Man-amorphosis
By Rick R. Reed
I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams to find my p***s had transformed itself into a v****a.
I was lying on my back and, as is my custom, reached down to give myself a good morning grope. It was my perky way of welcoming in the day. Usually, what awaited my wandering hand was a large column of flesh, with the tension of a steel girder, and the approximate length and width of professional wrestler The Rock’s forearm.
My blood ran cold when the hand felt nothing. Imagine how stressed you feel when your wallet or keys have suddenly vanished. Multiply that to the nth degree and you’ll maybe get a hint of the alarm I felt when I discovered my p***s had disappeared.
Hoping for a different outcome, I reached down again. Yes, the pubic hair was there, in all it
