text: [Themes: horror, drama]
  
  As the sweat dried, Hank thought that maybe the pain hadn't been all that bad. After all, he needed to man up and take it. He wasn't some girl-man. Yeah, he figured he probably had some STD. Big deal. Those things didn't kill you, at least most of the time. And heck, even if it was deadly, he was sure that it would take a lot time before it would kill him. Besides, if he went to the doctor, he was really going to have to do some explaining. What was he going to say? Oh, yeah, doc, sure. I met this really hot chick last night, took her home, woke up this morning, she was gone, and yeah, this. No one would believe that story, ever. But yeah, she was pretty damn hot. He thought back and remembered her eyes and her boobs. Man, those were really nice. He tried to remember if he got to feel them up or not. There was really nothing there. The whole night was completely blank. He'd never blacked out this bad before, but he figured he probably rocked her world because that's what he would do.
  
  He headed out to the kitchen, walking bow-legged so nothing would rub against anything sensitive. It didn't really work, as every step was painful. He could take it, though. It was nothing but a little pain. He opened the frige and pulled out a beer. Nothing was better for a hangover than some more alcohol, right? He tipped back the beer and just slammed the whole thing. He reached in and pulled out another one as he waddled over to the couch. He slowly and carefully sat down. As he turned on the tv, he held the cold beer up against his junk. It felt kind of nice, but everything still burned quite a bit. He decided to look down and really check things out.
  
  As soon as he looked down, he regretted it. He could see his junk, but it wasn't like anything he'd seen before. The blisters were all around and more than half of them were broken open and leaking. His tip actually had something green growing on it, like some kind of fungus. He wondered if it was going to rot and fall off. There were black spots on his nut sack. Those were the only places that didn't actively hurt at the moment. He took another drink and tried to check himself out a little more. The blisters went all the way to the sides of his legs and there were red spots beyond them. It looked like he had been blasted with some kind of disease shotgun. He finished off the beer and burped, and that hurt him all the way to his balls. He sat very still and tried to concentrate on something else, but he had to look back, like looking at a train wreck. It was about that time when he realized that he needed to pee again. He was quite sure it wouldn't be as bad this time. He slowly got up and skin tore as he did. He waddled once again to the bathroom, trying not to look down. He'd never read or heard about any kind of STD that looked like this, not that he was an expert or anything. He reached the toilet and relaxed.
  
  That lasted only a second as searing pain overtook him again. This time he did cry out in pain and tears started pouring down his face. That hurt more than he could ever have imagined. It felt like someone was shooting fire INTO his pee. Once again he dropped to his knees. He had to keep peeing, and he was quickly covered with sweat as the pain continued to burn and burn some more. The room actually started to dim and he thought he might black out while he was peeing. Somehow he managed to stay conscious and finish, he wasn't sure how. That was really bad. He should probably do something about that, he thought to himself.
  
  Now exhausted and sweaty, Hank made his way back to the kitchen. The TV was still on, but he didn't really know what was on. He went for another beer as he considered his options. He gently pressed the beer up against his junk, but this time it didn't seem to work as well -- he was just in a lot of pain and he wasn't even peeing now. He knew that if he went to the clinic, there was no way he could explain this. He would have to embarass himself and just beg for help. But since it was just pain, he could probably just take some Tylenol and sleep it off. And if it was still bad by Monday, then maybe he could take a day off work and head to a doctor.
  
  > hank it tougher than some STD. He takes some Tylenol and sleeps it off.
  Hank made his way to the kitchen, stumbling along, and in pain the entire way. He really didn't feel well, but he was sure that a little bit of medicine and some pain killers would fix him right up. He'd had plenty of headaches before, this was probably just a delayed hangover. Sure, it was a little out of whack for the timing, but since he couldn't really remember much of last night, he figured he could have been drinking until nine in the morning, so it took until now for all the effects to kick in. He stopped trying to think about how to explain it because his head hurt.
  
  He went into the kitchen and grabbed the medicine. There were a few different kinds there, and he made sure to add extra Tylenol because he knew that would knock the headache out for sure. He even tossed an extra tablet in there, just to be sure. He opened the fridge and pulled out another beer. That was really all he had to drink in the fridge, and it was easier than getting out a cup and filling it with water. Besides, if this was just a hangover, a little extra alcohol would help it more than it would hurt it. He tossed the pile of pills in his mouth and quickly choked them down with the beer. He stood there for a moment, holding onto the counter to keep his balance. His head really hurt so he took another quick gulp of the beer, then another. He belched loud enough to rattle the windows and said, "Oh yeah, that's good." He put the beer to his lips and drank down the rest of the can.
  
  The room was still spinning a little, but Hank convinced himself that it was a little better than it was before. He kept his hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over as he made his way back to the bedroom. As soon as he was close, he let go of the wall and fell towards the bed. He missed the bed, crashed into the side of the mattress, and slammed into the hard floor. He grunted as he hit the ground. He rolled over and swallowed, trying to keep from throwing up after spinning to the ground. He made it to his hands and knees and reached out for the bed. With the help of the bed he managed to get off the floor only to fall onto the bed. He rolled over and lay on his back. He stared at the overhead fan -- it was really spinning fast, and the room looked like it was spinning even faster. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the fan spin that fast, but his stomach didn't like it at all. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his hand out to the wall again. He was going to have to try and make it to the bathroom.
  
  He did not make it.
  
  The contents of Hank's stomach quickly found themselves plastered all over the wall next to Hank's bed. He bent in two as his stomach muscles convulsed again and again and again. He was sweating and crying now as his stomach refused to stop. He looked down and thought he saw blood on the ground next to the bed. He kept heaving over and over again until he was completely exhausted, and then he heaved again. He curled up in a ball on the edge of the bed in terrible pain. Then he realized that he was gasping for breath. His eyes bulged and he stared at the wall as he gasped his last breath.
  
  Well, good reader, congratulations, you managed to get killed by the succubus. Feel free to try again and see where else Hank might end up! Thank you for reading.