An author named Monsta posted a list of fictional movie synopses, as a story challenge. One in particular caught my attention. My normal writing process is glacial, but this story sprung out almost fully-formed in a day or two.
It makes sense now, finally. I mean, I was a divorced mom, never had time to date, but I wasn't gay. I was a Twilight Mom! Team Edward all the way!
And then, over the holidays I found out about this little cupcake shop. It was on the way to work. So I started bringing them in as a treat for the ladies at the office sometimes. It must have been the first time I did that. The Friday after New Years. I got an assortment and brought it in. It was my time of the month. Must have been then. I can't prove anything, but it didn't happen to any of the other ladies until much later. I'm sure that was it. The strawberry filling.
I love strawberry. The other ladies had chocolate or whatever, but I took a strawberry-filled one, and Suzanne had the other one. Well, she took it home. She was saving it for a treat. Her time started the next day.
What? Women talk about these things.
She was fresh out of college, working as the admin, a redhead just covered in freckles. Short and thin and sweet. I almost thought of her as a second daughter back then. We'd talk about things and I'd give her career advice.
It's only looking back that I can make a connection with those cupcakes. Nothing special happened at the time. A couple weeks after, I bought a vibrator. But I thought I was just lonely.
Then one night... sometime late January. My daughter was in bed, I was staying up watching TV on a Saturday night. I'd had a glass or two of wine. I got bored and saw the little 'on-demand' button. And before I knew it I was watching a porno. But even though I was turned on, something was missing. When it was done, I looked around the menu and saw a lesbian one. And I picked it.
And I thought I'd been turned on before...
You can imagine I was sort of confused. I couldn't understand why I'd never looked at women that way before. It felt so natural all of a sudden.
Early February, I brought in some more cupcakes. I crave sweet stuff around my period. I made sure to get two of the strawberry ones. One for me, one for Suzanne. I made some horrible joke about red filling, because she was due too. And the sprinkles were freckles.
I'd been thinking about her a lot. Especially at night. I remember one day she wore this tight skirt, and stockings. I got so flustered. Here I was, a divorced mom, crushing over a girl ten years younger than me!
Though it wasn't just her. All of a sudden I was noticing breasts and hips and legs and even necks. And their voices... One day I was grocery shopping, and it was like I'd never really seen how women walked before. I had to be so careful at the gym. I know I got caught staring a few times.
But Suzanne was special. She thanked me for the cupcake, and we got to talking. She told me she was tense. PMS, and trouble with her boyfriend. So I offered to give her a backrub, right there in my office. And she said yes! I had her sit backward in my chair, put her arms on the backrest. Oh, God, I can't tell you all the things I was picturing, her legs spread like that.
I worked her shoulders, and her neck, and I kept having to shift my feet. My pussy was so hot and tense it hurt. I ran her long red hair through my fingers. I got close so I could rub my breasts against her back, I kneaded her all the way down to the top of her butt.
When I was done, we were late for a meeting. And I was sure it was my imagination, wishful thinking, but she acted practically as flushed and jittery as I was feeling.
Valentine's Day came. Suzanne told me she broke up with her guy. And I just blurted out that she shouldn't be alone on Valentine's Day, that I'd take her to dinner. She thought about it for a second, and said she'd like that. When she left my office, I called all over in a panic, trying to find someone to watch my daughter. Thank goodness my neighbor, the mom of one of her friends, said she could sleep over. I raced home after work, got her packed, and practically carried her down the street and shoved her through the door.
Then I ran back to my house and almost drove myself crazy trying to figure out what to wear. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't want to seem like a cougar, but I didn't want to look like... like a frumpy old divorced mom. I finally just picked a nice dress - this floral blue one, skirt to the knee but tight at the waist - and got on some makeup. On the way to her apartment, I stopped and bought roses at the grocery store.
She came to the door and smiled when I gave her the flowers. I was still playing it like a joke. I'll never forget, she was wearing this sheer hot-pink dress and matching stilettos. It brought out her freckles and her red hair and her green eyes and I felt like I was going to faint. She said it was what she'd been planning to wear for her boyfriend, and I said he was totally missing out.
