Chapter Sixteen

Mason

I ran to the bathroom and barfed again, collapsing in my bed when I got back to our room.

“It’s been almost a few months. I don’t think it’s a bug anymore. It’s not extra weight gain. It’s not a growth spurt,” Conrad said.

“It was just the smell. Sometimes, smells bother me.” It was more than some smells, really. Anything with a strong odor turned my stomach.

“Since when?” he asked. “But do you want me to make you some chicken noodle soup or something?”

“No, I don’t feel like eating anything,” I said, curling into a ball on my bed.

“Have you taken your temperature?” Conrad asked. He was always trying to take care of me.

“No.”

“Maybe you should. I will, actually. I have a thermometer around here somewhere.”

“I’ll sleep first.”

“You need to call the doctor like I said.”

 

When I woke up, I felt a bit better but only a bit. I rolled out of bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the door. With baggy clothes on (all mainly Conrad’s), I didn’t look too different. It’s when I pulled my shirt up that I saw the roundness of my stomach. I had been thin my whole life so having some fat on me was totally new. The coloring around my nipples had grown larger, too, like it spread. Maybe I’d have to check in with my doctor. I also had some back pain going on, but then it could’ve been all chalked up to whatever it was that I had started to catch, some virus or stomach bug. I climbed into bed, falling asleep in minutes.

***

“Did you make your appointment yet?” Conrad asked, sitting at his desk.

“I actually haven’t felt too bad the past day or two.” I so lied, and I also made sure he didn’t see me shirtless, always wearing one of his baggy hoodies around him. I also wore nothing but sweats or track pants because my jeans didn’t fit me anymore. But even my sweats, I had to push them down under my stomach so they’d fit. At the rate I was going, I’d be five hundred pounds by the end of the school year. I gave up with the exercising. Maybe that was part of my problem.

“Make sure you take care of yourself.” Conrad came over, sat down next to me, and felt my forehead with the back of his hand.

“I do. Well, I try.”

He brushed my hair back from my forehead and looked into my eyes. “I’m just worried about you.”

‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but I’m keeping my eye on you,” he said, pinching my chin before standing up. “I’ll be back later after class.”

***

A few days later, Conrad sat on my desk chair and scooted over to me. “Okay, so this is getting ridiculous. You need to see someone.”

“But nothing is majorly wrong with me. I’ve actually had a bit more energy lately,” I said, tucking my hands behind my head and staring at the ceiling.

“Besides your weight gain and being tired all the time, you now have barfed multiple times. You have backaches and side aches, and it seems like everywhere on you aches. And your chest has gotten larger and the whole sore nipple thing.”

“Hey, I stopped barfing. But yeah, my nipples are still really sore, the whole area around them. Well, the whole breast really.”

“Will you please go to the doctor? Oh, and all your peeing. What if something is really wrong?” he said, his face awash with concern

I sighed.

“I’ll call your mom.”

“Conrad, no.”

“Then make an appointment. This has been going on for months. Why are you so stubborn about it?”

“I can’t afford to go with the insurance my mom and I have. The deductible is so high.” My mom and I didn’t have much money. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I got a scholarship.

“You can go to the campus wellness center.”

“And they’ll just send me to a regular doctor. That’s just for like colds and stuff.”

“Please? Or I’m seriously picking you up and taking you myself.”

“Fine, I guess I should. With all this disgustingness.”

“You’re not disgusting. Stop it. Something is just going on with you, and hopefully, we’ll figure it out.”

I stood up from my bed and unzipped the hoodie I wore. “Have you seen my stomach lately?”

“I just saw it a few weeks ago.”

“It’s just.”

“Let me see.”

I pulled off the hoodie, lifted my shirt, and rubbed a hand over my abdomen. We hadn’t had any sex in weeks. I didn’t want him to see how I looked. With clothes on, you could tell I gained weight, but without them on, it looked pretty extreme.

“Holy shit. You look pregnant. I mean before you kind of did. I didn’t want to say anything, but now it’s like...” He rubbed his hand over my distended stomach. It looked like I swallowed a basketball.

I sniffled and tears built in my eyes.

“Don’t cry. I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“Look at me. Do I look just fine? I also have areolas like a woman,” I said, lifting my shirt up further.

“Yeah, your body is changing. Something is definitely going on.”

“I have a giant ass tumor and will be dead in weeks.”

“Don’t say that. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you to your appointment if you want.”

I snorted up some snot and nodded. “I’ll call now and see if they can get me in.”

“Good idea.”

***

The next day, in the front office, waiting room, whatever you want to call it, I bounced my knee so much I’m sure I drove everyone crazy.

“Mason Donnelly,” a nurse called. She stood in the doorway, holding a tablet, offering a smile.

“I’ll be right here,” Conrad said.

“Okay.” I followed the nurse back, and she led me down the hall to a scale. “Step up onto the scale for me.”

“Can I take my shoes off?” I asked, suddenly quite aware how much weight I had gained.

“Go ahead.”

I slipped off my shoes and stepped up onto the scale. She took note of my weight, and I followed her down another hall where she took my vitals and asked a few questions.

