Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ANGELA HURRIED OVER to position herself between Riley and Jonathan. "Did he get to you, too?"

"Hey, I didn't ‘get' to you," said Luther, vaguely sullen, from the doorway. "You put a gun to my head and ordered me to show you my junk, so—"

"Shut up, Thompson," said Angela, still gazing at Riley. She was confused about whatever had happened outside Nancy's cabin. She felt a little off-balance even now.

Had she ever found Luther attractive before?

Well, he was the only one of the guys that she worked with who didn't seem like a total asswipe, so that didn't hurt. Also, he had those arms of his. Those tree-trunk-sized arms with the bulging muscles and the deep, dark skin and the broad chest and…

He was an objectively attractive man and he was a nice guy.

Sure.

She'd thought about it.

But she'd never done anything about it. When she'd first arrived, she'd thought Nathan Robinson seemed like a nice-ish guy, but then they'd had sex and she'd realized he was a total jerk. Maybe she was afraid of a similar transformation in Luther.

On the other hand, a transformation had absolutely happened in Luther, and in her, too, and well… well…

Better not to think about it.

"He can get into Nancy's phone," said Angela, pointing at him. "We've got the texts from Anderson Scott, and we can just text him right back if we want."

Riley let out a breath. "Oh, we can, can we?"

"No," said Jonathan.

"I'm with you," said Luther. "Except, um, I guess it doesn't work forever, does it? Eventually, he's going to want to check in."

"You said that they talk every day about their daughter," said Angela.

"Wait, what?" said Jonathan.

Luther began to explain. He told them everything he'd told her, even the part about how Anderson Scott made threats and how he seemed as if he might be a real dick, and Riley and Jonathan only listened and didn't speak, nodding here and there.

Finally, Luther trailed off with a shrug.

"How long has it been since she texted him?" said Angela.

Luther got out the phone and looked. "I mean, yeah, I get what you're saying. He hasn't checked in with her yet, so either he hasn't noticed that he hasn't heard from Nancy in a while or she doesn't register as important to him. It's been nearly two days, which isn't typical for them. Her phone gets pics of her daughter, and those came through, and she hasn't reacted to them, which she usually would do."

Jonathan raised a finger. "Okay, here's the thing. I've been down here since the beginning of this project. Years . I've had exactly two real-time conversations with Anderson Scott in all that time. And everything is mostly self-sufficient down here."

"I was thinking this," said Riley.

"Can we pretend to be Nancy and text him?" said Jonathan.

"You mean, continue this ruse so that he doesn't know what's happened?" said Luther.

No one said anything.

"Angela?" Luther finally prompted. "That's not what you want, is it?"

Angela held up her webbed fingers. "I don't know what I want right now."

Riley sighed heavily. "I think we all need to consider the distinct possibility that we're not thinking clearly right now, possibly due to hypersensitivity to certain pheromones."

"What?" said Luther.

Angela grimaced. "I think she's saying that whatever's happened to us is making us too horny to think straight."

"That's a way to put it," said Riley. She spread her hands. "Jonathan and I are scientists. We're willing to take risks, right?"

"Experimentally?" said Jonathan, his lips tugging upwards. "Yeah, we're more than willing. You're saying you and I try it out and report back if it's safe, Riley?"

"Exactly," she said with a curt nod. She turned to Angela. "You go and lock yourself up somewhere, and Luther should, too, somewhere separately, and if it's not dangerous, then I don't see why we all can't… indulge."

"Indulge," said Angela, her voice shaking.

"I don't know," said Riley. "If you're definitely against it, Angela—"

"I didn't say that," said Angela. "Are your fingers webbed, too, Riley?"

Riley examined her hands. "Oh, look at that. Wonder when that happened?"

"Hmm," said Jonathan, taking her hand in his and comparing them.

She looked at him with a little smile playing on her lips. "I think we need to get this out of our systems before we can think about the Anderson Scott question, or whether to expose this to the outside world at all."

"If they… lay eggs in us, then are we… having babies?" said Angela. Some part of her did not exactly object to this possibility, which was frightening, she had to admit. She did not want to have strange, non-human children. On the other hand, she supposed, if they were mentally and emotionally all right, but just looked different, she wouldn't care.

"Well, in the animal kingdom, typically speaking, ovipositors aren't for, er, inserting unfertilized eggs," said Jonathan.

"Right," said Riley. "Typically speaking, they're used by a female to lay their already fertilized eggs somewhere safe for their maturity. Certain insects' ovipositors are also stingers. Whatever we are, we're like nothing that's ever existed."

"We might not work," said Jonathan. "There may be eggs, but they may not be fertilizable. We might be able to have sexual intercourse but not to successfully mate. There's no way to know until we try, I suppose."

