erections seemed more frequent, but it was nothing dramatic.

Nothing that Cassidy had taken notice of during the couple's infrequent lovemaking sessions. Although as his hair proceeded to fill in, he noticed that Cassidy treated him a little nicer. The Promade was working, it just wasn't working fast enough to suit Tucker Hicks. He came to resent his buddy Steve even more. Sometimes he even hated his old friend. Why should HE have all the money, and all the women, and all the hair, AND all the cock? He owed Steve twelve hundred dollars already and would soon be forced to ask for another six hundred. Something about his little plan no longer made sense, not even to him. Hopefully he'd be ready to come clean with Cassidy next month.

Paul Morton was bringing up the rear, having started on Promade all of three weeks ago. The weakest and least athletic of the three friends felt the drug go to work right away. After only a few weeks he felt infused with a new vitality and energy, like he'd never felt before. He was still no he-man, not by a long shot, but to him the Promade felt like a great dose of testosterone. Most amazingly, his cock had begun to grow larger. It was now over five and a half inches fully erect, well within the "normal" range.

He'd confessed his love to Sheila by now, partly as an expression of his gratitude. And while she still insisted on taking things slow, she felt closer to him than ever. Paul's happiness over his new growth was no secret and she was happy for him.

Back at Sheila's apartment, Paul cooked a special weekend dinner for his new lover.

"Isn't it time for your pill, honey?"

Paul looked up at the clock. It was only five minutes past the hour he was due. Sheila seemed to keep better track of these things that he did. She picked the bottle of Promade up and shook it. It was half empty and made a loud rattling sound. She took out one of the large pills and raised it to Paul's mouth.

"Open up like a good boy. Thaaaat's it. Take your medicine."

He felt silly when she talked to him like this. But he liked it. Paul choked down the pill. It always hurt to swallow the Promade pills, but Sheila seemed not to notice. Every time she fed him his pill in this teasing fashion it would result in an instant erection for Paul, and tonight was no exception. In fact he'd not experienced his "little problem" since that first night together with Sheila. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth and pressed her tight body up against his, driving him back against the refrigerator. Her passions didn't surprise him as much as they had at first.

Of course he loved it when she forced herself on him. As she probed his mouth with her tongue, Sheila reached down and unbuckled his pants and pulled out his stiff member, right there in the kitchen"Ooooh, I think it's even bigger than it was yesterday", she cooed in his ear.

She giggled as she pulled on his cock roughly, like she was trying to lengthen it. It was painful but in a good way. She slowly dropped to her knees and brushed Paul's rigid member against her soft cheeks. She scratched his little balls lightly with her fingernails and it gave him a chill. His prick sprung up in the air from the sensation. To him it looked huge, compared to what he was accustomed to. Sheila traced her tongue along his shaft sexily, wrapping her lips around its head. He felt like a man. Sheila proceeded to suck him off.

She had never been able to get her lips around her ex-boyfriend's cock head, let alone take it in her mouth. She enjoyed feeling Paul's cock glide over her tongue and bump against the back of her throat. One of the benefits of a small cock, she thought to herself as she looked up at Paul. She loved pleasuring him this way and enjoyed having another "growing boy" to play with again. She only wished the Promade would work faster. She bobbed on his cock like she was trying to make it grow by suction alone. Soon Paul spurted onto her tongue. It wasn't much and she swallowed it all. She rose to her feet and kissed her lover on the mouth. Paul could taste his own saltiness on her lips as they kissed. For the first time ever his cock didn't go soft after sex.

As she slipped one thigh between his legs she could feel his manhood still completely stiff. This excited both of them. She unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied out of them and climbed up on the counter, spreading her legs for her lover. She wanted him inside her. Her pussy opened up and glistened under the bright kitchen lights. Topped by a large black bush, with outsized dark lips, it occurred to Paul that Sheila's pussy looked… well, sorta big. He kissed her neck and shoulders, working his way down. Sheila unbuttoned her tiny blouse and unclasped her front hook bra. Her smallish nipples were puffy and sensitive. Paul nibbled them, making her squirm. Then he moved down and nuzzled her bush. The sweet smell of her sex filled his nostrils. It smelled strange but pleasantly familiar to him, like a familiar smell from childhood. Nothing had ever smelled so intense or so wonderful, he thought to himself. His mind reeled as he buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking it, probing it with his tongue. Sheila spread her legs further apart and her opening widened. Paul's chin slipped in as he sucked on Sheila's clit. He inserted a finger into her pussy, then another. He could fit his whole hand inside her with no difficulty. Before he had a chance to give this much thought she pulled him up and drew his hips close to her. His prick slipped into her well-lubricated hole with no effort whatsoever, almost like it was sucked in by a back draft. He felt no resistance inside her until she drew her muscular legs together. He felt the walls of her vagina close around him, soft and wet. As he began to pump away Sheila bit her lip. Wonderful feelings flickered through both of their bodies. As Paul bumped and grinded into her clit, her mind still wandered to thoughts of her ex's fat ten inch cock. How big was it now? And who was he fucking with it? Did she miss the bastard? Or did she simply miss the feeling of his meat sliding in and out of her, stretching her? God yes did she ever miss that feeling.

She reached for the bottle of Promade and knocked it over. A dozen or so large brown pills spilled out onto the counter and she grabbed a handful.

Paul huffed and puffed. Premature ejaculation was no problem for him this time. Sheila kept her legs locked around his waist and pulled him deeper and deeper into her. As he rammed his hips against hers, her titties jiggled ever so slightly. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with desire, her mouth wet. She put one of the pills to Paul's mouth and pushed it in with her fingers. He'd already taken his third and final pill of the day, only a few minutes ago. The indications on the bottle warned not to exceed three pills a day but he made no effort to resist as he felt Sheila's slender finger's probe his mouth, shoving the pill to the back of his throat. It turned him on. As he swallowed the overdose, Sheila kissed him hard and increased the force and tempo of her hip thrusts. Paul's dick whipped in and out of her sloppy cunt with great speed, he could feel her moisture spread down the front of his thighs. Sheila could barely feel Paul's manhood inside her though. Her only stimulation came from his pubic bone colliding with her swollen, sensitive clit. She couldn't cum this way.

She focussed, trying to will an orgasm. The sight of a large zucchini sitting by the sink only reminded her of what her burning body was hungry for; to be stuffed full with a man-sized cock.

In her palm she still had a handful of the pills.

As she tightened her grip on Paul with both strong legs and pulled him deeper into her she thought perhaps she could feel the head of his cock bump inside her. Maybe? She couldn't tell. She thought back to how cautiously and carefully she once had to fuck her ex in the early days, how she could barely fit him inside her and what a terrible thrill it was their first time. She put her hand to Paul's mouth and inserted another Promade, like a mother feeding vitamins to a child. He swallowed it down. Part of him was afraid of what she was trying to do but he didn't stop her when she inserted a second pill and then a third… then the rest into his mouth. He counted, six… no, seven of the large pills. Over three days' worth! Sheila locked down on him with her own mouth. She forced the pills into him with her tongue. It gave her a wild thrill. She thought she knew what she was doing.

She felt extremely naughty. Paul swallowed the pills one by one, without water, pushing the pain and the panic out of his mind. Sheila smiled back at him, staring at him with that wild look in her eyes as she finally reached a shuddering climax.

Paul felt her pussy clench around the base of his boner.

Sheila shook like a leaf and imagined Paul's manhood swelling larger inside her.

That night a feverish Paul Morton tossed and turned in bed next to Sheila. His delicate facial features were contorted, strained. Was he sick?

She was afraid to wake him. She lay awake, wondering what she'd done to him in the heat of passion. Her and her ex-boyfriend had experimented with overdoses of Promade. But he never seemed to have any adverse reaction to it. It simply intensified and hurried along the normal effects of the drug.

Maybe it was his athletic build. Maybe someone with his body weight was better able to absorb the drug? She noted Paul's frail limbs, his ribs. What had she done? She wondered and worried. Paul mumbled in his sleep, thrashing about, sweating profusely.

His dreams were nightmarish.

Intense visions of primitive violence and pain. And fear. Paul fought off the phantoms that hacked away at his inferior genes. He dug into them, fighting them off, but to no avail. He dreamt that his cock and balls were obscenely huge. His body, massive, powerful. A surgeon had him strapped to an operating table like Frankenstein… and was preparing to remove his balls. The doctor looked like Sheila. He cried out as she leaned forward over him. Her doctor's smock fell open. Two heavy breasts tumbled into his face like fleshy pillows. Milk dripped from her dark swollen nipples and he tried to catch the fluid in his mouth. Then she pressed down onto him, smothering him. He struggled to catch some air. Her smell penetrated him completely. He couldn't move. He woke up with a start, drenched in his own sweat.

Sheila was lying next to him, stroking his forehead, smiling at him innocently.

"Are you okay honey? You were having a bad dream", she kissed away the sweat from his face and eased him back against the pillow.

"Uhh… yeah I guess… I don't know…"

He gasped for air. The bedroom was filled with Sheila's scent. It filled his senses with every breath he took, like in the dream. His heart was racing still from the fantastic vision. Was he having a heart attack? He felt Sheila's finger lightly caress his cock. It made him jump and he banged his head on the head board.

"Ooh! I'm sorry! Does that hurt??", Sheila asked.

Her eyes were fixed on his crotch. She lightly touched his cock again, this time it didn't shock him. It was burning and sore, but it felt good at the same time. His body trembled as Sheila ran her curled knuckle along the length of his cock. It was swollen and bright red, with dark veins visible beneath the skin and pulsing with blood. At its base his balls were also swollen, his nut sack stretched tight and smooth like silk. Sheila licked her lips and smiled at Paul.

"Look at you!"

She invited him to sit up and look at his enlarged organ. She held it aloft for him to see.

He was shaky sitting up. His arms were sore. He looked at his penis and his mouth dropped open. It had to be at least an inch longer, maybe more. And it was thicker than before. It looked red and angry, almost ugly to him. Sheila raised her eyebrows and smiled sweetly at her lover.

"It's all you, my love. It's all you."

She leaned down and kissed the blood red head. A large droplet of clear pre-cum issued forth and Paul felt a euphoric flash behind his eyeballs, like an overdose of oxygen flooding his brain. A million brain cells burned out in an instant. He passed out and fell back into a dream.

Sheila was still there. She seemed taller, easily a foot taller than him, her shoulders broad, her hips wide and inviting. Her eye level breasts were still huge, now contained in a giant white satin bra which she was modeling for him. She looked down and smiled sweetly at him and spoke in a sexy voice. "What do you think?" She looked like one of the models in those big tit magazines that Steve collected, like the girls in the Promade ads.

He tried to look away, he looked down at himself. His body was thin and weak. His cock hung down to his knees, huge and limp, its immense weight pulling him toward the floor. He reached down and tried to lift it, it felt like a dead animal. His balls were as large as ostrich eggs and they ached.

Sheila took his head in both hands and pulled his face into her deep cleavage. Everything went dark and again he heard her voice. "I said what do you think… little man? Isn't it nice in here?" He tried to pull away but she held him there. He could hear her heartbeat. Then he heard Steve and Tucker cheering him on somewhere off in the distance. Hooting and whistling.

Suddenly his cock was erect. It was almost two feet long and rose up in front of his face. Sheila laughed as she sat down and unhooked her massive bra, tossing it onto the floor with a thud. She wrapped her two giant boobs around his grotesque cock and began tit-fucking him. She smiled at him with that ravishing smile of hers. "Not bad, eh??" In his dream he tried to speak, tried to cry out. But he had no voice. He glanced down at the discarded brassiere. Laying in a tangle on the floor it looked like a huge complicated harness, with myriad hooks, straps and seams. And cups that could've fit over his head. The floor was strewn with giant brassieres!

Suddenly he felt afraid. Sheila's hands began pumping his cock in long steady motions, gripping it tightly. His precum oozed out from between her fingers and trickled down her forearms. Her elbows were flying about and her pendulous jugs swung heavily from her body, swaying back and forth with her ministrations. It was a bizarre sight to him. She looked like a cow. But still beautiful. Still graceful. And very powerful he realized. Paul could feel a panic rising up within him. He felt something between his legs, swelling. His balls were swelling up before his eyes, forcing his legs apart. Sheila laughed at him and worked harder. The head of his penis was larger than his fist. His shaft, covered in lurid purple veins, was as thick as a baseball bat. "Oh Paulie, you're even bigger than John. So big. I want you inside me." She reclined on her elbows. Bed springs groaned loudly under her weight. Her boobs rolled to her sides, under her arms. His heart pounded with fear. He couldn't move. He watched as Sheila spread her powerful thighs. She leaned forward. Her nipples crept toward Paul, reaching past her belly button.

"I want you in there", she said.

Paul stared at her pussy. It looked positively huge and it seemed to be moving, like it was growing. Sheila seemed to be growing larger! He felt two strong hands clamp down around his shoulders, lifting him up in the air.

As his feet left the bed his stiff cock swung from his body like a terrible weight. With her arms outstretched, Sheila looked up at Paul who seemed like a little baby in her hands. He could feel himself getting smaller in her grasp as she lowered him into her pussy. His cock was the perfect size now, he thought, as he watched it glide into her, pulling him along with it. She moaned deeply and his whole world rumbled. He watched his majestic cock vanish into her body like it was someone else's. Like it belonged to her and she was taking it back. Suspended in mid air, he looked down in a panic. The cock was still attached to him, he decided, but he looked to be only about thirteen inches tall. A giant hand was wrapped around his torso now, holding him like a doll. His thin legs and arms dangled uselessly over huge fingers.

Sheila laid back and proceeded to pump herself with him, the cock that was taller and thicker now than his entire body slurped and slopped loudly in and out of her. Her massive hips rose up and down off the bed like ocean waves. He watched the walls of her inner thighs rush by with great speed, back and forth. He could feel the wind blowing through his hair. Her body was powerful and immense. She jammed him deep into her and he felt her wetness splash against his chest and face. It was sticky. The smell of it burned his nostrils and racked his brain. She pulled him out again and he felt her fluids drip down the front of his body. She still tasted delicious to him. The gelatinous hills of her breasts rolled ominously in the distance, capped by two large dark brown islands. He thought he wanted to climb them, get away from this brutal thrashing. He couldn't see Sheila's her face anymore. Again she thrust him into her cavernous pussy, plunging him in as deep as he would go. Paul felt his knees slip inside her. Massive lips wrapped around his hips like two rubbery restraints. A cool breeze escaped from the hollow cave of her pussy, giving him goosebumps all up and down his tiny spine. She held him there, in place, his face buried in her slimy labia. He was face to face with her clit. It looked to be as large as his entire head. He reached for it with both arms. Spreading the great hood apart he tried to get a grip on the giant protrusion with his hands. But it was too slippery. He heard the giantess cry out in the far distance, like the wild cry of an animal. Sensing what was coming next he hugged onto the slippery knob with both arms. He felt Sheila's giant finger in the small of his back, pushing him further inside. He kicked his feet but they just slipped inside. He slapped his hands against the slipperiness that engulfed him as the giant finger shoved him in up to his armpits. He slapped his hands against Sheila's lips when he felt himself being pulled inside. His shoulders slipped in then the opening closed behind and all went dark. He heard a voice inside the cave calling out to him. "Paaauuul-leeeeeee…..

Wake up, Paulie! Paulie! Wake up!!"

He woke up.

Sheila was bent over him, shaking him, crying. Paul was soaking wet with sweat. Apparently he had suffered some kind of seizure. His heart was pounding in his chest and it hurt him. Another hour had passed and his cock had experienced another sudden surge of growth. She had watched it happen and worried that he might be hurt, or killed by the overdose of Promade.

"I'm sorry Paul. I'm sorry I gave you all those extra pills last night", she pleaded.

Paul was dazed. He didn't exactly remember what she was even talking about. He sat up in bed with her assistance and drew a deep breath. The air smelled sweet and clean as it nestled deep in his lungs. It smelled like Sheila. His heart surged with love for her as he saw her begin to sob again.

He felt sick to his stomach at the sound of her crying. The drug did something to him. To his mind as well as his body. He loved her so much now it pained him. He would kill for this woman, he thought. Steal for her. Even die for her. Sheila's sobs were like horrible stabbing pains that he felt in every part of his body. He petted her dark brown hair, soothing her. She looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks.

"I thought you were sick. I thought you were having a seizure in your sleep. I'll never make you take those pills like that again. That was stupid of me."

She kissed him lightly then collapsed in his embrace. He held her close to him and kissed the top of her head. His arms felt slightly bigger and stronger. The pills! Of course. He was coming to his senses now. As she heaved from her last couple of sobs he felt her soft hair tickle his stomach. His manhood stirred to life again. Sheila watched it, as she had been watching it for hours. It moved, as if it had somewhere to go. Paul felt it stiffen and fill with blood. He felt it brush his inner thigh. He wanted to see it again. Sheila sniffled. Her sobs had stopped. She reached out and gingerly touched Paul's new cock. Still not as large as her ex's, but impressive. It looked to have grown yet another inch. The head looked like a small plum now, smooth, shiny, purple. She wrapped her fingers gently around its shaft. She could just touch her fingers around the circumference.

She squeezed it and Paul let out a great sigh, his chest heaving with his breaths. His arms dropped to his side and he relaxed against the head board.

He watched as Sheila lovingly kissed the head of his penis. She flipped her hair out of the way so he could watch. Slowly she took Paul's cock into her mouth, easing it down her throat. Perhaps this was the perfect size, she thought to herself. She sucked on it briefly until soon she gagged. Paul stroked her head and pulled her to him and the couple kissed passionately.

Sheila's passions welled up and she crushed herself against him. Her chest pressed flatly against his, he could feel her rock hard nipple buds driving into his pecs. Sheila threw a leg over him and straddled his stomach, sliding her wet pussy against his abs. Paul felt fantastic. Sheila began breathing heavy. She angled her hips, tilting her ass into the air as she slid backwards, impaling herself on Paul's rod. This time she went slowly, savoring the FEEL of his cock head spreading her lips, then the thickness of his shaft as it pushed into her. She could feel the ropey veins that now covered it. Her heart soared. She sat up on top of Paul and plunged him deep inside her. She didn't feel stretched to the limit like with her ex. But she felt… WONDERFUL.

She began slowly rocking and pumping her hips on Paul's new power tool. For almost a half hour Paul felt like he was on the verge of a shattering climax that never quite came. Sheila kept up her pumping motion until she was too tired to hold herself up. Then they switched positions.

Paul let his cock slip out of Sheila. It slapped against his thigh as he rose to his knees. Sheila smiled up at him, her beautiful face drenched in perspiration and framed by two white cotton pillows.

"I love you", she said to him.

Paul's heart soared. He reached down without taking his eyes off of Sheila and took his cock in hand. He was shocked by how big it felt. A real handful! He gripped it by the base and angled it upwards, toward her waiting pussy. It looked to be over eight inches long. The extra length of penis that extended from his closed fist seemed larger than his old cock, he thought to himself. And twice again as thick. He teased Sheila's lips with his new man-sized tool, dragging its head across and up and down, rubbing her clit with it. Sheila sighed dramatically and bit her lip, begging him to put it in her. With that Paul pushed the head back in, watching her pussy lips spread to accommodate him. With one effortless stroke he buried the entire eight inches to the base. Sheila lifted up off the bed and seethed with delight. He pulled back out and again rammed the entire thing home, this time a bit harder. He felt his balls slap against Sheila's body. Sheila felt it too. She reached down and pulled her pussy and her legs wider apart.

"More… give me more…" she pleaded, her eyes closed, her head tossed back toward the wall.

Paul grabbed her hips in his hands and pulled her onto him, driving himself as deeply into her as he could. Sheila cried out, almost like it hurt. It didn't hurt. It felt fantastic. She hadn't felt that feeling in such a long time.

"More… please Paul… more…" Again he grabbed her ass and pulled her, pulled her hard. He slammed into her. His balls slapping loudly against her. He repeated the motion in quick succession, increasing the force, using his strong arms to pull her body onto his. Their hips rose in rhythm, ramming and slapping into one another in perfect timing. Sheila's well-toned hips and ass shook from the impact. Paul huffed and grunted but felt a new stamina he never had before. The harder he pumped and pulled on her, the stronger he felt. Sheila let go, her body flailed as Paul fucked her with gusto, shaking the entire bed. She cried out in rhythm with his thrusts, louder and louder, harder and harder.

She clawed at the sheets and arched her back as her orgasm came crashing down.

And still Paul didn't come.

