How to Avoid Sex (11 page)

I shook me head and Windsor recommenced his anxious pacing. With his back toward me he had one simple request. “Check your crotch, Monty.”

I wriggled my way up, attempting to do as he suggested. After about forty minutes, I was in a painful sitting position. I glanced crotchward. There was nothing peculiar about what I saw.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” I asked.

“Pull back the blankets,” he replied.

Even the miniscule weight of the blanket proved difficult to lift, and it was only in the smallest increments that I was able to do so. Gradually I exposed my body, which shivered as the air attacked it. With one final flourish, I managed to free my crotch. I didn’t like what I saw. My penis was erect, straining to break lose of my under garments. I gasped.

“It’s been like that for nearly three days,” said Windsor, once more by my side. “I first noticed it while tucking you in. It wasn’t as pronounced as this, but I’ve been monitoring the situation while you slept. It’s been growing steadily. I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.”

I didn’t either. This was a horrific discovery. One that I wished had never been brought to my attention. It looked as though it was breathing like some sort of animal. I wanted to be sick, but there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. I wanted to flee this beast, but it was attached to my body, and besides… I was far too weak.

“Why is this happening, Windsor? Do something. Make it go away.”

“Monty… if it won’t go away of its own volition, there’s only one thing I can suggest, and you’re not going to like it.”

“Anything! Make it die!”

“Do you feel aroused? Are you having dirty thoughts, darling?”

I didn’t know how to respond to this question. It was preposterous. While it’s true I had never felt aroused, I was quite sure this wasn’t how arousal felt - unless of course, arousal was unmitigated horror. As for dirty thoughts… my mind was so clean you could perform surgery in it.

“What are you getting at?” I asked.

“If my understanding of the human animal is correct, your erection will abate, at least temporarily, if you induce an orgasm.”

“Have you gone mad? How does one simply ‘induce an orgasm’?”

“Well… there’s sex of course, but unfortunately sex with me won’t work. Perhaps you could masturbate, Monty.”

His words hung in the air, thick and putrid. They were words my ears kept hearing, long after they were spoken. I was familiar with the concept of masturbation thanks to the actions of a nasty clown I had witnessed at a circus as a child. I had heard rumours that individuals performed such a thing, but I had convinced myself such rumours were fantasy. Why would one want to? I glanced once more at the horror sprouting from my crotch. It seemed more monstrous than before. It was growing in strength. Perhaps, if it would vanquish the beast, it was worth a try.

“How exactly does one go about,” my voice fell to a whisper, “masturbating?”

“I’m not an expert in this department, but I believe the most common means of masturbation is via the hand.”

I held my hands up and stared at them. On any given day, my hands are the epitome of delicacy, but under the cloud of illness, they were gnarled and feeble. I wondered how on earth I was going to garner the motivation to put my hands through such a frightful act. “Which hand do I have to use? They both look so innocent.”

“It seems logical that one uses their dominant hand. Try that.”

I clenched my right hand into a fist and watched as droplets of fever sweat escaped it. I moved the fist downward, battling the muscular ache wrought by my sickness. It brushed past my chest, then my stomach and settled on the intricate curls of my pubis. I was so close to the throbbing crotch animal that I could feel heat wafting like steam. I brushed a knuckle against it and felt a jolt through my body.

“Do it,” implored Windsor. “Grasp your penis and move your hand up and down.”

I unclenched my fist, flicking beads of sweat around the room. With the aide of several deep breaths, I held onto the most regrettable part of my body. I felt its heat swim into my palm and it was as if electrical current was moving throughout my body. I jerked upward, screaming as I did. I jerked back down, screaming even louder. I repeated the movement with robotic momentum. Tears started to form in my eyes and as I sped up my movements, I wept like a child. I wept for my innocence. I wept for my superiority. I wept for the death of a cherished part of myself.

“That’s it, Monty. Let the tears flow. Just don’t stop. Not yet…”

As I continued, pushed along by Monty’s words of encouragement, I felt a sense of accumulation from within. It’s as though each jerk of my hand were a pump filling up a bucket with liquid. With each jerk, the bucket filled a little more and grew heavier. Never before had I been at the mercy of something so sensory. I was aware of myself in a way I never knew possible. It was a horrifying awareness that I wanted to reverse, but I had passed a point of no return. I had moved into territory that, in exchange for my soul, was offering impossible pleasure. As the bucket continued to fill, the pleasure increased. There was very little room left for more liquid. It was bound to overflow and I didn’t know how I would respond to such a disaster. Spasms shot throughout me, forcing my limbs to kick of their own accord as though possessed. A deafening scream flew out of my mouth, blowing away my bedding and destroying the adjacent wall. For one brief moment, it was as though my consciousness vanished and I was floating through a vacuum. This moment of peace was transcendence. My consciousness exploded back into being just in time to feel the eruption of my penis. Thick ropes of reproductive waste propelled themselves across my stomach, writhing like worms before settling in place. Rope after rope continued to emerge, each one a different colour and length. With one final drizzle accompanied by an array of bubbles, it was over. I passed out with exhaustion and slept like a baby.

CHAPTER 15

I woke up from the deepest recesses of sleep, clawing my way out of labyrinth dreams of which there seemed no end. There was vitality within me. The heart of the illness had gone, leaving only traces in its wake. The dried sweat that coated my body was the only suggestion of the fever, which had nearly ruined me hours prior. My persistent nausea had retreated and my aches had transitioned from current to residual. I glanced to my bedside where the ever-faithful Windsor had maintained his vigil.

“Monty! My darling! How do you feel?” He asked when he saw my signs of life.

I ran my hands over my face and through my hair. “I feel… good. That is to say, I don’t feel as though I’m in danger of death.”

