You trudge back toward the dorm, head bowed, hands shoved deep into your pockets to keep it steady, feeling sick to your stomach, hardly paying attention to where you're going. Your thoughts are jumbled, incoherent. How could this be possible? How can you keep it hidden? Should you go back to the gift shop and ask them to fix it? Would anyone believe you? Could a doctor help? What if your parents find out? Could you make money as a porn star? Can you even pee any more?
You adjust your borrowed pants. Even though they're far too big for you -- the cuffs hanging down over your ankles, the drawstring pulled tight at the waist to keep them from falling down -- the crotch is still uncomfortable. Your sac hangs down much lower than you're used to, and the material presses against your oversized balls. Your penis rubs against it with every step, and it's starting to chafe a little. At least it's not erect any more -- there'd be no way to hide that. Oh God, you think, what if you have an erection? Could you just lean down until it went away? Is there some drug you could take to stop that from happening, like a reverse Viagra? Would you even want that?
You bump into someone and stumble, jerking your hands out of your pockets guiltily, almost losing your balance until a steadying hard grabs your shoulder. Your mind wheels for a moment before you realise where you are: the entrance to your dorm. You look up nervously.