When she ceased her convulsions, Sheila rose up. Paul's cock oozed out of her. She looked down at it with excitement. She grabbed it with both hands and squeezed. Paul dropped to his knees and sat back while Sheila pumped his cock, which was slippery with her juices. He marveled at the sight of it. She kissed it and sucked on it and licked it and pumped it like she was in love with it. This turned Paul on even more, seeing this beautiful woman worshipping his cock like this. She cupped his balls in one hand. They looked like they were three times larger than before. He couldn't believe it. He felt himself getting ready to cum. He braced himself and leaned back while Sheila concentrated her efforts, pumping now with both hands. The bed bounced up and down as she used her whole self to pump Paul's swollen organ. She was breathing heavily, on the brink of exhaustion when it came. Paul felt his big balls twitch as the spunk churned and traveled up through the length of his cock. A thick stream of sperm coursed through his main vein and jumped from the tip of his thick penis into the air. The first glob leapt through the air in a great arc over Sheila's head. It was an unbelievable sight and an even more unbelievable feeling! Like a fountain, Paul's copious seed jumped from his body with great force. Sheila milked Paul with an expert touch, laughing aloud as his hot jism splattered them both.

Six months later Promade really was as popular as Coca-Cola, just as Ed Hollings had predicted. Not every man could afford it. Not every man was convinced he wanted it or needed it. But word of mouth is the best advertising in the world and word of mouth had spread like wildfire.

Everyone, it seemed, knew someone who was taking or had taken the drug. The original ad campaign was still running on every channel. Donna Hughes was selling the stuff as fast as she could get it in her shop. So was every other drug store, department store, grocery store and neighborhood sex shop in the country. It was exported across the ocean to Japan, to Europe, China and the Middle East.

With Promade, Luna Genetics had effectively chased the bald gene into hiding. Men were happy to forego an expensive car or a nicer apartment-even food sometimes-in favor of keeping up their expensive Promade habit. Credit card debt was on the rise, but not even the credit card companies were complaining. In ever greater numbers the male of the species surrendered to his own vanity, pursuing multiple women at once, "thinking with his dick".

Male libidos raged out of control. You could sense it in the streets, in the workplace, everywhere.

The women of the world were either powerless or unwilling to do anything about Promade except argue amongst themselves over its apparent benefits and drawbacks. The sexualizing influence that Promade had on culture and on the men that populated women's everyday lives was embraced not only by those selfish men but also by a silent majority of women. Many were simply happy Luna Genetics investors who equated mankind's growing addiction to Promade with their own assured economic independence. Some were just average wives and/or lovers who were pleased with their new improved man's performance in the sack. Some were increasingly successful exotic dancers and opportunistic private escorts who found their services more in demand than ever before as men of all kinds flocked into strip clubs without shame. The woman who could hold onto one of these men was sexually satisfied on a daily basis. Even the many women who found themselves relegated to a series of meaningless one night stands weren't complaining as loudly as they once might have.

Bottom line: the popular (male) appetite for sex was through the roof.

Promade men were unbelievably unapologetically horny, virtually all the time. As a result of this fact popular culture and society itself began to undergo a rapid transformation. The marketplace and the cultural landscape began to reshape itself to appeal to its most reliable and helpless target customer, namely the sex-obsessed, increasingly stupid "Promade Generation" as it was dubbed by Time magazine. Intent on relieving men of whatever extra pocket change they may have left after their $600 monthly Promade expenditure, advertisers and TV producers and filmmakers all tossed discretion and good taste out the window. Seemingly overnight the voluptuous female became, or was fast becoming, the archetypal female figure portrayed in the media. Large-busted women made their way in front of the cameras as news anchors on network news shows. Many former big bust models found themselves making more money than ever as high fashion models, singers and serious actresses. Pornography itself assumed a new place of esteem, in the very foreground of mainstream popular culture.

Men were happy about these changes.

Women were stunned.

Average women-and even many above average women-came to feel inadequate as they measured themselves against an increasingly unrealistic image that was glorified in the media. Sure it had always been this way, to a degree. But suddenly the problem was becoming inflated to cartoon proportions and women were left wondering why and how things ever got so bad. A deep unarticulated rage among the vast majority of the female population was growing. They argued. They commiserated. They berated themselves and each other. Advertisers played the male market like a drum, and the feminist cause was getting trampled in the process. So it seemed.

Before long, many a self-respecting woman who formerly would never have given an ounce of credence to the importance of breast size would find that she could not stop obsessing about her cleavage, or lack thereof. The market for padded and gel-filled brassieres was booming. Eventually, and against their better judgement, many intelligent women managed to talk themselves into going under the knife, getting the largest implants their doctors would allow, all in an effort to either fit in, get ahead, or simply to hold onto the man she loved.

Tucker Hicks was finally reaping the benefits of Promade. After six months and nearly four grand which he now owed to Steve Gold, he was finally seeing some impressive results. His cock was definitely longer and thicker, his cravings for sex nearly doubled. His hair had filled in completely and was now a healthy curly mop. He and Cassidy never confronted the fact that he was taking the drug, but she found out about it some time ago. She was simply waiting and watching, wondering when her slow-witted fiancé would face the music and confess his "big secret". His developments were no secret and the couple's sex life had picked up somewhat. Cassidy though, true to form, enjoyed manipulating and toying with her lover more than she actually enjoyed sex with him. Observing the changes in her Tucker, Cassidy's new hobby became the continual frustration of his animal urges to get what she wanted from him; money, clothes, a new car, just for starters. Controlling Tucker was becoming easier and easier with each passing day. The dirty secret of Promade-namely that it occasionally made guys dumber than stumps-was still not widely talked about. Especially between men and women.

Men for their part were usually unable to notice the subtle erosion of their brainpower… until it was much too late. The rest of the world, the media, and the man in the street were just so stupid-obsessed with sex that the occasional case of "Algernon's Syndrome" went pretty much unnoticed and unreported. Many of those cases were guys like Tucker Hicks; born hot heads, violent, frustrated types with short fuses.

Some genius at Luna Genetics had seen to it that Promade would prevent this type of guy from ever becoming abusive by detecting his defective brain chemistry and killing off the offending cells. Don't ask how they did it, but they did it. The public had no idea this was the case. When the occasional confrontational macho jerk suddenly grows silent, nobody much complains.

About four months after starting on Promade, Tucker Hicks became practically transparent to Cassidy Peters. The fact that she was able to boss around such an arrogant stud was pretty much what had attracted Cassidy to Tucker in the first place. Thanks to Promade, poor Tucker was more pliable than ever, practically putty in her hands. He was aroused whenever he was around her so she could punish or reward him at will, depending on her mood. He was unable to lie and would perform the most thankless tasks for Cassidy, whether for a chance at some sexual gratification or even just for the opportunity to spend a few hours watching his stupid girlie shows on SheTV, the new all-girlie sex channel for men. Sometimes Cassidy would come home to discover Tucker sitting in his Lay-Z-Boy recliner, masturbating his tall cock. He would always try to hide it and cover up his surprise. More than once she woke up early on Saturday morning to find him sitting buck naked in the living room in front of the TV, totally asleep, cock in hand.

Lately there had been times when he actually failed to notice her as she walked past him while he whacked off. It was as if in his sexually aroused state, Tucker's mind sort of went blank, focused on the one primal urge.

Cassidy discovered that he was most susceptible to the power of suggestion during these times.

On the job, Tucker was a responsible hard-working employee these days.

He tried anyhow. No more of the long lunches and fooling around on company time for Tucker. He had been the controller in the accounting department of a local company, with four people under him, two women and two guys. He had been a horrible boss to these people over the past few of years. But now that was all changing. Half the men… hell MOST of the men at Tucker's company were on Promade. Some of them, notably the owner of the company, quit their jobs after a few months of sudden superstudom. Some just crapped out on their jobs and were fired outright, whether it was for sexual harassment of their fellow female employees or just poor performance on the job. Others, like Tucker, struggled like hell to hold it together. The two men under Tucker quit about a month ago. The women down in personnel replaced those guys with fresh recruits, four additional women, former secretaries. To make matters worse, last week Suzanne Chambers, his cute 28 old subordinate who Cassidy had originally recommended for the job, was promoted by the higher-ups to the position of controller. His department expanded to include two controllers, him and Suzanne, overseeing a staff of five women. Tucker was surrounded by young females, horny all the time, and suddenly forced to share his authority with a girl he formerly bossed. It was getting crowded in the small department.

One day he came into the office to find Suzanne packing up to move her desk. Brenda, one of the ladies from personnel, was helping her. Tucker stood by and watched her, unable to make sense out of what was happening.

"Umm… where ya goin', Suzanne?", he asked.

Suzanne just walked across the hall without answering him, and into one of the outer offices. The outer offices were highly coveted. Glassed in walls, glass doors, venetian blinds, windows looking out onto the parking lot. Tucker had dreamed of one day getting an outer office all to himself.

Brenda brushed by him without acknowledging his question either. She was waving some maintenance guys into Tucker's area. They were carrying new partitions for the department, to make additional offices for the new staffers. Tucker offered to help and dragged some of the heavy wall panels across the carpet. Physical labor seemed to clear his head these days and keep him focussed.

"Okay, these I want right here… and there. I want two offices here by the hall, and two directly behind those, with a nice pathway down the middle. And I'd like it finished by the time the girls get back from lunch."

The woman from personnel directed the workman who proceeded to fit together the cloth covered walling. One of the men asked a question.

"Where does the fifth desk go?"

"Over there. In the back, by those cabinets. He'll use that table and chair." Brenda waved her arms about and grabbed Tucker Hicks' name plate and slapped it into his gut like a baton. She motioned for him to move his things to the table. He'd be surrendering his old desk to one of the new girls. Tucker did as he was told then pitched in and helped the workmen assemble the offices, while Brenda stepped across the hall to Suzanne Chambers' new office. As he grunted and pounded on the units, he watched Suzanne and Brenda the personnel lady converse through the soundproof glass of her new office. They were laughing. Suzanne smiled and swiveled in her new chair. Tucker stared at both women's legs and asses. That's what he did most of the day these days. Ogle female body parts in the workplace. It was impossible not to. He didn't notice when the two women caught him staring at them. Brenda leaned out of the office and called him in.

"Tucker would you please put that down and come in here for a minute?"

she asked, curling her index finger motioning him to come to her.

The glass office door bumped shut behind Tucker. The woman from personnel pulled the venetian blinds for some privacy, then she proceeded to demote Tucker Hicks.

"There have been more reports than I care to mention Mr. Hicks.

Inappropriate behavior in the office, lewd comments. It all seems to coincide with a general drop in your performance. So starting today, you'll be taking over Suzanne's old position in the accounting pool. We'll see how you perform there and you'll be subject to evaluation in 30 days time.

Consider yourself on probation. Suzanne meanwhile is going to be taking charge of this department and getting it back into shape." she patted Suzanne Chambers on the shoulder and shook her hand.

"We all want you to know what great confidence we have in you Suzanne.

We all know you're going to make a great controller." She looked at Tucker, inviting him to agree.

"Don't we, Mr. Hicks…" she glared.

Tucker's brain hurt. He wondered what the right thing was to say in this situation. Why was he being demoted? What was going on here?

"Mr. Hicks, I'm sure we're going to get along just fine", Suzanne said as she smiled widely at her former boss. Her eyes sparkled. She looked so alert and energetic, like a cat that might leap at him at any moment. She just smiled at him and waited for him to say something. His mouth was open, his wheels were turning, but nothing was clicking. Suzanne and Brenda both chuckled aloud.

"At a loss for words I see. Well that's okay, Suzanne patted him on the shoulder and eyed his full curly head of hair, now almost an afro, like a Little Orphan Annie wig stuck on Sylvester Stallone.

"With a pretty headful of curls like that and nice big muscles like these, I'm sure we'll find plenty for him to do", she said to the personnel lady.

Tucker closed his mouth and forced a smile. Did she call him "pretty"?

The personnel lady removed her suit jacket and rolled up her shirtsleeves. Tucker noticed for the first time, this woman was really built! Such seductive hips… and quite a nice rack on her too, gotta be at least a D cup! His brain churned slowly as his manhood stirred to life.

Brenda moved in close to him and raked her fingers through his thick hair.

"He does have pretty hair. I wish my hair were naturally curly." She turned to Suzanne Chambers and spoke under her breath.

"So his wife says he's taking the stuff?" she asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" Suzanne quipped. Tucker stood there not knowing what to do. What did she just say?? His crotch was twitching. He wanted to reach down and rearrange his cramped apparatus. He wanted to beat his meat right there. But he didn't dare. Brenda was eyeball to eyeball with him, maybe even a bit taller in her high heels. She licked her lips and narrowed her gaze at him as she reached down and abruptly grabbed his cock through his dress slacks. Suzanne chuckled softly in the background now.

Tucker's heart leapt up into his throat and commenced pounding like crazy. The personnel woman's hand was wrapped around his manhood and gripping it tightly through his clothes. A look of surprise came over her.

She turned and spoke to Suzanne.

"It's true. Just like you said. This thing's gotta be ten inches long."

Tucker's face went red. She guessed it exactly right, he thought to himself. The woman proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unsnapped the top of his pants. She stared him in the eye as she slowly unzipped his fly, letting his ten inches bounce free. She traced one of her enameled fingernails against the supersensitive underside of Tucker's huge cock. His knees went weak with delight.

"Do you take Promade, Mr. Hicks??", Brenda asked him point blank.

"Y, y, y, yes ma'am…", he replied.

"Well see that you KEEP taking it, Mr. Hicks!", she said with an almost angry expression on her face. She grabbed onto his bare cock with her hand and dug her nails in. Tucker winced slightly, but it felt fantastic.

The personnel lady proceeded to stroke Tucker Hicks with an executive touch as she explained his new job description to him. Tucker was in ecstasy and could scarcely pay attention as she whispered into his ear. Life was great right now. He just thanked god for Promade.

"You'll do exactly what Suzanne or any other woman in these offices tells you to do. You'll refer to Suzanne only as Ms. Chambers or simply ma'am, whichever you like. But you are not to call her Suzanne. You'll be here at 8am sharp… every morning… and you'll not leave the building until you're dismissed. I want you to be sure that there is fresh coffee in the coffee pot, toner in the copying machine… and no more talking on the telephone. If you need to use a telephone you can do it on your lunch hour.

Ms. Chambers? Do you have anything you want to add?" she asked as she pumped on Tucker's dick. He was breathing heavy, nodding his head, eyes wide open.

His cock was burning, aching for release. His mind was clouded, muddled.

"Oh yeah. Mr. Hicks I don't want to see you in this office. Not now.

Not ever", she walked over and spoke into his ear which she tickled with her finger.

He was on the brink of blowing his load. Brenda could feel it and slackened her pace to a slow steady stroke. Tucker braced himself against the wall.

"If I want to see you, I'll come to your office. You'll speak only when spoken to, but otherwise, I don't want to know you're around…

understood?", Suzanne said sadistically.

Brenda felt something twitch in her hand. She pointed Tucker Hicks'

cock straight up at his face and pumped it as he found his release. The personnel lady stared in wonder at the quick spurts of semen that jumped up out of the head of his cock and through the air. Plop! Splat! Glop! Drops of sticky white stuff splashed onto Tucker's face. Brenda aimed his cock toward his open mouth. She shot Tucker's load onto his lips and tongue and watched him lick it up without even being asked.

"That's right. Lick it up, honey. Like a good boy. Now… get you clothes on Mr. Hicks. You're not supposed to be in here", the personnel woman barked at Tucker, snapping him out of his reverie.

Tucker put away his cock and fastened his pants. Suzanne raised her voice. "If you aren't out of here on the count of three you're FIRED Mr.

Hicks!"

Tucker gathered himself together and exited the room. Outside the cubicles across the hall were assembled. Four diligent female workers were back at their desk, looking professional. Brenda gave Tucker a push toward his new office. Tucker walked slowly and deliberately, wiping the last traces of cum off his face. The girls all stared at him and suppressed a giggle as he slumped by. His sexual urges temporarily satisfied, Tucker's mind flickered back to life. Suzanne was his new boss… how humiliating.

But at least he still had his job. He needed his job, to keep hold of Cassidy and also to pay for this fantastic Promade stuff.

"Mr. Hicks, here is your new office", the woman said dispassionately as she walked away leaving Tucker there, staring at the backs of four pretty female heads.

His office consisted of a small section of countertop attached to a half cubicle wall facing a filing cabinet. An old hard plastic office cafeteria chair was brought in for him to sit on. His name plate was on his desk. "Cunt". What? Was this some kind of joke? He cast a suspicious eye across the room but the other women had their noses buried in work. Where was HIS nameplate? He had nothing else, no phone, no computer. He opened a drawer nearby and fished around for something to do. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. He found some rubber bands and pulled one out and played with it. He sat down and caught a breath. He could smell the women around him.

They smelled beautiful. His cock stiffened and his mind drifted off to blurry indistinct visions of tits and ass.

He stared at his nameplate as he reached under his desk and touched himself.

Things were topsy turvey down at Chasen's Porsche as well.

For some reason, and lucky for him, Steve Gold had not lost as many brain cells as his buddy Tucker. By now he was probably a few notches above Tucker on the evolutionary ladder—but both were growing slowly stupider all the time. Physically Steve Gold was looking more and more the Adonis, all rippling muscles, long wavy hair, and a thoroughbred jimmy that was the biggest "fish story" of the neighborhood. Karen Gray knew it too, and she knew it was no fish story. Her boyfriend: the alpha male! If only those snotty girls back in high school could see her now. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He was still able to sell cars like nobody's business, especially with Karen working behind the scenes to keep him gratified and focussed on his work. More and more of his clients were the large number of newly successful businesswomen who wanted to treat themselves to a new sportscar.

But around the office things were changing for Steve. For one thing, he was the only guy left. Except for the grease monkeys in the garage, the men at Chasen's were dropping like flies. Some salesmen couldn't handle the pressure anymore and left for other easier jobs, or no job at all. Some now lived the "gentleman's life", living off the kindness of upwardly mobile young women. To hell with "job" and "career". All around them the world itself was constantly teasing their new extra-large cocks, pandering to their Promade-heightened instincts, promising instant gratification, girls, thicker longer hair, etc., etc., etc. It was a man's world alright. As a result, men were retreating from the tiresome rat race in record numbers.

Women were right there on the front lines seizing higher positions in the employment ground wars. Karen Gray had been promoted to office manager and was now Steve's supervisor, you could say. So long as his commissions remained high, Steve was happy for her. She was moving up in the world. Good for her.

Sex for the two was a lively as ever. But with her new responsibilities on the job, Karen had become more hard-nosed about career and found herself sometimes fighting off the distraction of Steve's persistent cock. She did all she could for him these days to keep his constantly aroused manhood somewhat relieved. She no longer discouraged him from his porn mags or all the SheTV he was watching at nights. So long as he stayed close to home. She knew he masturbated around the clock now. That didn't bother her. It kept him out of trouble, at least. But more and more Karen's mind was on her job, which was going better than she ever thought possible. More and more women were entering corporate life. Every woman she knew had moved up into the executive class by now. Karen's prospects were looking good outside of Chasen's too. She'd already been called by two headhunters about management positions with other companies.

Back at the Visage Salon, Donna Hughes was doing a brisk business to say the least. Men streamed in to buy Promade from the hot chick with the fantastic set of knockers. And women came in to get their hair done and watch the amusing "Promade Parade". Donna was something of a local hero by now. She was the first in the neighborhood to offer Promade and now her salon was a bustling place at all hours of the day. She hired a DJ to set up and play right there in the store until midnight every night. It was a scene. And a great place to meet guys.

Six months after the introduction of Promade, Donna was enjoying herself big time. Her type of woman-voluptuous, friendly, sexually uninhibited-was getting the most enjoyment out of this new sex-crazed world.

And Donna enjoyed all the muscle-bound pups that now clamored for her attentions. With big tits now dominating the airwaves, magazine covers, billboards, the nightly news and everywhere you looked, Donna felt lucky to be well-endowed. She always had felt that way, "appreciative" of what god had given her. Other less well-endowed women had often felt sorry for her and her "burden", as they chose to think of it. She knew better though. She knew what a blessing tits could be, but she'd been modest about it and never really "flaunted it". But these days she felt more than just desirable…

she felt really beautiful. She conformed to a body image that was suddenly the new ideal. She was more popular than ever, with men AND women. Her own randiness seemed to increase with the palpable sexual energy that crackled all around. She was friendly with all of the men who came to her shop for Promade, and she became intimate with a great many of them. She enjoyed monitoring the success of the drug on all the various guys, noting which ones grew longer, bigger, hairier, stupider. She felt in control of their lives to a great degree. To Karen Gray, Donna was like the resident expert on Promade and its effects. Donna had helped Karen understand the drug and what it had done to Steve. Donna counseled many girlfriends about Promade.

