Chapter 5
Lydia
It’s been three days since I saw my boss. Two of those days were the weekend, so that’s reasonable, but I’m surprised when he doesn’t come in on Monday. Surprised, and disappointed.
My first instinct is to assume he’s turned himself into a bug and can’t get back into his human form.
Sort of a Honey, I Shrunk the Kids moment, but it’s actually himself who shrunk himself.
I don’t actually think he did that, though it’s funny to think about.
Simon is too smart to take stupid risks like that, I’m sure.
I walk around the lab, seeing if I can pick out any creatures who weren’t here on Friday.
The Chimouse looks about the same. There are a couple of companions in there, but they were there to begin with for sanity’s sake.
I don’t see anything else. The lab is empty of most creatures, thank god.
I can’t say I approve of animal experimentation at the best of times.
At least the drugs don’t seem to have a negative effect on the creatures as much as they did on him.
Did he melt himself? Has he run down a grate and into a sewer system? I bet that’s possible. But if that happened, his clothes would be left behind, and there’s no puddle of sticky man attire here either.
Something ticks in the corner of the room, near his desk. I turn my head toward the sound, instantly curious.
“Hello?”
I can hear rustling and shuffling. Maybe he turned into a rat. Or a raccoon. Or a fox. Something that likes to get into things and move them about.
I realize, after a moment or two, that there’s a printer on his desk that has activated and turned itself on.
Oh, my god.
He turned himself into the printer.
“Simon? Is that you?”
The device buzzes and passes an empty piece of paper through the mechanism while the print head dashes back and forth across the rod.
“Tell me what you need!” My voice is slightly tense with excitement. He’s really done it. He’s turned himself into an inkjet. Science really is amazing.
I realize it has a digital screen on it. Maybe he can communicate with me that way? I lean over to see what it is saying.
“PC Load Letter,” I read slowly. “I don’t know what that means. Is there a letter somewhere you need? Tell me more.”
The print head does another impatient dash across the rod. A piece of paper loads up and into the mechanism. It starts to print something out. I stand in front of the desk, my hands clasped to my mouth as I try to work out how I am going to explain this to HR.
“Please!” I beg Printer Simon. “Just turn back. You’ve got to be able to come back!”
The paper starts to feed out of the machine. It’s printing a row of the alphabet, first in large capital letters, then in smaller ones. I wonder what it means.
“I think something is being lost in translation,” I say. “This is what happens when you meddle with nature. You turn into a consumer product. What happened? Did you drop some printer ink into your vial?” I tap at the buttons in the hope of getting some useful feedback, but nothing happens.
I wonder if I should unplug it, take it to Veronica, and tell her my suspicions.
“What are you doing?”
I hear a deeply amused male voice behind me.
I let out a shocked scream and jump around, instantly embarrassed. Simon is standing behind me, in all his very human glory. I realize how unhinged I sounded in those moments before.
“Nothing.”
“Did you think I’d turned into the printer?”
“No,” I lie. I hate smart men. I used to think it would be fun to date one, but really all it means is that my tricks that usually befuddle them don’t work.
“You did think that,” he laughs.
He has a black eye, and his face is absolutely covered in scratches and bruises.
“Did you fight a bear?” I exclaim the question. “Or a bar?”
“I went for a hike, ended up a bit off the trail,” he says. “It’ll all heal up soon. It’s just scratches.”
As soon as those words leave his mouth I know he’s lying. I don’t know what about, but I get that faint nauseous feeling in my stomach that I always seem to get when someone is fucking with me somehow. Call it intuition. Because that’s what it is.
“Did you go into the woods and take some fucked-up potion and turn into something you don’t want anyone to know about, which is why you did it…”
I don’t get to finish the sentence, because he has crossed the room in three long strides and clamped his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t,” he growls in my ear. “Just don’t.”
I lick the inside of his hand. He yanks it away, probably more out of shock than real disgust because this man likes anal. He’s not likely to be put off by a bit of tongue action on his hand.
“It’s not going to be a secret for long,” I say. “It’s so obvious and easy to put together.”