"Right," said Riley, who was still smiling at him.

"It's only this is an experiment that could result in children," said Angela. "Shouldn't we think about that?"

"I think when people think too hard about that, that's when the population stops growing," said Jonathan.

Riley laughed.

Angela looked at Luther, who was shifting on his feet, uncomfortable.

He gestured with his head. "Let's lock ourselves up, then, Ramirez. Let them experiment. They seem to be ready to face the possible outcomes."

Angela held his gaze, and she read something in it, something that made her say, "All right, fine." She walked out of the lab, and Luther followed her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and some part of her knew he had no intention of letting her go and lock herself away from him, and some part of her didn't want to either.

But that was crazy.

She needed to keep whatever thread of herself that was still rational in charge.

RILEY BUSIED HERSELF with setting up the room while Jonathan worked on setting up cameras. They discussed the idea of showing the video to Angela and Luther, just to reassure them, but she didn't think she really wanted to show anyone what was going to amount to amateur pornography in the end.

They shouldn't even be filming it, maybe.

Maybe all this was insane.

But acting as if they were doing something that was about science, following various procedures, it helped somehow. It was an illusion, and she knew it. The illusion was that they were still in control.

They were not.

Eventually, all the setup was done and they were both standing in front of the cameras, which were recording. There was a mattress on the floor, with blankets, which were just folded up and piled at the end, not spread out over it. They both looked down at the mattress and then at the cameras and then at each other.

"This is awkward," she said, finally.

"We should talk ourselves out of it, maybe," he said.

She nodded. "Sure. You start."

He drew in a breath, and his gills opened wide at the same time.

Her gaze honed in on that, and for some reason, it made her whole body feel pliant and excited and open.

"You smell really, really good," he said. "Right then, whatever just happened… I liked it."

She giggled, a wild, out-of-control sound. "That's talking us out of it?"

"I've been thinking about your pussy pretty much constantly."

She tilted forward, still giggling and put her forehead against his bare chest.

He sank a hand into her hair.

"I wonder if my hair is going to fall out," she said.

"I won't care if it does," he said.

"You're just saying that because yours is falling out."

"Probably. But also, I've never been one of those men who demands that women meet some standard before I want them. I've usually just been one of those men who's stupidly grateful any woman at all is letting me put my hands on her."

She smiled. She moved closer, pressing into him, tilting back her head, grinning up at him. "Put your hands on me, Jonathan."

"Yeah?"

"Put your webbed hands all over me." Her voice had gotten very breathy now.

He cupped her face with one of those webbed hands, searching her gaze. "I mean, that sounded a lot like enthusiastic consent, so…"

"Well, don't overthink that," she said, "because we're all being controlled by weird amphibian pheromones right now, so I don't guess any of us can really consent."

"Good point, let's not think about that," he said, and his hand delved down into the front of her shirt to cup her breast. "Because I think that was the best argument to stop this madness anyone has made."

She moaned, because his skin was nice. The scales were smooth but there was a little texture where they fit together, and she liked it against her skin, against her sensitive nipples. If she was an amphibian, if she had offspring from this encounter, would she make milk?

Ugh, she really didn't want to think about this.

"So," she panted. "Ground rules are only one egg, right? Just one."

"Just one," he said in a tight voice.

"Promise."

"Swear to God," he said, and he was teasing her nipple and she liked that.

She moaned a little, pressing her body into his clever fingers. "Why do you think that still feels good?"

"I don't know. Your breasts don't really seem to have been altered, do they?"

"You still have nipples." She reached up to brush her finger over one of them. It was dark, nearly black, now, but it jutted out around his smooth, slick skin.

"True, but Bub didn't," he said. "Mine were never, uh, sensitive before."

"Noted," she said, still toying with him. "You should probably examine my breasts, though, to see if they're altered."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," he said with a furious nod. "Document the hell out of that. Just to be thorough. Take your shirt off."

She smirked, but she did it.

"Bra, too." His voice was husky.

She took that off, too.

"They look, you know… human," he whispered, weighing both of them in each of his webbed hands.

She gasped, liking the look of that, of his altered body against hers, of the differences in their skin textures.

He thumbed both of her nipples, making them stand up straight.

She groaned.

He turned her around, facing the camera, and moved behind her, gathering up her breasts to present them. "Everything seems in working order," he said in a low voice. "Two very nicely shaped, very sensitive breasts, on the largeish side, and—"

"Jonathan." She was smiling.

"I'm just being thorough." He gently pinched both of her nipples.

She sighed.

"I'm going to undress you and show the camera the parts of you that are different," he said, his voice hushed as he spoke in her ear.