She was doing great financially. She bought a brand new SUV and was in a position now to buy a house. A big one! She was completely self-sufficient, but still she needed men. She loved men. The big units on these Promade guys were bigger than anything she'd seen in her life and she was growing to really appreciate the pleasures of a nice big cock.

Her idea of having it all was to have all the men she wanted all the time; well-built, nicely-hung Promade men. And she had those in abundance.

The only voice of dissent in society was that of the old hard line feminists and the population of unattractive females who these new Promade men came to treat as invisible and of no consequence. On the fringes of public discourse one still heard these disenfranchised women proclaim that "men were no longer pulling their weight in the world" and that "a great harm that was being done to the feminist cause".

Promade fostered a superficial chauvinistic spirit of the times and seemed to be setting the tone for a new sex-obsessed society of men (and women).

Dealings between the sexes were not really changed from how they had been since time began. Lovers met. They argued. They fell in love. They fell out of love. But somehow the stakes seemed higher. Passions flared hotter.

Men by the thousands turned a blind eye to their responsibilities.

Your typical warm-blooded male now fancied himself as a virile Casanova whose special purpose was to conquer as many women as possible.

The number of unwed single mothers rose but the unemployment rate for women was almost zero. Women had jobs and they had more money than ever, but increasingly it seemed as though men were the ones having most of the fun.

Promade use would result in a fundamental readjustment of values, briefly turning the clock back on the women's movement by a good 40 or 50 years.

On the job with her aerobics classes, Sheila Martin overheard lots of women's conversations. The issue of body image cropped up frequently.

Promade came up all the time these days too. The women wanted to be fit, but Sheila began to notice that these women were growing more and more obsessed with breast size. Seemingly every other a week one of her ladies would show up at class with breast implants. Sometimes jumping two cup sizes after just one procedure. One week they'd be leaping around doing their routines with abandon and the following week they'd be gingerly moving about, still healing, their heavy chests bouncing painfully with each movement. Sheila freely admitted that the new breast obsession had gotten out of control, commensurate with the amount of Promade that had been pumped into the male half of the human race. But like so many women she also found it all somewhat amusing, maybe even a little exciting. That's not to say she didn't feel hurt and angry whenever she'd catch her boyfriend Paul staring at another woman's ta-tas. But she understood the appeal. Big boobs were everywhere these days. Some belonged to naturally large breasted gals who no longer felt a need to be modest about their God-given endowments. Some were women who'd taken to wearing gel-filled or otherwise padded bras. Many smaller breasted women wore no brassiere at all, anything to look a little bit hotter.

Cassidy Peters visited Sheila at home one weekday afternoon for coffee. Paul was out of town, visiting his ailing father back east. The two friends caught up on each others' lives.

This had become almost a weekly thing for the girls at this point.

They exchanged Promade stories and offered up juicy details from their busy sex lives. Sheila and Paul were doing fabulous. He never "experimented" with Promade since that one harrowing night. After a period of months he had filled out nicely, a well-chiseled though still lean and handsome man with a very healthy nine inch cock. Though he'd been let go from his former ad agency job, Paul Morton maintained most of his brainpower and remained gainfully employed at a local copy shop. He pretty much just seemed himself.

A happier, hornier self, but still Paul Morton and still able to work a Xerox machine.

Tucker Hicks was by comparison a shadow of his former self. For the most part docile, horny, seemingly happy. He had an amazing head of curly blonde hair that Cassidy kept trimmed in a cute flouncy coif. His body was huge and his cock was still growing at eleven inches. And he was dumb as a rake. Deep down he was still selfish and still struggling to make his own way in the world. But he was conscious that something had happened to him, something radical. But the rewards of Promade prevented him from seeing his new situation as anything but ideal. Cassidy slept with him when she felt like it, but by now she was sleeping with other willing partners too, men AND women. Conspicuously flat as a board, Cassidy felt a new and growing disgust with her body these days. She'd always obsessed about being too fat.

Now she obsessed about being too flat. She would compensate for any such feelings by teasing and torturing Tucker, dominating him sexually and psychologically. Sometimes she wouldn't let him wear clothes around the house. Some evenings she forced him to watch big tit porn and masturbate in front of her while she talked on the phone to other men. It gave her a great feeling of control but it also made her feel sickened, at herself, afterwards. Sometimes she made him wear women's clothing. With her friend Suzanne's help she had him demoted again at work, down to janitorial staff.

Even arranged for his paychecks to be diverted directly to her checking account.

But this was all old news to these two girlfriends on this day.

"I want tits, Sheila. I've decided." Cassidy said matter of factly as she blew on her hot latté.

"Cassidy… you're as bad as the women in my class. They all want bigger tits. They've almost got ME wanting bigger tits", Sheila replied.

"I'm gonna do it, Sheila. I've got the money and I've got the doctor all lined up."

"Get out… you're not serious", Sheila was incredulous. Her friend would do and say some silly things sometimes, but surely she wasn't thinking about actually getting breast augmentation surgery.

"I'm totally serious about this Sheila. I'm sick of being flat as a board. I deserve better than this. Everywhere I go I feel like I'm staring into some chick's cleavage, jumping off some magazine cover, crossing the street. And it's all Tucker watches on that TV. Huge tits."

"But Sheila, implants? It's so dangerous. You said so yourself. You used to hate women who got implants", Sheila tugged on her own shirt and sipped her coffee. She turned on the little TV in the corner.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I hear every week about your classes and all those bouncing boobs in there, stuffed into spandex."

"Of course I think about it, but Cassidy. But that doesn't mean I'm going to resort to surgery." She shook her head and flipped channels looking for something to watch on television. She flipped past the lurid soap operas, which were now full of nothing but big titted actresses. She flipped past wet T-shirt contests on ESPN, past a Russ Meyer movie on AMC, past an Anna Nicole Smith & Dolly Parton movie marathon on TNT hosted by Dolly and Anna Nicole. Were they larger than last time she'd seen them? She flipped the channel, past reruns of "Bigger Than Ever", the old Britney Spears'

comeback concert in Central Park on V-H1, past ads for Promade, ads for brassieres, ads for brassiere gel pads. She flipped past a nature show with a hugely endowed woman named Minka in a safari outfit with what looked like basketballs under her shirt, poking at a python with a stick.

"They look so fake. They always look fake."

She stumbled onto the tail end of a commercial with women-jesus these were huge chested women-dressed in conservative business suits, all blondes, pitching some product called Voluxil. A serious, solemn-toned voice said, ""Take Control… with Voluxil." The logo for Luna Genetics flashed across the bottom of the screen as the woman unbuttoned her jacket and revealed two gigantic creamy mounds of flesh ensconced in white lace. And the slogan, "Building a better tomorrow, today."

"What in the fuck was that??" Cassidy blurted out. She licked the sweet latte milkfoam from her lips.

Another ad for Promade came on.

"What was that commercial, Sheila??" "I don't know."

Sheila Martin calmly switched channels again. Past the wet T-shirt contest. Past "The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas". Past more brassiere ads.

"There! That's it again!!" Cassidy shouted. It was the Voluxil infomercial.

Testimonials by busty women who had taken this tiny white pill called Voluxil. The pill grew their busts by as much as an inch a month. One young woman, a college student, proclaimed to be a "full C cup" and seemed quite happy about the fact. Another woman was a bit older, maybe 40. She swiveled and announced she'd increased six inches and three cup sizes, thanks to Voluxil! Her husband had stopped looking at other women and couldn't keep his hands off her. Husband and wife were both grateful for Voluxil.

Again the women in business suits came on screen, six of them, dressed smartly but hiding nothing of their voluminous chests, looking like the corporate board of Huge Tits Incorporated.

Who WERE these women??

They were Lisa Quinn, and Kendra Warner.

And they were Kendra's two sisters who looked just like her… and Kendra's mother Barbara Warner.

"Promade has revolutionized sexuality", the eldest woman Barbara Warner jerked her head and winked at the camera, "Hell, it's revolutionized life as we know it".

The straight-talking gal wore a yellow fuzzy sweater and spoke to Cassidy and Sheila like a mother who also happened to be your best friend in the whole wide world. "My daughters and myself are living proof of the miracle that this drug… VOLUXIL… will be for women of all walks of life. Right girls?"

The camera panned over all six beautiful women. A female voiceover told their remarkable story. Barbara Warner and her friend, 40 year old Laura Woods were the president and CEO, respectively, of Luna Genetics, the company that manufactured Promade. Laura had formerly been an executive at Pfizer and had been instrumental in the creation of Cytex… and now Promade.

Lisa Quinn, Kendra Warner and kid sister Megan Warner were all naturally gifted highly intelligent women. They had all worked together to developed the Promade. Kendra's fraternal twin sister Keri was the vice president of marketing. Luna Genetics was a family business.

Ed Hollings and the rest of the male staff of Luna Genetics had slowly allowed themselves to be weeded out and now the company was owned and operated by women exclusively.

One by one the women outlined the benefits of Voluxil and explained the three formulas of Voluxil, "a formula for all of today's women".

Cassidy jumped onto the floor and scooted up close to the TV to get a close listen.

Sheila also listened intently. Voluxil?? How weird!

"Voluxil A enhances breast size and sensitivity without affecting fertility. Voluxil B-C does the same but the formula includes a birth control feature that genetically "turns off" a woman's reproductive functions." Lisa Quinn spoke to the camera, clipboard in hand. "Proven safer and more effective than traditional birth control pills, Voluxil B-C will work for any woman." Kendra Warner added.

"Megan, you wanna tell us about new Voluxil D?" Kendra turned to her supernaturally beautiful younger sister.

"I'd be glad too Kendra. New Voluxil D is for the woman who wants to shout it from the mountaintops. In addition to offering the same breast enhancing gene therapy of Voluxil A & Voluxil B-C, Voluxil D goes further to fundamentally enhance a woman's natural beauty. Focus groups determined the Voluxil ideal of the beautiful woman, taller, prominent cheek bones, fuller lips, longer legs, shapely hips." The camera panned up and down young Megan Warner as she explained the miracle drug.

"Voluxil D essentially produces a hybrid woman, a 'Voluxil Woman', half based on the original genetic blueprint of the individual, half based on the new Voluxil D ideal. Each of US takes Voluxil D… every day… and maybe you should too."

The camera pulled back. Cassidy and Sheila stared slack-jaw at the TV.

They looked at all the busty blonde women ranging in ages from 23 to 48.

They all looked sort of alike. Lisa Quinn and Laura Woods actually looked like the Warners. All beautiful cheekbones, full pouting lips. And all with extremely bountiful chests.

Lisa Quinn interjected, "Like Promade, Voluxil is gene therapy in pill form. Though results may vary from woman to woman, one tiny pill, taken once a week is guaranteed to gradually increase even a washboard-flat chest to no less than a double D cup less than one year. No more pads, no more dangerous surgeries. Just as Promade provides men with a means to enhance their manhood, now Voluxil will do the same thing for women…"

The eldest woman cut in, "…while naturally promoting wellness and mental alertness. And once the guaranteed results are achieved, it is up to the individual whether or not to continue taking the drug and try for even more, prodigious results." She drew back her shoulders and emphasized her massive bust.

Was this a joke of some kind?

Cassidy and Sheila would have had a good laugh if they weren't so riveted to the screen. By contrast with the adrenalized adolescent Promade ads this Voluxil campaign had a dignified, even serious tone that took Cassidy and Sheila (and the rest of the world) by surprise.

Sheila crawled down on the floor and sat next to Cassidy. She figured Cassidy had already made up her mind to get some Voluxil as soon as possible. Sheila was dumbstruck. What did this portend? She brushed her own meager breast with the back of her hand. She felt inadequate. Could she use Voluxil?? Maybe an added cup size wouldn't hurt. What?! This is madness, she thought. But certainly not implausible, considering what she knew Promade was capable of. What would Paul think of her with bigger boobies?

If a woman was satisfied at some intermediate size along the way she could cease taking Voluxil and the effects would not only be permanent, her altered genetic makeup would be passed down to her offspring. The tiny pill appeared to be slightly smaller than a birth control pill and a month supply was as affordable as a tin of aspirin; about $4.99 for forty tablets. A far cry less than $600 for Promade. The drug, based on a genetic matrix derived from a select group of female specimens, worked differently from Promade.

Voluxil altered the workings of the fat cells in the female body as well as the nervous system itself. Taken as prescribed, Voluxil worked to multiply and enlarge the fat cells localized in the breast, giving women the volume and contours they desired. It did this while at the same time enhancing nerve function in the targeted areas. The Luna scientists' innovation to the female body was to artificially heighten nerve sensitivity in the fat cells.

The sexual nerve centers in and around the clitoris were genetically isolated, replicated, enhanced and then spliced to the millions of nerve endings present in the fat cells throughout the body, thereby intensifying the sensitivity of the whole body and in particular the breast itself. Now, thanks to Voluxil, any woman could have the ample bosom of her dreams with the added benefit of a wonderful new pleasure zone, apart from and in many ways superior to her reproductive apparatus. Women would be able to achieve orgasm through breast play alone, reducing the need for vaginal penetration.

This would not only minimize the risk of unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases, it would also eventually de-emphasize the reproductive role that men would play in women's lives.

And by subtly enhancing brain activity through genetic refinements to the synaptic connectors in the brain, this drug also made women smarter.

But the Voluxil TV advertisement didn't need to go into these subtleties and extrapolations. The brainy buxom women of Luna Genetics simply crowded the small screen with their voluminous busts, asserting Voluxil's ease of use, its affordability, its proven results, promising women everywhere that they would not be disappointed with the unforeseen pleasures and advantages that Voluxil would endow them with.

If the aim was to measure up to the buxom feminine ideal and increase the sexual power that one could wield over the new Promade Generation, then Voluxil could help any woman attain her personal goal. There was presumably no limit to the expansion that could be achieved with prolonged Voluxil use.

As if experiencing an controlled second puberty, a woman of any age could go from flat to F cup in about two years. A woman who started out a D cup could achieve even more impressive results, presumably in less time.

Cassidy's imagination was in overdrive. She put a hand to her own chest and felt nothing.

Laura Woods stepped forward and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, exposing her cleavage and a bit of her huge white brassiere to the camera.

"This amazing new drug promises to change mankind, if not womankind, forever. Join us in proclaiming today, 'Double D Day'. We invite you, the sisters and daughters and even the mothers of the world… to TAKE CONTROL… WITH VOLUXIL."

The camera zoomed in on her open neckline as she unbuttoned her blouse completely, drawing the fabric back and filling the screen wish her fantastic cleavage.

The Luna Genetics logo appeared across her tits like two Goodyear blimps.

"Luna Genetics, building a better tomorrow, today."

Cassidy rushed out that afternoon and bought a supply of Voluxil B-C.

Sheila didn't try to talk her out of it. The two friends agreed that Voluxil D was definitely taking things too far. The women in the commercial were beautiful but it was also a little bit creepy… how they all looked so…

well, similar. Cassidy already considered herself beautiful anyhow. A bit flat-chested maybe. A bit short maybe. Her hips were perhaps a bit narrow, her ass sorta non-existent. But somehow altering her face seemed scary to her. She loved her face. She was just interested in boobs. Bigger boobs would be just great, nevermind all that weird genetic face-changing.

Sheila was as excited as her friend as she watched Cassidy touch the first Voluxil tablet to her tongue. She would wait though, she decided. See how things went with Cassidy after say a month or two. Then if she still felt like it, maybe she'd try the drug for a few weeks and see what happened.

But three days later, with Paul back east visiting his dying father, Sheila found herself at the drug store, buying her first month supply of Voluxil B-C. The pills were cheaper by far than her old birth control pills, which she tossed into the back of her bathroom cupboard. For some reason she decided not to mention it to Paul at first, in case she decided to quit taking the drug. Why get into a big discussion about it, and didn't he have enough to worry about with his father dying from some degenerative disease?

Donna Hughes had gone on Voluxil A right away, before Karen and Cassidy and Sheila and the rest of the world ever saw those TV ads. She'd been getting free samples from the Luna Genetics for two weeks now. Donna was one of these girls who is extremely loyal to her chosen method of birth control. She just couldn't part with her trusty diaphragm. Besides, what if the drug didn't work right and she was unable to have babies some day?

Voluxil A was made just for girls like her and that's what she was taking.

There were side effects to all the Voluxil formulas, but these were less catastrophic than with Promade. In the short-term there was a matter of some minimal fatty weight gain in other parts of the body, usually about 10 pounds which seemed just enough to balance out and accentuate one's new burgeoning figure. Donna could do without the weight gain, but she ignored it. Also, the greater the genetic enhancement by Voluxil, the stronger a woman's natural scent would become. This was done on purpose by the Luna Genetics scientists in order to enhance the Voluxil woman's power over the opposite sex. Voluxil subtly accentuated the female's natural sexual "perfume", biologically and genetically linking the intensity of a woman's pheromones to her moods. In a state of arousal, whether from pleasure or from anger, a Voluxil woman's scent would emit more strongly, from sweat glands located between and underneath the breasts, sending a subtle signal to other women and, most importantly, further debilitating any male within range. Donna was totally unable to notice any change in her personal scent, but the men who came into her salon were knocked out by it as soon as they stepped inside the door.

Also the drug was designed to genetically strengthen a woman's upper body in proportion with the increased weight of her bust. Something the ads didn't refer to except to say that Voluxil 'enhanced wellness'. In this way the Voluxil woman could carry her enlarged breasts without back strain.

She'd also enjoy the added bonus of increased strength in her arms, shoulders and abdominals but without any added muscular bulk. All of these effects combined to further empower the woman, physically, sexually, mentally, emotionally. Donna took to helping the truckdrivers who arrived daily in the alley behind her shop. She was amazed by the new strength in her arms which made quick work of the numerous and heavy cases of Promade and Voluxil which she personally loaded into her back room. Such physical exertion usually heightened her arousal, overpowering everyone in the vicinity with her strong sweet- smelling perfume. And the truck drivers were amazed at the sight of such a fine piece of ass like Donna Hughes, out there in the street, shaking her stuff without a care in the world.

Donna loved the feeling Voluxil gave her. The drug seemed made for her as it subtly enhanced her, growing her tits and increasing her natural appetites for sex. She felt completely normal otherwise. Just sexier, happier, rosy-cheeked, more beautiful and desirable than usual. And the men in her life only confirmed this for her. Her dream had always been to marry some rich guy, someone like Steve Gold, and have a family. She played the field now with heightened enthusiasm. She was having rich guys in her shop more and more. She pursued them all.

The only potential long-term risk to a Voluxil user lie overdoing it, in getting too greedy. This risk would vary from woman to woman. As Voluxil enhanced the breasts and musculature, so would it intensify a woman's bodily sensations. This would be considered a pleasant and desirable side-effect of the drug, to say the least. But if taken too far, it could make a woman a slave to her own sexual urges. Instead of using her sex as a controlling influence over men, the use for which Voluxil was intended, this powerful new weapon could turn back on her in the form of an addiction to pleasure.

Whether it be the pleasure of being tit-fucked by a male stud or simply the pleasant jiggling of her own hyper-sensitive body walking down the street, these new genetically-enhanced sensations, if taken to dangerous extremes, could overcome a woman's willpower. It could lead her to do things against her own better judgement, including further abuse of the drug.

The woman who allowed herself to become addicted to the physical and emotional rush a Voluxil user experiences as the drug amplifies her sexuality and physical strength, could wind up worse off than when she started out; a genetically-mutated sexual predator with a heightened breeding instinct, unable to think of anything but her own physical procreative needs. Women who allowed this to happen joined a lower "breeder class" of females who could no longer control their appetites. Some went mad and became violent criminals. Many simply grew fat, their whole bodies becoming vast perpetually-aroused erogenous zones.

The designers of Voluxil didn't consider this an undesirable side-effect of the drug. They considered it an effective way of side-lining the weak-minded element in the female race, the women who still deep down believed their highest purpose was to make babies. Well, let them have the babies then! Voluxil consigned these women to an orgasmic, lactating, child-bearing life of relative immobility. They were conscious of who and what they were, but unable to do anything to resist their own downward spiral. An excessively pro-natal woman would not even think of it as a downward spiral. She would simply grow to consider Voluxil the answer to her dream of becoming a fucking/breeding/nursing superwoman. Donna Hughes was such a woman. It had been that way since her teenage years. She'd already gone through the pain and remorse of one abortion, when she was 17, then again when she was 23. Now her sex life would be getting considerably more active, and the odds of her getting careless, of getting pregnant again would be something she'd need to be mindful of.