He grips me by the back of my shirt, scruffing me like an unruly kitten, and half-walks, half-carries me to the back room.
“This is shielded,” he says. “For radiation and such, so they can’t hear us here. If you open your mouth about my extracurricular experiments again, I will gag you while you’re in the office.”
I am enjoying having him this much on the back foot. His threats excite me more than frighten me.
“I can smell you again,” he growls. “You like that, don’t you.”
“Like what?” I squeak in the attempt to lie.
He pushes me gently back up against the wall and leans over me, his hand pressed over my head, the length of his body overshadowing mine. “You know exactly what I mean,” he says. “You like it when I dominate you. You even like it when I frighten you a little.”
Those words coming out of a bruised mouth turn me on way more than they should. Whatever he has been doing, it has left him with a rougher, deeper voice, and an even more intense energy, which is saying a lot because Dr. Simon Seek has always been incredibly intense.
He runs his hand over my stomach, and cups between my thighs.
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop,” he says. I know it’s supposed to be an attempt at consent, but it just feels like a threat to me. Half the fun has been in the struggle. I hope he doesn’t take that away from me completely.
“You like it. You want it. You crave it,” he says, squeezing lightly. “And that’s why you’re going to be a good girl for me, isn’t it.”
He’s changing the subject, the bastard, and I am going to let him because this does feel good. The weekend felt particularly empty without him. I almost hoped he’d break into my house again, but I guess I had been too good to warrant that.
“On your knees,” he growls. “I want you to taste me.”
He grips my hair and eases me down. I don’t really fight him because I don’t really want to.
The head of his cock brushes against my lips, and I part them, heeding his silent command. I am already feeling wet with desire as he slowly thrusts into my mouth, conquering my lips and my tongue and some part of my soul.
I want this. I want him. I want the passion he ignites in me, the sense of being alive in ways I was never alive before I met him. Maybe this is wrong, but if my whole body wants it so badly, then how can it be?
His soft growls of pleasure run through me too, connected as we are, flesh on flesh.
I feel his cock throb in my mouth, taste the slight tang of his pre-cum and another rush of arousal runs through me.
I lap at his cock, suckle at the head, pay thorough attention to the sensitive spot beneath that thick bulge that has spread my pussy open.
We should not be doing this. This is a place of work, but in his presence it becomes a place of instinct, where animal desires take full precedence.
His hands are on my head, guiding the motion of my mouth.
They feel massive and so powerful. He is being careful, but I am very much aware that I am at the mercy of a creature far larger and stronger than me with an appetite that can only be sated by using me.
He holds me still as his desire increases, his need to come starting to override whatever gentlemanly instinct allowed him to let me take the lead.
He starts to fuck my mouth faster and more firmly, and I can feel the restraint it takes for him to keep himself in check and not hurt me as his cock slides almost all the way to the back of my mouth again and again.
The sounds between us are lewd: my moans, the wet noise of my mouth being fucked, his increasingly animal growls and grunts.
And then he lets out a sound like no other I have ever heard before.
I’d call it a yell, but it doesn’t come with the normal human pitch.
It is more like a roar of release, and it comes as I feel him unleash his load in my mouth, his seed spilling over my tongue and down my throat.
I look up at him for the first time since I went down, my eyes rising to his expecting to see a face of ecstatic release. But what I see when I look up is not the expression of a man coming. It’s not even the head of a man.
It is the face of a wolf. Completely animal. Fur, eyes, snout. Ears that are large and pricked up. I cannot intellectually understand what the fuck I am looking at, but instinctively my body knows exactly what to do.
I lurch backward, semen running from my lips as I let out a scream of shock.
The beast opens its mouth, and I see a row of teeth so sharp and so deadly every instinct in my amygdala is instantly activated in one direction:
Run.
For the second time in as many weeks, I flee from the lab.
The melting was one thing. It was odd, and silly and strange, but I accepted it because I guess it just looked like a really fast skin condition and I was almost embarrassed for him.
This is different.