One ninety-five again this morning, so the changes were definitely settling in. My appetite was also down to normal levels. Just a few days ago, I had been morbidly obese - nearly three hundred pounds at only five-foot-eight. Now, I was nearly six-foot, with the lean, cut body of a professional athlete, and a dick that would be the envy of any locker room. This morning, I decided to go for a quick 5K run with my shirt off. It extended to a 10K, and six cars honked their appreciation at me. At a stoplight, a Mercedes rolled down its window, and a beautiful older woman asked me if I was looking for a sugar mama. I just laughed and sprinted home.
Unsure what to tell my boss and coworkers, I called in to work from home again. After wrapping up the day before noon, I also decided to check in with my doctor. These changes seemed too good to be true. What if something bad was going to happen after all these changes?
The doctor laughed once I had him on the phone. "What do you mean 'dramatic changes?' You were expecting changes, weren't you?"
"Yes, absolutely, but these are, well, these changes are much more than I imagined possible."
"Like I told you, Potentialli works by unlocking your genetic potential. It's different for everyone. If you're experiencing significant changes, it simply means that your potential was greater than average. You should be happy, Dan! How many of us ever get to live out our full potential? You'll be one of the few who get to enjoy this fantasy."
"Excuse me? What do you mean?"
"The FDA has cancelled the drug trial. No reason given. There were no harmful side effects reported. They simply said the funding had run out. Between you and me, they want to keep the benefits for themselves. The head of the FDA appeared quite a bit fitter at the press conference. I kept a few doses for myself and my staff, too. I would say that I'll see you soon, but I doubt you'll need to see a doctor for a long time. Best of luck, Dan."
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Sarah was due back from her work trip this evening, and I wanted to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. Cooking had never been my strong suit, yet the perfect menu presented itself in my imagination. Beef carpaccio with truffle aioli, crispy-skinned duck breast served with a rich blackberry-port reduction, and a dark chocolate soufflé with raspberry coulis for dessert. I distantly remembered seeing this prepared on a fancy competitive cooking show years ago. Every step of the recipe was crystal clear to me, I knew exactly what additional cooking equipment I needed from the store, and I even had rough ideas for wine pairings for each course.
I wore tight black jeans and an extra tight black t-shirt to the grocery store. Once again, I felt like I was under constant surveillance from all the stares. While waiting at the butcher counter, an extremely good looking young man, maybe twenty-five, came up beside me and asked if I knew what meat I was looking for. He was thin, with a runner's build, wearing a mesh shirt. I could see barbell piercings in his nipples.