She liked that, too, and she didn't know why. It shouldn't have been arousing to have her body permanently altered. It should only be frightening. It was frightening, of course, but it also was arousing.

He helped her out of her pants and underwear.

"Oh," he said softly as he uncovered her entirely. "Things have changed here, haven't they?"

Her mound was entirely free of pubic hair now, and the skin there was different, darker, more like his skin. It faded into the skin on her thighs and belly, but her actual sex organs were different, altered, like his.

"This is…" He moved his fingers over her labia, and she was aroused and wet and slippery already, and he groaned. "For me. It's for me. We go together now."

"Yeah," she said in a tight, soft voice. "I want it."

"Want my eggs," he said.

She shuddered. "Yes," she managed, her voice a gasp, her nipples tingling on her chest even without any stimulation. Inside her, there was a ripple of sensation. Oh, fuck, does my cervix move around when I'm turned on, now?

She'd read some series of books once, with a woman who had ten vampire lovers or something, while also solving paranormal mysteries, and this woman had been fond of having her cervix bumped during sex, or so she said. Riley herself had never thought her own cervix was particularly sensitive. Pretty much nothing inside her was. It was all just her clitoris, which did have some internal elements, but almost all of them were close to the surface of her sex organs. Nothing with nerve endings was deep inside her, and she knew science backed this up.

Why it was women in novels with vampire lovers had sensations in their cervix she didn't really know. She suspected this was not actually the womens' cervix but rather some internal element of their clitorises and they were thinking it was their cervix?

But, uh, her cervix was different now. Of course, during regular human sex, nothing was inserted into a cervix. That stinger, though, it was going in. It was going all the way in, and she wanted it, she really, really wanted it.

Jonathan was taking off his pants and there it was, that huge, long ovipositor of his. She couldn't help but touch it. She put two hands on it, running them up and down the length of it. It was warm and firm and yet it had a give to it, like skin.

He tipped his head back and his breath hitched.

"You like that?" she said.

"Squeeze it?"

She did.

"Shit, Riley," he breathed. He kissed her.

They were naked now, and they rubbed their nakedness into each other, and it felt good. She groaned and he groaned, and they ran their fingers all over each other.

He pushed her gently down on the mattress and made her open her legs for him. He started toying with her clitoris, which was engorged and dark, greenish purple as it rose out between her outer labia. He bent down and ran his tongue over it.

She moaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Are we… is this really for science, or should we be…?"

"Are you seriously asking if you can skip getting me off?" she breathed.

"No," he said, offended. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind…" His voice went lower, into that rich voice from before. "I want to lick you. The way you smell, it's that smell, there in your pretty pussy, which is all transformed for me, and it'll taste like it smells and I— please , is it all right?"

"I don't know, should I make you beg to lick me again?" she said, grinning too widely.

"Fuck you," he said, and put his mouth on her. His voice was muffled and his voice vibrated into her sensitive skin. "I'm going to lick you, and you can't stop me and I want to see how far I can fit a webbed finger into you. That's all just happening, so deal with it, Riley."

She laughed softly, surrendering to him.

His finger was inside her as he lapped at her pussy, deeper and deeper, and then it brushed her there, on her cervix, just like before.

That felt amazing.

She cried out and suddenly her clitoris tightened into a bright, taut point, and her orgasm washed through her, like the ripples in the river outside. It was intense but sweet, different than orgasms she'd had before.

And her cervix was still moving, sucking on Jonathan's finger.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, fuck—"

"Now, please, now," she said.

"God, you're gripping me."

"Please, I want it. I want your…" She didn't want to call it an ovipositor. "Eggs."

"Yes," he breathed, lifting his face from between her thighs. He crawled over her, and they were nose-to-nose.

"Please," she said again.

"I like you begging, too," he rasped. "You can do as much of that as you want."

She laughed, feeling helpless. "Are you… you think you can stop?"

"After one, you mean?" he said. "I mean, definitely."

He was lying, and she could tell.

"Please," she said again.

"Spread your pretty thighs, Riley, show me everything. I'm going to fit very nicely right up into you. All the way in, deep in. Very deep."

"Yes, so deep," she said, opening her legs for him.

"Hands behind your knees, hold yourself open for me," he whispered. "I've never put one of these things into—"

"It'll help you, though," she said. "It'll suck you in."

"Yeah, because you want me in you, don't you, sweet Riley?"

"I do, definitely," she breathed. "Now, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and the stinger was pushing into her.

She let out a noisy breath. It was thin. It didn't have nearly the girth of a penis, but she could feel the point of it, poking her, rubbing against her inner walls until—

Her cervix found it and grabbed it.

