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elow my navel. The base seemed attached
to a hip bone that wasn't there before, and it wouldn't bend straight
down. Instead, it curved out and then down. I tried flexing the cock
various ways but it wouldn't hang straight down.
In the shower I erected the cock again and shot a few cum blobs at the
drain. I shampooed and scrubbed my body as normal. Washing the cock
was easy; I just raised it up and washed it like another arm. I had
trouble drying between my legs until I thought of using the cock to do
it. I was still thirsty, so I drank six or eight glasses of water
from the bathroom sink.
Getting dressed posed a problem. My old jockey shorts were out of the
question. Shorts in general were out of the question. I tried all my
baggiest pants but the cock wouldn't fit into any of them. It was
obvious that I needed to buy new clothes, but how could I go out?
I walked into the living room and started searching through the old
junk mail for men's clothing ads. One flyer showed a pair of
extremely baggy nylon parachute pants: the kind of thing rap singers
wear. I called the store and asked them to hold a pair of their
baggiest style in my size. They only had purple and yellow, so I told
them to hold both.
The hall closet
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