Who Wears the Pants Scene 37

 

 

After his session on the pot the next morning, he turned on the spigot in the tub to warm the water for his morning shower. The hot shower felt like a blessing on his achy joints and he luxuriated in the feeling of being clean. He got out of the shower and toweled himself off, then massaged his still achy limbs. Despite his shower, he still wasn’t awake. He looked with bleary eyes into the bathroom mirror as he shot a mound of shaving cream into the palm of his hand in preparation for his morning ablution and was shocked by the change that had occurred in his complexion overnight. His face had broken out in a full blown acne attack. Instantly he was fully awake. He hadn’t had acne since he was sixteen! After a close examination of his face revealed that his beard had thinned considerably; the thick growth of beard which had forced him to keep an electric razor in his briefcase had become light wisps of blond hair on his cheeks. He rinsed the shaving cream from his hands and rotated his shrunken torso in front of the mirror to get a full view of his chest and back. His chest hair had completely disappeared. Howard looked at the hair on his left arm and saw that it too had lightened in density and color. His silken boxers hung on his slender pelvis like he was wearing another, larger man’s clothes. He put his right hand up to the side of his face to feel his beard mournfully and noticed that his wristwatch was dangling loosely on his forearm after slipping off his wrist and down his arm. The gold band of the watch was hopelessly too large for his scrawny wrist. Howard reluctantly removed his expensive Swiss designer timepiece to put it away. When he went to put his watch in the small drawer of the walnut valet on top of his dresser where he usually stored his gold cuff links at the end of each day, he had to stretch to reach over and drop the watch in the valet.

 

Howard dropped his loose boxers to the floor and stepped out of them to examine his crotch. He stared in horror at the black mess in his shorts that lay on the floor. Most of his pubic hair had fallen out in the night and lay in a thickly tangled mat in the crotch of his discarded underwear. The proud bush of hair that had declared his manhood to his wife and mistress was gone. All that remained was a small dark brown ring of curly hairs around his penis. Howard groaned when he saw that his pride and joy had also changed. Instead of the mature penis that he had the day before, all he possessed was a teenaged boy’s sexual equipment. It was enough to do the job, but just barely. He put his hand down to touch it and was shocked to see it spring to life the moment his fingers made contact with it. Thrills of pleasure ran up his spine from a mere touch on his shrunken manhood. Images of naked women filled his mind and within minutes, he was sitting naked on the toilet seat, jerking himself off for all he was worth. Howard spent most of the day in the bathroom alternately relieving himself by hand and evacuating himself on the toilet. While he waited for one urge or another to strike him, he sat on the pot and smoked his expensive cigars. After a half hour or so, a thick pall of smoke from the cigars hung in the bathroom, obscuring the overhead lamp and darkening the small room ominously. As hours passed, the reek of the cigars combined with the stench of feces, sweat and semen and gave the tiny chamber the ambiance of an anteroom to Hell.