In the days and weeks after Voluxil's introduction, men and women both took extreme pleasure in the developments and changes that the woman now experienced.

Almost without exception it was the man who encouraged the woman to go on the drug. Self-respecting women refused at first. Even those who were intrigued by the advertisements oftentimes simply did not want to give men the satisfaction of letting themselves be transformed into a big-titted plaything. But one by one, as their girlfriends, sisters, mothers and daughters went on the drug and reported the wonderful life-changing transformations they were experiencing, women all over the world gave Voluxil a try. "What harm could an added cup size do?" was the common rationale that cautious women used as they popped that first little white pill out of it's foil tray.

Husbands and boyfriends as well as the man on the street rejoiced.

Voluxil seemed like yet another male triumph.

Paul Morton had been apart from Sheila Martin for almost six weeks.

He was there when his father died. He was only 60. His father's young female doctor concluded that Stan Morton had suffered a degenerative syndrome of some kind… Paul still couldn't remember the name. In his final days however, Stan had confided to his son that it was Promade that was gonna be the death of him. He had been feeling severe chest pains and Joyce, his wife, suggested he stop taking the Promade. At first Paul was shocked to discover that his father had taken the controversial drug. It made him realize how popular the stuff had become. He could hardly blame his dad. It was sort of nice to discover he was no different than any other guy.

On his death bed Stan had looked emaciated and weak. Supposedly due to the fact that he'd stopped taking Promade. Whatever gains of vitality and strength that the drug had made possible, that had all disappeared after the daily doses of Promade stopped. Then he proceeded to lose muscle mass, muscular coordination. His hair fell out. He looked like a man of seventy by the time he passed away.

"Stay on the drug", Paul said to himself.

His mother agreed. She was happy, weirdly enough, to find out that her son was enjoying the benefits of Promade. But she urged him not to go off the drug. Mother and son both reasoned that dad's chest pains were simply due to the fact that Stan Morton was an older man. Promade was surely a younger man's thing.

Joyce had to carefully explain to her son that the last few months had been some of the happiest times of his father's entire life. On the day after the funeral, mother and son sat at the dining room table and talked.

For hours they sat and talked. She showed Paul the last photograph taken of her and his father, from when they went on a cruise only two months ago.

Stan Morton looked tan, rugged almost, his hair thick and windblown. Paul noted a prominent bulge in the front of his father's swimming suit. His mother's hand rested on his smooth bronze chest, her breasts pressed up against his side. Mother proceeded to give Paul a sense of what a miracle Promade had been for her and Stan, going into graphic detail about the size and the staying power of his father's "love gun". Paul couldn't believe his ears! She blushed now and then during their little talk, but Paul blushed even more. He couldn't believe his mother was telling him these things. She was like a stranger, this woman. When he first came home he had noticed that her mode of dress was changed slightly from her usual. He hadn't seen her in a year, but it seemed she was dressing kind of "young" for her age. He didn't think much of it. Now as she revealed to Paul the wonderful days that preceded her husband's death he couldn't help but reevaluate his mom. She was saddened at her husband's sudden demise, but somehow she didn't seem despondent. She looked great in fact. Paul was puzzled. At 52 years of age, Joyce Morton could have passed for Paul's older sister, and he told her so.

Mother and son looked quite a bit alike. Paul had inherited his mom's cute facial features, the up-turned nose, dimpled cheeks and hazel eyes. But what accounted for this rejuvenation she'd undergone since he saw her last? She'd lost a little bit of weight, had her hair colored. That helped, certainly.

She also had a tummy tuck and an eye job though, and a little bit of a boob job, which she chose not to tell Paul about. Joyce offered that perhaps it was all the hot sex that she had enjoyed, right at the peak of her sexual maturity, on the cusp of menopause. The conversation made her son uncomfortable but she seemed almost eager to talk about it with him. The last six months turned into a tragic "last hurrah" for his father, but it had been like a new lease on life for Joyce Morton.

As a result of all this, and despite having done her fair share of crying over the past couple of days, his mother looked oddly refreshed and prettier than ever.

Even a little bit sexy he thought. Why did he THINK that??

Paul would be flying back to Sheila in two days time. And not a moment too soon, he thought. He was looking forward to it. The two lovers had been apart for too long. And wouldn't Sheila be surprised to find out he'd grown another half inch! As his mother climbed up on a chair and rummaged around for more boxes of family photos, Paul's mind drifted off to thoughts of Sheila. His cock stirred slightly inside his sweatpants. He found himself staring at his mother's ass. It looked round, pleasingly plump, and very sexy as the fabric of her dress jerked this way and that. As she reached her arms up overhead Paul caught the curve of her bust from behind. He could see into the gaping armhole of her dress. He eyed the curve of her breast under her arm as it disappeared into the cream colored cups of her old bra. He should have looked away but he didn't. He smelled the air and could smell his mother's perfume. He reached down and eased his cock down the leg of his sweat pants, and moved his chair under the dining room table. Hopefully his poor mom wouldn't notice his raging hard on.

"Paulie? Would you come here and take these?", Joyce Morton asked as she handed down two faded cardboard boxes from at high shelf.

Paul jumped up to help his mother. She pivoted and handed the boxes down to her son. He looked up at her, staring straight at her bust which seemed to jut towards the ceiling, tugging the thin fabric of her dress with it. Joyce peered down at her son as he stole a peek at her tits. "Just like his father." Paul's mind was fuzzy. Was his mother wearing a padded brassiere? He took the boxes from her and must have gripped them too hard.

The old cardboard broke in his hands and boxes of old snapshots went flying all over the floor.

"Oops… sorry!" he said as he bent down to pick up the photos.

His cock snaked down the leg of his sweatpants and nearly brushed his knee. His heart was pounding as he felt his mother's hand on his back. She commented on his new muscular development.

"Ooh, you feel so strong. Have you been working out or is it… from the Promade?" she ran her fingers through his hair.

Paul continued to gather the photos, trying to think of baseball, anything but sex.

"Um, I guess a little bit of both mom…" he said nervously.

He stood up and handed his mother the stacks of pictures. Joyce Morton looked down at her son's crotch and stared. An astonished smile came across her face.

"Honey, is that all YOU?" she asked point blank, staring at the definite outline of his fully erect cock as it strained at his sweatpants.

Paul was speechless. He couldn't look his mother in the eye, but he couldn't avoid checking out her body. Her dress clung to her figure, accentuating her curves. He noticed his mom's cleavage. It didn't seem right. Surely the Promade was messing with his mind, he thought to himself.

Joyce Morton reached for the drawstring of his sweatpants..

"Do you mind if your old mother has a look?" she asked as she bit her lip and pulled on the drawstring.

Paul froze. He imagined he felt extra blood surge into his cock.

"Not now. Not this!" he thought to himself in quiet panic.

Joyce Morton undid the drawstring knot and the waistline of Paul's sweatpants sprung forward, making a gap at the top of his pants. They had already had their conversation about Promade and now mother wanted to have a look at what her son had done to himself. She smiled as she gingerly pulled down her son's pants and let his organ spring free. Stan Morton had been a puny little thing his entire life and had managed to enlarge his cock to seven inches before his death. She now felt the same relief and happiness for her son as she had felt for her husband. She knew Paul had suffered from the same smallness. But it was nothing the family ever talked about. She held onto the elastic waist of his sweatpants, staring at her son's big unit, shiny, covered in thick veins. She wanted to measure it. She wanted to touch it. She managed to restrain herself though. She just stood there and smiled and stared. Paul's eyes met hers and she chuckled.

"I don't believe it! So what do you think?" she asked, innocently enough.

Paul stammered and tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind.

"I'll bet your Sheila is enjoying…. well…. ha…", she stopped, realizing that she was embarrassing her poor son. Her poor fantastically endowed son!

She looked him in the eye, searching for some acknowledgement that the young man was indeed happy with himself. He looked confused, panicky. His face was red. She took him in her arms and gave him a kiss. Hugging him close to her body, she gave her son a loving kiss flush on the mouth, intent on summing up all this craziness that could not quite be summed up with words. She loved her boy and that's all that mattered. Paul's heart raced as he felt his mother's chest press up against him. He kissed her in return, letting his hands wrap around her thick waist. Joyce felt her son's manhood digging into her plump thighs. She liked the feeling. She closed her eyes and held the kiss, letting a long sigh escaped through her nostrils. She held him tighter. His cock pulsed with life. Paul's instincts took over. He pulled his mother closer to him. Holy shit. What was he thinking? Their lips parted and with in consensual breech of propriety mother and son exchanged tongues. Paul grabbed her ass in his hands and squeezed it. What in the hell was he doing? He couldn't control what he was feeling. God how he wanted to fuck her. Joyce should have resisted but instead she moved her left leg and allowed her son's cock to brush against her pubis. She pulled him tight to her, squashing her fake boobs against his rock hard abs. Her mind raced.

She'd been promiscuous with other men in the past few months. Something she never thought she'd ever do in her life. Since the world went nuts with Promade and especially since her boob job, Joyce Morton had undergone a serious mid-life crisis. Stan had urged her to get the implants. At first she thought he was insane, then later she warmed to the idea. At his sexual peak, Stan Morton had actually encouraged Joyce to take part in a three-way with his buddy Kenny. It was soon after that when Stan started getting his chest pains. When he fell ill and was unable to leave the house, Joyce continued to see Kenny on the side. She'd been promiscuous with a few men, actually. One of them was the young man who came to mow the couple's lawn every week, a boy of eighteen who had managed to scrape together enough money for some Promade and was hung with a lovely eight inch cock that he let her suck one afternoon in the garage behind the old house.

Paul's hand moved up to the zipper on the back of his mother's dress.

He slowly pulled down on the zipper and Joyce's dress fell open, dropping down to her waist, then onto the floor.

Joyce Morton pulled the shades closed in the dining room where they stood. The closest neighbors were over two miles away, but she felt the need for privacy. She tried to talk some sense into herself, even as she dimmed the overhead light. Her stomach churned with nervousness and… excitement.

Paul sat himself down in a wooden chair, watching his mother's body move as she ambled across the room. She looked so sexy to him. It was like he wasn't looking at his mother. Her tits were even bigger than he suspected, straining against the cups of her tight bra. She knew what her son was looking at. She knew he was probably perplexed that her boobies were a couple cup sizes larger than they were supposed to be, just like everyone in town had been perplexed. It turned her on to have her little secret. She took Paul's head in her hands and held it to her bosom. Paul's face brushed against her bare skin. He inhaled her scent and kissed her flesh. She lowered herself down in front of her son, kissing him on the lips again. She smiled at him as she knelt down onto her knees and took his rigid member in her fingers and felt it for the first time. She couldn't believe how huge he was. This was her son, her own flesh and blood. But she pushed that thought out of her mind. She kissed the head of Paul's cock. He took a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes and thought of Sheila. He pictured Sheila that night on his own kitchen floor, the first time she mouthed him. Joyce's pussy was wet. She craved Paul's cock. She wanted it inside her. Something made her stop herself.

"Honey, we better stop this. Before I do something I'm gonna regret", she said.

Joyce Morton suddenly pulled her son's sweatpants up and put away his magnificent tool. She fanned herself with her hands. Paul exhaled and moaned. His right hand was cupped around his mother's left tit, squeezing it through the fabric of her bra. His mind struggled for coherence, his balls ached. He realized how desperately he had wanted to get his hands on a pair of nice tits… for weeks and months the desire had been building, to the point of obsession. And now he gave in to the feeling. He took her other tit in hand. His mom's breasts were a handful… more than a handful! And they felt so full and firm, like the tits of a much younger woman. He didn't want to stop. He slipped his fingers under her shoulder straps and pulled them down over her shoulders. Joyce's hands shot up and clutched her straps. As much as she wanted to shed her tight brassiere and feel Paul's hands on her bare tits, she resisted the urge.

"I think you should go to the bathroom."

Joyce removed her son's grabby hands from her body and backed away.

She bent over and gathered up her discarded dress and covered herself, hugging her big boobs in shame, trying to push back the remorse she was already feeling. Paul came to his senses and noticed his mother looked sad now. He lowered his head and pulled tight the drawstring on his sweatpants.

He retired to the bathroom without a word where he relieved himself and took his nightly dose of Promade. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, rinsing away unpleasant thoughts of having wanted to fuck his own mother.

Joyce got herself dressed and waited for Paul in the living room.

A few minutes later Paul emerged from the bathroom refreshed. He had his wits about him again and so did his mother. She approached him, her dress in place, her body still flushed. She could still feel her moistness between her legs. The room was filled with her sweet smell. Paul wanted to go home. Back to Sheila.

"Can I just tell you one thing? I love you. More than anything in the world. And all I want is for you to be happy. And I hope you are happy, with this Sheila. She sounds like a lovely girl, and… well I don't know how to say this… but…. I'm just so…."

She had tears in her eyes. Paul kissed his mother, properly. And he smiled.

"I'm happy mom. Life has gotten weird in many ways… but… like it's mostly good stuff, ya know?"

She knew what he meant. And he knew that she knew what he meant.

"I think I just better go to bed. Don't want to be late for my flight in the morning."

That night Paul Morton lay awake in bed until the wee hours, trying like hell to get to sleep. He masturbated himself in a steady series of orgasms as he lay there, draining his balls, soaking his mother's cotton sheets with his cum. In the other room he could hear his mother, half crying, half moaning. For a couple hours he listened to her until eventually she fell silent. If he'd gone into her room he would have discovered her sobbing quietly, sprawled across her bed, legs spread eagle, with a flesh colored plastic dildo, fucking herself to sleep.

As he walked down the hall from the airplane to the terminal, Paul wondered if Sheila would be there to meet him. He emerged into the airport and scanned the crowd for her familiar face. He couldn't see her anywhere.

Suddenly two tiny hands came from behind and flew over his eyes.

"Guess who!", Sheila blurted into his ear.

Paul spun around and saw Sheila's beautiful smiling face. The couple kissed. Cassidy Peters was there too.

"Oh it's so great to see you", Paul said as he kissed Sheila, and kissed her again.

She looked different, kinda. Like she'd gained a little weight? Maybe it was the oversized jacket she was wearing, she usually wore such tight things.

"Good to see you too Cassidy", Paul looked at Cassidy and did a double take.

"Sorry to hear about your father", Cassidy offered.

"Oh, thanks. I appreciate that", he answered as he sized her up.

Cassidy definitely had put on some weight. She wasn't all bony. Her face looked rounder, cuter. She was dressed in a tight-fitting striped tee shirt. He noticed that she was either wearing a padded bra or else she…

No, that couldn't be. Cassidy was not the boob job type. Must be pads, he thought. Sheila smiled as she watched his confusion. She grabbed his arm and led the way through the terminal towards the parking lot. Paul tried not to stare but he couldn't help but notice the change in Cassidy. His eyes followed her pert tits as they appeared to… bounce. Still he attributed it to gel implants. "The make them so natural now", he thought to himself.

"I have a big surprise for you, mister!", Sheila could hardly contain her excitement. "What? What is it??", Paul asked. "I'll show you when we get in the car."

Paul glanced at Cassidy. He noticed now that she wasn't even wearing a bra! Holy shit!

"What's the big surprise?"

"You're just gonna have to wait till we get in the car, big boy", Cassidy sniped.

Cassidy climbed into the passenger seat of her Land Rover, paid for with Tucker's earnings. Tucker sat behind the wheel. He had been waiting in the car. Paul jumped in the back and so did Sheila. She snuggled up to him and he threw his arm around her and kissed her.

"It's so good to have you back. I missed you", Sheila said.

"Hey Tucker! How's it going?" Paul said.

Tucker Hicks didn't even answer, he just looked in the rear view mirror and nodded and grunted. He was in one of his usual foul moods. Paul noticed Tucker lean over and grab one of Cassidy's tits. He tried to kiss her but she stiff-armed him.

"Start the car, Loverboy. We don't want to sit here in the parking garage all night", Cassidy ordered.

Tucker started up the Land Rover and pulled out of the airport into the night. The cabin went kind of dark, except for the passing glow of the street lights and lighted signs that flitted by the windows. Sheila relaxed and unzipped her jacket. Paul traced her ear with his finger and stroked her hair. She looked back at him and flashed him one of her smiles. So beautiful. How he'd missed her smile.

"God, you're beautiful… It's so great to be home, I can't tell you", Paul said, unembarrassed that he was being so mushy in front of Cassidy and Tucker.

Sheila just smiled and snuggled closer under his strong arm. She pressed up against him. Sheila felt so soft and warm, Paul thought. He peered out the window and saw an incredible billboard, featuring six ultrabusty women in business suits. "Take control… with Voluxil", it read.

He wondered what that meant. Cassidy and Sheila began laughing.

"What?" Paul asked.

"Well Sheila, are you gonna show him? He certainly doesn't seem able to figure it out himself", Cassidy sniped.

"What's she talking about?", Paul asked as Sheila opened up her jacket and eased one shoulder out of it.

She smiled back at Paul, not saying a word. She was getting aroused by now, just dying to jump on Paul's bones. Her perfume filled the car, filled Paul's nostrils. He stared back at her and let the wonderful scent fill his head. His cock moved in his pants just looking at Sheila's smile. Sheila pulled back her jacket and shook it off. She was wearing a tight black shirt with a scoop neck. Paul had never seen it before. He looked down and suddenly he noticed. Sheila's tits.

Her… TITS?

His mouth dropped open in disbelief. Cassidy chuckled to herself in the front seat, watching him in the mirror. Sheila sat up and drew a breath, swelling her chest for Paul to see. The streetlights flashed glimpses of orange light across Sheila's exposed neck and face. Her pert little boobies had never… they didn't used to…. touch? Sheila drew her elbows to her sides and pushed her breasts together, forming a bit of cleavage for Paul to get a good look at. She leaned forward slightly. Paul's mind felt dull as he reached out without even thinking. He cupped her right breast in his hand.

It felt like his mother's… about the same size, only… softer. NATURAL.

His mothers boobs had felt like balloons. Sheila's eyes met Paul's and both lovers licked their lips.

Just then Tucker hit a pot hole in the road. The Land Rover bounced up and down. Cassidy bounced up and down. And Paul couldn't help but notice that his Sheila REALLY bounced up and down.

"Oh my god!" Paul blurted out.

Sheila laughed as she laid a hand against the side of her breast.

"How did you? How did… what happened? Why?", Paul rattled on.

Another well-lit Voluxil billboard breezed past the window.

Sheila and Cassidy locked stares in the mirror.

"Where you been at the past six weeks Morton? Under a rock?" Tucker piped up.

Cassidy thumped Tucker with a hard backhand to the chest and he shut up. It was a perfectly fair question though. Paul HAD been living under a rock, more or less. In six weeks time the whole country had begun going crazy over Voluxil. His parents' house was sufficiently isolated, and Paul was distracted enough with his father's pain, that he had missed out completely on the whole fanfare. Sheila handed him a small packet of tiny white pills. "Voluxil B-C"… from the billboard? He saw the familiar Luna Genetics blue logo. He read the indications on the front of the package. One pill a day. One cup size a month. He put two and two together and came up with Cassidy Peters and Sheila Martin and their, enlarged tits!

"They make your boobs bigger", Sheila said.

After months self-administering Promade to himself, this rather shocking revelation, about a pill that grows boobs, didn't shock Paul Morton at all. But it did thrill him, and surprise the hell out of him.

"I can SEE it does", he replied, with a sting of enthusiasm directed at both women.

Cassidy narrowed her gaze on the street signs ahead. They were pulling onto Paul's street. His eyes were fixed on Sheila's cleavage. She sat sideways against the seat, so Paul could look at her. Her two boobs pressed into one another. They weren't even large enough to TOUCH each other six weeks earlier! How big WERE they?

"How big are they??", he asked his girlfriend. His cock was stiff as a board by now.

"You'll see", she replied as Tucker drove over the curb and into the driveway beside Paul's building. The jolt made all four of them bounce up and down in their seats. Both girls laughed together at the sensation. It was a feeling that neither one of them was totally accustomed to yet. And they both enjoyed the hell out of it. It felt great. Paul laughed when he realized the girls' were reacting to their own boobs bouncing inside their shirts. He was particularly amazed to think of Cassidy, who had NO chest when he last saw her. She looked to have grown at least a cup size, maybe more, he thought.

