Page 38 of SummerTime Madness
Luxor Labs
Elias groans behind me as his hands run down my spine. His dick pulses one final time before ropes of warm sperm fill me. I look down at the computer monitor, pretending not to understand–but thanks to Cordelia and Tate, I know more than enough to know whatever is happening is not only top secret but also a controlled experiment.
Pressing my ass further into him, I ask. “What’s projectQueen B?”
He stills inside me, his dick already softening.
“Why do you ask?”
I look over my shoulder, feigning that surprised and mischievous look that drives him wild as I point at the screen.
“I’m kind of bent over your desk and that email popped up.” I didn’t tell him that it was also an email with their professor’s name on it.
But I’m curious.
Elias lets out a shaky breath as he cleans up and tucks himself in. I do the same, waiting for his response.
“I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this,” he begins as he walks over to his cabinet and pours a small drink of scotch.
Swirling the ember drink, he continues, “That professor proposed something unlike anything we could have ever imagined, a queen for a hive. Something never done but something that can change our military. Society.”
My eyes widen–where is he going with all of this? Do they know?
“He called it Queen B with two of his students. He realizes that what we needed to use the cordyceps for was to make it belong. What if I could give it a queen? A beautiful, little mutation that doesn’t consume the host but connects them?”
My heart skips a beat as I buckle up my pants, watching as he moves towards the screen. After a few clicks, a video pops up on the screen.
“What is this?”
I look at the man, his mouth hanging wide open while orange-like filaments sprout from his mouth.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound pulls me from my thoughts. Opening my eyes, I look out in the distance, and notice a shadow closing in.
“Guys.”I call out, my voice is too casual due to the drug coursing through my body.
Cordelia tries to move closer, but Tate stops her and places his body before hers. The man’s mouth hangs open, head tilted to the side, his joints making that awful sound as if they are clattering.
Bones against bones.
Tic.
Tic.
Tic.
Tate moves closer as he observes the man falling to his knees before us, his hands cupping his ears as blood runs down the length of his neck. He begins to laugh–no sobs.
“He looks like he works here,” I say, pointing out the uniform of the grounds worker on the island, but then the man groans and wails.
Something so dreadful… It all happens so fast. Cordelia tenses, and her blue eyes go wide before she screams as the moonlight illuminates his features.
His jaw unhinges with a sickening crack that is quickly replaced by wet choking sounds. Bright orange fungal stalks–spiked and segments–forcethemselves through the soft tissue of his throat and up into his mouth, rupturing the skin.
