Cheryl Gets a Younger Body

One of the men closed the door and two of them stood up and walked toward her. Cheryl stared at them warily. Gang rape? At her age?

The two men stood behind her, each resting a hand on one of her shoulders, another on one or the other side of her head. The man who'd been at the door pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. He gently laid his hand on her right knee.

"You seem to like sex," he said. She just nodded.

"Do you miss those days?" He moved his hand just an inch upward and she felt a surge of something between her legs.

"Y...yes," she answered, trembling. He wasn't going to touch her there, was he?

"Do you enjoy being here?"

"No, I hate it."

"Would you like to leave?"

She nodded.

The man stood up and the others walked away and stood at the door. Over the next hour, he explained to her that he was working with a drug company who had developed a patch that they felt could slow or even reverse the aging process. The compound had been tested on animals and was very successful except for one odd feature. It only worked on highly sexualized subjects. They were working on a solution, but in the meantime, they wanted to continue their trials.

That was their interest in Cheryl, she explained to me. They couldn't guarantee anything, but if they were correct, then implanting the patch in her could very possibly slow down her aging. And, if she engaged in regular sexual activity, even masturbation, she might be able to reverse the aging process by a year or two. Or at least hold it at bay.

If she was willing to let them implant the patch, they would provide her with her own place and regular payments of one hundred thousand dollars a year. Cheryl didn't take long to think it over. The papers were signed and the surgery complete in less than a week.

But their calculations were wrong. The aging didn't reverse by a year or two. In just six months after she'd been released, the doctors reported that for all intents and purposes, she had the body of a seventy year old woman.

Cheryl increased her exercise program and found more and more willing sex partners on the Internet - cougar sites, ageless lust sites, over the hill but still frisky sites - she felt the effects more and more.

The problem was that other things were happening as well. Her body was showing some minor joint and muscle problems. She did her own research and put herself on a regimen of vitamins and herbs. The problems were under control as long as the took the vitamins.

The effects of the drug were even more pronounced by the time I met her. She was saying she was fifty but her body looked forty. And now, a year later, she had the body of a thirty year old woman.

There were two other complications that they didn't know about. First, Cheryl found out that the younger her body was, the more sex it needed to maintain that age. And it would take even more if she wanted to get any younger. Which she did. The problem was psychological now. Physically, she could stop and have another forty or more good years in front of her. But she didn't want to stop. She wanted more. She wanted to be younger. So, she needed to find more partners more often. I looked back over some telephone records and one of her old calendars and found that she had been taking lovers while I was at work for several months, sometimes two or three in a day.

The second complication was more serious - the drug was having an effect on her mind. The episodes I'd wondered about - forgetting about the whipped cream feast, the meltdown in Victoria's Secret - were not unexplainable occurrences. They were the first symptoms of the breakdown the drug was causing.

She sat in the kitchen chair explaining all of this to me while her hand stroked my face and neck. I looked at her nearly perfect body. I couldn't tell whether her story turned me on or creeped me out. It was clear that she needed to stop this, needed to have them remove the patch before she got worse. I told her that, but she told me that she wanted to just be a few years younger. I recognized that sound, that obsessed voice. "I'll eat again after I lose a few more pounds." "I'll stop gambling after this next deal." "I'll stop cheating after this one last date." I looked at her. She was a junkie. A youth junkie. Nothing I could do would slow her down or stop her.

===

Well, that about wraps up my story.

I'm sitting in the back booth in my favorite bar, about to post this story to the Internet. A cautionary tale for the electronic age.

I've left Cheryl. I have no idea what she is going to do, I have no idea if they would let her remove the patch if she told them to. The whole thing is too surreal to me. I had to leave, staying was not going to do either of us any good.

Sometimes I miss her. Sometimes I think about looking her up. But then I think of that patch and I go home for yet another cold shower.