The Land Rover rolled to a stop and Cassidy bid Paul and Sheila a fond goodnight.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do", she quipped.

Tucker didn't say goodnight. He was too busy grabbing at Cassidy and trying to kiss her.

"Thanks for the ride Cass. I'll talk to you tomorrow", Sheila winked at her old girlfriend.

Paul closed the door behind her and then he and Sheila ducked into his building. Paul didn't realize it but the two old friends had grown even closer in the time he was away. As they walked up the stairs to Paul's apartment, Sheila led the way and started in immediately, filling Paul in on everything. The experience of Voluxil was like an awakening for all the women who took it. Women had always wondered what it was like to take Promade. Now they knew. Except it was better. Having never had any breasts at all, Cassidy couldn't seem to grow them fast enough. Her boobies had started budding immediately. At first just her nipples grew puffy and swollen, then after a week or two her flat chest began to swell. Two little boobies grew and became a soft pleasant "extra weight" that increased day by day inside Cassidy's A cup bras. By the end of the month she was a full cup size larger, as advertised. And in the last two weeks she she'd begun to grow into a C cup.

Paul fumbled for his keys. He couldn't take his eyes off of Sheila.

Wow. She had been slightly bigger in the chest than Cassidy. Nothing spectacular, but she did have the edge over her friend. Paul turned the key and stumbled into his apartment. Sheila slammed the door behind her, causing a delightful little jiggle in her chest. It felt great. After six weeks on Voluxil ,Sheila was very excited to finally be able to tell Paul about the wonderful new sensations that the drug had produced in her body. The heightened sensitivity, especially in and around her boobs, was like nothing she ever dreamed possible.

"Paul, my boobs feel great. I can hardly believe it. And not heavy at all. I was totally afraid they'd feel heavy but I can hardly feel it. They just feel…", she smoothed one hand over the curve of her bosom and rolled her eyes.

"Mmmmmm… god, Paul… they feel so great. Come here."

Paul put down his suitcases and went to Sheila. She was pulling down on the neckline of her shirt, exposing more flesh for Paul to see. He couldn't believe his eyes. Sheila herself still couldn't believe her eyes when she looked down at herself. Paul placed both hands on Sheila's chest and squeezed, cupping her two tits in his palms. Sheila arched her back and gave him a handful. It felt like heaven to feel Paul's strong hands on her body. Sheila was more sensitive from head to toe it seemed. She had begun to discover the unknown pleasures of her new body, alone and with Cassidy's help. Her larger titties were extremely sensitive and she had experienced a "tit orgasm" or two by now. Her nipples were especially sensitive. Paul felt Sheila's hard nipples dig into his palms through the fabric of her shirt and bra. He took one between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it. It felt so thick and hard. Sheila let out a deep moan and wrapped one leg around her long lost boyfriend. She'd been waiting for this moment for weeks. Finally she'd have her relief. She reached down and grabbed hold of Paul's cock through his pants. How much bigger was he? Seemed like everything she touched or looked at these days was bigger than it was last time she saw it.

And Paul's cock was no exception. In the heat of passion she thought Paul felt as big now as her old boyfriend John, who she'd taken to fantasizing about lately.

"You feel nice and big, lover", she whispered in his ear.

"Almost eleven inches…" he answered with pride.

Sheila tore open his pants and let his schlong flop out. She grabbed hold of it and squeezed. Paul seethed and nuzzled Sheila's cleavage. Her scent rose up from her chest in fragrant blasts that Paul inhaled deeply into his lungs. His mind drifted away. He clenched his ass muscles and pumped a rush of blood into his already swollen cock. Sheila felt it swell in her hand, parting her closed fingers. She kissed Paul. Hard. She jammed her tongue into his mouth and breathed heavily as Paul proceeded to kneed her left tit like a playtoy. It was something she had been doing to herself quite a lot lately. But Paul's touch was magic. She wanted her shirt off.

She slipped the tight black shirt over her head and reached behind for the clasps on her bra. It was less easy to reach back there these days. She turned and asked for Paul's assistance. Paul fumbled around with her hooks as he undid them. He glanced at the size label on the silk strap, 36 C.

"That thing's days are numbered", she said.

"What's that?"

"I say that bra isn't going to last me another week. I'm already outgrowing it." Sheila stood there in front of Paul, with her arms crossed over her chest. Paul took her hands away and let her new breasts hang free. He drank in the sight of his girlfriend, his beautiful unbelievable girlfriend.

Sheila's boobies had grown into… well, "boobs". Full, heavy, perfect teardrop-shaped boobs capped off with oversized cone- shaped nipples. She swiveled at the hips ever so slightly and shook her breasts for Paul. He cupped one in his hand and squeezed it again. Sheila's soft tit flesh squeezed out between his fingers. She unbuttoned his shirt.

"All this in just six weeks?" Paul asked.

"Almost two cup sizes. And counting…", she curled her nose mischievously and threw her arms around Paul's shoulders.

"You planning on getting bigger?", Paul looked surprised. She looked great already.

"Just a little bit. This sounds stupid, but the way I figure it, I might as well go bigger than my mother. I'm almost there", she rationalized as she pressed herself against Paul. Sheila had never before mentioned her breast size or any wanting for larger breasts. Had she secretly wanted bigger tits all along, or was it just this new drug craze? Whatever the reason, Sheila seemed excited and happy about her new developments.

Certainly Paul was thrilled. He loved the feeling of her soft breasts pressed against his rock hard stomach.

Sheila hugged Paul and drank in the feeling of their bare chests pressed together. Paul seemed pleased, she thought as she let her mind drift. What would he think if I got even bigger? And why, for that matter, am I constantly thinking about getting bigger? Sheila's mind probed itself, turning the conundrum over with a new dexterity that she enjoyed immensely.

She had started obsessing about her "progress" the day she measured her first notable increase in size. Something about the imperceptible enhancements to her mental acuity combined with the visible and all too tangible increases in bodily sensation could make a woman equate one with the other. Sheila came to "identify" with Voluxil, with what Voluxil could do, what it was made to do. There was a Voluxil Ideal that women everywhere were already chasing, celebrating, trying to embody. And since the mental enhancements were difficult to consciously notice or quantify in any definitive way, a woman's bust line and cup size were now thought to be commensurate with her brainpower. And they WERE! Sheila Martin had been a modest but satisfactory 34 B ever since the end of childhood, going on twenty years. She started taking Voluxil at Cassidy's insistence, but she didn't require much convincing. Her intention at first was to add only one cup size. It never occurred to her that she would want to go larger than that. But as the drug went to work, and as Sheila first noticed a soft new bounce on her chest, she gave in to the delightful distraction. Her mind seized on Voluxil, explored the portent of it. Distraction grew into obsession. She began to check her reflection out in mirrors, in shop windows, whenever she could. She watched closely the subtle changing curves of her swelling bust. She felt positively huge the day she was fitted for her C cup brassieres. She was so excited to reach that landmark, she spent almost $300 that day on new bras. That was two weeks ago however and was beginning to feel a bit like a distant memory. In the past couple of days she had experienced another growth spurt and the lovely C cup bras she'd squandered good money on were starting to dig into her. By the end of the week she would be out shopping for her first… D cupper. Good lord, a D cup! What would THAT feel like? She brushed her nipples against Paul and mashed herself against him. She wanted bigger boobs now! She was accustomed to her larger tits but she reminded herself that this was all totally new to Paul. Still though, despite the fact that she was twice her normal size already, she felt… small. How could that be? Why was she so obsessed with size, she wondered.

"You don't think I look fat do you?" she asked sheepishly.

"No. Not at all", was Paul's answer.

"I mean, you look fantastic. I never dreamed… I mean, I never thought… I mean….."

"Neither did I. I never thought I wanted this, but this Voluxil is amazing. It's a miracle, Paul."

They smiled at each other and kissed. Sheila threw her arms around Paul's broad shoulders and let her titties fall flat against his chest. Soft mounds of flesh swelled up toward her collarbone. She tingled all over. Her mind was in high gear.

"It's supposed to add a cup size a month but I think I've found a way to… speed it up", Sheila said in an quietly excited voice. Her eyes were a bit wild, her smile, brilliant.

Had she been experimenting on herself, the way she had with the Promade? Yes she had.

Instead of her one-a-day Voluxil, Sheila had experimented one long weekend with two a day, and then three a day. She spent those two days in bed, masturbating, drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling herself up.

It was like one long wonderful extended two day xtacy trip. She ordered take out and when the delivery boy came to her door on Saturday night he was pleasantly surprised when the half-naked beauty answered the door. Dressed in nothing buy a loose bathrobe, it was all she could do to keep from jumping him. The inch that she added to her bust that one weekend was what pushed her past the confines of her C cup brassieres. Sheila reached into her skin tight jeans and pulled out a crushed white Voluxil packet. She wanted to take tomorrow's dose right now. Paul leaned back and watched as Sheila tore a little white pill from its foil wrapper and popped it into her mouth. She hugged Paul and kissed him forcefully, the Voluxil packet still pinched lightly between two fingers. She dug a second pill from the foil and raised it to her mouth. Again she kissed Paul. She felt his stiff club grinding against her body. She wanted him so bad. She wanted to fuck and smother him. She removed last remaining pill from the packet and swallowed it down. Her head felt light as a feather. She crumpled the Voluxil packet and dropped it onto the carpet. Paul carried her into the bedroom and removed her jeans and his. As he circled the bed Sheila inspected his cock.

It bobbed up and down with the rhythm of his movements, like a conductor's baton. His body was all lean muscle now. He looked like an athlete. She stared transfixed at him. Paul stared at her boobs. She could feel his eyeballs on her nipples. Sheila loved her new boobs. She loved the feel of them, the reassuring weight of them resting on her chest. The way they bounced. The way they made her look. The way people looked at her with them.

The way Paul was looking at her right now. She knew they'd be growing even bigger, tonight. She climbed up on the bed on her hands and knees, letting her tits hang away from her body. She was totally comfortable with the feelings and movements and size of her boobs by now, way less self-conscious about them than Cassidy still was with hers. Between the two girlfriends though, these new boobs were very much something to laugh about and have fun with. They both joked and teased one another about what clumsy big-titted bimbos they were becoming. But nothing could have been further from the truth. Both women were sexier, but both women were smarter too.

Sheila felt the triple dose of Voluxil start to rattle her senses.

She felt it first in her head. Tingling flashes of electricity sent a pleasant tremor of clarity through her mind. Thoughts fell into place. Ideas came to order. She saw Paul Morton and understood him, completely. She could see his whole life in context, could see a man who was shaken by the recent loss of his father, a man who was strong, for the first time ever, but who somehow weaker than before, with chronic needs that he could not tend to himself. Needs that Promade produced in him, same as it did now in all men.

She gazed longingly at his beautiful cock. He needed to take more Promade, she thought. The room sparkled in front of Sheila's eyes. Her body vibrated and resonated with Voluxil's delicate biogenetic music. Her genes danced in formation, redefining her musculature, her mental circuits. She felt exalted. Paul crawled up next to her on the bed, his eyes on her body, his mouth hanging slightly open. He seemed brutish to her, almost like an animal moving in slow motion, the wheels in his mind grinding to a halt. It turned her on. She loved that dumb brute, she thought. She laughed out loud. She could feel new compartments in her mind open up, doubling and redoubling.

She smiled benignly as she thought about Promade's dark secret, that it made men stupid. Although she loved Paul dearly, this didn't bother her one bit. She loved it. Loved the feeling, the wonderful feeling of power her kind was gaining over their kind. But not in a cruel or sadistic way. The surge of power, of brainpower and of sexual power, was its own justification. Women were becoming new masters, of men, of nature… of the world. It was their destiny. Obviously! It all made pefect sense and seemed completely inevitable. Voluxil and Promade were setting things right in the world, giving men AND women what they had always wanted. What they deserved. Paul moved next to her and pawed at her. She tried to let the poor man know what she was feeling. What she described sounded to Paul like an acid trip. A pleasant, mind-expanding acid trip. Most of it went over his head. Some of it sounded almost like another language, philosophical psychological stuff he just couldn't grok. Sheila's body was flushed pink, especially her chest.

Her hard nipples seemed almost twice as large and sensitive as they had been when he last saw her. The puffy areolas, now almost three inches in diameter, seemed too big for her breasts. Sheila took Paul's head and drew his mouth to her large brown nipple. Paul sucked it into his mouth and Sheila seized up, seething from the wonderful feel of her lover's mouth at her teat. She pulled on Paul's cock, positioning it between her breasts. She wrapped her hands around the outsides of her boobs and pressed them together, but they weren't yet large enough to surround Paul's thick cock.

Too bad.

Paul lay back on the bed as Sheila crawled on top of him. Paul's cock bumped against Sheila's ass as she bobbed back and forth on top of him. Then with out warning Sheila lowered herself onto Paul's knob. His member slipped inside her with one slow steady movement, all the way to the base in one stroke. Sheila arched her back and thrust her chest out. Paul reached up and cupped both breasts. They were warm, firm, and covered in perspiration.

Sheila began rocking her hips in graceful even swoops, filling and refilling herself over and over with Paul's meat. He felt fantastic. She was in heaven. Her tits were burning and they felt fantastic too. As her pleasure increased, she increased the speed of her hips. Paul looked up at his beautiful girlfriend. Voluxil was ravishing Sheila Martin, shaking her to her very core. She put her hands on Paul's hard pecs and rested her upper body weight on him. Her boobs swayed freely under her as she thrust her body weight over and over against Paul's body. Sheila leaned forward and let her boobs fall into Paul's face, rubbing them on him, mashing them into him.

She'd been waiting to do this for six weeks.

Paul franticly licked and suckled at her softness. Both lovers lost track of time and space. After a couple hours of intense fucking and sucking the couple finally fell asleep. Paul enjoyed a sound dreamless sleep that night. His first in weeks.

Sheila tossed and turned as the Voluxil continued to work on her for the next eight hours. The stimulation of her lovemaking with Paul (the hyperventilation, the hyperoxygenation of her blood) would work to further magnify the effects. The overnight genetic megadose would penetrate every cell and neuron of her body. Her dreams were vivid and bizarre that night.

She dreamt of whiteness. She floated naked in a featureless void. She looked down at herself. Her skin looked especially dark against the milky whiteness all around. She felt something wet at her feet, tickling her bare toes.

Milk. The wetness splashed against her legs as she skimmed along the surface. She was lowering into the milky wetness, her ankle and lovely calf disappearing into the whiteness. She looked down and saw a clear fluid trickling from her nipples. Her breasts were weeping. She clutched them in her hands and could feel fluid rushing inside them, like a spigot opened all the way. They started to grow in her hands, quickly splaying her fingers apart. She squeezed them to stem the growth but they only spurted jets of hot milk. Soon they were more than she could handle, she cradled them in her arms, pulled down by their weight. She stood hip deep in the milk, watching helpless as her floating tits swelled out even larger until she could no longer reach her own nipples. The level of the milk rose higher. Her massive teats swelled up bigger than watermelons before finally submerging her in the milky whiteness to her shoulders. The milk crept up until it was at her chin. She was swimming in the stuff. Soon to be drowning in it. She felt something rush between her legs. She panicked. A huge monster, Paul's cock, shot up out of the sea of white and leapt over her like a great serpent.

Suddenly she found herself on the deck of a boat, an expensive yacht outfitted with harpoons and nets. She was now wearing a dress blue naval uniform and a tight white slit skirt. Her chest was adorned with gold medals commemorating her many glorious conquests. She could hear the huge canvas sails flapping in the wind, pulling the rigging taut. Her old boyfriend John was standing on deck beside her, naked except for a strange leather apparatus that held his cock and balls. He trained his harpoon cannon on the great serpent cock as it circled the boat. There was no sound but the light splashing of the sea, and the groaning of the ropes as they stretched to hold back the billowing canvas sails. A school of porpoise spoke to Sheila telepathically and pleaded with her to kill the monster. John released the safety on the harpoon and took careful aim at Paul. Sheila looked on, grasping at the rigging with one strong hand, dragging the thick wool material of her uniform against the stiff ropes, trying to stimulate her burning nipples. She snagged her medals on the rope. Some came loose and fell into the white ocean. With her other hand she slavishly fingered herself. She was coming. Paul cried out her name. "Sheila! Nooooo!" She couldn't move her legs.

She woke up. It was early afternoon the next day.

Paul was laying next to her in bed. Sheila was laying on her side, breathing heavily. "How long did I sleep?" she asked groggily. Her tits lay on the sheets between them. They were swollen… my god, were they swollen!

Paul touched one of her nipples lightly. Sheila came wide awake when a pleasant wave of electricity rippled through her, emanating from her sensitive nipple. She sat up in bed. Her tits felt heavy as they pulled on her tired body. She held them in her hands. They were big. They felt so…

well… HEAVY. She squeezed them gently and was rewarded with another pleasant shockwave. Her head cleared instantly. She knew she must be a full D cup now, maybe even bigger. Holy shit. Her first thought was to call Cassidy and tell her, but Cassidy would only want to come over and see for herself. Sheila jumped up and headed for Paul's bathroom. The added weight on her chest threw her off balance at first, but she recovered quickly and padded into the bathroom, snatching yesterday's bra off the dresser en route.

A bleary-eyed Sheila Martin gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror.

She couldn't believe what she saw looking back at her. It may only have been an extra inch or so but she thought she looked BIG! She was still pretty dazed from the drugs, she realized. Her mind crackled and popped. She drew her shoulders together and her boobs pressed against one other like balloons. The nipples no longer looked too big. They looked just right in fact. She checked her profile. Her soft, teardrop tits flared out from her body proudly. She lifted them up and checked the added heft. She loved the feeling, just like she knew she would. She admired herself in the mirror.

"My god, she's a knockout", she thought. What? Did she say it out loud? It was Paul's voice… but… in her head???? Paul peered in at her from the bedroom, as he frantically stroked his cock under the sheets. She could hear his thoughts. Or maybe she was hallucinating. Sheila closed the bathroom door and locked it behind her. She slipped her 36 C bra around her waist and pulled the two strap ends together. She could just barely fasten the loosest row of hooks. She slipped it around and eased her arms into the shoulder straps. She lengthened the straps as long as they would go and pulled them up over her shoulders. The bra was tight. Too tight. She pulled down on the C cups and shook her boobs into the silk fabric. No matter how she tried to adjust things she wound up with quite a lot of extra flesh overflowing her old brassiere, either over the tops of the cups, or under her arms, or slipping out from beneath the underwire. The sight turned her on.

Sheila emerged from the bathroom with her tits strangled by her old brassiere. Soft almond colored flesh swelled up around the edges of the cups like rising bread dough. The shoulder straps dug into her, but she seemed to be ignoring it. Paul couldn't believe his eyes. He came all over himself at the sight of her.

"Wanna come bra shopping with me?"

Karen Gray wrapped herself around Steve Gold and held him tightly. His body was like a bronze sculpture, chiseled with firm muscles from head to toe. He looked like one of those Mr. Universe guys but he never even worked out. The Promade had interacted with his surplus testosterone and turned him into something of a superman. Karen began taking Voluxil soon after Donna started selling it. She had always been satisfied with the size of her tits, even amid all the raving new breast culture. But Donna persuaded her to give it a try. In a very short time Karen was convinced that she too wanted a large chest, like the women in the magazines. Women all around her were expanding and displaying their assets every more proudly. And her best friend Donna, who hardly needed enlarging, was now acting like a spokesperson for Voluxil… and for big boobs in general. "I want perfect boobs", became her familiar refrain these days. Karen didn't quite know what in the hell Donna meant by that at first, 'perfect boobs'. But now after three months on the drug, as she found herself measuring every millimeter of growth each night, and obsessing about the cut of her clothes, the look of her cleavage. Karen was beginning to understand about perfect boobs. It was something you never quite attain, but you enjoy like hell the trying… the slow transformation, the gradual increase in physical strength and stature. Not to mention the mental stimulation. It was like an addiction and she decided she loved it.

Karen was no different than millions of other women around the world who were completely swept up in Voluxilmania.

