She sat on the exam table, swinging her feet nervously, hands wrapped around the curve of her belly.
When the doctor asked what brought her in, she didn’t complain of pain, dizziness, or nausea.
Instead, she blushed and said that every time she took off her clothes, her “melons” became hard.
The word hung in the air, clumsy and innocent, yet charged enough to make the seasoned gynecologist pause.
He tried to stay professional, but curiosity and disbelief wrestled on his face. Asking her to undress, he approached with clinical intent and trembling restraint. His hands moved carefully, searching for a medical mystery and finding only warmth, response, and his own rising discomfort. Minutes passed, then more. At last, he stepped back, shook his head, and admitted the truth with a half‑laughing, half‑terrified sigh: whatever she had, it felt dangerously conta…
