Hair Today Girl Tomorrow

"I'm losing it. I can feel it."

Anyone could have heard the snap of Dr. Martin's last straw—anyone that is excepting Louis. "Nothing you've done is helping. I'm losing it...losing my..."

"Hair, Louis. Lots of men your age lose their hair."

"I'm too young to go bald," Louis moaned.

"I'm going to prescribe something radical," his physician said, scribbling away on his prescription pad.

"Yes!"

"Some pills to help with your depression. Some pills to stop you from losing anymore hair—maybe even get some of it back."

"Yes! Yes!"

Sliding the slips of paper at the pest the doctor grinned a nasty grin. "There are some side-effects. A few men have reported less desire for sex and achieving and keeping an erection"

"No problem. I'm currently between fantasies."

"Some weight gain—mild swelling and tenderness of the nipples."

"I'll wear cashmere."

"Loss or thinning of the hair on the legs, arms and face."

"I don't know how I can possibly thank you," Louis babbled. If Dr. Martin had had a mind to, the nudnik would have kissed his ring.

"Now Louis, you do understand that the second you stop taking these drugs all your headway reverses."

"I understand."

"What I gave you is more than enough for six months. Make an appointment with my nurse for six months from now."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you..." Louis voice faded thankfully from Dr. Martin's memory.

"Louise?"

"No," Louis giggled, exactly six months later. "Louis."

"Sorry." Dr. Martin's receptionist smiled despite her confusion.

"Don't worry. I get that a lot." Louis plunked himself down on the waiting room couch, snatching up this month's issue of Hair Today.

Forty-five minutes later the nurse announced, "The doctor will see you now..."

"Terrific!" Louis popped up and headed toward the examination room door.

"By the way. You have gorgeous hair."

"Thanks," Louis said over his shoulder. "I know."

Dr. Martin did the classic double take when his patient walked in—six months had wrought quite a few improvements.

For starters Louis's face and arms were smooth and hairless. He'd also packed on a few inches—some in his thighs, hips and buttocks—but chiefly on his chest. The M.D. gauged the guy at about a full C cup—each tasty mouthful unabashedly perky—especially considering their braless state.

The man looked every inch like somebody any devoted heterosexual male would most certainly not kick out of the sack—that is of course until push came to shove.

"Louis," Dr. Martin smiled. "You're hair looks great."

"It does—doesn't it," beamed Louis, tossing his untamed tresses. "I love it, so I just didn't have the heart to cut it." He gracefully alighted atop the seat cushion and crossed his gams primly.

"Obviously the pills have been working for you."

"I've never been happier," Louis gushed like a schoolgirl. "I have a wonderful new job as a hostess at a big to-do restaurant. I meet lots of wonderful and exciting new people. Only..."

"Yes, dear."

"It's the men," Louis confided. "They're forever getting the wrong idea—just because I'm outgoing and friendly you understand."

"Have you thought of maybe going out with them?"

"Oh, that's not the problem," Louis winked. "It's the after. They always want a...you know..."

"A buss?"

"No..."

"A skin flute serenade?"

"No..."

"A poke in the whiskers?"

"Bingo."

"Have you considered the Old Back Road?"

"Honey," Louis dismissed with a limp swish of his wrist. "That route only works with hayseeds. Besides it's degrading."

"Well," considered the medical man. "Isn't that the idea?"

"Anyway. I'm at a dead end, so to speak."

"Okay," Dr. Martin said, patting the papered top of the examination table. "Drop your drawers, scoot up and let's have a look see."

After the briefest of examinations Dr. Martin said, "This doesn't bother you?" Louis' testicles and penis were a sorry shambles. The balls were meager and mushy. His pencil looked like it had been worn down to the nub and beyond.

"What?"

"When was the last time you had an erection?"

"Just this morning."

"Your own, I mean."

"Oh. It's been a long time I guess."

"How about sex?"

"Sure." Louis leaned back, spread his legs and stared at the ceiling, thinking 'Beige, I think I'll do the ceilings in beige.'

"Never mind. Listen, I'm afraid that no mere pill is going to solve this bug-a-boo."

"Bother."

"I could tailor things up a might—take in the sloppy penis—lop off those stunted BB's."

"Sounds spiffy."

"Good news," the doctor grinned. "You won't be needing any more pills. Unfortunately, you will be needing to adopt."

"Adopt what?"

"Skip it. Now lie back," Dr. Martin said, sticking the needle in and shoving home the plunger. "And dream of manly pegs fitting snugly into tight round holes."

Six months later, practically to the day, Louis was back again in Dr. Martin's examination room.

"Well," Louis said, glancing about before confiding in his physician. "This might sound crazy but every once in a while, inside my noodle, I hear this tiny screech—like maybe a tiny bug might make."

"Really?" Dr. Martin said.

"And sometimes he screams—real high like in that bug movie?"

"The Fly?"

"'Help me! Help me!' that's what he screams."

"You're right—that is crazy. No problem though," Dr. Martin nodded, tearing off yet another prescription. "They've got a pill for just that too."

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