Racing against the clock

Three hours later, I threw up my hands in frustration. My wife's diary scribbles weren't very helpful. Descriptions of men's cocks (mine not included -- for reasons which were becoming more and more obvious). Counts of orgasms -- hers, Stacy's, and Debra's. Seems like they had a bit of a competition going on. Stacy was winning, and it appeared Sally was a bit jealous.

Of course, maybe it was wishful thinking to imagine that she might write something like "Stacy told me at lunch that she wants to shrink Richard's cock using a new invention of hers. She told me all about the details, and in particular how to reverse it in case I decide not to be a gigantic backstabbing possessive bitch. Details which I will now impart here, in case I get hit by a bus and lose my memory."

Nope.

But wait! Stacy's laptop! Yes, they claimed that I was the test subject for this infernal device, but perhaps there were notes stored on it.