Chapter 1

They had warned her about the dreams; prolonged, frightening, and erotic. Like ten-thousand hands caressing her at once forever. And the moans, cries and ululations that were at the cusp between fear and ecstasy. Yes, they warned her about the dreams.

In the end, she slept for nearly three days; but that was not unexpected. When she did awake, she almost tripped. Her muscles responded so smoothly, so quickly! Her old equilibrium was out of balance. Old ... old everything ... or was it?

Mabel's heart thudded in her chest; could it be true — really true? For months, countless news stories had trumpeted that the cocktail really was all it was supposed to be — but the risks...

Damn the risks. What else did Mabel have to live for? What did the rest of her life matter at this point. Maybe a lot. Maybe it had all changed.

Fearing even to look down at herself, she stumbled to the wide mirror above her mahogany Vanity and dresser. And she almost gagged. They had warned her.

She really should not be surprised.

Just once, just this once, the hype was real!

A face smooth as powdered porcelain stared back at Mabel as her green eyes widened in shock. Her ripe, full lips opened wide — the face of a goddess-in-flesh, the sculpted beauty to provoke the envy of a supermodel, framed by a frolicsome cascade of loosely curled hair the color of a rusty sunset. No ... no this ... this was more; she — Mabel had NEVER looked this good!

The only factor that might detract from her beauty was the stripe of silvery gray from her temple all the way down in a distinctive stripe. Incongruous with the rest of her color, but perhaps it added a touch of uniqueness, excitement. And ... they said that would happen.

She giggled, and then laughed in a voice more vigorous than any she'd been capable of in decades. She twirled herself, catching a glimpse of the bed behind her and — ah yes ... there on the pillow were the shed leftovers; silver-white strands all in a tangle, detached from the rest. They also said that would happen.

She didn't think her eyes could grow any wider as her graceful hands explored her flesh. Trim and taut and lithe — but more robust than willowy; and her breasts ... she cupped her perky, plump mounds like a farmer caressing his blue-ribbon cantaloupe — and they were not far off in size. She flicked her taut nipples, fascinated by the jiggling grandeur of her proud, youthful mammaries.

Her hands swept lower, past toned valleys of soft, nude womanflesh — so tight and firm. It was almost ... eerie how there was not a trace of wrinkle or blemish in the least. And her feet, her legs and feet were sleek, statuesque and powerful in a way that she'd forgotten was possible. On a sudden, giggling whim she lashed out with a raucous kick to a wheelchair positioned near the bed, overturning the vehicle to test her strength symbolically.

"Young ... young ... I'm young again ... It was all true!"

Mabel was almost suspicious when she first heard the voice that spoke to her over the phone — did she know anyone on intimate terms who sounded that young? She did now!

"I called you before, but you didn't answer; still sleeping it off I suppose." said a youngish female voice that seemed tingling with excitement.

"Yes I ... I've been asleep ... for days." Mabel answered into the receiver.

"It depends, It can take up to 96 hours for some gals. Took me almost that long."

"And ... and I doubted you, Ethel. For awhile it just seemed too fantastic."

"And we're both living proof! As soon as I can get a hold of Bertha, the three of us will have the Girl's Night Out we never thought was possible!" Ethel insisted.

"But ... how long has it been so far for Bertha?" Mabel asked.

"Two days for her; give her time. The drug is making every cell in her body is fired up like the Old South during Sherman's March. Just like it was with us two."

"I ... I dunno I feel like I ... should have made plans - " Mabel began, mind awhirl. " A whole new shot at life! My youth back after all these years. I ... we had all resigned ourselves to growing old gracefully but now..."

"Now that this little miracle cocktail has hit the streets, we ain't old biddies playing Bingo anymore! We can go anywhere! Do anything! We can have it all! The three of us; like old times again!" Ethel's voice over the phone was practically quivering with excitement.

"I almost ... don't want to get too anxious; it seems like a dream — the kind of thing that has to have a catch..." Ethel seemed almost to hiss over the phone.

"Now don't be getting all antsy over the talk about the side-effects and symptoms! That sort of thing is just too incredible! Don't spoil what we've got now by worrying yourself sick!"

"Ethel, I've just survived a mutagenic compound that forced my body to grow fifty years younger! I don't think anything is too incredible after this!" And again, her hand began to explore buoyant, glorious tits and the athletic curvature of her belly and thighs down to her sleek, perfect legs.

"Well, nothin' is going to spoil this for me. And there's no backing out now! Think about it sweetie, if you hadn't taken the SilverFox what would you really have to look forward to?