We went to dinner and talked. I can't even remember about what. I just kept looking at her, drinking her in. We laughed and ate and I joked about playing footsie with her under the table. And then she rubbed her toes on my shin and it was like, like lightning. I gasped out loud. I knew I was blushing but she just smiled and kept doing it.
I drove her back to her place, just... just floating in this huge tense cloud. Could it really happen? Was I too gay now to read her, were my hopes coloring everything she said and did? Or was she actually interested?
She invited me in. We stood there for a second after the door closed. I don't know what I would have said, but she stepped up to me and put her arms around me. I hugged her back, sure it was all a dream. And then her hand cupped my behind and squeezed. I remember every second of getting her out of that dress. Her panties were the same color. And she was a natural redhead. I was late picking up my daughter the next day.
This was really early on, you know. Before the Starbucks Sisters or the outbreaks or any of that. I just thought I'd found my true calling. Well, it certainly is now.
She moved on after a few months. Found a girl her own age. And we ended up in different Communities during the Quarantine. I met other women, made a new life for myself. They're calling us chemo-dykes now, can you believe it?
But she was my first, and has a special place in my heart. My little strawberry cupcake.
Senators, members of the press, we believe we have identified the cause of the enormous surge in lesbianism over the past year and a half, what has been called by some the 'gay plague' or the 'Dykesaster'. At this point, we have concluded that it is not in any way contagious, not even by exchange of bodily fluids. I reiterate that the cause is not any form of infectious agent. The Quarantine has been entirely misguided, in many ways counterproductive.
Multiple lines of evidence instead point to the actual cause - exposure to Anactorium, a food preservative initially approved for use nearly worldwide roughly two years ago, that has seen increasingly widespread adoption in the intervening time. Since different countries and products introduced Anactorium use at varying times, it unfortunately masked the correlation until recently.
That's correct, sir. A food additive seems to be ultimately responsible. If I may proceed?
Anactorium acts as a preservative and by now is present in an extremely wide variety of products. It is thermally stable, more effective and significantly cheaper than most alternatives, and does not metabolize or linger in the human body for very long after ingestion. For that final reason it has been considered to be exceptionally safe, until now.
At this point we understand why the side effects of Anactorium weren't detected prior to FDA approval. Our findings point to critical flaws in nearly all testing procedures - for both food and drug testing - and we recommend a full overhaul of FDA guidelines in light of this failure.
The key issue is that males are preferred subjects for drug and chemical testing, and males are not affected by Anactorium exposure. The female menstrual cycle complicates testing protocols, so the bulk of drug testing not aimed directly at women avoids the issue when possible. Animal testing is not helpful in this regard; very few mammals, even among primates, actually menstruate. Female mice, for example, have estrous cycles but do not thicken and then shed their uterine lining; in short, they do not bleed at the end of estrous. It is important to note that almost all the animal testing for Anactorium was performed on mice.
And menstruation is the key factor, the reason why men are not at risk from Anactorium. The breakdown of the uterine lining releases various chemicals into the body. It is these specific compounds that interact with the additive. The resulting substances are non-toxic, and have little effect... except upon certain varieties of brain cell. Specifically they bind to, and alter - to all indications permanently - cells of the hypothalamus and the cingulate gyrus, and to a lesser extent the olfactory veromonasal organ. The result is a hypersensitivity to testosterone, limited to specific areas of the brain.
No, ma'am, it is not known at present why these particular cells are preferentially affected, but that is definitely a target for future research. I promise, I will summarize all our findings, and there will be time for questions afterward.
Excuse me, where was I? Ah. The affected structures are known to be related to sexual response. They become masculinized, usually to a degree not seen even in normal males due to the exaggerated testosterone receptivity. Note that actual hormone levels in the body do not appear to change, nor do other tissues in the body or brain become sensitized. We have no substantiated reports of, for example, beard growth or voice deepening in women exposed to Anactorium.
There seems to be a critical threshold of exposure. It can be reached in one specific event, such as a substantial dosage of the additive during menstruation. We believe the 'Starbucks Sisters' are the result of such an event, along with several other incidents that were originally labeled 'outbreaks'.
