“I’ve already seen it,” John mutters, while Noah says, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Can I film this? Maybe do a Snap story? Oh! I know, it can be my Instagram story!” I glare at him. “We could do that Facebook Live thing, you know, for medical purposes, of course.”
“No one is filming shit,” I grumble while Phil tells me to lower my pants. I pull my pants and boxers off at the same time, and male gasps fill the quiet room.
“Jesus, fuck me, your balls are the size of a miniature poodle’s head!” Noah exclaims, and I start scratching again.
“Fuck! They got bigger,” John comments. “I didn’t think it was possible. Phil, can they explode?”
Phil grabs a pair of exam gloves, pulls them on, and rubs them together. “I’m warming them up,” he says and then proceeds to put his ice-cold, latex-covered hands on my poor burning, itching, swollen balls. He starts inspecting them, bringing them up to look at the underside of my scrotum and moving them to the side to inspect the area where my leg meets my groin. “I don’t see any puncture marks, so it’s not a bite. A small rash is forming on your scrotum, however.”
I put my head back and let out a breath I have been holding. “It looks like you’re having an allergic reaction to something. Did you eat anything different? Change soaps? Anything at all?”
I shake my head no. “I don’t think so. I don’t wash my clothes, and my pants just came back from the dry cleaners. Lauren picked them up this morning.”
I look at Noah and John, who are now folded over laughing. “Dude! She fucking hates you! And obviously, she hates your dick!” Noah says.
“Good news is that it will be back to normal in about twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight, tops. I wouldn’t put the pants or boxers back on,” Phil says. “The swelling should go down, but if it doesn’t, call me and I’ll give you some meds. I’m going to have the nurse administer some Benadryl, and I’m going to have you stay for a couple of hours to make sure they don’t swell any further,” Phil says while writing on a paper. “I’ll be back.” He walks out.
“If you sit down, do you think your balls will crowd your dick?” John asks while he types on the phone.
“Who are you texting?” I ask.
“Dani and Barbara. You want me to text Lauren?” he snickers.
Noah is now sitting in the only chair in the room while he types. “I’m sending flowers to everyone I fucked over as a thank you for not giving me swollen balls.”
I have no comeback. I just close my eyes and lie down on the table to wait for the swelling in my balls to go down. It’s five hours later when I’m finally discharged. I leave the hospital dressed in a pair of blue scrubs.
When I finally get home and settled, I take my phone out and see that I missed a text from Lauren.
I hope you’re okay?
Oh, I’m going to be more than okay. I sit down to plot and plan. The stakes just went up.
Chapter Eleven
LAUREN
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck! I fucked up this time and took it too far. I’m headed back to his cleaners where I picked up his pants this morning to have them recleaned.
I saw him shifting in his chair during the meeting, and I laughed inside until I saw his face change a little right before he took off and didn’t come back.
I was still discussing with Dani how to place tables when she got the text from John telling her they were taking Austin to the hospital.
When I heard he was going to the hospital, my heart lurched in my chest. I debated whether I should go after him or hide, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t find out it was me and one of my pranks. It was supposed to be a harmless joke, like the porn virus on my computer. I never, ever intended to actually hurt him.
By the time I left for the day, the word around the office was that he had an allergic reaction to something.
I practically ran to my car, calling Kaleigh the minute I was inside and the door was closed.
“I think I almost killed my boss!” I yell into the phone as I speed to his dry cleaners.
“What do you mean, almost? Does he know? Did you wear gloves?” She peppers me with questions, and I hear banging in the background.
“Kaleigh, please, just this once, can you try to be fucking normal?” I ask, thumping the steering wheel in exasperation as I start freaking out.
“Okay, fine. What exactly happened?”
“I put fucking itching powder in his pants. And I think his dick or his ass, or I don’t fucking know, maybe his balls, was allergic to it, and he had to go to the fucking hospital!” I finish on a shrill yell.