That Wasn't Pee [18+]

I didn't feel well. My whole body ached. I curled tightly under my warm blankets. I felt cold, yet warm. But I couldn't attain sleep any longer, I hurt too much. A knock sounded on my bedroom door.

"Hanna, it's time to be up," my mother, Julie, called through the door.

What day was it? I glanced at the calendar from where I lay. Monday. First day of school. Correction. First day of Olliov High School. Which meant after a full day of achy, deep in the bone pain, I'd wake with a full blown cold the following morning. Why did I always have to get sick the first week of school? I already struggled to understand the information half the time. It was near impossible to learn when all I could think about was sleep so I wouldn't have to feel any of this.

But I wouldn't be allowed to stay home either. Unless I was vomiting or had to go to the hospital, my parents made me go to school. I slithered out of bed and tried not to grimace as I changed my clothes. It hurt to stand. It hurt to kneel. It hurt to move. And it hurt to be still. But attend school I must. I grabbed my backpack. It was light for now, but wouldn't stay that way. Not with four textbooks to pack around. I left my room.

Mother had breakfast made and a medicine cup of liquid Benedryl on the counter for me. I hated the taste of Benedryl. I hated even more the fact that it made me drowsy. I only took it because I could handle drowsy better than this bone deep ache. I filled my plate with scrambled eggs and a few slices of toast. I leaned against the cupboard. I only sat when I absolutely had to. Having a fully developed scrotum between my legs was not the most comfortable thing to sit on. My father, Matt, came in after I had taken a bite of toast.

"How's my girl this morning?" he asked, before kissing my cheek.

"Better after I take the Benedryl," I replied.

"No changes from the norm?"

"No."

"Okay. You know you can talk to me about it."

"I do, Dad. And I will."

"Good girl." He kissed my forehead then filled a plate of his own.

I ate a few bites of egg. Then I took the Benedryl. I pulled a face. Bubble gum hell. I rinsed out the cup. I don't know why Mom never bothered to buy the pill version. It worked the same. Definitely didn't taste as nasty. I continued to eat. Mom entered then.

"You took it. Good," she said.

"Yes, Mom."

"And the other thing?"

"Out of sight unless I'm going to the bathroom," I replied, slightly annoyed.

"Good."

Mom filled her plate and sat next to Dad. They spoke softly, but I knew they were discussing my penis. Yes, I have one of those, too. But unlike an ordinary penis mine was mainly muscle, nerve, and blood vessels. There was very little cartilage in the structure. It remained folded inside me until I needed to pee or my abdomen cramped.

"Any changes?" I heard mother ask.

"Nothing yet," Dad replied softly.

She took his hand in hers and gripped tightly.

I rolled my eyes and finished my toast. Their worry about me becoming aroused and my penis coming out annoyed me. Every morning since my period started their paranoid checking had become routine--a check from Dad that nothing had changed; a check from Mom that nothing had changed; and the quiet, but still very audible, check with each other that nothing had changed. Were they afraid of more than just the exposure of my physical difference? Honestly, I was getting sick of the checking. I knew how both anatomies worked. I had felt no attraction to either sex. So, as far as I was concerned, the extent of their worry was unfounded.

I rinsed my dishes off then left the kitchen. I brushed my long hair and tied it into a braid. I double checked that I had everything in my backpack. Then I waited for Dad to finish. He dropped me off at school each morning. He and Mom came out of the kitchen. They kissed. Then Dad and I left. I made sure my squishy pillow was in Dad's car still. I set it on the seat then sat on it. It was the only thing that made sitting slightly less uncomfortable. It was one thing I was glad I didn't have to contend with at school anymore.

During my first year of elementary school, my teachers had tried to get me to sit like the other kids. But it didn't feel good. Instead I tried standing by my desk or kneeling in my chair. However, they had a problem with me kneeling and told me to sit like everyone else. Which, of course, didn't last for more than a few seconds. After several visits to the principal's office and many talks with my parents, I was given a fold-able music stand for my desk and permitted to stand as long as I participated in class.

Participation would be minimal today. Roll call. Passing out of the text book—checked out for the year by the number on the binding of the book. Then the long, tedious reading of the class syllabus. Each one to be signed by a parent and brought back next class period. I only had four classes today. The other four I would attend tomorrow.

By the time school let out, I was more than ready for a nap. I left the school. Mom's car was parked on the curb. I made sure the squish pillow I had in her car was also in place before sitting.

"How was school?" she asked.

