It began as a small red spot on my chest that I noticed while shaving on Tuesday evening. It seemed so insignificant that I hardly gave it a second glance. By Thursday evening it had grown to the size of a two pence piece. Its edges were pink and raw looking. Towards its centre was a white ring and scarlet inner circle about the size of my nail. In fact it looked a little like a third nipple about two inches inward from my left nipple and slightly higher.

On Friday morning I phoned the surgery before leaving for work. The earliest appointment for my doctor was Wednesday morning. I was reasonably happy with this, because it gave an opportunity for the scarlet spot to go down. I could always cancel my appointment. I consider myself reasonably fit and healthy. I dislike taking up the valuable time of a doctor unless I absolutely have to.

On Sunday I briefly considered calling in at the accident and emergency centre of the local hospital. The spot had grown again. Now its diameter was the length of my index finger. The white inner ring had thickened and hardened and reminded me of the outer rim of a condom. The scarlet centre had ripened and was tender. Not really wanting to spend several hours of my Sunday afternoon waiting at hospital I settled down instead to an afternoon of watching football.

Later, during my evening wash, I realised that the spot was ready to burst. It was giving me some discomfort and I wondered whether I should squeeze it. The spot sack was full. Tentatively at first I began to press it. Then I began to squeeze in earnest. The skin flexed and bowed. The scarlet centre bulged like a magician's balloon, yet it didn't pop or break.

I began to feel disgusted and desperate. I felt determined to pierce the spot one way or another. I fetched a Stanley knife from the kitchen and hurried back to the bathroom. The blade sliced through the scarlet centre with relative ease. A line of blood appeared. I squeezed gently. Suddenly the bathroom mirror spattered with thick black puss. The pain was intense but not unbearable, and I felt a sense of deep satisfaction. I continued to squeeze and a string of black stretched down to the basin as though from a tube of toothpaste.

All at once the string of puss fell out and there was something hard under the surface of my skin. Wiping the mirror I could just see the edge of something white. With renewed effort I began pressing and massaging the still swollen spot on my chest. Slowly the white item began passing through the slit in the scarlet centre. The pain was excruciating as my skin tore to let the object through. Soon it protruded enough for me to grab it with my fingers and pull it out.

The object was hard, white and pebble like. I tapped it on the basin edge and it produced a loud knocking noise. I couldn't at all comprehend what the item might be, or how it might have formed inside my spot. This was totally beyond my experience and resolved to get medical attention first thing in the morning. However I was worried that there might be more pebbles inside me, so I spent a little time massaging and feeling my spot sack. Within 15 minutes I had another two pebbles. The spot now seemed relatively flat and sagged somewhat. I put all three pebbles on the bathroom windowsill ready to take with me the next day.

That night my sleep was unsettled by a terrifying dream; I dreamt I was drowning in black puss. As the sticky, sickly ooze forced itself down my throat, I managed to resurface, and awoke with a gasp. I was sweating profusely, and felt strangely detached from my body. Groping in the dark I climbed out of bed and slipped into my dressing gown. My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked pale and withdrawn.

It was then that I noticed that one of the pebbles had changed. It looked as though its end had been broken open. I picked it up and tried to peer inside, however the opening was too small and too dark. Remembering the Stanley knife I opened the blade and jammed it into the gap. A split appeared along the length of the pebble. Continuing to use the knife I prized it open.

At first I saw what seemed to be a mass of black puss. Then I realised it was more of a string like ball. Finally as it wriggled and writhed I realised it was alive; the long wire-like creature was wrapped round on itself within its egg.

Suddenly I was paralysed with fear. What if there had been more eggs inside me?

In an instant I threw off my dressing gown. What confronted me chilled my soul; a mass of black wire all over my chest. Loops in fact leaving and entering my body. Once I had read about elephantiasis, a parasite that grew as a worm and caused one's legs to swell. Occasionally a loop of parasite would pierce the skin. When this happened the patient would insert a wooden rod within the loop, then twist it half a turn daily, thus pulling out the worm. It was important not to turn the rod too quickly, because if the worm broke it would rot and kill the victim.

As I stared down at the mass of wire loops in my chest I realised that my insides would be a mass of knots. I pulled on one of the loops. It moved slightly, then I felt resistance, and it contracted, pulling back against my fingers. Suddenly I was in absolute agony as I felt my insides being squeezed. Then I realised that my arms and legs were riddled too.

I forced my head up to stare at my reflection. My face was deathly. There were tears of agony in my eyes. At that moment I watched in horror as a wire broke through my cheek and coiled back on itself. I tried to grab the loose end, but my arms were rigid and would not move. The wire seemed to hesitate, as though sensing its route. As it passed into my left eye socket, I collapsed.