Recent investigation has determined that a central American coffee supplier suffered a production accident in late March of this year. A badly calibrated machine dispensed far more than the recommended level of Anactorium. Unfortunately they decided to ship rather than scrap the production run, which was purchased by the Starbucks corporation. It is our belief that other 'outbreaks' can be traced to similar incidents of overexposure.
I'm sorry, Senator, criminal charges and liability are not within the scope of our study. I can say that nothing we have uncovered indicates that anyone in the now-defunct Starbucks corporation had any knowledge of the issue in their supply chain.
To return to our report, the threshold can also be reached cumulatively. Multiple lower-level exposures, typical of regular consumption of the additive, can trigger the effect if the dosages coincide with a woman's period. Once the critical point is reached, the effect becomes self-reinforcing, even without further exposure to Anactorium, and so far has not been reversible. The process of masculinization, once initiated, usually completes within one month, though it may take as long as three months. It is worth noting that this is fairly rapid response for mature central nervous system tissue. It is possible that further research may offer ways to repair the damage of strokes and other brain insults, once the biochemistry involved is better understood. But that too is outside the scope of the present investigation.
Individual sensitivities vary. For the majority of women, at the typical blood concentrations observed in the field, it could take five, six, or even more cycles for the critical threshold to be reached. There will be many women who are significantly more or less sensitive than that average, however. Note that typical human testing trials usually cover less than three months in the case of rapidly-excreted compounds - such as Anactorium. This is another aspect of our testing protocols that will need to be thoroughly re-evaluated.
The symptoms of the localized masculinization present as a specific, all-too-familiar syndrome - dramatic increase in libido, accompanied or closely followed by exclusive or nearly-exclusive lesbianism. A minority of women present solely with lesbianism but no discernible change in libido. An even smaller number of women present with increased libido primarily, though most of these also display bisexuality.
While many young children have unfortunately been exposed to Anactorium, the data we have suggest that girls who have not reached menarche are extremely unlikely to be affected. So long as further Anactorium exposure is prevented, they should develop normally. As previously noted, the additive is rapidly cleared from the human body.
Our key recommendations include an immediate halt to Anactorium production, along with a full recall of all affected products. No, sir, our commission was not tasked with estimating any potential economic impact.
And to reiterate, a complete review and overhaul of all food and drug testing protocols is urgently required in light of this incident. Specific recommendations include much longer evaluation windows, as well as fully integrating women into testing groups at every stage of examination. Additionally, an animal model of menstruation suitable for substance testing must be developed.
That is the gist of our report. I will now try to answer any further questions you may have to the best of my ability.
It's so fucked up to think I found the love of my life because of contaminated fucking coffee.
Yeah, I'm a Starbucks Sister. I still miss it, sometimes. Their coffee, I mean. They're all closed, now, and nobody makes it quite the same. Me and Kaitlin and Britney always went there, every day practically. Some pissed-off guy actually burned down the one we used to go to, can you believe that?
Anyway, I didn't really notice anything for a couple of months. Just felt, like, sorta off. Like something didn't fit. I got super horny, though. I was masturbating, like, three times a day. But I couldn't come anymore with my boyfriend. Except once on Cinco de Mayo, but I was super drunk and we did it doggie style so I didn't have to look at him.
But then it was June, and Britney's wedding. Her bachelorette party, really. Me and her and Kaitlin were friends since forever, and we were so happy for her. We all thought Steve was a good catch. It was a big destination wedding and everything, L.A. I was a little bummed 'cause I'd just broken up with Doug, but Kaitlin had dumped her boyfriend too so we joked that we'd be each other's dates. Oh my God, we were so clueless.
Anyway, we went out and hit a strip club, but the guys weren't doin' it for us, y'know? Amber and Beth, they were having fun, but the three of us were just all 'meh'.
Back at the hotel, Amber and Beth went to their rooms, but we stayed with Britney in her suite. And she just broke down and, like, sobbed on my shoulder, y'know? Said she wasn't in love with Steve anymore, that she liked him and didn't want to hurt him but he just did nothing for her anymore in bed.
