Don’s eyes were on the television watching the weatherman talk about high pressure systems and storm fronts, but his mind was a million miles away. `What had he gotten himself into? Had Agatha given him hallucinogenic drugs? Or maybe just contaminated soup?’ He could now distinctly feel invisible hands all over him, gently massaging his muscles. The feel of the massaging hands became stronger, firmer, and increasingly insistent. Still, they somehow retained their gentle quality. Don felt as if not only his muscles were being massaged, but his bones, his organs, his tissues, and his entire body. He felt the invisible hands at work inside his body. It was as if they were loosening and softening his entire body, and getting ready to reshape it. The feeling of pleasure those hands gave continued to grow. Don yawned. He was also suddenly feeling very tired.
The Tonight Show theme music came on but Don couldn’t have cared less. He had to see for himself what was happening to him, before the twin feelings of fatigue and pleasure completely overtook him. He stood up and began taking off his clothes as fast as he could. Greg glanced over at his friend. “Yo, buddy, what gives? Did you suddenly remember you have a beautiful girl stashed in your bedroom or what?”
Don removed his last item of clothing, his boxer shorts. The pleasure and sleepiness Don felt was unbearable. He passed out on his feet and collapsed on the couch.
Greg jumped out of his chair like a shot and raced over to his stricken friend. When he got to Don’s side, his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in astonishment. Tiny streaks of light, of every color imaginable, appeared out of nowhere and enveloped Don’s entire body. They were stationary for a moment, and then they flew into action, circling around Don’s big body at incredible speed. They twisted and turned, spinning first this way, then that. Beneath the flashing lights, Greg could catch glimpses of what was happening to Don’s body. It was becoming smaller and changing shape. It was as if the spinning lights were some kind of space age weaving machine; only the material they were weaving was not cloth, but muscle and bone. Don’s impressive muscles were melting away. His skin was becoming sleek and smooth.
Greg could scarcely believe his eyes! He knew he should get on the phone, and call for help, but his feet seemed bolted to the floor. He stared at Greg’s face in wonder. Don’s handsome face with its strong masculine jaw and prominent nose was becoming very different. `It can’t be,’ thought Greg, `Don’s face is actually becoming, well, ..,pretty.’