Steve lifted her up off the floor and held her in his arms like a young girl. But 33 year old Karen Gray was no child. Her pussy was aching to be fucked, and her pillowy tits were burning with desire too. She couldn't tell which she enjoyed more, Steve's foot long shaft crammed inside her, or smothered between her 44 F cup tits. She now experienced orgasms just from tit-fucking Steve. Donna had been the one to suggest that too. It had taken some working at first, but when it finally came the feeling was unbelievable. Now it was a new nagging desire in her life, something she had to learn to control during office hours. But tonight was no time for control. She looked into Steve's eyes, he looked back and smiled, squeezing her nipple between his long fingers. Steve's mind was still in decent shape, but by the time he got completely aroused these days, it was like he temporarily turned into a mute, unable to speak or even think. The perfect man. Steve tossed Karen onto the couple's bed. Her tits rolled around on her chest, bumping softly into her chin. When Steve looked at her now it was with the same look he gave to the tit queens on the television and in his magazines. Something inside her loved that look in his eyes. It made her feel powerful. She looked up at Steve from behind two full moons of quivering tit flesh. Steve felt his mind fade away completely as his cock surged with blood. Karen spread her legs and luxuriated in the feeling of her gorgeous superman as he pleasured her with his super cock.

Donna jumped down off the loading dock behind her salon and fetched the last case of Voluxil from the delivery man's gloved hands. She came down hard on the pavement. The driver watched her tits bobble and bounce from the force. She was huge now. At least twenty pounds heavier, not including her tits.

"Thank you miss. It's good seeing you again. Looks like you've been sampling your own merchandise there…" the driver remarked.

"Ahh, ha ha… yeah, I guess I have", she replied not too shyly.

In three months she had managed to go from her original 38 D to a 46 G cup. She had to special order her brassieres now, but she could well afford them. It seemed like every other week she needed to be refitted. She loved it. She didn't like the thought of all that added weight on her hips and ass, but somehow none of it bothered her. Her jiggling body felt wonderful.

When she was seated and could stop herself from jostling about was just about the only time that Donna Hughes DIDN'T feel some degree of arousal.

Her whole body was like one big erogenous zone, and her boobs felt unbelievable. The hop down from the cement dock had been a great jolt. And it FELT great. She felt her nipples stiffen in the cool breeze and noticed the driver's eyes riveted to them.

She wanted him.

"You look cold, chappie. Why don't you come in and warm up?", she asked quite innocently.

The driver rubbed his gloved hands together and blew into them, like he was really freezing.

"That sounds like a good idea, ma'am."

The driver put on his hazard lights and turned off his truck. Inside the tiny back office of Visage Salon, Donna locked the door and drew the curtain across her little window. Outside in the store, her staff conducted business. This was a daily thing for her now, nabbing a customer or a delivery guy and locking him in her office for a quickie. She didn't even bother to keep track of their names by this point and she didn't care. They all knew HER name, which was the important thing. The driver shook off his coat and unbuckled his pants. Donna pulled her shirt over her head. She stood there in her brassiere, a huge brassiere with wide straps that did their best to immobilize her wobbling juggs. She reached out around her tits and pulled down the driver's pants. He was a Promade man, naturally. His cock was thick as her wrist and about as long as her forearm. One of the biggest she'd seen all week. She put both hands on its shaft and caressed it and watched as the driver got that blank Promade stare on his face. His mouth hung open as she slipped her brastraps over her shoulders and freed her great tits from their confinement. The driver grabbed her, sinking his rough fingers into her creamy soft flesh. Donna's tits were two handsful each, more than one man could handle. She stood up and buried his face in titflesh, smothering him, dragging her nips across his lips. Part of her wanted to hurry up and get it over with. She wanted his cock, between her tits. She could practically taste the guy's jism. Her mouth watered. She had swallowed now and again in the old days, on rare occasions. But lately she'd acquired a real taste for the stuff. After weeks and months of men blowing their big ol loads on her tits and face every day and every night… she'd taken to swallowing it. It was far easier than constantly cleaning it up.

Besides, all that seed, all that precious seed constantly being spilled on her fat boobs. It didn't seem right. She thought it seemed a waste, almost rude NOT to accept it, to swallow it. Ejaculate was an expression of the guys' passion and gratitude. Like flowing champagne it was the true physical measure of Donna's fantastic success, both financial and personal.

She still used her diaphragm during sex. She swore by it. But the inconvenience of the diaphragm and the fantastic pleasure she was getting from her boobs these days made blow jobs and tit jobs the order of the day.

"Much quicker and easier", she thought as she dragged her slobbery mouth along the length of his pole.

She placed the driver's cock between her boobs and mashed them together. The driver put his hands on her shoulders and pumped away, inhaling Donna's intense aroma. There was a knock at the door. Neither Donna nor the driver so much as batted an eye.

"Donna? Are you in there? It's Steve."

It was Steve Gold. What was he doing here? "What is it, Steve?" she asked. The driver kept humping her tits.

"Umm. I need to talk to you. It's Karen. She's thrown me out!"

Thrown him out? What was he talking about? Donna adjusted her grip on her boobs and hugged the driver's cock as he pumped her. Did Karen and Steve have a fight? Did she find him fucking some other woman?

"Steve come on in. But…"

Before she could unlock the door Steve Gold tore it half-way off its hinges and crashed into the room. Donna's powerful perfume knocked him back on his heels. He felt his cock swell.

"CLOSE THE DOOR, dummy!" she blurted. Still the driver fucked away without paying Donna OR this strange guy any mind.

Did Steve have tears in his eyes? What was this?

"What happened?" she asked. She was slightly embarrassed that Steve was standing there watching a stranger tit fuck her, but part of her didn't care. Part of her had been wanting to show him her tits for months.

Everytime she saw Steve Gold nowadays she just fucking WANTED him. Period.

Voluxil opened her eyes to many things, not least of which was the fact that she loved Steve. That she in fact wanted to have his baby. But she never let him know it, so long as he was with Karen. Or lets say she never ACTED on it. Steve knew she wanted him alright. And she knew he wanted her. Neither one of them acted on their desire though.

"She says I talk about you in my sleep… Donna… I called her Donna, Donna… when we were fucking", he smited his forehead.

Donna reached across her desk and took Steve's huge hand in hers. The driver took over and grabbed onto her tits and fucked away. She pulled Steve to her and kissed him on the mouth while the other guy pumped his cock between her cleavage.

"It'll be okay sweetie. Don't worry about Karen."

Steve grabbed Donna's ass, slipping his fingers under her and probing her sopping wet cunt. Donna lifted her plump ass into the air and invited Steve to enter her from behind. Both of them had done three ways with other people by now, but never with each other. All for Karen's sake. Poor Karen.

Oh well. Steve went straight to work, easing his raging anaconda into Donna's hole. Without much difficulty he worked inch after inch of it into her. Donna whimpered softly as she accepted the truck driver's equally huge cock down her throat. Both men kneaded her ponderous tits without mercy.

Moments later she erupted in a fantastic mid-afternoon back room orgasm just as Steve dumped a teacup of his piping hot cum into her womb. Steve slammed her hard. Her ass jiggled. He dug his fingers into her soft flesh. Donna's chubby body involuntarily spasmed, holding Steve's cock in place. She rubbed her tummy and clenched her sphincter muscles, drawing his seed deep into her womb. She wanted his baby. She wanted lots of Steve's babies!

She hurried the truck driver along now, sucking on his cock like she was sucking chrome off a trailer hitch. She drained his balls, gulping down his low-grade sperm like it was yesterday's warm beer.

Steve Gold made Donna Hughes pregnant that day, but she'd never know for sure who the father of her first set of triplets had been. She hoped that they were his. Steve stupidly confessed to Karen that he'd slept with Donna. In an odd twist, Karen didn't blame him. She took him back and renegotiated their wedding contract, reconsigning him as "wife and personal assistant". Shortly thereafter the couple moved away. Karen accepted a new management position at Luna Corporate Trust Savings & Loan. She was an executive now. Steve would spend the rest of his days as her human trophy.

Karen Gray stopped taking Voluxil and concentrated on her job.

Donna soon disappeared from the Visage Salon. The store went on and business thrived, but its owner no longer showed up for work. She stayed home and fucked and had babies and was deliriously happy, despite being a captive of her physical urges. Donna would stay busy nursing her ever growing brood and would pretty much remain pregnant off and on for the better part of the next decade.

A year after their introduction, Promade and Voluxil had changed the world.

Women took the extreme formulation of the drug now in ever greater numbers. The shape shifting Voluxil D was a raging success with less attractive women. Gradually Voluxil D was beautifying the population of women, creating a new tribe of "Voluxil Women" as they were coming to be called.

Cassidy Peters switched to Voluxil D as she began to put more distance between herself and the ever more pathetic Tucker, who was a tiresome presence in her life now. Voluxil D had by now altered Cassidy's already cute features. Her legs were longer, her hips curvier. Her breasts were now a closely-monitored 40 E and, most startling of all, the lines of her face had begun shifting. Her cheekbones were perfectly formed, her lips full and sensuous. She had "that look", the standard beautiful look that all Voluxil D women seemed to have. And she wore it well.

Voluxil D was essentially a complete genetic makeover which many women still chose to forego, deeming it "too weird" or just too vain and superficial. Early on, only the most brazen and ambitious women (or ugly, desperate women) went for Voluxil D. But the ranks of "Voluxil Women" were swelling all the time. Whether to simply fit in or keep up with other women, professionally, sexually, or just socially, many women would make the switch to Voluxil D sooner or later, assuming the total outward appearance of powerful and beautiful Voluxil Woman.

Voluxil Women took over the corporate boardrooms, executive suites, the airwaves. Soon they ran for public office. And won! Women came to appreciate what a gift to womankind Voluxil truly was. In household after household, genetically-aroused husbands had been held captive by the sight of their wives as they were slowly transformed by the tiny pills. Men and women both followed the progress of the woman's expanding bosom to the point of obsession. Each bra size that the woman grew out of and left behind as she gradually inched her way through the alphabet was a cause for celebration. Neglected wives once again found themselves the nightly recipients of all her husband's attentions and ministrations. He followed her with his eyes wherever she went or whatever she did. He fell all over himself, waiting on her hand foot, copping a feel at every opportunity, generally making a horny nuisance of himself. The typical woman would occasionally be forced to shun her husband's incessant advances. The woman regulated when and where she'd engage in sex play. The command "No", came into use more as women tried to make their men behave. The seat of power in the relationship between man and woman was now shifted completely to the woman. Men became like well trained dogs who were always fighting the urge to hump his owner's leg.

The vast majority of women who managed successfully to use Voluxil in moderation would use their new sexual and intellectual dominance to help them seize control of their relationships and their lives in general.

Possessing an abundance of what men could no longer live without, women held all the cards. Many formerly flat-chested, faithful wives and girlfriends with low self-esteem took to Voluxil in a big way and blossomed into chesty women who discovered they loved drawing stares from other men. Formerly demure, modestly dressed types took to wearing tight-fitting clothes with low cut necklines that further accentuated their cleavage which, they realized, was a source of their power and influence over men everywhere. Many women simply deserted their boyfriends and husbands, for no good reason, to play the field.

Women who had been a B or C cup took Voluxil with the sole intention of only adding a cup size or maybe two. But time and again these women discovered along the way that they loved the look and feel of a heavier, more prominent bust and the increased upper body strength that came with it.

So they continued with the drug until they achieved a double E or F cup.

On the street, one still found the entire spectrum of body shapes and sizes. But the median bust line inching upwards all over the world. The average bust size was a 38 D. Flat chests or anything smaller than a B cup were increasingly rare.

Women who stubbornly refused to take Voluxil in favor of staying flat were pitied by the majority of women who had awakened to the miracle of Voluxil.

The drug's effects varied from woman to woman. Sometimes a woman who went from an A cup to a D or E cup would find herself in over her head, overwhelmed by her new passions. Most of the women who would venture to sizes beyond the G cup range, regardless of their original bust size, would find themselves consumed by the accompanying sensations. These women would fight a constant battle between their minds and bodies, trying to maintain self-control through whatever means necessary. The so-called "50H"

(referring to any woman who'd ventured past the 50" barrier and lived to maintain control of her physical urges while displaying her assets and utilizing her enhanced intellect to their full effect) ascended to the highest heights of corporate and governmental power.

Virtually every woman was tempted to "go larger" at one time or another. Six months down the road, many women had failed to resist the urge to abuse the drug. But many others used Voluxil safely and enjoyed spectacular success with it.

Generally, women who were of the highest intelligence were thought to be the ones least likely to desire a larger bosom. But these women turned out to be the ones best equipped to push themselves to the limit and unleash the greatest potential of Voluxil. They were not immune to the intoxicating physical side effects, but their minds were stronger and better able to handle such distractions. The founding women of Luna Genetics, six of the most intelligent women on the planet, were thus equipped. Each of them were genetically-enhanced; each of them sporting an outsized pair of breasts in the double G to J cup range and with IQs well over 300 and climbing. As the Luna Genetics corporation grew and acquired other pharmaceutical giants to become the largest corporation anywhere in the world, these six statuesque alpha females would come to be viewed as the high priestesses of the New World Order.

Though he continued to take Promade as prescribed, Paul Morton's body eventually "leveled off" and stopped changing. His shoulder length hair grew in wavy and thick these days and was quite lovely. He continued taking the drug, to maintain his gains. His cock was a little less than 12 inches and he lived in constant hope of eking out another half inch so he could surpass a foot long. Sheila's ex-boyfriend, he found out, had been twelve inches.

It was as if the minute he heard that, his cock stopped growing.

Sheila understood Paul's insecurity and reluctantly decided to discontinue taking Voluxil. She had attained the chest of her dreams and then some. She had blossomed into a staggering 48 G when she announced that maybe it was time give it a rest. Paul was relieved. His girlfriend's arms were still feminine and supple but she was now stronger than Paul. She was far smarter than Paul too and so she knew not to torment him about his shortcomings. Sheila was not a spiteful person at heart, not like Cassidy. Still, somehow she couldn't hold her tongue the day she told Paul that "Long John" had been a foot long when she left him.

The fact of the matter was, ever since Paul "leveled off", Sheila had been feeling restless. She missed the thrill of the slow daily transformation that she and Paul had been going through together. She kept the thrill alive with an occasional dose of Voluxil, and she continued to enjoy Cassidy's transformation, vicariously. But Sheila Martin was officially "off the drug". At least that's what she told Paul, who felt threatened and didn't want her to continue growing if he was no longer able to. She still yearned to "go bigger". But she didn't talk about it. Not around Paul. Next on the horizon, Cassidy was always quick to remind her, was that great leap to an H cup bra and a 50" bustline. The thought of that supposed "ultimate goal" gnawed at her these days. Many women had tried to go 50H. Many managed to master the powerful sensations they awakened. Many others were consumed by their new desire and lost their senses. 50" H was recognized as a point of no return and it was staring back at Sheila these days, daring her. To make matters worse she was feeling that old itch again.

She couldn't ignore it. She found herself wondering if John was still on Promade. And if so, how large was he by now?

Sheila and Paul worked hard, every day and every blissful night, to scratch that itch of hers. And they got it, pretty much. Life was good, until Paul's pains started.

He felt a terrible pain in his chest one day. It faded after a few hours but the next time he took his Promade tablet he felt it again, stabbing pain. The next morning's dose he skipped and the pain didn't return. He didn't take any Promade that day. The next day he took one tablet at bedtime. Again the chest pains returned, but not quite as bad. Paul had to reduce his dosage of the drug to one tablet a day from then on. Or temporarily anyhow, until he recovered. Sheila was there for her man and took good care of him. And she didn't say a word when she noticed his cock was shrinking. It wasn't much at first, but by the first time she really noticed it Paul's cock was already an inch shorter, a little over ten inches. Paul fought back, trying to do the three Promade a day recommended dosage. But some days he would pay the price and be in terrible pain.

Eventually his dose would hold steady at one per day, and the size of his cock would retreat to about eight inches, where it held firm. Sheila still loved him. Paul began to press for her hand in marriage, but even after all they'd been through together Sheila was still reluctant to tie the knot.

Paul persisted but Sheila wouldn't budge. She still loved him dearly and "not just for your cock" as she felt forced to tell him one day. The words hurt him, but they were somehow reassuring too. "My heart belongs to you, never forget that", she would tell him. He held on to those words. Held them close to his heart and never let her forget them.

Her heart may have belonged to Paul Morton, but Sheila found her eye roving more and more. She assumed ownership of the health club where she'd taught aerobics and was now expanding it into a chain. She felt fantastic and she looked even better. She felt stronger than ever, and hornier than ever. She stayed pretty busy these days, flying around opening up new franchises in cities across America. She was spending days, sometimes weeks away from Paul. She still fucked and grinded on him every chance she got, but as a lover he was a shadow of its old self. Her pussy was slippery and loose, having been permanently stretched out by his formerly huge dick. Paul redoubled his efforts and tried to make sure Sheila got her rocks off, even if it killed him. But his eight inches wasn't always up to the job. Sheila tried not to voice her frustration, but as her body yearned for satisfaction, she let her disappointment be known. Maybe it was a frustrated grunt during intercourse, or an impatient sigh as she pumped Paul with her hand. Her cleavage engulfed his cock entirely at this point to the extent that even tit-fucking him seemed more trouble than it was worth. The sight of her continued to drive HIM mad with desire. But increasingly, the sight of Paul was only giving Sheila cause to yearn for other men. She would always love him, but as the months passed she found herself avoiding sex with him. It only meant more disappointment for both of them. She came to feel that she deserved to have it all, "and then some". Staying monogamous with just one guy seemed backwards to her now. She had everything else she could possibly want, why should she do without THIS?

She began sleeping with other men here and there, usually on the road, where Paul wouldn't discover her. Eventually she agreed to marry Paul, to give him some peace of mind and let him know that he was the one she loved.

But increasingly her body was her own. And it had demands.

Since a woman no longer had cause to feel slighted by mother nature, the old petty resentment of busty women disappeared completely. In the new world order ALL women came to pursue, identify with and embrace the Voluxil Ideal. Those who had long opposed this so-called objectification of women now enlarged their breasts and wore them like medals of honor. As a new source of pleasure and power in every woman's life, breasts were displayed proudly, flaunted, asserted, cared for, respected, cherished. As the female bust grew in prominence and stature (both literally and as an outward symbol of a woman's newfound authority) it came to be considered the height of disrespect for a man NOT to keep his eyes fixed on a woman's chest when he addressed her in public. Respectable society women who may have at one time slapped a man who ogled her cleavage now became just as indignant towards the man who dared looked her in the eye. After a year and a half of prolonged Promade use, the male population was helpless to do anything but stare slackjaw at the jutting bouncing knockers that crowded city streets, television screens, the workplace, and even their dreams. He was a slave to his own sexual impulses and utterly incapable of matching wits with a woman.

There was no escape, nowhere to hide.

By this time men had undergone a steady enlargement to their sex organs to the point where a generous portion of the population of men were lugging around penises well in excess of 12 inches, with swollen testicles that made walking a whole new challenge and that made running all but impossible. These hulks were prized by the new female caste, not only because of their impressive size but also because these men were the least able to disobey their female taskmasters. In the presence of a beautiful woman, these men's horse cocks were constantly painfully hard. Their acute genetically-enhanced sense of smell and mindless devotion to their base urges had literally reduced them to docile animals.

Men like these (like Steve Gold) became indentured servants to powerful female executives (like Karen Gray) who used them for sex and also as beasts of burden to run errands for them. Many were forced to pull their mistresses around in a new rickshaw type of vehicle, their bodies unclothed except for a cowhide harness which held the balls in place and strapped his cock to his leg. It may sound ridiculous, but this became immensely popular as the status symbol of choice for the "woman of means". In exchange for his services this male would have his Promade supply paid for, his sexual needs seen to. If not by the female executive then surely by one of her assistants.

Long since relieved of their savings and stocks and their assets and their high-paying jobs, a world of sex-starved, breast-obsessed men woke up one day to an upside-down paradise. They were forced to do manual labor, primarily in low-paying manufacturing and service jobs, surrounded all the while by domineering women who controlled everything. Man was now reliant on the generosity of women just to get by. Some men asserted what was left of their willpower and tried to go off of Promade, hoping to break free. These rebels were horrified when their thick hair fell out in clumps, their penises went limp. Any man who went more than a few weeks without Promade would eventually be unable to walk or even breath without great effort. So without exception men kept taking the drug, paying for it with their blood sweat and tears.

These intellectually inferior men relinquished many of their human rights-almost happily it sometimes seemed-in exchange for a new life as pet, slave or sex object.

Women controlled the boards of directors of every major corporation in America and for the first time in its history a woman sat in the oval office. The plight of men went unrecognized under the new female regimes.

