Page 16 of The Dire Reaction

Still bathed in sweat, I risk pushing myself up onto the bed. Screaming against the strain, my shaky legs finally comply.

Exhausted, I perch on the edge of the bed. I’m not sure if I want to lay back, or run to the toilet and hurl. Dizzying waves of nausea and vertigo fight for control.

Toilet.

The room tilts precariously as I lurch my way to the bathroom, but I manage to find the door frame to catch me before I fall to the ground.

Overwhelming smells gag me. I can smell old urine. It’s caked around the bottom of the toilet.

But, I know the maid was just in here yesterday. The swirl marks from her mop fade into focus; I can see the streaks on the tile.

The edge of the sink is saturated in the smell of a cologne foreign to mine.

What the fuck? Why can I suddenly smell my dad’s cologne? He hasn’t lived here for eight years.

My nose burns with ammonia. There’s a musty smell coming from below the sink I’ve never noticed before. It all gathers into the knot in my guts that refuses to stay inside.

The muscles of my abdomen contort, squeezing, spasming until burning bile finds its way into the stinking toilet. Dragon’s fire scorches my esophagus, the vile liquid erupts from me, and a drumbeat of splashes pummels my ears.

Finishing, the nasty taste lingering in my mouth, I crawl back to bed. Sheets of sandpaper scrape against my skin. The pillow is a brick under my pounding head.

Darkness at least helps to lessen the headache.

Until a cymbal at full volume crashes through my ears, inches from the bed.

What the fuck?

The sound erupts again, rattling my brain with its jarring noise.

It sounds like my text tone on steroids.

Why is it so fucking loud?

Bleary eyed, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. The case is full of tiny nicks and gashes I’ve never felt before.

It’s just past six in the morning, but I feel like I’ve been in agony for weeks.

There are two new texts. I really need to figure out how to turn down that tone.

Unknown number: Do you feel okay?

Unknown number: Do you think the Chinese food was bad?

Chinese food. I forgot I even had a life prior to tonight.

It must be Dani.

My cock suddenly swells, despite the grueling pain running through the rest of my body.

Fuck. I feel everything. It rubs against my boxers, the rim tugging at the seam of the access. Holy shit, it is so intense. The rough fabric rubbing against my sensitive skin almost instantly has me leaking. My hips twitch minutely, fiery electric pulses rove through my shaft and down into my balls. Clenching in my belly, a small orgasm rolls through me, spilling into my shorts. The sticky heat scorches my thigh. The endorphin release is a high I’ve never had before, fuzzy and light headed, it’s the first sense of peace I’ve had all night. Floating in my bed, I choose to ignore the mess I’ve made for a little while.

What the shit is going on with me? I didn’t even touch myself and I’m coming in my shorts? Like a fucking teenager and my first wet dream.

Lifting my liquid arm, I text her back.

Me: Who is this?

I can play coy.

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