Reed Is Suspicious That Sue Is Spending So Much Money

"I just don't know, Ben," Reed Richards admitted. "Her credit card bills are more than double last month's."

"We ain't goin' broke, are we?" The Thing rumbled. "You told me you'd let me know if we were going broke."

"No, no, the costs aren't exorbitant. I just don't know what she's spending the money on," Mister Fantastic said.

It was one of those rare evenings when Ben Grimm, the ever-lovin' blue-eyed Thing, had brought two six packs of cold Mexican beer to Reed's lab and insisted that his friend share with him. So they had drank, and somewhere between the first beer and the second, Reed had admitted what was on his mind.

"I can't help but think this is tied into that new therapist she's seeing, somehow," Reed told his friend.

The Thing nodded his stony head.

"You asked her about it?" The Thing said. "The therapy? How it's goin'? She might appreciate you showin' an interest. If you can do it without soundin', y'know, accusatory-like."

Ben's accent had thickened, as it usually did after a beer or two. His blue eyes seemed to bore in on his friend.

Reed sighed. "A little. She says the doctor thinks some of the stress she's feeling is...sexual."

The Thing paused, the beer bottle half way to his rocky lips. He seemed to consider, then poured what was left into his mouth and swallowed.

"I mean, I don't wanna pry," the Thing said. "But er, everything going alright?"

Mister Fantastic swished a mouthful of cold brew around before he swallowed and answered.

"You know how I can...have trouble with emotions? Expressing myself, realizing what other people are feeling?" Reed said at last.

"I kinda figgered you was a little autistic, stretch," The Thing admitted.

"I think—Sue says its not about how affectionate I've been, but how she hasn't been really satisfied. Sue says the doctor is helping her find the satisfaction that I can't give her. To be honest, that feels rather—emasculating."

The Thing stared at Reed for a minute. Then he waggled one thick stone finger at Reed.

"You need to learn how to lick pussy."

Reed nearly shot beer out of his nose.

"I'm serious!" He said. "I mean, you've seen my tongue. Only part of my body that won't rub Alicia like sandpaper. I eat her out every chance I can get. She so much as sighs like she's had a bad day and I pull the panties down and bury my tongue in that hot twat. Secret to a healthy, ongoing relationship is good communication and being willing and able to give her an endless supply of orgasms."

Mister Fantastic chewed that thought over.

"That's really your advice, old chum? Improve my technique? You're not worried about the money she's spending?"

"Naaaah. I mean, it's not like Suzy is gonna go buy a boytoy to cheat on you or anythin', right? Maybe that shrink has her buyin' books. Alicia, she's always tellin' me about the stuff they're writin' in Braille now. Sometimes I sit there at night and let her read to me. Marquis de Sade, jeeze, he was one weird cookie..."

Reed nodded absently. Maybe Ben was right. Probably he was. It wasn't as if the money Sue was spending was a problem. It probably wouldn't be productive to confront Sue about it unless there was a real problem.

"Now, lemme tell you—I'm concerned about Johnny. Y'think he'd take it the wrong way if I got him a vasectomy for his birthday? 'Cause nothin' scares me more than the idea he's gonna get back together with that Skrull ex-wife of his..."