On the day of his Rock Of Love 2 promotional shoot, Bret Michaels awoke from uneasy dreams to find himself changed. He picked up his head, heavy with layered, and probably polyester, blond locks, and craned his neck to look beyond the puffy ridges of his inflated mouth to his abdomen, now an unnatural shade of orange. His gaze then fell on the lower half of his body, now swollen almost beyond recognition, his stonewashed jeans hardly able to contain his new grotesque form.

"What's happened to me?" he thought. It was no dream. His glance then turned to where a window should have been, but since there are no windows in the Rock Of Love house, the space was occupied by a piece of cheap zebra-print fabric trimmed with red-faux fur in a frame that had been spray-painted gold by an unpaid production intern. At the center of the frame was a picture of a woman with straw-like hair accented with hot pink streaks. "She helped me with my diabetes!" Michaels thought, "O god! Who will help me with my diabetes on televison now!"

"Mr. Michaels," a voice called (it was the photographer!) "Are you ready? We've got to get those promo shots done today." Michaels tried to answer, but his voice rendered a series of squeaks rather than recognizable words. The door slowly creaked open, and Michaels could only look on helplessly as the photographer's eyes, wide with fear, surveyed his changed body. "Oh. So you decided to stuff with the cucumber wrapped in tin foil, I see, " the photographer said. "We have some other, more traditional cod-piece options, a banana, and a few pairs of socks–if you want to try something different."

Want to feel a little depressed, courtesy of VH1 Celebreality? Think about the poor photo editor who had to add shadows around Bret Michael's stuffed crotch.