The military machineries of the world were dismantled. In their place a commercial security police patrolled the world, a new legion of cops was made up of an elite class of superwomen, primarily lesbians who used Voluxil D in combination with weight training and steroids to attain amazon proportions. These women possessed great strength and agility, enough to subdue any man.

"Double D Day", the day that Voluxil was first introduced on American TV, became a globally-celebrated holiday, marking the dawn of the new age.

United under one collective banner, a new international community of female-governed nations took control of world affairs, disseminating Promade and Voluxil to the far corners of the third world and beyond until the whole of the human race was brought in total alignment with this new female-dominated caste system, this new cosmic order.

The global marketplace continued on as before, only now it flourished with a new focus as a race of wealthy women (millions all over the world who were made rich a thousand times over by their initial investment in Luna Genetics) were free to shop and accumulate ever more cheaply-made consumer goods without cease, with no discernable spending limits, and without a man to tell them when to stop.

Womankind was essentially completely free of all hindrances. Free from the control and influence of men. Free even from nature itself. All thanks to Luna Genetics. The female population of the world was understandably ecstatic and oftentimes drunk with its newfound power. That power unleashed a primal, long-suppressed female need for revenge on her former master, Man.

Women still needed or at least wanted men; sometimes as friends, certainly as lovers, and increasingly as playthings, servants and objects of ridicule.

And thanks to the genetic alterations brought on by Promade, men craved women in ways they could never have imagined possible. They still paired off, had romances, lived together, got married, sometimes even had children.

But whatever transpired between these people was now at the woman's discretion. The new woman would have as much power, as many lovers and as much pleasure as SHE felt entitled to. It was now a woman's world and "payback" was the order of the day. Finally men would live and flourish in the world only to the extent that women would allow them to. Men were still created more or less equal, in the image of an old god who was long dead.

The new god was the god of biotech, of Luna Genetics. And Woman was created in the new god's image, her designer genes engineered to give her dominion over man and beast alike.

Unmarried or recently divorced men hoped and prayed for the shelter and security of marriage. Maybe he'd have an assured income and whatever other protections a mistress might provide. The institution of marriage was reformed under the New World Order. Women now married not because they fell in love or wanted a family or needed the financial support of a man. Men still had resources women could use, still had a function to perform at home and at his job. But the man who entered into a marriage with a woman was basically signing a binding legal contract whereby it was now a crime, punishable by life imprisonment, for him to engage in extramarital affairs.

The marriage contract even empowered the woman to order that her man be "spayed" if she saw fit.

Marriage had its appeal to men, more than it ever had in previous times. As the wife of a particularly thoughtful or influential mistress a man was more likely to find less objectionable work, get health insurance that would pay for his monthly Promade supply and the occasional trip to the "man doctor". (The man doctor was essentially a veterinarian for humans.

Females went to real doctors and health care professionals.) Nevertheless, men sought the shelter and security of marriage, while women adopted a more cavalier attitude towards the institution.

The new marriage contract contained myriad stipulations as to what forms of male conduct were punishable by law and what few liberties for a man, now referred to as the "wife", was guaranteed. This contractual agreement amounted to a willful surrender, by the man, of most of his civil rights. He was in essence a slave, with precious few legal avenues open to him should his mistress decide to allege any real or imagined "breach of contract" to the authorities. Women were free to take as many "wives" as they could reasonably support but were not bound by law to treat them any better than a pet.

Cassidy Peters threw Tucker Hicks' wedding ring into the night and told him to go to hell. He was being kicked out in the cold, for the last time.

Cassidy had kicked him out before during the course of their tumultuous three year marriage. But she always let him come back, even if just to torture him. By now she kept other boyfriends and girlfriends at the house, openly sleeping with them in front of Tucker. But Tucker was her only "legal bitch", as she called him. He had refused to change his name to Peters, foolishly clinging to that vestige of his former identity. But Cassidy controlled every other aspect of his existence by now. Cassidy was a malevolent force in Tucker's little world. Her sexual power and prowess were taken to a whole new level with Voluxil D. Now part of an elite sisterhood of "perfect women", Cassidy Peters considered her spouse Tucker a complete joke. Almost less than human. She wondered why she ever wanted to marry him in the first place. She teased and taunted and tormented Tucker with her flagrant sexual liasons with other men and women. Tucker finally snapped one day and went out and fucked another woman. Cassidy caught him, naturally.

And now it was time for him to go away.

Tucker paced back and forth in the rain, in the dark, shouting, bawling, banging his head with his fists. Cassidy stood on the front step in front of the couple's house, laughing at her husband. She knew he hated her. She hated him too. Something snapped inside him, his rage over what had been done to him over the past couple years. It was a feeble resurgence of the old rage, the ugly black stuff that Promade had pushed down into the depths of his warped psyche.

"I….. um, I HATE YOOOOO, Cassidy Peters… you DYKE BITCH!"

It was the best he could come up with.

He staggered around in the front yard, kicking up dirt. Spitting.

Crazed. He picked up a rock and threw it at the front picture window of the house. He slipped in the mud and fell on his ass. Though the rock was intended her window it sailed straight at Cassidy's pretty face. She reached up and snatched the rock out the air with one quick hand.

"You shouldn't throw rocks, little man", she taunted.

Again she laughed at Tucker. He looked ridiculous. His nappy mop of curly blonde hair was all wet and matted. He was a shambles. Promade had been his undoing. A dozen or so collection agencies were after him for credit card debt. His days were a living torment for him at home and at work. Cassidy stood under the front awning of the house silhouetted against the yellow entryway light. She was wearing a tight see-thru blouse that was tied at the waist. Tucker squinted and looked at her. She was a fucking goddess to him.

"Why don't you get the hell out of her Tucker before I really do call the police." She said half tempted to just let him go in peace.

Cassidy shifted her weight slightly. Tucker stared back at her, captivated, tracing the outline of her shape with his lecherous eyes. He heard voices inside the house. Laughter.

"You're a real ass hole, you know that Tucker? You always were an asshole. And you'll always BE an asshole", she calmly and coldly observed.

Tucker was actually drooling. His pants showed a bulge that meant he was getting turned on, despite everything. Despite his hatred. Despite his humiliation.

"I'm sorry, baby. I love yoooo…", he pleaded pathetically.

"You fucked another woman, you stupid bitch. Now why don't you just take one last look at THESE babies… baby."

She unknotted her blouse and flashed her husband her magnificent tits.

It would be the last time she'd give him the pleasure. She pulled open her blouse. Her tits bobbled free. She clapped them together. Tucker staggered forward and fell onto the ground like a drunk. He was digging in his pants, trying to beat off. Two of Cassidy's female friends emerged from the house and dragged the fumbling incoherent Tucker to the gutter in front of her building. Cassidy watched dispassionately as she retied her knot then she went back inside to call the police.

Cassidy's new special friends were the Boone Sisters. Lesbian sisters who were hard-nosed prison guards at Carlton. The three women were part-time lovers and the sexy Boone Sisters hated Tucker almost more than Cassidy did.

Nora Boone shoved Tucker down onto the ground between two parked cars. He landed on his arm and cried out in pain.

"You stupid prick! What ever made you think you deserved a woman like Cassidy?", she said.

"Get up you piece of shit", Valerie Boone added.

Tucker crawled to his feet. The two able-bodied women jerked him by the arms and flung him up against a telephone pole. His pants were undone and his cock was partially exposed. Tucker wiped mud from his face and begged them to let him leave in peace. He tried to redo his pants and recover some of his dignity.

"Please. I'll leave. Just let me go."

"We'll let you go, fuckface. But first I have something I want to give you."

Nora Boone smacked Tucker across the face with her open palm as hard as she could. Tucker dropped his pants and fell onto one knee.

"Go ahead Val. Take your best shot", Nora said.

Valerie Boone leaned back and went into a lethal roundhouse kick. Her platform sole knee boot made contact with the side of his head and sent him back down onto the pavement. Blood trickled from the corner of Tucker's mouth. He spit out a couple teeth and begged for mercy.

"Cassidy told us what you did you worthless fuckhole. She told us about your sleeping around behind her back", Nora intoned.

"It was only one time…" he pleaded.

"What are we gonna do with him, Val?", Nora asked her sister.

Valerie rushed Tucker and grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him into the air. She slammed him into the phone pole once again. Tucker felt his skull crack against the hard pole. He stared into Valerie's fierce eyes and waited for what might be next. She spit in his face. Both Boone's seethed with revenge, towards ALL men. Unfortunately for Tucker, he typified what the two sisters hated-what they had ALWAYS hated-in men.

"We'll be seeing a lot more of you where you're going, girlie-man…", she said with a smile.

Tucker didn't dare ask what she meant by that. Suddenly he felt a stabbing pain. Valerie grabbed his balls in her fist and squeezed. Her grip was painful, impossible to break free from. His knees went weak and he gasped, trying to catch a breath. He tried to vomit but couldn't. She wrapped her strong hand around his still stiff cock and pulled on it. Hard.

She dragged him into the street by the cock, his pants were down around his knees. She threw him to the ground like a bag of garbage just as a police cruiser turned the corner, its lights flashing.

"I hope that big dick of yours was everything you ever dreamed of, you stupid shit!", Nora shouted from the sidewalk.

Two huge female police officers emerged from the cruiser and approached Tucker. Nora and Valerie Boone composed themselves and greeted the two friendly peacekeepers.

"Good evening officers."

"We got a call about a violent male at this address. Would this be him?", the one officer asked.

"Yeah, that's him" "This is bullshit!" Tucker protested.

One of the cops drove her nightstick under his chin and pressed him against the truck of the police car. He thought she would crush him. He felt the trunk lid buckle under him.

"Shut up, asshole! You'll speak when asked to speak!"

Cassidy came running across the lawn. Nora and Valerie smiled and took her arm in arm, as if to comfort her. They watched quietly as one of the brawny officers jerked Tucker's pants partly up and stuffed his floppy dick back into hiding. She slapped the cuffs onto Tucker Hicks and tossed him into the back of the cruiser, pants still unfastened.

"Well, don't worry about this one ladies. He won't be bothering you any more."

"What'll happen to him, officer?", Cassidy asked with an air of female vulnerability that was pure performance.

"She's lying! That bitch is LYING!!!" Tucker shouted from inside the car.

"Well, if the judge finds him guilty of the charges, he'll be going away for good long while. Don't you worry about that ma'am."

Tucker peered out from the back seat of the cruiser. Cassidy still looked beautiful to him under the pale street light. The rain dappled her see-thru blouse and made it cling to her breasts. His balls still hurt like hell and his cock was still stiff. He touched himself, stroking his cock with his two cuffed hands. Cassidy smiled evilly back at him as the two policewomen loaded back into the car. He came on himself as his wife narrowed her gaze on him and blew him a spiteful kiss.

"I'll show Tucker once and for all what a royal bitch I can really be", she said aloud.

Tucker Hicks was brought up on charges of first degree infidelity, two counts of domestic violence and $41,000 of unpaid debts. He was sentenced to one year in the Carlton Reformatory, eligible for parole in six months. He'd be right under the Boone Sisters' noses. He hadn't seen the last of them.

Not by a long shot.

Giving Voluxil to a man was a high crime, but the Boone's decided that Tucker Hicks should spend his period of incarceration as the lone she-male in a prison full of Promade-crazed men. They had access to his food and water. They could slip him as much Voluxil A as they wanted and no one would know or care. If push came to shove they could make it look like Tucker fed himself the Voluxil. They would pin the crime on the victim.

Two weeks into his incarceration prisoner number 9439-2 had been fed 28 doses of Voluxil A. Two pills per day hidden in his food. His breasts had begun to puff up noticeably. Tucker's state of mind became confused. He became feverish and light-headed. More so than usual. The guards allowed him to sleep through the day in his cell. At night his three roommates took turns fucking him. In time he began to actually smell like pussy, a side effect of the Voluxil. His nipples were swollen and tender. He couldn't keep his hands off them, or his cock. One sensation lead to the other and back.

It hurt to wear his denim prison shirt so he went bare-chested.

The Boone Sisters kept Cassidy apprised of Tucker's transformation. It became like a game for the women. At Cassidy's urging it was decided one day that Tucker should get double his usual dose. Then they quadrupled his dose.

When he was too groggy to know the difference they cut off his state-funded Promade treatments completely. Tucker's moods became erratic and for a brief period he became hostile, unruly. One day he took a swing at one of the Boones.

That was it.

They left an empty Voluxil packet in his cell that night. When Tucker reported the packet to the on-duty guards, no one believed his claim that it had been planted there. By now the evidence pointed to him, to his swollen man boobs, his chubby thighs, his shrunken five inch dick. He was brought up on charges of 'sedition by unlawful possession of Voluxil'. His sentence was extended to twenty years.

A month with no Promade and Tucker Hick's powerful physique wasted away. He felt weak, frail. His boobs had grown into a heavy pair of tits. He had been forced to wear a 42 D silk bra and panties. He actually welcomed it. The support felt nice. The smooth silk fabric especially gave his raw sensitive nipples relief. His cock shriveled to less than three inches, his balls retreated into his body cavity. His scrotum sucked up against his ass and formed into a type of pussy. They made him wear his old prison workpants which were cut off into short shorts They were extremely tight, with slits up the thighs. His hips and ass had flared out and took on water weight. His round ass cheeks and chubby thighs squeezed out of the leg holes in his shorts. In bra and shorts, Tucker looked damned hot to his fellow inmates.

He had no idea about that though. His mind was mush by now.

One evening his cell mates were moved out into other quarters. The Boone Sisters force fed Tucker sixteen Voluxil that night. More than two weeks' dosage in one swallow. Maybe it was enough to kill him, they didn't know. They didn't care. He struggled to fight them off, but the Boones overpowered him easily. Tucker cried out in his sleep that night. Feverish and unable to move a muscle, his tits nearly doubled in size. His cock dwindled away to nothing, shrinking itself to a sensitive little nub. By morning his inner thighs were covered in menstrual blood. His sex had been replaced with an anatomically-correct vagina. His pendulous tits hung heavily from his body now, pulling his round shoulders forward. Tucker was now a Voluxil woman.

His cellmates were returned to his cell.

He was fucked all night and most of every day from this point onwards, and he liked it. His periods were painful and bloody. His tits were tender and sore much of the time. His abused body ached… for more sex. His female scent was overpowering, even to the Boone sisters. It wasn't long before Tucker Hicks conceived. His tits ballooned in size. His clothes no longer fit and he was left to go naked. He had no choice but to remain in his cell, with nothing to cover himself with but a cum-encrusted bed sheet.

Six weeks into his pregnancy he began to lactate. If he hadn't been the most popular girl in this all-male prison before, he certainly was now.

Men lined up around the clock to take a turn with "Fucker". His vagina stretched to accommodate the constant onslaught. And his breasts produced milk to meet the ever increasing demand. He grew to love cock, even when it was forced on him and into him. In time his breasts swelled into great watermelons, bloated with more milk than even the prison population could drain out of him. His belly started to swell early on, and by his second trimester Tucker looked like he was going to give birth to an entire chain gang. By the time he went into labor, Tucker Hicks was literally pinned to his hospital bed, the terrific weight of his stomach and tits pressing down on his hips. His thighs and ass were huge and covered with cellulite. His breath, short and weak.

Cassidy and the Boone Sisters stood by in the delivery room that day, amazed by what they had created. "Better him than us", they all joked.

Tucker's labor was painful and protracted, lasting over twelve hours.

At one point Cassidy walked over to her ex-husband and brushed her hand across his forehead as he seethed with pain. She looked down at him, over the sloping horizon of her shapely bust. Tucker looked up at her, sweating, clenching his teeth. She looked at this wretched man imprisoned in a pregnant woman's body and saw some faint trace of the old Tucker, the enraged bonehead who would erupt into violence after his football team lost a game.

"Poor baby…", she cooed as she brushed a matted lock of curly blond hair out of his eyes.

"FUCK… YOU…", Tucker hissed, with his last gasp of male fury.

Cassidy grabbed one of his engorged nipples and pinched it as hard as she could. Tucker let out a piercing agonized cry. Then the first baby came, painfully, slowly through the birth canal. It was a girl. Then another pair of feet. Another girl! Then another pair of feet, then another. Tucker Hicks gave birth to eight babies. Octuplets. All girls. By the following week he'd be pregnant all over again, and constantly occupied, nursing his eight babies as well as half the prison population, pumping cocks, fucking the inmates, sucking them off. He rarely left his cell and could not move without assistance anyhow. His tits grew into his lap. His nipples were thick and brown, the size of thumbs pointing toward the floor. With everyone sucking on him all the time, he felt like a cow and somehow he liked it. The men all loved him and he certainly loved getting fucked by them. He loved cock and found he had an insatiable thirst for cum. He would always remember what he had been in his former life, but that all seemed like such a distant memory now.

Paul Martin sat on a chair at the foot of his bed, masturbating his five inch cock. He felt grateful to still have that. He'd held stable at five inches for almost six months, after another slow decline. His physical strength had waned considerably but his hair stayed thick and healthy.

Sheila suggested that he grow it long and by now it hung down past his shoulders. He felt pretty good these days, he told himself. Except for the new guys.

Across the room a man reclined on HIS bed, wearing HIS silk bed robe.

It looked like his anyhow. He couldn't remember. He was becoming forgetful.

He knew it. Sheila was in the bathroom showering with a second guy, getting ready for bed. Sheila Martin had three "wives" now. Paul Martin of course, was her first wife and Kyle Martin and Jeremy Martin were her two new brides. All three men took Sheila's name and were happy as clams to belong to her. Kyle and Jeremy had been gay lovers only a year ago, but Promade had awakened them (against their wills) to the pleasures of the fairer sex.

They'd fallen madly in love with Sheila during her frequent business trips to Miami. And she'd fallen madly in love with them, particularly with their big dicks. Now they lived with Sheila and Paul in jet set luxury.

In Paul, she had her true soul mate. Sheila loved Paul Martin and still pleasured him every night until he fell asleep. Usually all that was required was for her to part her robe and give him a glimpse of her plump tits, let him smell her one last time before lights out. Paul would climax sometimes just at sight of her. He was useless as a fuck. And wasn't much on conversation these days as his mind was going.

That's why she had married Kyle and Jeremy. The two of them were a foot long each and tireless in the sack. And Promade had left their minds virtually intact it seemed. They were good company and great fun. It was a challenge almost for Sheila to get both of them off. They were as attracted to one another as they were to her. Something about a challenge drove Sheila to new heights of excitement. It inspired her to start taking Voluxil again.

By now her 48 G cup bosom was increasingly commonplace. But a 50H cup could still turn heads. Even other women still stood up and took notice of an H cup woman who could hold her own and not succumb. Sheila felt up to the challenge. Her mind felt great. Her body felt super. The thought of growing larger thrilled her. Paul and Kyle and Jeremy were all stay-at-home housewives.

Sheila had been taking Voluxil D for two weeks and was feeling the old magic. She decided to take an extended vacation; just her and her three boys home alone. Tonight was the first night of her two month sabbatical.

Paul heard Sheila moan in the bathroom.

"Stick it in… come on, umff… MORE Kyle… I want it all."

He could hear two bodies splashing around in the shower stall, slapping the walls with great force. Soon he heard Kyle groan. He heard a thump in the tub. '

"Is THAT all you got, loverboy?", Sheila teased as she stepped out of the shower.

Paul could see her through the partly open door, glistening, wet. Her tits looked magnificent. The steam rolled into the bedroom, misting everything with Sheila's perfume. He inhaled the sweet familiar scent. His head felt light, like it was stuffed with cotton. He pumped his cock but the sight of Jeremy staring at him was distracting. Something inside Jeremy's silk robe moved. Jeremy's foot long cock slipped through the gap and reared its head into the air. Paul held his little cock in his hand and tried not to look. Jeremy grabbed his massive cock in hand. It was as thick as cucumber. He pointed it at Paul and squeezed. Precum oozed from the tip, onto Paul's silk robe.

Jeremy rubbed it in, and smiled.

Sheila stepped out of the bathroom, naked, still wet. Her tits hung free, swaying like pendulums as she walked. Kyle emerged from the bathroom, gulping down two Promade tablets. He aggressively grabbed her tits from behind. His fingers were oily and slipped around her wet body with ease.

