The first thing Paul did when he woke up early the next morning was wrap himself in his robe and take the trash out. Nestled safely in the plastic bag was the remainder of the shrinkweed he'd plucked the night before. "Cold turkey," he told himself, as he pulled the front door open. Later, he'd go to the hardware store for weedkiller. Inside is robe, his penis felt normal, but he was afraid to deal with its size. Later, maybe in the shower, he'd see if the effects of the previous night had worn off. Right now, he needed to get rid of this plant before it cost him something worse than a few inches off of his monster cock.
When he opened the door, he saw his son Don was fucking the front lawn. His clothes were off, scattered across the grass, and he was grinding his crotch into the ground, his muscular ass waving in the air. In shock, Paul's hand went slack, and he dropped the trash bag, which broke open with a clatter. Don looked up at the sound, but his eyes were glazed over. He was caught in the spell of the shrinkweed.
In horror, Paul looked around to see if there were any witnesses. There were none so far, but since Don still looked pretty much normal size, he must have just started this display. Paul's own cock sprang to attention and poked out the opening of his robe, seemingly back to its old hugeness. He had caught a whiff of that infernal plant, and it was having its effect on him.
Something was wrong, though, if Don was affected so strongly in such a short period of time. And as his own mind began to descend into its strange shrinklust, he saw what it was. The shrinkweed had spread, choking out the rest of the lawn overnight. Tendrils of it had even reached the Lairds' house next door, and the Ryans' house on the other side.
"I need to fight this," Paul told himself, but he didn't even try to resist the impulse that took him out to join his shrinking son.