The time to the next appointment had trudged along at a snail’s pace, every day the pain was getting worse, and for longer periods of time he had had to endure It. One day had been so bad that he had lay writhing on his back for hours, his screams echoing around the room. They were suffocating him from the waking world, locking him into an eternal torment. He only took notice of the warts one other time, they seemed slightly larger and were damp, just a side-effect of all the pills he had been taking. Somehow he had managed to hide it from Beryl. She might have tried to talk him into being complacent with the doctor again, and he did not need any more of that.
Wednesday bitterly came and Henry spent nearly all day in the bathroom, staring at his stomach in the mirror, a scowl hovering above it. The pain had already shown its ugly face twice, both times being paralyzing. He clenched his fists as he imagined knocking Prighton’s teeth out. Maybe then he would agree to get him some proper help. He softly prodded his belly. A nauseous feeling briefly passed over him, the pain deeply ingrained within his mind. He pressed his head against the glass, still peering down at his stomach. Where his finger had touched, the skin had become red, the mirage faded.
On the Thursday he strode into the empty waiting room and checked in with the receptionist. He had a glare on his face ready for the doctor and was trying it out on her. She didn’t give him any mind and continued to smile sweetly as she asked him to sit. It didn’t take long for him to be called but the anticipation had made the time drag. As soon as he heard his name, he nearly ran over to the main corridor, pushing through the swinging fire doors with a powerful determination. Dr. Prighton’s office was the first one on the left and Henry banged his knuckles aggressively against the wooden door. He entered before Prighton had a chance to fully respond.
“Good afternoon Mr Franklin, please take a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of him. Henry sat and was prepared to start on his tirade when Prighton interrupted him
“By your expression I can tell that the tablets haven’t worked”
“Well… yes, I… I feel worse on them” He stuttered, being caught off guard, his confidence draining away instantaneously.
“That is a shame, I think that we should schedule you into the hospital for a scan now.” He scribbled something onto his notepad.
“Yes… that would be good”
“We just need to fill out some forms…” he said, beginning to rummage through the cabinet next to him. He looked annoyed as he flicked through the many papers. This gave Henry enough time to process everything. Finally, he would get an answer on his stomach. A competent opinion. “I can’t seem to find the forms” Prighton said as he closed the final drawer. Henry felt his glare coming back. “I think we keep some more in the spare office; do you mind following me there Mr Franklin?” he asked as he stood from his chair, his stomach sagging as it relaxed.
“Yeah sure.” Henry’s anger retreated once more as he joined the doctor. They left the room and headed to the back of the building where the spare office was. An empty plaque-holder was attached to the door, but it might as well have one with the word ‘Heaven’ on It with the euphoric relief Henry was feeling.
Prighton unlocked the door and ushered Henry in. He had not taken but a few steps when two bulky nurses grabbed him by the arms and dragged him deeper inside, the doctor locking the door behind him as he followed. The nurses without a word, rhythmically and expertly strapped Henry to a chair that had been tucked out of view. He had been so confused by the sudden turn of events that his voice was only now returning.
“What the fuck are you doing!” He screeched, trying to wriggle from his bonds. “What are you fucking doing?” More curses followed
“You forgot to remove the shirt again” Prighton tutted, not paying the verbal assault any mind
“Sorry doctor, one of the nurses apologised, as they left Henry’s side to fetch something. Henry continued to splutter out obscenities, but was now also focusing on his surroundings, dozens of escape plans he had seen in movies rushing through his head. The office was the same size as Prighton’s, but it was windowless. Most of the regular office furniture was set up in front of the door, but to the sides of the room, like where he was, were trolleys of surgical tools and rows of chemical equipment. There was nothing else discernible about the room, and nothing close enough to help him.
“What are you gonna do to me; cut me up like a fish? sell my organs? Or are you just gonna stab me and jerk off you fucking sicko?” Henry yelled, trying to sound as tough as he could. The doctor’s smile returned, a smugness to it this time.
“Why would I slice you up? I have spent months preparing you and we wouldn’t want all of that time to go to waste would we?”
