Watching what happened to Neal, a store clerk stood along the curb, he had tried to help Neal when he first noticed the fellow having trouble standing, falling and then how he seemed to look quite odd.
Tom stood itching at the backs of his hands, his palms felt irritated too, as if from toughing Neal something leached onto Tom as well.
He shrugged the situation fro his thoughts and returned to his duties at work. He had just begun to press the keys to his cash register when fingers felt then stiff, and his fingernails turned very dark in color.
Suddenly feeling horribly uncomfortable, Tom excused himself from his post and headed for the men's room and a mirror.
Even as Tom hurried through the store isles he felt a surge of heat in his torso, as if he were wearing a winter coat in summer.
Almost to the men's room he bumped into Joan, she a cashier too, and one of those that worked there who just found Tom as dull as dishwater.
He scrambled to his changing feet, as if remaining partially on all fours, he headed for the safety of a toilet stall.
Joan only saw a fool running toward the men's room with likely a personal problem. She bolted up and ran headlong, cutting Tom off from entering the narrow door.
Tom saw her before him and as he stood up to confront her his waistband expanded beyond its ability to remain intact. The elastic parted, as slacks fell to his ankles and jockey shorts followed suit, he then stood donkey butt naked. The sensation only brought on a Jackass size of one arousal, his maleness jutting up and outward, the black and mis-shapen shaft coming to stand heartily between Tom and Joan, as if a thing to spike some meaningful conversation.