So Kaitlin and I hugged her, and we were crying too, and then... she kissed me. And I kissed her back, and then Kaitlin was kissing me, and... and... We were up all night. Fucked on every piece of furniture in there, and in the shower too.
We told her not to, but she married him the next day. They got divorced in a month. But she's got a really nice girlfriend now, so that's cool.
Anyway, ever since then, me and Kaitlin have been together. God, we're so in love. We're gonna get married, next June. Kinda our anniversary. It's not just the sex - although that's fucking awesome. She completes me, y'know? Sounds lame, but it's true. Once in a while we have threesomes, or go fuck other girls by ourselves, but I always come home to her. And she comes home to me.
Y'know how guys say they can fuck somebody, and it's just sex? Just for fun? I guess it's true. It's that way for Kaitlin and me and our 'masculine brains'. Though, I guess there aren't so many girls that guys can cheat with anymore.
Anyways it's kinda weird, I guess. Knowing that I'd probably still be into guys and all if I didn't drink coffee, I mean. But I wouldn't go back, not for anything.
I'm a member of OUT-PRIDE, an international gay rights watchdog. We went to investigate reports of forced medication in Russia. Unfortunately, it seems the reports were true in every respect. Apparently someone tipped off the government we were coming. We were detained as soon as we got off the plane.
Those bastards dosed us. Injected us. They claimed it was Anactorium and menstrual blood extract. Said we wouldn't be gay anymore. And they brought in several men who said they'd gotten the same 'treatment'. And they were now straight.
They held us incommunicado for two days, then placed on an outgoing flight, all our electronics confiscated. No traces of Anactorium were found when we had blood work done, but 48 hours is long enough for it to be fully excreted. All we can do now is wait and hope that our sexual identity has not been forcibly altered. We implore the international community to take this report seriously. We've long known of serious human rights abuses against gay people in Russia, but this is a new and horrifying level of oppression.
Boys are so... pushy, y'know? I guess I can't blame 'em. Now I see what they're looking at, I mean. If I were a boy, I'd be all over girls too. Well, I mean, I already am, but... oh, whatever, you know what I mean. That's why I stayed in a Community.
Anyway, there was an outbreak at my high school. Too much 'Anna' in the bread, something like that. By then the whole Starbucks thing had happened, over the summer, and there'd been a couple other outbreaks, but nobody really expected it.
I think I was one of the first. Extra sensitive or something. Though, I had my period the first day of school. Maybe that was it.
Things were normal for a couple weeks, and then one night I was suddenly hella horny. I had to come, like, four times before I could get to sleep. Weird, but I wasn't really scared yet. Not even when I started rubbing one out a couple times a day. The first day or two I even fantasized about guys.
Then a week later I realized I was checking out Lisa Robinson's ass in the shower, and my nipples were rock fucking hard. Look, I'm not a dumbass. We'd all heard about the 'gay plague' stuff. So I kinda had a silent freak-out, right there. I got the fuck out of that shower room, ripped open my locker, and slammed on my clothes so fast I still had soap in my hair.
I wasn't gonna give in. Oh, no, I was gonna fight it. I swore I wouldn't play with myself or look at girls or anything. I was even gonna try to get a boyfriend.
I made it two days. Then after dinner I locked myself in my room, and pretty much went nuts. I got on my netbook and frigged myself to pics and vids of naked girls until the middle of the night. I got a couple viruses, had to wipe the drive and reinstall everything. After that, though, I didn't even care anymore. I didn't want to go back. I wanted pussy.
I put out some hints, made a few enemies, got some rumors started about me. But guess what? Five days later I was biting Lisa Robinson's ass in her own bed. And her tits, and everything else. It was a pretty good couple of weeks, we were all over each other. And Amy Muller hit on her, so we all got together. I took some shit from people, but I didn't care. I wasn't quite out but the closet walls were pretty fucking thin.
Then one day, about two months after school started, I picked up on the big change. It had been going on for at least a week before I noticed. How quiet it got in the locker room before gym. Girls talk all the time, but everybody was kinda shutting up and looking down at the ground. And I finally realized they were all acting just like me!
