They told me I had a hernia at first. From the descriptions of the pain, to the physical manifestation in my abdomen, I believed they were right. But no matter how many physicians I talked to, none could explain why the mass was moving so much.
“When you move, any large appendage will obviously sway or jiggle with you,” Dr. Thompson said, over his little round glasses. He let his white hair grow long, down to his shoulders. “Like when a fat man waddles away, and his belly waddles with him.” He smiled about that.
But I didn’t feel like smiling. I wasn’t fat, but I had been getting my share of jabs in class. Even my Biology professor cast me a sly kind of grin as one of the students asked him if men could get pregnant too, looking from me to him. Was I really getting that big?
Then, come May, they dropped the news. I had indeed become a freakish anomaly, the first known case in history. I had testicles, a penis, a beard…and a baby growing inside of me. Dr. Thompson wasn’t smiling anymore when the technician brought him the results of my ultrasound. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling by the look on his face. Was he confused? Disconcerted…disgusted?
I knew I was. I wouldn’t blame him if his thin mouth was grimacing in disgust as he flipped through the printouts, knitting his brow tighter with every page. I was extremely disgusted.
“I’m still a virgin,” I blathered, without thinking. I felt at that moment like he needed to know this bit of information, though I was sure it would only confuse him even more. He looked back up at me with that blank stare. “I’ve never had sex,” I said.
“Mr. Peterson,” he said, softening his voice as if he was suddenly speaking to a 10-year-old. “I can assure you that in the present circumstances, whether or not you’ve had sexual intercourse is not even a blip on the radar of the absurdity of what is happening here. You are man, yes?”
“When you masturbate, sperm comes out the end, yes?”
“Yes,” I said, although a little hesitant this time.
“You do not have a tiny little vagina hiding somewhere between your testicles and your anus, yes?”
“Yes…I mean, no. I don’t…I don’t have a…vagina.”
That was fucking awkward. I was almost tempted to reach my fingers down to my scrotum to feel just to be sure, but I resisted the urge. Suddenly I was reminded of all of those vicious teenagers on League of Legends, assuring me that I must have a vagina by the way I play Carry on the bottom lane:
Soraka: Get more harass, you pussy. I can starfall harder than you can thrust.
“The good news is that he’s developing normally,” the doctor couldn’t help but giggle to himself about this. Without realizing it, I had taken to stroking my belly the way I had seen pregnant women. “The bad news is that, by law,” he emphasized this, as if spitting on it, “it’s too far along to abort it.”