Dr Prighton removed his jacket, hanging it on a peg nearby. It was soon followed by his tie. He then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. A thousand thoughts ran through Henry’s mind as he watched each button pop undone. Soon, Prighton’s hefty stomach spilled out. It was red and swollen. Thick veiny lines rhythmically pulsed on the surface. At its base it was raw and purple. On either side there was a dark sphincter like mass. Wads of cotton were taped underneath them, stained with a yellow mucus. Henry choked at the sight. A drizzle of ichor was running down from the left hole, it was thick and oily. Prighton’s shirt joined the jacket and tie on the peg. Henry tried to turn away or close his eyes, but he could not stop himself from peeking.
The doctor gently ran his fingers down his crimson stomach, and a brief indent emerged from the inside, stretching the skin like it was elastic.
“What the hell is that?” Henry said hoarsely
“My children, Mr Franklin” the doctor replied as he caressed the lumps. Henry’s pain came suddenly at full pelt. Worse than it had ever been, making him lurch around and arch his back as he struggled in agony. The straps held tight even with the new flow of adrenaline as he tried to lash out. Tears began to run down his cheek as he gasped and twisted.
The nurse returned with a large set of scissors in hand. Henry now hoped in desperation that they were really going to kill him. The scissors neared him wide and his eyes, now bloodshot and blurry were transfixed upon them, begging for the blades to pierce his heart. The other nurse held him still as the scissors sliced into his t-shirt, raggedly chewing the fabric as he shook. The scissors then retreated much to his dismay. His t-shirt fell open revealing his own stomach. He craned his neck between the spikes of pain and peered down at it. It was red itself once more, but now also more bloated like Prighton’s. Much to his horror he saw the sphincters. They sat where the warts had been. They were expanding and contracting in a progressive pace, its motions like that of breathing. He screamed aloud, managing to grasp his vocals once more as a burning tendril of agony shot across him, wrapping its way around his guts. A cloth gag was shoved into his open mouth, and he instinctively bit down on it.
Prighton cupped his hands beneath the sphincters on his sides. Their scrunched lips parted, and the children began to push themselves out. His eyes rolled back, and his mouth trembled as they forced their way through the holes. Two worm-like creatures emerged, their bodies gelatinous and quivering. Their faces were like that of a lamprey, although more human in the details. A leathery façade stretched around the maw. Their mouths clicked excitedly as if waiting for a treat. Prighton artistically moved the creatures around like a snake tamer, their tails wrapping around his face and chest as they passed. Prighton kissed the snout of one. The tip of his tongue slowly pushing through his pursed lips, as he licked a globule from the creature’s head.
“Aren’t they beautiful Henry?” he spoke, his tone just as happy as always. Henry did nothing but stare. A mixture of disgust, pain and fear holding his mind in place as it tried desperately to make sense of what was happening. “These are my fourth eldest, twins wouldn’t you know?” one of the worms nuzzled affectionately into the doctor’s neck fat, gently suckling on the flesh. “They need to make room for their younger siblings, they’re growing up fast and it’s about time they flew the nest.” He motioned to one of the nurses who grabbed a hold of Henry’s shoulders much tighter, restraining him further in place. He had only been half listening to the doctor, but the sudden jolt brought him back as his eyes flitted between the three assailants.
Henry shook about in his chair and squealed into the gag as the second nurse began to stretch his holes open wide. He felt a sting as the flimsy layers of skin still holding them closed tore apart. A mixture of bile and effluence gushed from them, spilling mostly into small buckets that the nurses had placed around the chair. As the fluid drizzled out, the pain flowed away with it. It was an ecstatic feeling that rammed its way through his senses. He lost the determination to struggle, his body suddenly placid, his mind numbed. The sound of each remaining drop splashing into the buckets was the purest sound he had ever heard. The doctor approached with the creatures.
“It’s good to see you so calm Mr Franklin, I’m glad we could finally make you better.” He held the worms before Henry’s holes. They squirmed happily as they left the doctors hands.
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