So I stood up and yelled, real loud, "I'm a total lesbo now! Who's with me?"
It was hilarious. Everyone looked so surprised, but nobody said anything and they kept looking at each other. So I walked up to Triana - third biggest rack I ever saw, no shit - and just started sucking on those titties. She kinda groaned and then grabbed me like an octopus or something. By the time I came up for air there was, like, an orgy going on.
The next few weeks were like a honest-to-God fantasy. All these horny girls, any way you looked. Practically every girl in school was a nympho dyke. I mean, we all were hornier than even guys are supposed to get, and we couldn't get each other pregnant! Any time you went to the bathroom you'd hear two or three chicks trying to get in a quick fuck all quiet-like. Maybe in the stall right next to you. And maybe they'd let you join in.
There were so many 'group study sessions' with just girls. Up in their bedrooms. I know I sure studied - a lot. I think the whole school smelled a little like wet pussy by the end there.
The boys got pretty pissy about it. Like I said, I almost feel bad for 'em, not getting any. But fuck, none of us wanted dick either, not anymore. Well, the few girls left who were still into guys could have their pick, so there's that. But there were a lot of fights and they said some real mean things.
I'll bet it was the guys who ruined it. Reported it, got an investigation going. Bet you anything. When they caught Principal Merton screwing Ophelia in her office, there was a whole big deal and parents started pulling their kids from school.
Kinda too bad. Homecoming woulda been epic.
By then the whole Quarantine dealie was starting, and I told my parents not to fight it, that I'd be okay. My mom cried so hard. But fuck, going and living with a bunch of other lesbos sounded just fine to me. I didn't know how hard it would be, early on.
Fuckin' dykes. Everything's gone to shit now.
I mean, half the goddamn women are off chasing snatch. Used to be a guy could get some, at least sometimes. Didn't even take much hustle. Now even the ones who say they're still straight, they won't even look at a guy like me. Yeah, I ain't got the best job or a big house or a fancy car, but I'm a man's man, y'know?
What? No, I don't got the money to do that catalog shit! And besides, I ain't so hard up that I'll just marry some imported cooze. Meet her the day she gets off the boat? Fuck that. I guess I can't blame the guys who do. I mean, girls from South America, Africa - they didn't get dosed much. Lots more girls there still know what to do with a man. And even a regular guy here makes pretty good money compared to some little shit village.
Russia, China, they got the right idea. Show those cunts their fucking place. If I'd been in Boston, I'd have done the same goddamn thing.
Yeah, we were one of the very first. From the start of the Quarantine. The Texas Relocation Center, it was called back then. We're back to Freeport now. Best damn Community anywhere, you ask me.
My wife Judith says it was like the stories her grandmother used to tell about the ghettoes. They threw up a buncha cheap apartment buildings and stuffed women in 'em. Not much food, everybody packed together. But it's way better now.
We got a real Community here. Freeport is our town. Most of the straights moved away, all scared their little desert flowers might get a taste of pussy. We're pretty much independent now. Most of our power comes from from solar, and we even make our own water. Desalination plant's up that road a bit, by the coast.
Everyone has to pitch in. You get a job based on your skills and stuff. But it's cool. Nobody looks down on anybody. I hauled trash for six months, I still got respect.
There's some money, for luxuries and stuff, but mostly it's barter, and the basics come with the work you get assigned. Food and shelter guaranteed. Kinda hippy commune style, y'know? I mean, you don't have to worry about health insurance or any of that crap here. We take care of our own. Got a whole heap of doctors and nurses; they used to drink a lot of coffee, know what I'm sayin'?
And shit, food is no problem anymore, since the recall. We don't care if it's got lezzie dust in it. Can't hurt us. So they dump it on us. Food is free. The processed stuff, leastways. You want organic, you gotta pay or help out in the gardens. Kids get organic for free, though, o'course.
Oh, sure, lotsa kids. Boys and girls, it's all good. And they're probably safer here than most places. Me and Judith are thinking about it. Not sure which one of us would carry it. I ain't so sure I wanna get pregnant myself, but... well, anyway, that's between us.