She cried out, another orgasm rippling through her. It felt like rainbows of pleasure bursting behind her eyes.

He said a string of swear words, pushing steadily into her, deeper and deeper, all the way inside, to her womb.

Her orgasm ebbed out just as he settled himself.

"Oh, wow, that's nice," he said.

"Yeah," she said, reaching up to touch him.

He pulled out a little, reaching between them, fumbling. She felt the press of the head of his cock against her opening.

"Oh, yes, please," she sighed.

He pushed that into her, too.

Now, there was pressure everywhere, all up against the parts of her inner clitoral wings that could be stimulated from sexual intercourse, and a long stiff line all the way into her, right through her now-sensitive cervix. She felt gloriously full, deliciously penetrated.

"Tell me I'm not hurting you," he murmured, gently rutting into her body, peering down at her with an awestruck expression on his face.

"No, not even close. It's good, so fucking good."

"Thank God," he breathed. "Because I'm about to… I mean, I'm going to give you your first egg now, Riley. That'll be good for both of us, don't you think?"

She nodded. "Want it. Please, Jonathan."

He kissed her. "It's coming. Fuck, it feels good. I can feel it working through me, into you—"

"Oh, I feel it, too," she gasped, because she did, little ripples moving through her cervix, and it felt divine. She felt another orgasm beginning to build, just the edges there.

He moved in and out of her—both his rigid cock and the rigid stinger—gasping at the edge of each thrust. Then he groaned and went totally still, muscles in his neck going corded.

She felt it, the egg, inside her, lulling around in her, a deep feeling of fullness. She gasped. Her orgasm was closer, but she didn't come.

His mouth moved urgently on hers.

She sighed against him, feeling taken and filled and good, so good, joined to him, accepting him, a receptacle for whatever he needed.

"Riley," he said in that rich voice of his. "You can take a few more."

They'd only said one, but… she knew he was right, and she knew it would feel good, and she was riding an orgasm here and… "Not too many. Don't hurt me."

"Not too many," he agreed. "But more."

"Yes," she said. "More."

"Good, that's good," he said, kissing her hard, working his cock and the long, rigid length of him inside her. "Good girl, Riley, take my eggs. That's right."

She writhed into him, liking that for whatever reason, liking the praise, liking being told to take things from him. "I want your eggs, Jonathan."

"Yes, you do," he gasped. "Because your pretty pussy is made to take them now, isn't it?"

"Mmm," she sighed.

The next egg rubbed her closer to her climax, and the next even closer.

There were five in her when she finally came, gasping out his name, "Give me your eggs, Jonathan, please, please." And the orgasm was like the eruption of thunderclouds on a meadow in summer, all crashes and sparks and a driving rain.

In the wake of it, she was wrung out and exhausted.

"More," he said to her.

"No more," she said, shaking her head up at him.

He hesitated and then nodded. Carefully, he extricated himself from her.

Her abdomen was a little swollen, a sign of the eggs that were inside her. She ran her hand over her belly, and he did too.

"Whoa," he breathed. "That's insanely hot."

"Scary," she said.

"That, too," he said. "But we didn't… it wasn't too many, was it? You're okay. They all fit." He caressed her belly.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Fine. Definitely fine."

He was kissing her again, and she pressed into him, liking their closeness in the wake of the intimacy, finding it reassuring. His hand stayed on the swell of her belly, caressing the eggs there. "Shit, knowing they're in there…" He sighed. "Fucking sexiest thing in the world." He bent down and put his lips against her.

She shivered a little. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, now. It had been really good while she was climbing for that orgasm, the edge of that pleasure tinged by the hint of danger, of the unknown, but she wasn't sure now.

"It's because…" He moved up to look into her eyes. "Sex is always kind of like that. You feel like you get permission to use this woman's body for your pleasure, and she lets you, I don't know, take advantage of her—"

"That seems fucked up," she said. "But I know what you mean, and it's hot for me, too."

"I can't believe you let me put this many in you," he said, trailing his fingers over her.

"It felt good," she said quietly.

"I should have stopped," he said, rueful.

It was quiet.

He brushed her hair away from her forehead, an affectionate sort of gesture. "What do you want me to do now? If there's a way I can make it up to you—"

"No, it's my fault, too. You did stop when I said to."

"You shouldn't have to be the person who stops it," he said. "You shouldn't be the only person trying to keep her head, here. It's only… I never had sex like that."

"Me either," she whispered.

"Let's rest," he said, kissing her between her eyebrows. "Yeah? Just sleep for a little bit. Maybe after we sleep, things will…"

"Yeah," she said, as if that were reasonable, when she knew it wasn't.