Mark entered his tiny kitchen, and fetched a tumbler and some water he measured out with a kettle (as he had no measuring jug).
He tapped the contents of the vial into the water, and stirred it with his finger. The drink looked remarkably unremarkable, a pale white colour, for the most part opaque. A little like watered down milk.
He picked it up in trembling hands, and downed it all in one. The drink tasted foul, very bitter. He gagged a little, and then he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened. His stomach growled uncomfortably, but other than that, all was normal.
He needed to take a leak, so he padded into his bathroom. His bathroom was a small white room, with cracked tiles on the floor, an old battered toilet and bath set, and dingy overhead flourescent lights.
He had to shrug off his dressing gown, and stood in the cold in his too-small briefs. He pulled them off, his boring, average size penis flopping freely.
But as he took it in his hand to aim down the toilet bowl, he noticed there was something different about it. For a second, he thought the shaft was longer, but then he realised it looked this way because the head was obscured by a nice, thick layer of skin.
Which was interesting, because Mark had always been circumcised.