Well, no, men ain't, like, banned or anything. Relatives come visit all the time. But any guy old enough to shave ain't exactly popular, know what I'm sayin'? Especially after dark.
Yeah, the checkpoint's kind of a pain, but security, y'know. No swinging dick is gonna give us any shit.
Oh, hey, relax. I can't remember the last time we had a psycho try to sneak in. And don't worry your pretty head about riots. We got dykes from everywhere. Police, Army, all kinds. Nobody's gonna fuck with us, I promise you that. No Bostons here, know what I'm sayin'?
Oh shit yes, there's plenty of swinging. Friday night, downtown - that's a sight to see! No kids allowed after sunset. We had to shoot down a drone once or twice, asshole guys tryin' to get a peek.
But there's lotsa couples, too. Some are even exclusive. Judith and me, once in a blue moon we invite a third, but mostly we're homebodies.
Anyway, pretty little thing like you, you'll love it here. With big eyes like yours, and an ass like that? Shee-it! Look me up when you get settled, I'll show you around, let you meet Judith. She does the inviting, you know, but I get to make suggestions. Know what I'm sayin'?
No, I always ate organic food. A lot of my friends used to make fun of me, or even get pissed when I refused all that factory crap they'd shove in their mouths. That doesn't happen anymore. They come to me for help starting their own gardens. One good thing from this whole mess, everybody's eating a whole lot healthier now. Costs more, but it's worth it.
I'm glad I didn't get any of that poison, but there are times I almost wish I had. Or that I'd been born gay. Nah, I'm straight. No pussy for me, thanks. But sometimes I think it'd be easier.
It's just... things have changed so much. You just can't go out alone at night. You just can't. Sure, I'm in favor of Proposition 20. Rape should always have had the death penalty. But I don't think things'll get better, even if it passes. To some assholes, it's worth it.
And clothes... fashion's so, like, polarized now. If you don't want people thinking you're a dyke, you gotta dress like June Cleaver or something. So you got a choice. Get hit on all day by men, or get hit on all day by women. Skirt below the knee, breasts all covered, just a little makeup... and guys fall all over themselves to open doors and stand up when you come into the room and... Christ, it's like the nineteen fucking forties, or even earlier.
Show some leg, go a little heavy on the eyeliner, or even just wear a t-shirt, and then the guys, like, snarl at you. And you get hit on by chemos all day long. At least with a long skirt they know to leave you alone.
Dating's hard. I mean, it's not hard to get one! But it's all so rushed. By the third or fourth date, they're down on one knee shoving a ring in your face. I'd like to get to know somebody a little more, y'know?
Tonight on CSPAN, we have sociologist Dr. Bernard Lehner, discussing his new book "Breakdown", on the Boston riots and similar incidents worldwide.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I will get directly to the heart of my thesis. A surplus of males who are unable to find mates has been a destabilizing force throughout history. Most commonly this has been the effect of polygamy. In the wake of the Anactorium debacle, however, the effective gender imbalance is far higher than at any known point in human history. I regret to say that it is remarkable we have only had one episode like Boston in this country.
The security measures other Communities have taken are essential, but a true solution to the problem will necessarily involve social policy. Marriageable females will be in short supply for a generation to come.
China already had a gender imbalance from their population policies; at this point they are close to a revolution. The regime is fighting for its survival, and unfortunately we can expect more crackdowns and forced marriages. Russia, the Middle East - we cannot afford to react to this social stress in such a manner. Simple humanity demands it, even if we did not have other options.
The Communities welcome refugees, and pledge to support them. Putting legal roadblocks in the way of women who have escaped oppression is not simply counterproductive, but vindictive and inhumane.
Furthermore, criminalizing the market for what used to be called 'mail-order brides' is as wrong-headed as Prohibition. In the face of Anactorium's legacy, it cannot be eliminated. To try is sheer folly. But it can be brought into the open - regulated, and licensed. This will help to curb abuses and ensure that such marriages, and the children that result, will have the best possible chance to succeed.