Paul came on himself as he watched Kyle kneed Sheila's tits. Her stiff nipples stood out, shiny and dark. Kyle pushed her forward face down onto the bed. Sheila complied, resting her weight on the cushion of her flattened gazongas . He lifted her ass into the air and reinserted his johnson in her moist pussy. She huffed and puffed as she raised up onto her hands. On all fours, her teats hung down a good foot from her ribcage. Kyle pounded her from behind, his smooth balls slapping loudly against her ass. Sheila made her body rigid to receive the maximum impact of his thrusts. It made her tits jiggle and bounce.

Paul grabbed his flaccid cock and balls. They were tiny and soft. He slapped his limp dick against his leg, trying to get a rise out of it.

Jeremy grinned at Paul as he crawled up in front of Sheila and offered her his gorgeous stiff cock. She grabbed it with one hand and kissed it, running her wet mouth up and down its length. Jeremy popped a Promade and smiled as Sheila mouthed his manhood. He looked at Paul, who was breathing heavily, desperate to get it up.

"Come on Paulie, how come you never join us?", Jeremy teased.

Sheila opened her eyes and looked over at Paul. His head was tilted forward and he was doubled over pulling on his soft cock like it was a deflated party balloon. His luxurious head of hair hung down into his lap.

Without removing her mouth from Jeremy's sweet dick she motioned for Paul to approach the bed. Kyle and Jeremy serviced her from both ends. Paul approached the bed and Sheila took his limp dick in her hand. She had the touch and could always bring some life into Paul's "little guy". Soon he was stiff again. She closed her hand around his cock and stroked it in rhythm to Kyle and Jeremy's pumping. She asked Paul to kiss her. She raised her chin away from Jeremy's dripping schlong and kissed Paul on the lips. Strands of Paul's silky hair entangled themselves with her tongue which danced around like a flame inside his mouth. Paul felt something bump his cheek. Jeremy's cock head. Sheila moved back onto Jeremy, tonguing the tip of his swollen dick. She held Paul close to her as she lavished attention on Jeremy. Paul resisted weakly but her grip was too strong. He couldn't pull away. He felt her tits bump softly against the fronts of his thighs. He was just inches away from Sheila's face as she slathered Jeremy's huge dick in her saliva.

God it was humiliating. But something besides Sheila's kung fu grip was keeping him there. He needed something. Sheila could sense Paul's thoughts and emotions. When she wanted to she could experience his feelings like they were her own. She raised up again and kissed Paul alternating between his mouth and Jeremy's dick. Paul felt the bitter taste of Jeremy's cum on his lips. The taste spread quickly to the back of his tongue. He gulped repeatedly, trying to get rid of the taste. A bitter saltiness streaked his virgin throat. Sheila pulled on Paul's cock as she wrapped her lips around Jeremy's head and sucked. Meanwhile Kyle pumped his piston in her twitching pussy. Sheila pushed a thought into Paul's mind, urging him to enjoy himself as she was, to feel what she felt. Something relaxed Paul. He felt his tension fade away. He reached up and flipped his tangled mane over his shoulders and pulled a stray strand of hair from his mouth. Again Sheila kissed him, transferring the strong taste of Jeremy's sperm to his tongue.

She forced her tongue into Paul's mouth and he didn't resist her. The bitter taste awakened his senses. He felt excited, afraid, and ready to cum. His legs shuddered as he spurted into Sheila's hand. It was nothing much. She smiled sweetly at Paul as she guided Jeremy's member to his mouth. He was too dazed to think or resist when he felt Jeremy's cock head move across his lips.

"Now it Jeremy's turn. You gonna help me, Paulie?", she asked as she sucked her own fingers clean of Paul's jism.

Kyle withdrew from his dick from Sheila and jacked off while he watched Paul.

Paul flicked at Jeremy's manhood tentatively with his tongue then he felt hands on his face. Sheila's strong hands were forcing his jaw open.

Inches of cock intruded into his mouth. Sheila immobilized Paul and whispered in his ear, "Isn't Jeremy big?" He tried to pull away but she held him in place, with her hands and with her thoughts. Paul whimpered, helpless, submissive. "Big is good", he thought to himself. He relaxed and took a deep breath. Jeremy's cock took advantage and advanced another inch or two down his throat. Paul wrapped his lips around it like he felt he was supposed to and sucked. Then he gagged and Jeremy pulled out. Paul fell to the floor, choking. Jeremy took his cock in hand and stroked it. Sheila let out an impatient sigh.

"I need a Voluxil", she thought to herself.

She was teetering on the edge of another major orgasm. Kyle and Jeremy stood stroking their cocks. Paul sat on the floor at their feet. He began to cry. Why was he always crying? What did he want? "He could be such a drag sometimes", everyone thought. Sheila felt sorry for him. She crawled across the bed and swiped a pack of Voluxil from the nightstand. She broke the blue plastic seal and tore open the cellophane wrap in one swift action and extracted the foil card of pills with two long fingers. She dug a tiny white pill out and swallowed it. Kyle grunted as he released his load onto Paul.

Sheila was speechless as she watched Paul get splattered with semen. When he was finished, Kyle grabbed Paul by the hair and lifted his head up. Jeremy was aiming his cock at Paul's face, pumping in furious strokes. Sheila dug out another Voluxil and swallowed it down. The sight was thrilling to her.

In fact she wished SHE was the one getting hosed down with cum. Paul was sobbing, reaching out for Sheila, for her to stop this.

"Please Sheila… I don't want this…", his voice was soft and breathy.

She unleashed her thoughts and let the full force of her own lust flood Paul's weak mind.

"Shhhhh, be still, Paulie. Don't be rude", she said as she fingered her pussy.

Paul quieted himself and glanced back at Jeremy's fist pumping in a blur up and down the length of his shaft. Sheila's mouth watered at the sight of Jeremy's angry purple head aimed at Paul's face. Paul felt his own mouth water. He wanted what Jeremy had. Jeremy let out a relieved moan and shot his wad in Paul's direction.

Paul felt hot sperm hit his cheek. His neck.

"No. Not this…", his mind resisted weakly. He tried to will himself to move out of the way but it was useless.

Jeremy sent a jet of his semen into Paul's mouth, streaking his hair and face. Paul grabbed Jeremy's huge member and put his open mouth to its head, catching the stream of this man's sperm on his tongue, gulping down thick globs of the salty goo. Sheila sensed Paul's shock and confusion and could practically taste it in her own mouth. She involuntarily sent out warm loving thoughts to Paul and Kyle AND Jeremy.

"Paulie, stand up. Come up here. What's the matter?" Sheila asked in a motherly tone.

She stared into his red eyes. Paul had no answer for her. Tears mingled with the semen that coated his face and neck. He licked his quivering lips. Jeremy's salty spunk burned his nose and throat. His body shook. He wanted to laugh… or cry… he couldn't tell which. She held him in her strong arms and calmed him. Paul felt her firm tits press against him.

Her nipples were hot and burned into his stomach like pokers. Sheila rested her elbows heavily on Paul's shoulders, her arms outstretched, staring off across the room.

"What are we going to do with you?", she asked herself in a bored tone.

Paul began to sob. She sighed impatiently and twirled the open pack of Voluxil between her fingers, crinkling the cellophane with her pinky. On the bed Kyle and Jeremy were back at it in a 69, loudly slurping on each other's serpentine cocks. Sheila was wishing she was in the middle of them again.

She needed to get off. Meanwhile, she sensed, "Paul Morton" was dying right in front of her. How had it come to this? He struggled to think, to speak up for himself. The effort was tremendous and, ultimately, useless. His inner self was caving in around him. He felt lost.

"I…. I…. I love you", Sheila heard Paul's voice in her head.

"Oh, I love you too, sweetie", she thought to herself.

Paul heard Sheila's voice in his head. It sounded deep and low, emanating from deep inside somewhere. He felt the power of her love radiate through him. He drew strength from her.

"I don't… I can't….", he whimpered out loud.

Even his voice was thin and weak as a little girl's. He felt tired.

Paul stared at Kyle and Jeremy with envy and confusion.

"You can't WHAT, honey?" Sheila whispered back.

She felt Paul's dick twitch against her leg, like a terrier's cold little nose. He was getting hard just watching Kyle and Jeremy go at it.

Sheila's mind glimpsed the future in that moment—saw it plain as day. She knew what needed to be done, for Paul's sake. She dug another Voluxil D from the foil tray and guided it into his mouth without saying a word.

"Take this dear. You'll feel better," she thought to herself.

Paul looked into Sheila's eyes with trust… sadness… resignation.

He swallowed the pill without thinking or even wondering what it was.

Sheila smoothed his beautiful hair and kissed his face. She raised another Voluxil to Paul's lips. He opened up without being asked and accepted the medicine. Paul sucked on her finger as she fed him a third Voluxil, and a fourth, and a fifth. Sheila felt her pussy convulse and her knees buckle.

Every pill she put to his mouth he swallowed without question. A trickle of juice escaped down her inner thigh. She fed him the entire pack. She crumpled the foil wrapper up and threw it across the room. Paul Morton stared off into the distance, holding his tiny cock in his hand, muttering softly to himself.

Six months later, Sheila and Paula Martin walked down the beach in Jamaica, arm in arm with Kyle and Jeremy. Paul was all Voluxil Woman now, six foot tall, with fantastic legs and perfect pair 38 D tits. He looked ten years younger. The massive overdose of Voluxil D left him with no memory of his former life as a man and precious few smarts of any kind to work with now in his new life as a woman. For all the miracles of modern science, one thing they couldn't do was regenerate dead brain cells. Too bad. All she knew for sure was that she'd been Sheila's best friend and "associate" for as long as she could remember… and that she shared Sheila's taste in big tits and huge cocks.

Kyle and Jeremy were waylaid one hot morning in their hotel room by Paula.

She had engaged the two of them in another marathon fucking and sucking session. Paula had one cock slithering inside her stretched out pussy and another one in her tight ass. She was getting fucked hard, her tits were burning. She fumbled around on the nightstand and found a disgarded packet of Voluxil D. There was one pill left in the bent foil tray. Usually Sheila measured out Paula's daily doses for her, but Paula would sneak extras whenever Sheila wasn't looking.

"Take it, Paula… you deserve it…", Jeremy urged.

"Come… ONNnn, Paula… go for it. We won't tell Sheila", Kyle grunted as he slammed his cock into Paula's drooling pussy.

The two men thrashed Paula around like a rag doll. Her arms flailed around wildly and her tits rolled and bobbled about on her chest. She managed just barely to get the pill into her mouth along with a handful of her straight bleached-blonde hair. She swallowed the magic little pill down and dreamed of bigger titties. Whoppers like Sheila's.

Down at the pool, Sheila ordered a bloody mary.

She reclined on a lounge chair at poolside, conducting business by phone. A towel boy brought her a towel. Sheila sized up the half-naked muscleman. He was dressed in little else but a leather harness and a sort of thong, with a large silk pouch that held his cock and balls. The hotel's coat of arms were embroidered in gold thread upon a flap of dark velvet material that hung down over his pouch, like a loincloth. The guy was gigantic and covered in shiny black hair from head to toe.

"Towel ma'am?", the thick-headed servant asked in a deep baritone voice.

His eyes were trained respectively on her exposed cleavage.

"Thank you, boy. I will take a towel."

She reached out and brushed his pouch with her arm, taking the thick luxurious towel from his hand. Something about his voice sounded familiar.

She tore her eyes off the cumbersome equipment between his legs and looked up at this towel boy. It was her old boyfriend, John! She barely recognized him. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She turned off her phone.

"JOHN CRANE?!?! Is that you??"

The towel boy looked at the woman, confused. Sheila's dark brown skin glowed in the tropical sun. She pulled down her sunglasses and flashed her pearly whites at him. He recognized her in an instant.

Sheila Martin dialed up to her hotel room. Kyle answered the phone.

Her three wives were invited to the bar for drinks with Sheila and an old long lost friend. Kyle and Jeremy and Paula got dressed and hurried down to hotel bar as fast as they could, per Sheila's instructions.

"Paula, you remember me talking about my ex-boyfriend, John? LONG John?", Sheila asked.

Kyle and Jeremy threw each other elbows and tried not to laugh. They knew Sheila's history, knew who Long John was. They knew who Paul had been too… and who he was now. Just a girl with nothing on her mind who couldn't say no to a big fat cock, if it was put to her right. All she needed was an invitation.

Paula laid eyes on John and felt short of breath. He was a vision of raw male sex. Muscles on top of muscles, and a bulge in front of him that was positively huge. Se felt her pussy twitch and moisten. She felt his eyes on her body. Her face went flush.

"Um, of course Sheila. You've told me all about John." She lied.

Her mind was blank. She was terrible with names and stuff anyhow.

Paula offered her outstretched hand to John, who took it and kissed it warmly. Kyle and Jeremy stood on each side of Sheila, like bookends. Sheila entwined her arms with theirs as she looked on with amusement and affection.

She kept quiet while the two former men in her life exchanged an awkward series of nice-to-meet-you's, and you're-even-more-beautiful-than-Sheila-saids. Paula stroked her collarbone enticingly as she chatted with this beautiful stranger at the bar. Quietly Sheila left, sneaking away arm in arm with Kyle and Jeremy. The three left comely Paula Martin at the bar to fend for herself.

"So you and Sheila used to date?", Paula asked.

"Yep. For three years. I really blew it with her. Couldn't handle the stuff in them days…" he said, shooting an eye down at his crotch.

"But I've got it under control now. I could never do this job if I didn't."

"How big is it?", Paula asked brazenly.

Did I just ask him that? My god, girl… control yourself, she thought.

Paula had never been with anyone other than Kyle and Jeremy… and Sheila. This was her first foray into the world of Other Men, as far as she could remember anyhow.

"Ah… why don't you tell me a little bit about YOUR self, ma'am?"

John Crane threw his thick arm around the back of Paula's bar stool.

He breathed on her neck. Her exposed cleavage got gooseflesh and her nipples stiffened.

"And then I'll give you three guesses how big it is."

Paula giggled and took a sip of her Sprite. John put his huge hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She was too nervous to speak!

"Sheila tells me you don't have a boyfriend."

He brushed her long hair with his fingers. Paula shifted in her seat, tugging at her tight dress which was creeping up almost to her crotch.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend… right now…", Paula felt embarrassed and thrilled.

"I can't believe a beautiful woman like you doesn't have a boyfriend somewhere."

Paula put her hand on John's massive leg. He flexed his muscles and made them jump. Paula jerked her hand away in surprise.

"Oooh! Oh, John… you're so strong", she said as she put her hand back on his leg and squeezed. She let her fingers stray, tracing her long red enameled nails along the hem of John's loincloth.

"Well, ma'am… I can honestly say, that's not ALL Promade."

"Oh yeah?"

John Crane removed a yellowed photograph from a pocket on his harness and showed it to Paula. She held it down in front of her exposed chest and looked at it. John ogled Paula's heaving bosom and put his hand on her tiny waist.

"That was me three years ago, before all this Promade stuff. And that's Sheila, before Voluxil obviously."

Paula looked at the picture closely. It was John and Sheila standing at somebody's back yard barbeque. Sheila looked tiny, like a young girl. No tits. Paula couldn't believe Sheila ever looked like that. John looked very similar to the way he looked currently, but with less body hair. He was well-developed, handsome, with an… extremely intelligent look in his eyes.

Smart men were so hard to come by, she thought, mimicking the words she'd heard Sheila utter so many times before. In the photoraph John was wearing tight white shorts. Sheila was jamming her hands in his pockets. He and Sheila were both laughing and happy in the picture. It made Paula feel… jealous? She could tell John must've huge to begin with. She noticed John's loincloth moving under the bar. She looked around and realized for the first time that Sheila and the guys had left her along with John. She let her hand slip underneath the flap of fabric and she touched his package tentatively.

He was hard. He was huge. He spread his legs and let his balls plunk down onto the cool vinyl of the barstool. Paula poked them gently. They were bigger than grapefruit.

"Can we go to your room, John?", Paula pleaded, gulping down short little breaths.

Paula's chest heaved, her perfume rose up in heavy wafts and filled John Crane's senses. He wanted to bury his face in her soft inviting cleavage right there at the bar. He didn't dare let his boss see him do THAT. He put his arm around Paula and helped her down from her stool. Paula wobbled on her stilletto heels. Her legs weren't steady. One of her boobs nearly flopped out of her tight sun dress. John held her up and steadied her. She threw her arms around him and pressed her tits against his stomach.

She kissed him on the mouth, probing him with her tongue.

"I wanna fuck you…", she whispered sloppily in his ear.

She acted like she was drunk. She always got this way when she was sexually aroused, it was left over neurological conditioning from all the Promade that had left grooves in Paul's greymatter over the years. Now he was a big-titted bimbo with no self-control. Intoxicated by his own scent, he was a prisoner inside a this hypersensitive woman's body.

Sheila watched over him and took good care of him these days. He could no longer function on his own and was reliant on Sheila completely. And she was protective of him. She felt responsible for his well-being, and part of that was making sure "Paula" got all the Voluxil and all the cock she could handle.

Paula yanked on the hem of her skirt. Damn that thing was short. She pulled it down over her round ass and down in the front. She could feel her pussy was wet. In the elevator she fixed her lipstick in her compact mirror.

She dug around and found a loose Voluxil pill in the bottom of her purse.

She popped it in her mouth. It was her third dose in the last hour. Then she dropped her purse onto the floor and wrapped a shapely leg around John and grinded herself against his knee. She put two hands up to the sides of his bulky package and smoothed her palms over it through the slippery silk fabric. John groaned as blood rushed into his cock. She placed hand partly around his trunk and felt his massive pulse. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

She tugged on the drawstring holding John's garment in place. He felt the string loosen and felt his cock surge forth, pulling at it. He grabbed Paula's dainty wrists and stopped her. The doors opened and John hurried Paula to a room down the hall. It was Sheila's suite. She had given John her key and told him to give Paula the fucking of her life. It was the least he could do for being such a total ass to Sheila all those years ago.

Sheila would get her own turn with him after she took him as her fourth wife and moved him back to the states to live in comfort with her and the others. She'd be reunited with his majestic cock and Kyle and Jeremy and Paula would be there to help out with it.

Paula didn't care where she was or who she had been.

She dropped to her knees and yanked on John's silk uniform, untying the drawstring. The fabric loosened up and John's monstrous cock jumped free of it. It glanced off of Paula's shoulder, pushing her aside. She gasped at the sight. It was the biggest thing she'd ever seen.

"THAT'S how big it is, darlin", John said proudly.

"How… how ….long is it?" Paula put her hands on it and caressed it.

She lifted it up and laid it against John's strong chest. It came up almost to his shoulders.

"Eighteen inches long ma'am. Ten pounds, six ounces. One foot in circumference. Stop me if I'm boring ya…" he quipped.

Paula was mesmerized. She traced her fingernail around the huge tip and smiled when a glob of pre-cum oozed forth. She wanted to have this man's baby. Why did she think that? She wanted him inside her, pumping his seed deep into her womb. Strange thoughts perhaps, but Paula's Voluxilized female body had to fill in the blanks in Paul Morton's blanked out mind these days.

Paula in fact was scarcely able to grasp ideas that didn't relate somehow to her body, or Voluxil, or sex. Sheila had to teach Paula many things after that lethal overdose of Voluxil-D, even basic things that any child knows.

She even had to teach her the joys of clothes shopping and putting on makeup and fussing with her hair. By now she'd discovered the connection between these activities and sex and she'd come to enjoy them as much or more so than any teenage girl ever did.

John picked Paula up and laid her out on the bed. Paula wriggled out of her tight dress and kicked her panties off. Her cunt was exposed, her thick bush sopping wet with her own juices. She splayed her fingers and spread open her lips. John Crane moistened his cock with his own fluids and aimed his fist sized head at her opening. Paula gasped as she felt John force the head of his cock into her. It hurt but she wanted him anyhow. Her pussy stretched wide to accommodate him. John grabbed Paula's ankles and lifted her legs up over her shoulders as he clenched his buttocks and drove his member into her pussy. Paula whimpered quietly and fought for her breaths. She'd never been filled up like this… it felt good.

"You LIKE that, honey?" John asked.

He forced as much of his meat into Paula's straining cunt as he could, just as Sheila had told him to.

"OOH, GOD…. OWW….. oh yes…. Yess….. more… I want more…"

She spread her legs and angled her wide hips up to tuck more of John into her body. John leaned into her and forced another inch in. Paula tensed up slightly, her pussy squeezed John's cock. It slipped back out of her in one thick foot long slurp. She felt her pussy close in behind it as it escaped her body, leaving her feeling hollow and empty .

"Oh John. Put it back in. Fuck me, pleeeease…"

That was a word he'd not heard from a woman in a long long time.

"Please."

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