Chapter 60: Only A Dream

I awoke with a start to the sound of Journey’s “Open Arms” being played at an ear-splitting level. Disoriented, I tried to scramble to my feet only to find – to my eternal embarrassment – that my dick was tangled up in my sheets.

As I awoke fully, I remembered where I was and why I was being blasted awake in the middle of the day. At the head of the bed was a digital radio with an alarm and volume function, which I half-punched, half-slapped at, partially in desperation. It fell blissfully silent, and once my ears stopped ringing, I could hear the breakers a few dozen yards away.

As I sat there, clearing my head and untangling my junk, I realized that I was surprisingly out of breath. Reflexively, I reached up to scratch my face – and it took me a second to realize I had stubble.

While I confused myself over my Master PC self-exam settings, I knew damn well I’d adjusted my hair growth; I hadn’t shaved or needed a haircut for three months. Yet I needed one now, on my wedding day.

A shave? Better yet, I needed an adjustment. Flipping open my laptop, which was in Sleep mode, it felt a little warmer than usual. Nothing extreme, so I chalked it up to the tropical heat. The rest was almost routine – click, click, move toggle, click.

A little rush of energy – and just like that, I was clean shaven again. Making sure I saved the settings, I put the laptop back to sleep.

After finishing the untangling of my dick – Doc had better not be watching – I drug myself to my home away from home:

The room’s four-nozzle, variable speed, stays-hot-forever shower.

No matter how much six I’d needed to wash off, I would never tire of the feeling those pulsating, rippling jets hitting me from every direction had on my muscles and state of mind. Part of it, I admit, was lathering up my long, thick cock from tip to root. But I’d always stop short of jerking off.

Today, I just stopped short, but was because something, again, felt not quite right. My dick was still there (to my relief) and I slid my hand down it, more or less measuring it but also appreciating the veiny surface that only added to my women’s pleasure. But when I brought my hand up, ti was full of pubic hair.

I quickly washed it off, then reached down there again – and found my groin was as smooth and hairless as a newborn. Or any of my women.

“Doc! You bastard!” I shouted at the hidden camera, wherever it was. I needed to finish up and deal with this before the ceremony. Reaching for the shampoo, I began lathering up my head and came away with two handfuls of hair.

In fact, my hair filled the drain – until it seemed to dissolve away as if it were never there. Reaching up, sure enough – I was as bald as Lex Luthor.

Drying off, I wiped the bathroom mirror to confirm that the only hair that remained on my body were my eyelashes. And to my surprise, I liked the look. It made me look a little more dangerous in a Walter White-kinda way.

Instead of double checking my computer settings, I busied myself with getting dressed – which in this case meant a white tux over beach shorts and sandals. Satisfied with my look – a pair of sunglasses the final accessory – I checked the time to see how much time I had to kill.

It was 10 minutes past time for the ceremony to start.

“Shitshitshit,” I muttered as I hurried down the trail. I had no idea how I’d spent so long in the shower. And, sure enough, everybody was in his and her seat waiting for me, including the preacher and my bride, almost glowing in head to toe white.

“Here comes the groom,” my best man, Darren sang aloud. “And he’s breaking bad!”