You're gonna make a ton of money. Late bloomer, huh? We'll call you the 'last of the chemo-sluts'. Already got a tit job, you're gonna be gold.
Sorry, no, the mixed stuff doesn't really sell these days. You can do guys, or girls, but not all together.
Yeah, porn's all split in half. Back in the day, the lesbo stuff was mostly for guys. Chicks didn't use to be a big market, y'know? Not like today. Dykes don't wanna see cocks.
And guys these days gotta see her taking dick. They get enough chicks doing each other in real life. These days they don't even wanna see a naked chick just by herself. No way. They gotta know they have a shot.
Thing is, you're all turned on but you're still bi. So you can do both kinds. You wanna do mixed doubles or whatever, you can, but it'll be after hours. Look, I know a couple other girls like you. Candy, she throws these parties, I'll hook you up.
It was a nightmare. I wanted to scream. I love my husband. I love him so much. He's a good man, and a terrific father. I always used to say he was my best friend... and then it became so true it was painful.
I was never a prude. I used to love making love with him. God, our honeymoon, I held him prisoner for two full days in our hotel room! He bought three hundred dollar tickets to a show, and I made us blow it off... so I could blow him!
And then... because of some stupid chemical I couldn't bear to touch him. Not like that. I would think about that night on our honeymoon - one of my most precious memories - and gag a little. He was hurting so much and I... I couldn't help him that way. I just couldn't.
And it happened to me in December! One month. If they'd started the recall one month sooner, I wouldn't have gotten the final dose that put me over the edge.
And I'm way over the edge now. I'm hornier than ever; sometimes it's like sex and women are all I can think about. Like a teenage boy. My older son has a poster of Eva Mendes - her I'd touch! God, I'd eat her up. And out. For days.
It got so bad. I fucked three of my neighbors. I just... couldn't help it. The urge was too strong. For me and them. I felt so ashamed. But women, they were... irresistible.
We never talked about it. I think he knew about at least one of the neighbors. We stopped having sex. Stopped talking to each other at all, except about the kids. I just saw the pain in his eyes and... and I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to die.
Then one day he called me at work. He said the kids would be spending the night at his brother's, and we needed to talk. I almost drove my car into a bridge on the way home. I never wanted to leave him, but I couldn't stay with him.
I parked in the driveway, and came this close to just backing out again and driving away. How could I keep hurting him?
But I owed him the truth. I went in, set my purse on the little table by the door, and he called out, "In here, hon," from the den.
I came around the corner and just froze.
He'd shaved off his mustache. And he'd shaved his legs, his whole body. He had on a wig and a skirt and a blouse. He'd pierced his ears. He was wearing perfume. Too much, I could smell it from across the room.
I just stared. "I don't blame you," he said. "I know you didn't choose... what happened." He looked in my eyes. "But I only ever wanted to make you happy. I love you. And I won't lose you without a fight."
I broke down then, just sat on the floor right there and bawled. And he got up and walked over to me in those giant heels and he sat down and took me in his arms, so gently...
We made love. And like that, I could handle it. I can pretend it's a dildo, I don't care. Under a skirt, I can touch it. To me it's just a big clitty. And he's gotten so much better since then. His walk, his body language, everything. I swear, with breast forms and the right dress, he's scrumptious. It even takes some women a while to figure it out. And his tongue, I think he could do push-ups with it nowadays.
Not all the time, of course. Not even most of the time. He's still my best friend. He goes to work in men's trousers and a stiff shirt. We go to a wedding or a funeral, he wears a suit. For our kids, he's dad. Madeline only comes out to play at night, or on weekend getaways. Yes, he's Madeline en femme. It's not the life we planned, but we make it work. Sometimes I think we understand each other better now than we ever did.
I get hit on sometimes, the world being what it is now. I tell them if they want me, it's a package deal. Madeline gets to be there too, and gets to eat pussy same as me. Most women can't handle it. So what? Anyone who says anything bad about my husband can go straight to hell for all I care.
He's a good man. The best in the world. He's a terrific father to our children. And I don't know about other chemo-dykes, but he's enough woman for me.