The Bimbo Pill

Chapter 1

Prolog:

One year after I started working at Ferman-Crane Pharmaceuticals, KZ-24 and it's derivatives were banned by the FDA.
Years ago, the KZ line of drugs had been developed to increase milk production in animals but soon caught on with humans. My employer quickly saw the potential for sales to humans and pushed a study through, supposedly designed for women. In reality, it was simply the same drug repackaged.
The day the FDA ban on KZ was announced, I was called in to the office. The plan was to immediately come up with a way to redesign and repackage it. Millions of women were enjoying the benefit of huge breasts and massive lactation. Ferman-Crane knew they wouldn't want to stop.
Six months later, we'd morphed KZ into powder form and renamed it Y-47 or just plain, forty-seven. However, preliminary studies began to show that it wasn't the same.
Initially, we learned that it now affected the libido of the patient, causing their sex drive to rise through the roof for several hours (or so we thought). This was also accompanied by a slight increase in breast size. Hoping we'd discovered the ultimate woman's Viagra, we began a new series of studies.
With this round, we realized that although patients seemed totally coherent, they weren't. Although the affects were subtle, we discovered that patients found it difficult to focus on more than one subject at a time. They were loosing their ability to multitask. The old adage 'Can't chew gum and walk at the same time.' became a reality.
But then, it went further. We found that because their sex drive had risen so much, the test subjects were only able to focus on sex and little else.
At the same time, we had reports of increased breast size, a narrowing of the waste and an increase in the fullness of the hips. Observers reported that test subjects seemed to have a clearer complexion. In general, they had become more beautiful and much more alluring.
In other words, we'd created a Super Bimbo Pill.

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Chapter 1

As an upwardly mobile couple, Nicole and I moved quickly through promotions. She as an actuary and I in molecular biology. With our combined income, we were able to save money and yet, take expensive vacations. Life was fairly good.
Nicole had graduated in the top of her class in Northwestern. I had graduated high, but not like her and it had been hard work for me. She was the bright one. Sometimes, she seemed too bright. It always seemed that she had the ability to anticipate everything I was going to say before I said it.
We experimented with all the toys and lifestyles that future executives like us were expected to try.
But as time passed, our marriage began to grow increasingly sterile. When we had been studying and developing our carers, we'd discuss our conquests and successes from work and celebrate our upwardly mobile life style. But after those initial years, even this began to grow stale. That old axiom about the seven year itch was setting in.
On top of this, labeling Nicole as a cold fish was an understatement. She'd grown up in a puritanical Baptist family. Restraint had always been the norm. In college, I'd only seen her let loose on two occasions.
The first was the one time I'd seen her drink. It went straight to her head. After two mixed drinks, she thought she was drunk. I knew she wasn't. Because after years of partying, I knew very well what being drunk, and throwing up, and peeing under a streetlight, truly was.
The second was the only night we had sex in college. I call it sex because it was purely the act of intercourse. As I entered her, I watched her grit her teeth and look away and in five minutes it was over. She avoided me for two weeks after that. I later realized that her more-than proper upbringing was tugging at her conscience. And now, I'd cooperated in violating one of her most sacred morals, that of having premarital sex.. Least we forget that she'd also been a collaborating partner in this travesty.
Ultimately, I was forgiven and we stayed together through college and married a year after.
Yet, unknown to me, that night had been a portent for our married life. I'd later learn that intercourse for Nicole was simply an unpleasant yet necessary path to having a baby. And since children weren't part of our current plan, neither was a truly active intimate life.
I'm not sure I would have married her had I understood what the future would have been.
However, with my Nicole's beauty and grace, with her slender athletic figure and her long blond hair and her intelligent piercing eyes and her dry wit, I was so smitten with this woman that it became possible to look past her one flaw and continue on. At least, that was the case early in our marriage.
But as time was passing, I began to feel as if I were living in frigid Alaska with no possibility that even the Alaskan summer would ever come. The term permafrost kept coming to mind.
So, I turned more of my attention to my career. I found I was able to immerse myself in my work at Ferman-Crane. That is, until Wallie dropped a bomb in my lap a month before Christmas, one year.
There'd even been a time when I'd wondered if Nicole had something going on the side. But when I thought about it, I knew better. Nicole was too much of a cold fish to ever be able to foster an affair. At least, I hoped so.
Meanwhile, I'd become involved in the Y-47 project at work. When we'd managed to turn the KZ liquid into a powder, we began to test it on animals.
Given in small amounts, female rats began to act as if they had come into estrus. Then, we tried it on female dogs and cats. Although they weren't in heat, the bitches acted as if they were by trying to make themselves available to their male companions. But since there were no accompanying pheromones, the males invariably ignored the females.
That November as one of my lab associates, Wallie, and I were dictating notes, Wallie suddenly turned the recorder off and asked, “What if I said that forty-seven works differently with humans?”
I studied his face for several seconds. I could tell that he wanted to say more.
Finally, I said, “Wallie, if this is about breaking company rules, I don't think I want to hear it.”
He turned the recorder back on and nothing else was said.
A month later at the Christmas party, we sat with Wallie and his wife Angela. But this wasn't the Angela I'd known these past few years. My memory of Angela was of an intelligent, yet withdrawn, flat-chested, dishwater blond. But the person who sat across from us at the party was a not-too-bright, busty, ravishing blond and when she walked to the powder room, my eyes were riveted to those shapely hips as they moved from side to side.
I continued to stare until my concentration was broken by Nicole's elbow in my ribs and a whisper in my ear, “You're staring.”
I turned back to see Wallie smiling and watching me. Was this what he was trying to talk about, last month?