"Maybe three months spendin' every day in your wheelchair watching Oprah, waitin' on the CandyStripers to get around to driving you to Bingo night at the Senior Home. And after that; probably six more months of Chemo — and we all know what the docs said about how likely you'd be to survive another round!"

"And that's why SilverFox will keep spreading," Mabel reasoned. "It's supposed to have a greater effect on those with the poorest health — women like us, getting to be our age. Women at the age where — where risks just don't have any meaning."

" ... legacy of the exiled Korean Scientist discredited by persistent, illegal human cloning and stem-cell experiments." came the perky, yet professional voice of the announcer as Mabel lounged, nude in her easy chair — still taking it in, still absorbing the magnitude of the potential before her. Ethel wanted to wait until Bertha was finished with her own transformation, so Mabel would give her old friends that, for a little while.

Their was something else familiar about the announcing Anchorette that was narrating an evening news documentary about the ongoing phenomenon-crisis that had so many curious, so many fearful, and so many joyous. What was it about the anonymous newscaster that Mabel recognized? Smooth, shoulder-length auburn hair, clear and flawless face doused in makeup, plump red lips ... nothing unusual about the newscaster, was there?

"But it is now known that this scientist was forced to become a doctor for a wealthy, Columbian drug-lord after all other professional doors were closed to him." The T.V. Showed an aerial view of the dense jungles of South America where presumably drug lords and the dangerous men who served them were concealed.

"Yet this exile gave him even more freedom; with a billionaire patron and no ethical restraints; dangerous experiments that would be illegal in a dozen countries led to a discovery that would rock the foundations of society and capture the human imagination." Next, the slim young Anchorette was walking in a clinical laboratory apparently about to interview a scientist. Mabel chuckled, as if the penultimate dream of eons of women would be forestalled by cold feet at the F.D.A. Her own feet, slim and youthful, caressed each other and slid up her own nude legs luxuriously as the T.V. Interview continued.

" ... and no one should regard this as some kind of — 'Fountain of Youth' answer to prayer. The fact remains that Cis-sulphonamide Xanoxylate has a number of extreme side effects that have doctors all over the world deeply concerned." Insisted an erudite-looking, white-haired doctor with a stethescope around his neck. "It was created by manipulating mutant stem-cells using toxic processes that have never been approved by the F.D.A."

"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.

Mabel was equally impressed with the changes in her old friend Ethel. The old Southern Belle had youthened into a statuesque, almost regal figure. Lean and tall with a runway-model willowy build, and smaller but proudly jutting breasts that accentuated her sleek bearing. The Xanoxylate reactions had whipped her cells into shape, remaking her into the spitting-image of the shapely, professional urban-socialite woman of beauty and dignity that so many of the new generation aspired to become.

Mabel thought that the touch of white near the center of Ethel's coppery coif of stylish, shoulder-length hair added a touch of distinction — making it less likely that she, and the rest of the them would be perceived as bimbos.

And she felt it. Mabel felt male eyes on her — not in pity or revulsion as before, but surreptitiously. A forty-something guy in a blue suit and tie glared at her chest for a brief, electrifying moment before dropping his gaze to prevent his young date from noticing. A bearded man in a Ford Chevy deliberately slowed down as he drove past, and she knew he was staring at her. At her! Her tits seemed to tingle at the thought. Desire. Power. Pleasure. They were hers again. And Mabel felt an awakening within her. She felt like a great, old oak that had lost its leaves and grayed during the winter months. But now, she was blooming, blossoming — not just her body; but her soul as well. Emotions and opinions began to rise up inside her — not really new sensations — but rather forgotten ones.

A powerful urge to travel, see, feel, and love swept over her suddenly. Desires that had been decades buried. But overlaid over everything was a sense of urgency. What if the hype was true? What if the Silverfox effect wasn't a fountain of youth; what if there were consequences that would come back to bite her? She felt a potent need to cram her time with pleasure and living. A young girl or boy might have a bright-eyed, youthful curiosity to see it all and do it all, giving little thought to the future — thinking they have all the time in the world.

Yes, Mabel was young, but would she pay a price? She needed to live faster! The excesses of Jim Morrison wedded to the zany irresponsibility of Britney Spears. And she liked it. Desire was a blessing for the gratification of its fulfillment. Her eyes widened and her smile brightened at the thought of all the love and adventure that was in her reach!

On it went, Ethel at first picked out a neat, beige business-like dress, until she realized her towering long legs were the best feature of her Silverfox-enhanced body, and began purchasing an ever skimpier series of miniskirts.

Mabel herself was trying a series of freakishly-colored cocktail dresses that she never would have dreamed of wearing in her old life. From neon-pink lycra, to a microdress in lavender, to a hip-hugging silver-metallic vinyl ultrashort miniskirt. Her card was swiped and swiped and swiped again.