Winsdor tilted himself into me and nuzzled with affection. “I was so worried. Thank goodness you’re alright.”

I rubbed my head against his cleft curve section, a warm smile curling my lips. It was a moment of delectable peace until I remembered the injustice I had performed upon myself the night before. At once I felt the weight of shame crushing me. I ran my fingers over my stomach. The orgasmic slurry was gone. Windsor must have cleaned me up.

“Oh god… what have I done?” I asked. “I’ve soiled myself irreparably.”

Windsor hushed me, continuing to nuzzle, trying his best to rid me of the horror. “It’s okay, my love. You are still the same man. You did what was necessary.”

I rolled out of the nuzzle and stood on weakened feet. It had been a number of days since I had last tried to stand, and I hadn’t eaten a thing. I was depleted. I stumbled out of the bedroom.

“Monty? Talk to me.”

He followed me to the bathroom. I didn’t ignore him for spiteful reasons - it was simply that I didn’t know what to say. I splashed freezing water against my face and studied my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps I was expecting to see a stranger staring back at me - that same stranger I had witnessed in the mirror of the bamboo forest toilet block when this beast within first emerged. But other than my dishevelment, it was definitely Montgomery Worthington. What had been lurking inside me that craved release? For how long had I ignored its presence? I was worried that last night’s
masturbatory antics were a symptom of something even more pernicious. And perhaps, most worryingly of all, I was beginning to assimilate with this beast, slowly blurring it and myself into one ghastly version of whoever I really was.

“Please talk to me. We’ll get through this.”

This had been the second time I had experienced an erection. The first had been… yes… it was starting to make sense now… the first had been during my treatment at Sexualis Delirium. The treatment had introduced some new need into my body. Sustenance had been given to the beast. It stood to reason that if the treatment was able to introduce a need, it could also remove that need and exorcise the beast from my system. I considered this theory for a while and it only made more sense as time went on. They had done something heinous to me, and it was their responsibility to reverse it. Something resembling hope made its presence known, and I welcomed it with open arms. I turned toward Winsdor.

“It’s going to be okay. I know what to do. This won’t happen again, Windsor. I promise you.”

“You know what to do? What do you mean, darling?”

I could sense palpable relief in his voice, which heartened me. I had caused him a great deal of worry over the last few days, something I never wanted to inflict again.

“I didn’t tell you this because, quite frankly, it didn’t seem important. But I’ve connected some dots and all of a sudden, a picture is beginning to form. During our break, I sought the help of a ‘sex guru’. I wanted to try and understand where your desire came from, darling. I wanted to provide you with satisfaction without balking at the concept. You deserved to have your needs fulfilled, and my attitude needed some adjustment. I underwent some treatment…”

“What kind of treatment?” Windsor interrupted.

“I’m really not sure. All I know for certain is that it was during this treatment I experienced my first erection. I was injected with various substances and my penis was, for want of a better word, electrocuted.”

“Oh my god, darling! You did that? You did that for me?”

“For us. I did it for us. Now I have reason to believe this treatment was responsible for my little show last night, and the illness leading up to it. I also have reason to believe that if they caused it, they can reverse it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. We could have discussed it and found a better way. Why did you consent to the treatment?”

“We can discuss this later, my love. For now, I must leave for work and afterward, I will fix the problem.”

“You’re not going to work, are you? Take a few more days. You need to rest.”

“If I am well enough, I must go to work. Anything else is tantamount to theft.”

Windsor stormed into the sitting room, slamming the door behind him. If he needed to sulk, I wasn’t going to stop him. I understood his position, but there were more important things to focus on. Time was not treating me kindly, so I rushed through my morning preparations. I sliced at my face with the razor, hoping that through the blood, my stubble was disappearing. Breakfast consisted of the accumulated crumbs I could shake out of the toaster into my waiting mouth. The suit I wore was more casual than I usually permitted and my bowler hat didn’t quite match. I looked unsightly, but at least I would be on time for work.

I ran out the front door, stopped at the elevator and realised I’d need Windsor’s help. I ran back inside and tried to coax him out of the sitting room. Living in an impossible apartment was all well and good unless you needed to leave. He wouldn’t respond to my initial pleas and time was escaping me quickly. I changed tact and crooned a Bang Tango song, knowing this would tug at his heartstrings. It was very manipulative of me, but I had no choice. He was drawn to my singing and I was able to convince him to let me leave the building.

I arrived at work later than I usually would, but safely before I was contractually obliged to start. The aftermath of my illness had depleted my energy and I wanted nothing more than to collapse in front of my desk and get started. But I couldn’t. The chair that had said those filthy things the day I fell ill sat before my desk. I approached it from behind and dragged it backward.

“Welcome back, you sexy fucker,” it whispered.

I cringed, while moving it into a storeroom, closing the door behind it and trying to forget it existed. I surveyed my chairless desk and then the office around me looking for a replacement. There were several chairs not in use, but each one I approached gave me immediate cause for retreat.

“Fuck me,” said one.

“Show me that delicious cock of yours,” said another.

I tried to keep my dismayed reactions to myself, lest I attracted more unwanted attention from co-workers, who were probably starting to question my sanity. I slumped back to my desk, resigned in the knowledge that I wouldn’t be sitting down until I had this mess sorted out.

I had barely been working for ten minutes, and already my calves were aching. The small of my back burned with pain as I hunched over the keyboard.

“Sit down, Worthington,” implored a co-worker. “You look ridiculous standing there like that.”

“A new exercise regime,” I lied. “Reports suggest that the sedentary lifestyles lived by office workers are a leading cause of early death. I have chosen to stand at my desk to avoid this fate, and you should do the same.”