"Fine," I replied. "I have four syllabi for you to sign."

"Okay. Any other homework?"

"Not yet."

"Alright."

When we reached home home, I took out the syllabi for Mom. She signed them. Then I entered my room for a nap. I slept for the rest of the afternoon. I really, really hated being sick.

When Friday came, I was more than grateful to be home. My cold was at its worst. My body ached. Not as much as it had on Monday, but certainly aggravated by all the coughing. My nose was raw from all the wiping and blowing. I was exhausted. I dropped my school bag on my bedroom floor. I'd do homework later. I had all weekend. I slipped off my shoes then flopped onto my bed. I felt good just to lie down. My nose was plugged up and my throat was dry from all the dried snot that had drained. I coughed. It hurt to swallow, too

I coughed hard. My penis came out slightly with each contraction of my abdominal muscles. The longer I lay there coughing, wishing to be asleep, the further my penis extended. It curled, the head nestling between my outer labia. I took deeper breaths to try and relax my tight muscles, but my penis wasn't going back in as it always had. I shifted and my penis pressed on the muscles keeping my vagina closed. It was uncomfortable.

I tried again to relax, but tensed again with my next coughing fit. My vaginal muscles contracted softly and my penis continued to press. I pulled my knees up so I could try and reach my penis enough to move it away. I had just touched my shaft when I coughed again. My penis shifted, pushing up into my vagina. It hurt, yet felt good. My vaginal muscles contracted a little. I coughed more. Longer and harder than before. I could feel my penis expand, stretching out the walls of my vagina.

I pulled on my hard penis. I needed to get it out. My vagina hurt. But I couldn't pull it far because the blood vessels were full. I tried shifting my hold, but it only slid my penis in and out slightly. My vagina contracted rhythmically, increasing the good feelings I was getting from both organs while covering the pain signals I was getting from my stretched vagina. I coughed more. My penis thrusted higher into my vagina. It rubbed against my cervix. I rolled to my side. My head tipped back. This felt good, but they weren't supposed to be together!

And now I needed to pee. How was I going to pee when I was stuck inside myself? I pulled a little harder which only caused pain and discomfort in both parts. I needed to get them apart so I could go pee. I cried in pleasure. I cried in pain. I cried because I was scared I would be stuck like this for the rest of my life. I coughed and the urge to pee released. I stopped pulling on my penis, but didn't let go of it. I felt unbelievably amazing and yet… My penis started to deflate and pull back into my body. I cried harder.

I felt nauseated. It hadn't been the urge to pee. I had just ejaculated sperm into my vagina. My guts twisted and I felt nauseated. I coughed a little, trying not to throw up at the same time. I lay there trying to calm my tears. I had just had sex with myself—unwanted, unprotected sex. I curled into a ball. How was I going to tell my parents? Would they understand if I told them? I felt something wet slide out of my vagina. I was bleeding. Had I torn when my penis pressed up inside my vagina? I slid out of bed and entered the bathroom. I sat.

Definitely bleeding. Fortunately, the liner I had in my boxers caught what had come out. I wrapped the liner in tissue paper and threw it away. Then I grabbed a pad and lined my boxers with it. I sat a while longer, still trying to wrap my head around what had happened. Try and find the words I needed to speak to tell my parents. I closed my eyes tightly and covered them with my hands.

If that was what sex felt like, I didn't understand how Mom could describe the experience as pleasurable. I could understand pleasure for Dad, because I doubted he had to bend his penis while they had it. Yes I felt good, but the pain of having a penis in my vagina for the first time made me not want to have sex again anytime soon. A few tears escaped my eyes and slid down my arms. I sniffled. I coughed, which only made my throbbing vagina hurt more.

I cleaned up as best I could before returning to my room. I checked my bed for any fluids that were not my tears and snot. I found none. I changed my pillowcase. Then I lay down and slept until Dad knocked on my door.

He poked his head in as I rolled over slightly to face him.

"Dinner is ready, if you'd like to come eat," he said.

"Alright. Thank you, Dad."

"You're welcome, Hanna." He smiled then shut the door as he left.

I looked at my calendar as I climbed out of bed. I had ovulated two days ago. So there was a chance I could end up pregnant from this experience. Feeling overwhelmed about the possibility, I didn't know how I would bring up any of what had happened this afternoon with my parents. I decided it might be best not to say anything. I left my room. I felt I was walking a little funny. Neither of my parents commented on it when I joined them in the kitchen.