“Just strip down and slip on this gown here, and the doctor will be here in a moment.”

My heart beat hard, thudding against my chest as the door closed behind her. I stripped off my clothes and slipped on the gown, jumping up onto the table to wait, which felt like fifty years.

Someone knocked on the door, and I told them to come in.

“Hello, Mason. How you doing? I’m Dr. Adamson.”

“Kind of crappy.”

He gave me a smile and with his white, ruddy skin and snow colored beard, he gave off a Christmas vibe.

“Tell me what’s been going on.”

I gave him the rundown.

“All right. This could be a number of things. I’m going to give you an exam now. Okay?”

I nodded, and he felt under my jaw and lifted my arms and felt my pits, looked into my eyes and ears.

“Will you untie your gown for me?” he asked.

I untied it, and he felt along my spine and pushed at parts of my back with his thumbs and then asked me to lie down. He began pressing on my stomach. Smashing it in every which direction.

“Does that hurt?”

“No. Just feels like pressure.”

“Okay, and what about when I feel your chest.”

“I’ll tell you before you even do it. It hurts.”

He poked at my chest with his fingertips and touched all around my suspected breasts, biting the corner of his lip. Great, I even perplexed the doctor.

“Okay, now I’m going to have you stand up and just bend over the table for me.”

He squirted some lube on his fingers, and I shivered as he jammed them up my ass. He stayed up there for what felt like too long, poking around and prodding things. He pulled them out and groped my balls. “Your testes haven’t descended?”

“No. I was told by my doctor at home that I have late-onset puberty.”

“Okay. Pop back up on that table there.”

“Is it bad?” I asked, my stomach flipping and flopping.

“I’m going to send you to have an ultrasound done,” he said in a gentle tone.

I gulped.

“When I was checking your prostate, I noticed something different about your rectum.”

“Oh God, what?” My heart went into overdrive, beating wildly.

“You seem to have an extra opening.”

“What?” I asked. Maybe I had heard him wrong.

“Yes,” he said, slowly nodding his head.

I scrunched up my nose and looked at him. “Well, what does that mean?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. And I’m quite concerned about your abdomen. It’s quite firm. Now I’m going to ask you a few more questions.”

“Okay.” He had me worried.

“So your testes haven’t descended.”

I nodded, waiting for him to get on with it. Ask me a bunch of questions that would lead to the prognosis of impending death.

“Is there ever blood in your stool?”

“No.”

“What about in your urine?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You also seem to be experiencing gynecomastia.”

“Figured that much,” I said, looking down at my chest hidden under the billowy gown I wore.

“Have you been on any medications?”

“No. Why do I have boobs?” God, I just wanted an answer.

“There’s a number of reasons. It can happen in males. But bear with me here. You’re developing breasts, and your testes haven’t descended. And you have a very small Adam’s apple. And your penis is also undersized.” Always back to the size of my fricking penis.

“What in the world are you saying?”

He ignored my question and asked, “When you were born was there anything peculiar about you? Did you ever have any surgeries when you were a baby? A toddler?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“I believe you’ve gone through puberty. Probably not as late as you thought because you weren’t looking for the right things,” Dr. Adamson said, clasping his hands together.

“I’m so confused,” I said, shivering.

“I think the ultrasound will help.”

“Help with what?”

“I do believe you’re intersex,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

“What?” I asked, my jaw hitting the floor.

“If that’s the case, your gonads might never descend, and they might not be testes. You might have ovotestes or no testes at all.”

“What are ovotestes? It is a tumor, isn’t it?”

“They’re gonads that produce male and female hormones.”

“No,” I said, wanting to stick my fingers in my ears and not hear any of it.

“We’ll run some more tests.”

“I didn’t come here for this. This is my main problem,” I said, pointing to my stomach.

“The ultrasound will help determine that. You definitely have a mass in there.”

“Oh my God.” I put my hands over my face and shook my head.

“We’re going to take care of you,” he said, sitting down in front of his computer, typing something on the keyboard.

“What about all the other stuff?” I asked because I had a whole list of symptoms.

“I believe you were experiencing menarche.”

“What?”

“I think you were menstruating.”

“I was on my period?” I asked, putting my hand over my heart, feeling the pounding.

He turned back toward me on the stool he sat down on. “Yes.”

I grabbed my stomach. It was time for it to revolt. “I’m going to vomit. Oh my God, I’m going to be sick.”

The doctor shot to his feet and opened the door. “Nurse.”

The nurse ran in with a bean-shaped basin, which my vomit barely made it into. She patiently stood by as I finished. She then handed me a small cup of water and a paper towel.

“Gather yourself a bit and then get dressed. I’m going to tell the lab you’re coming down.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

“I know, this is shocking and happening so quickly, but at least, we might have a partial diagnosis. I want to get you down to that lab as soon as we can. When we get the results, we’ll talk more, but I am concerned. But like I said, we’ll take care of you. Take your time. Get dressed. And let’s get you down to the lab.”

Surprisingly, I didn’t faint.