"Wow, spending more tonight than in a whole year most of the time." Bertha remarked, arching her back so that the spaghetti-strap bright red top she wore would pump up her creamy, full boobs to best effect.

"We don't need retirement accounts anymore. I could have a ... a ... sugar-daddy!" Never had Mabel imagined that those words would cross her lips, nor that it was anything remotely possible. Until now.

"I could work again..." Ethel remarked, eyes wistful. " I have — we all have so much experience..."

"I plan to enjoy myself ... REALLY enjoy myself!" shorter Bertha replied, eyes scanning the passersby. There was a hunger in the voluptuous woman's eyes, a hunger for attention, a hunger to-be-hungered-for. She and Bertha had purchased and now wore neon-pink mesh-tops that both covered and displayed bikini-clad tits that jutted forth with callimastian curvaceousness. Bertha's endowments were slightly larger, closer to cantaloupe girth, but Mabel's feminine orbs were soft, jiggly perfect handfuls. They both wore cut-off half-skirts deliberately tight around the ass, Mabel's a wild, spicy pink, Bertha's a glossy black.

Mabel let out a wild whoop of delight as she reflected how unthinkable all this was back when she'd been a married housewife so many decades ago. What would her old, dead husband think if he could see her now? She used to be so modest. She paused a moment to ponder how much she had changed in just a few short days. There was a delicious thrill in so flagrantly defying her old propriety. New, fresh ... everything felt so new.

Ethel for her part, was now wearing a scandalously short, sleeveless rhinestone miniskirt pulled up so high it was almost crotch level, both to display her spectacular legs to best effect, while at the same time riveting attention to her sex. Mabel and Ethel shared a glance and a smile, and there was an unspoken mutual desire. The thought of men staring into her cleavage or hoping to catch a peak up her skirt would now fill both of them with an empowered thrill of electrifying joy. Let them stare; they both wanted it — craved that irresistible attention that the beautiful could not help but attract.

"You girls worked out a strategy, yet?" came a purring voice to Bertha's left. Sitting on a sidewalk bench reading a paper was a bosomy, gorgeous woman who seemed to have the exotic elegance of an Asian beauty wedded to the robust hips and plump breasts of mixed black or possibly Hispanic ancestry, a rare and exotic beauty, and all three could tell by the air-brushed suppleness of her complexion and the gray streak draping over her eyes that she too, had taken the shot.

"You can't just run around, showing off cleavage forever. There's a price to pay for what we've gained; and each of us has to work out a long-term strategy to avoid the side-effects." The newcomer herself was dressed in a more subdued, navy blue business dress, parted in the front where she salaciously wore a bra as a top over her bare skin.

"Do we know you?" Ethel asked.

"We've never met; but ... I think we all know each other very well." She flicked a finger through Ethel's white streak. Point taken.

I frowned, and folded my arms. "I'm not listening to the F.D.A.'s propaganda; they're just upset that the underworld controls Silverfox, and they can't find a way to tax it." The exotic beauty turned to me.

"That all may be, but the stories you've heard — are true. You'll soon find that the urges will become ... beyond overwhelming. You need a plan."

"Well, what's it to you?" Ethel asked pointedly.

"There's still a lot of controversy ... fears and misinformation. There are some of us who appreciate the value of solidarity." Speaking of solidarity...

"Where's Bertha?" Mabel wondered, eyes scanning.

The guy was putting his hands down her cleavage! Not only was she allowing it — Bertha had taken hold of a horny young yuppie and was actually guiding his touch!

"You ever spend the night alone — just you and your left hand?" She indecently asked the young, blond professional.

"I ... I ... you..."

"What would you do..." she purred. "Where would your hand go if it could go anywhere... ?" The man gulped. "Show me..." Bertha commanded, thrusting her jutting chest up again his palms, her eyes smoldering, a craving inside that was manic in intensity.

This was unthinkable! "We don't need guys for a Girl's Night Out! It was supposed to be just us, out by ourselves, proving we didn't need men to have a good time; and now this?" Back in the old days ... literally ... even back when men had desired them no one would have ditched her girlfriends to throw herself at a man, especially one she didn't know. And yet...

Mabel's breath quickened as she thought about what Bertha was about to allow. It could be her. Why not her? She could pick up a guy just as young and hot. To be desired, lusted, craved again ... She felt her pussy throbbing in a series of mini-orgasms ... breasts warm, almost hot.

"Here." The newcomer handed Mabel an oval-shaped plastic case of pink pills. Mabel dimly recognized them as some kind of popular birth control pill. "You my friend, can already feel what I'm talking about, and it gets worse."

