“But surely, the alleged promise of regaining her youth would entice many women to take on the risks. Do you seriously expect most women to ignore the potential?” The doctor raised his hands in a pleading gesture.
“No one's denying that this is the greatest breakthrough in a century – maybe more, but it will take many, many years of development before this drug can be made safe. And I'm sure there are women out there that will take the risk, but they're risking a lot more than they were told by the drug-pushers that gave them access.” His white-browed eyes widened for emphasis
“And so for now, Cis-sulphonamide Xanoxylate is a controlled substance, and you support that doctor?”
“Yes; for those women contemplating dumping their retirement savings on a vial of this stuff, The best course of action is simply to wait. Give us time to develop the drug's potential safely!”
“Alright. So give us some real facts; help us to dispel some of the myths surrounding SilverFox.” The newscaster asked the doctor.
“Certainly.”
“First, why does it seem not to affect younger women?”
“The cascade reactions that the Xanoxylate sets up in the body are disrupted by....what you might call growth and repair resources. The healthier and younger you are, the more growth and healing potential you have, the less effective the drug is.”
“And so the reverse would be true?” asked anchorbabe.
“Yes, those who have aged significantly, or those whose bodies have degraded in health for other reasons are more susceptible. A thirty-something housewife might lose some lines around her eyes, but for someone much older, maybe grandma in a nursing home, the Xanoxylate sets off a chain reaction of regeneration the final results of which.... we're not really sure of.”
“It doesn't sound so bad, Doctor.”
“Maybe not, but the greater effect the drug has, the greater the potential for side-effects. Just looking at the data I've seen will curl your hair! And if you've had the occasion to witness the full chain-reaction – when the process continues non-stop, the consequences are...” At this, the doctor seemed truly worried, he shook his white-haired head in dismay.
“Tell us more, Doctor.” Anchorbabe prompted. Mabel snarled, in displeasure. Grasped up the remote, and flicked it off. Ethel was right; what's done is done and there was no room for regrets. She wouldn't let fear and hype diminish the possibilities now before her. Listening to their pessimism would only spoil the joy that was now hers.
In a flash, Mabel realized the truth. She understood why the anchor-woman seemed familiar. No, she hadn't seen the person before; but after looking at herself in the mirror – studying the news-woman; she knew the truth.
“Hahah! Miss Objective-Investigator has used it herself!” Mabel was sure. “That face; when I studied mine, I recognized the same pattern in hers. In almost anyone alive, even a young women, there should be some wear and tear, but her...” Mabel again checked herself in the mirror. Her complexion was like silk-woven porcelain, so soft and perfect that it was almost unreal – something like the results you might achieve after five hours in a world-class salon. And...her hair....the newsbabe had a thin, barely noticeable patch of gray roots near her ears. Oh yes; she too had joined the sisterhood; probably changed all the dates on her resume – and now she can be the fresh, attractive face of the news hour again.
It was a new world, and Mabel was sure that almost no one was going to 'wait'. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She stood near her thinly curtained windows as the sun went down, aware that her fresh, glorious body was still naked. And she had a thought – an insight that had not troubled her in decades.
Her new body was like that of a cheerleader-pornstar at the Double-D maximum of her natural fertility. “If a man saw me now, completely naked – he would be overwhelmed with desire.” She hissed to herself, eyes closing as she began to revel in the knowledge. “Just the sight of me, my tits my face, my abs, my hips – almost any red-blooded American male would become hard as a rock.” She began to caress her ample chest. “To see me, his instincts would take over and he'd risk anything to possess me, to take me up in his strong arms and ravish me!”
Mabel sank to the floor, a hand cupping her hot pussy, lips already engorging. “I would...uhhhh..... feel the crush of his strength against my soft, sweet breasts – his animal need would overpower me, and I would feel it – feel him spear me with his meat! His desire! A passion that neither of us could control....” she gurgled, flesh beginning to sweat as she thrashed nude upon the floor. Her breasts were warm, taut, and she felt a subtle pulsing, a quivering in her cunt, like an abortive orgasm. In her rational mind, she knew that was one of the warning signs. But she thrust that thought aside and felt her heart swell with pleasure at the thought of being a leaf in the wind of unrestrained male lust.
“So easy... all I have to do...” she stood again, pussy plastering her firm inner thighs with hot, female wetness. “Is open the door; let them see me. The men....ooooh.... will see me.....naked..... and the pleasure....haven't had in decades....will be mine again!” Her hands closed around the doorknob...
“Do it!” came a sly, whispering voice.
Mabel looked around, confused. What? Who said that? There was no one else around. No family, no friends, no pets in her lonely house. But she'd heard something...she thought. But there was no one there. No one she could see.
“What...what am I doing? I'm about to...expose myself to the whole neighborhood? That's...that's just crazy. I've got to get a hold of myself! They did say.... that increased libido was a symptom but... wow...
“I've never felt so...so dirty! So wild and randy! Gotta be more careful!” But it felt good. It felt great! Having a burning core of such fiery passion inside her was a pleasure in itself. There was a tingling need in her pussy, and dwelling on it, trying to satisfy it even in part brought profound pleasure! It was fun to lust! But... not fun to get busted for indecent exposure. She'd be more cautious; but nothing would stop her. This new life would be lived to the fullest! No one now to judge her, gainsay her, and she had no personal responsibilities to impede her. It would be glorious. But she had nothing to wear....
**********
The passersby on the Strip could have been forgiven for believing that the three women were a little crazy, or tipsy. Some of them, of course would have recognized that all three of the women parading themselves through Kansas city's most elite shopping thoroughfare were Silverfoxes reveling in their neo-youth, and all that went with it.
It was business and pleasure both for Mabel and her life-long friends. She really didn't have anything to wear that would suit her new lifestyle. They had all had to start off wearing shapeless, long floral-print dresses that pleasantly concealed withering bodies – but now those bodies were ripe, young, and smooth.
Mabel had been especially impressed with Bertha; who'd once been a dumpy, sixty-ish butterball of a woman. But the Xanoxylate cascade that had torn through her body was apparently very hostile to fat. Bertha's form was now pinched-in voluptuous. She had lost everywhere except her chest. Shorter than the rest of them, but with bulging, jutting curves of hip and breast that would trigger a man's most primal urges. Her dark hair was lustrous and smooth, with her silver-white stripe above her left ear – marking what she once was. And she was laughing, they all were – at the indescribable joy of this new existence.
Starting from the old-lady floral print dresses, credit cards and retirement savings were being consumed in favor of mini-skirts, an unnecessary profusion of high-heeled shoes, and ever-flashier ear-rings. But as the reality of their new beauty sunk in, Mabel and friends began to feel that it.....it wasn't enough. She wanted more glamor, more sex-appeal. So they continued, refilling wardrobes that had gone by the wayside decades ago.
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