|
Jane had never been in that part of town before. It was a neighborhood inhabited prnmarily by blacks from the Caribbean islands, especially Haiti. She was looking for a particular shop which she had heard mentioned by a black woman a few days before. Then she saw it. The sign read "Madame Zora, Herbalist." When she entered the shop, Jane was nearly overwhelmed by the odors of the bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling. Madame Zora proved to be a tall svelte black woman who walked with a feline grace. She spoke with a slight French accent. "How can I help you, dear ?" she asked. The words came tumbling out. "I'm looking for something to, er, "correct" a straying husband. I've had it with his endless infidelity. After ten years of it, I'm FED UP !' Madame Zora smiled. "Then I have just what you need. I call them "hate potions" by contrast with my love potions." Jane laughed bitterly. "Yes, that's exactly what I need." "Understand that I don't deal in poisons. The potions attack a man where he lives, in the groin." Jane nodded. "That's what I had in mind." "I'll describe the effects of each. They're all compatible with each other, so they can be combined, up to and including all five of them, though, as you'll see, there would be no point in combining numbers 2 and 5. Hate Potion No. 1 makes the testicles swell up and ache as only testicles can. The swelling continues until they are the size of mangoes. Then they burst. This is an old-fashioned traditional potion. It's been in use for centuries. However, it has three disadvantages. First, when the testicles burst, the shock can be fatal. That can be prevented by cutting them off before they explode.Second, this is too fast and too extreme to be natural orchitis, thus leading to a suspicion of foul play. Third, nowadays hormones can be used to offset some of the effects of the loss of testosterone from the testicles. It's popular mainly with poor women whose husbands can't afford hormone replacement therapy. Hate Potion No. 2 causeswlling of the penis. It swells to about the size of a salami, despite treatment, and then the blood in the penis clots and it becomes gangrenous and has to be extirpated, not just amputated, but actually dug out. The bypass operation used for priapism doesn't help. Once again, it doesn't seem natural and foul play is likely to be suspected. Numbers 3, 4, and 5 are very new, developed from plants in the Amazon jungle. They're subtler and foul play is less likely to be suspected. so, Hate Potion No. 3 is a testosterone blocker. It binds permanently to all of the sites in the body where testosterone binds, displacing the testosterone and preventing it from being taken up.Even though the man's blood contains plenty of testosterone, his body can't use it. It's something like insulin-insensitive diabetes. The man becomes impotent, his beard stops growing, he begins to grow breasts, his hips and butt become fat. In short he has become a feminized eunuch with a sound pair of testicles and plenty of testosterone. Doctors don't know what to make of it. Hate Potion No. 4 affects his brain and turns him queer. He becomes submissive and passive, in other words a bottom. He loses all interest in women and becomes strongly attracted to other men. Hate Potion No. 5 paralyzes his penis. First the pudendal nerve, the sensory nerve of the penis dies. His penis becomes numb. Then, gradually, the erectile nerves die and he has no more erections. He still has testicles and a strong sex urge, but he is frustrated, being unable to satisfy it. So, those are the "Fearsome Five." They can be combined and they can all be administered in coffeee. It masks their flavors completely. Do you see anything there that you like ?" Jane considered them for some time before deciding. She would have loved to cause Harry great pain, but to make him a queer feminized eunuch might be even better. Finally she nodded. "I'll take 3,4, and 5. He'll never guess what happened to him." Madame Zora handed her three glassine envelopes, each containing somewhat less than a teaspoonfull of brownish powder and each envelope imprinted with a large number. "How does Harry take his coffee" asked Madame Zora. "Strong and black" replied Jane. "Perfect, he'll never taste them." said Madame Zora with a laugh."Just dump them into the cup and pour the coffee onto them." The Amazonian potions were among Madame Zora's most expensive: $100 each, but Jane felt that , if they worked, it was an investment well worth making . Harry came home late and, as so often, stinking of cheep booze and even cheaper perfume. As he undressed for bed, Jane noted how well he had maintained the physique that she'd so admired when they first met : broad shoulders, muscular chest, narrow hips, taut buns, and she imagined him as he would soon look: fat, with thick thighs, wide flabby hips, a big fat butt, and a hairless chest with breasts. Jane almost felt guilty about what she was going to do to him. But not really; he deserved it. The next morning, Harry tossed off his cup of coffee with Hate Potions Nos. 3,4, and 5 in two gulps without comment. Evidently the potions were really tasteless in coffee.He called from work to say that he'd be working late again, but Jane suspected that he'd be home sooner than he expected. He was, looking crestfallen and downhearted. "Is anything wrong, dear ?" asked Jane." Hastily, Harry replied "I just don't feel right, out of sorts. I think I'll take tomorrow off and go see the doctor. Maybe he can prescribe a tonic or something." Jane thought "Don't bet on it , Harry." Harry awoke with a distinct feeling that something was wrong. Looking across the sheets at the foot of the bed, he realized immediately what it was. The bed-clothes were flat, not standing up like a tent over his crotch. Harry threw aside the sheets and saw that his "tent pole" was lying on his thigh, limp and rather shrivelled-looking. He took ahold of it and shuddered. He had hoped that the numbness that he had felt yesterday when he took a piss at work would have gone away, but it hadn't. There was no feeling in his dick and he knew that he had to see the doctor, ASAP. Fortunately, Dr. Richards had a cancellation that morning and Harry was able to see him at 9:30. There was a good-looking young man in low-rise jeans with a bulging basket in the waiting room ahead of him and Harry found himself thinking how cute and sexy the kid was. This surprised Harry who had never noticed guys before. All that Dr. Richards was able to do was to confirm that Harry's penis was quite devoid of feeling and to refer him to a neurologist who could give him an appointment in three weeks. Although he thought that the problem was purely neurological, Dr. Richards decided to check Harry's testosterone level just in case there was a hormonal basis for his impotence. Harry stopped at an adult book store and dropped a handful of quarters into one of the peep-show machines. That ought to give him a hard-on. Harry browsed among the porno flicks but none caused the slightest stir in his limp dick nor did any but one arouse any interest in him. That one to his surprise and dismay was a gay film featuring buttfucking, and he couldn't take his eyes off it until he ran out of quarters. During the three weeks of waiting for the neurologist to see him, things went from bad to worse. By the time he got to see Dr. Silverstein, Harry hadn't had to shave for two weeks and had developed a crush on the stock boy. His dick might as well not be there. It was perpetually soft and totally numb. The lab report showed that his testosterone level was normal, yet he was growing progressively more eunuchoid. Dr. Silverstein ran a number of tests, mostly nerve-conduction and concluded that Harry must have pinched the pudendal nerve. He had no explanation to offer for Harry's impotence, but informed him that, if there was going to be any improvement, it would take place within six months. There was none, and, by that time, Harry had a pair of perky little boobs on his hairless once manly chest and had been fired for blowing the stock boy in the men's room. Jane's revenge was complete. |