At the Woodchopper's Ball Bk. 01 Ch. 04

I returned all the items to the paper bag and put the entire ensemble away in a drawer. A degree of ambivalence tinged my feelings. When the subject of pharmaceutical marvels reared its head, I couldn't help but recall earlier, less-than-auspicious encounters with such concoctions.

When I was nine years old, along with other local children, I marched down the main thoroughfare in Earnell, waving a flag with an image of an impotent sperm on it. A hundred years earlier, Tainom had first become available and there were events celebrating the centenary across much of the world. Tainom was developed about a decade after Einaom was perfected. I have no idea what the girls were made to wave when they were dragooned through the streets for its centenary.

I remember all the praise for the age we lived in. Tainom and Einaom were extolled by all. Wonder drugs everyone said. Pharmaceutical miracles. Marvels of science and so forth. We had at our disposal contraceptive pills that were entirely effective for both men and women and had no side effects.

However, I would come to learn that when it came to Tainom, this last point was not quite accurate. What they should tell you is that there are no undesirable side effects. In actual fact, it is well known that prolonged use of the stuff causes the male sexual member to enlarge a bit. True — this takes many years and is seldom very dramatic. There is perhaps an extra inch of length and a bit more about the circumference — "Codger's cock" is the common vulgarism.

For me, however, amidst all manner of other bodily upheavals, the last thing I wanted was to be sporting a codger's cock at the age of sixteen.

How had this happened? Like most boys, I was given Tainom tablets at fourteen. It turns out that in a few rare instances, effects which normally accumulate over several decades can occur in only a few years or even months. I happen to be one of those very rare instances.

Not that anyone told me about this when I first began taking Tainom — rather negligent if you ask me. It had caused me considerable worry at the time.

By sixteen, the condition of my wedding tackle was such that I could no longer ignore it. I reluctantly spoke to Uncle Stegnas about my difficulty. Initially, he failed to grasp what I was trying to convey — admittedly, I was being overly circumspect about things. However, once he understood the situation, Uncle Stegnas immediately contacted his doctor and arranged an appointment for me to see the physician the next day.

During the consultation, the doctor, a rather blunt and sour sort, conducted a cursory inspection of my genitals, explained the cause of the problem and reassured me that there was no need for concern. He would simply prescribe a different formulation of Tainom, halting any further expansion of my member.

All well and good, but I was in the bloom of youth and given half a chance, aspired to pluck a flower or two. I didn't rate my chances very highly if, when it came time to perform the deed, I had to unveil my age-inappropriate wares to the delicate gaze of an unsuspecting maiden. Would she be frightened? Might she shriek? Could she faint? I wondered if something could be prescribed to scale my manhood back to boyhood.

I put all this to the doctor, who listened impassively. Once I'd finished, he roused himself from his apathy long enough to declare there was no way of reversing the effect. He added, rather curtly in my opinion, that he thought it unlikely girls would shriek or faint. Of course, I now realise how silly I was being but I was younger then and the chap was hardly an exemplar of medical compassion. He gave some further dubious advice concerning how I might overcome any lingering anxiety about my cock and ushered me out of his office — and that as they say, was that.

For a few weeks afterwards, I remained downhearted about the whole thing but eventually, it became clear that the alternative formulation was working and my dick was no longer expanding. After a growth spurt or two, the rest of my body caught up to my genitals and my rampant equipment no longer seemed as conspicuous. Truth be told though, I am still a little self-conscious about my privates.

After changing out of my clothes, I went downstairs to see if I could be of use with dinner preparations. Since Mother was still upstairs, I decided to head to the lounge instead and look through the day's paper.

I chuckled when I caught sight of an advert for Neessajun, right there at the bottom of the second page. The newspaper ad resembled those used to market cigarettes or perfumes, with no mention of the product's qualities or ingredients. Instead, there was only the wordmark logo and a modest block of text positioned discreetly at the bottom, suggesting that further information could be accessed at the pharmacy. The presentation was impeccably slick and tasteful though it seemed to me that one would first need to know what Neessajun was to get anything from the advert. I pondered whether the company's entire business strategy relied on maternal endorsement.

What a strange, fascinating time to be alive.

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