"Feels ... so good." Mabel caressed her own bikini and mesh-clad chest as burning desires flared within.

"Fight it," said a new voice. She approached the Asian beauty and stood next to her with a posture that spoke of a close familiarity. "The nymphomania is part of the package; but indulging it only strengthens it." She was a sleek, platinum blond beauty with an impressive bosom that was still pronounced even inside of her dark, buttoned up jacket. She was salon-caliber beautiful, but wore long, dark pants to hide her figure. In the dim light, her white streak near the crown of her head was hard to see with such a bright natural color. "You can only remain young and free so long as you resist the cravings." But the Asian woman rolled her amber eyes.

"Total abstinence? Be realistic Jane. That's just not going to happen."

"It had better Jade, if they want to prevent the side-effects." This was a little weird.

"Uhh ... thanks for the birth control uh ... I gotta go; you two sort it out between yourselves, bye!" Mabel had to get out of there!

"Pull over! Now!" she sounded urgent, so Jason slowed down. "I can't wait to get back to your place ... I gotta have you now!!" Her face was a pleasing oval, and smooth, it almost made Jason wonder if she was on that new super-youth drug they mentioned on the radio.

The woman he ... he never really caught her name, tore at his tie with her teeth in her desperation. Jason was generally thought of as a handsome man, nice square-chin, strong and prominent nose and clear, blue eyes, young enough for a bright future and ambitious enough for a good shot at it — but ... no woman had ever reacted to him like this! Maybe it really was true that this new, anti-aging magic bullet turned women into mega-nymphos, well he'd find out soon en -

"WHOAAAAA!!" The gorgeous, buxom woman thrust her hand down his pants, moaning in delight as she felt his hard cock rising to life. She put his hands on her chest again, and began pressing herself against him. And he knew that she was expecting him to rip off her bikini-top himself!

In moments, vast orbs filled his grip, breasts plump enough that he could cover both tits with both hands, with still an inch of cleavage separating his two thumbs, he teased her nipples as she wailed in yearning. Strange, her nipples were almost ... moist? And so hot! Almost feverishly hot.

But soon, Jason's attention was distracted by her naked pussy, quivering and dripping as it enveloped his meaty rod as his paramour flipped a switch and pushed the front seat backwards, allowing a make-shift bed for the frenzied mating to begin in earnest.

They were in public! On a crowded street! Grunting and moaning and thrusting into each other, and at any moment a cop could stop by ... heh! This slut would probably seduce him! But then, the Kansas City police were never around when you needed them.

And Jason knew this would be no ordinary lay; if he could satisfy her enough to actually drive back to his place, he sensed that he and this curvaceous mad-woman would be rutting like animals for days!

"This is fer all you girls about Forty-Twooo ... tossin' pennies into the Fountain of Youth ... Every laugh, line on your face ... Made you who you are today..."

Her eyes shot open, then she laughed at the singing voice on the radio. And laughed.

And then clutched her head. Ohhhhh ... and waited for the room to stop spinning.

Apparently, Ethel and Mabel had gone out drinking after satisfying (temporarily) their wardrobe needs. Apparently, because Mabel found it difficult to remember much after those strangers had told her to control the desires of her new, gloriously young body. There had been a bar ... there had been Martinis, and Tequilas ... and fruity Margaritas with salt on the rim ... ohhh ... and neither she nor Ethel had had to buy any of them! Men were such dupes sometimes! She promised them nothing, yet the old ploy of buying her a drink was a constant. Of course, just a week ago, it never would have happened. Her whole world had turned upside down and...

"What was that?" She could see in the mirror on her dresser a strange mark on the small of her back. A tattoo. During the small hours of the morning, fueled by cheap liquor, overconfidence, and cash burning a whole in her purse, she'd gone out and gotten a tattoo.

It was an image of a cute, cherubic cupid seemingly raising his middle finger defiantly towards the viewer, with a 'you can all go to hell' sneer on his plump face. How deliciously wicked.

"That was my idea." Came a sibilant, yet familiar voice. Who else would be in the house with her? But standing near the bedroom door was a fiery, gorgeous woman that reminded Mabel of her new self. Red hair, but straighter than Mabel's own, that swept down in sharp bangs to cover her left eye for a sultry/mysterious air. It took a moment before she realized that the mystery woman was completely naked. Her flesh was covered in a vast spread of interlinked tattoos, showing symbols of freedom and defiance, and lovers intertwining. She had a pattern like rose-vines that obscured her full, jutting breasts and nipples, but there was no actual clothing. There were images of a volcano above a flooding ocean that obscured the stranger's crotch. Trails of naked women in flight twined around her slim, shapely legs.