Page 12 of Specimen


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Can you?

“It’s a…side effect.” She stares into my face. “Heightened sexual energy goes along with the desired factors we’re trying to amplify. You’ll need them to survive.”

I watch her eyes flicker. She isn’t telling me everything. There’s something about all of this that she’s holding back from me, but I’m sure she isn’t going to give the information up. Not now.

“Riley…” I plead with her. I don’t even know what I expect

her to do, but I need her to do something before I explode.

She stands up straight, squares her shoulders, and walks to me with confidence. She reaches out with one hand.

“It’s all right, Sten. Take my hand.”

When our skin touches again, some of the tension subsides. She runs her hand up my left arm, and I can breathe again. Her fingers stroke my hand, and my legs give out. I drop to my knees in front of her, instinctively reaching out to wrap my arms around her, but I stop myself. She said I had to let go of her.

I lean forward just enough to lightly press my forehead against her stomach. I clench my hands into fists until my nails are cutting into my palms. I feel her hand against the back of my head as tears fall from my eyes.

Chapter 4

Time is an elusive and undefined thing.

I think I’m losing track of entire days. I’ll be standing in the shower, checking for missed shaving areas, and the next thing I know, I’m strapped back to the bed with several days’ worth of beard growth. Once, I woke up with shorter hair but no memory of receiving a haircut. I was disoriented and confused, like I had been the first day. Then Riley appeared, and all my misgivings dissipated.

As long as she’s near me, I question nothing. She’s my doctor, my guide, and the subject of nearly every thought in my head. Everything I do—everything I am—centers on her.

My days are broken up into two segments—when Riley is present and when she isn’t. When she’s gone, I’m alone in the lab. I use the sink and the shower to clean up. I sleep on the small bed. The lights are never dimmed, but I’ve come to realize that doesn’t matter. I’m not sure if it is just the way I am now or if it’s because my food is drugged. Maybe it’s both.

When Riley is here, she monitors my progress and administers treatments to further my transformation. Under her guidance, I train. At first, all my training is done in a gym. I run; I lift weights; I swim. Eventually I progress to virtual training in a simulator. I’m given objectives and evaluated based on how efficiently I achieve them. At first, the goals are easy, but they become increasingly difficult.

“Time for some simulation training,” Riley tells me as I finish drying off from my shower and pull a pair of pants up over my naked ass.

I’m never bothered by the lack of privacy in the lab room. Even with the large mirror and the presumed omnipresence behind it, I don’t care. With regards to Riley, I wish she’d look at me more than she does. I wish she’d look, touch, and maybe consider taking my cock in her mouth.

“What is it this time?”

“Battle simulation,” she says. “This one will feel very real to you but shouldn’t be too difficult. We’re going to get some benchmark numbers on this one. The simulation itself isn’t overly taxing. It should be pretty straightforward and easy for you.”

I sit in the virtual training chamber as Riley attaches electrodes to key points on my body. Once they are all in place, she tells me to lean back in the chair and then attaches an interface to a spot behind my right ear. As soon as she does, the implants in my brain switch to simulation mode. My vision, hearing, and other senses are rerouted from the virtual training chamber to the computer. At first, I sense myself in a large, dark area of undefined proportions. A few seconds later, the simulation begins.

“All set?” Riley’s voice is inside my head.

“I’m good.” I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck. The black around me fades to a grey fog. The fog takes shape, and a landscape appears. The sky is cloudless but filled with a thick haze. The ground is hard, and there’s a dry, cool breeze in the air.

“Your destination is two kilometers to the north. Find a tactical position to counter the numbers. No survivors.”

“Got it.”

I make my way to the north at a fast run. As I move, I check the contents of the pack I’ve been supplied with by the simulation. There’s ammo for the AR slung over my back as well as for the Glock at my waist but nothing else.

I come over a small hill and slow my pace. I can see a line of buildings in the valley, and I make my way to the largest one. There are smaller outbuildings surrounding it, providing adequate cover from the few guards posted around. I just need to get to the far side—I can see a tower there, which would provide an excellent position for taking out the guards near the main doors.

I climb the side of the tower, watching the movements of each of the nine guards outside. They don’t look my way as I reach the top and settle myself into position. I check the extra magazine for the rifle, placing the clip next to me so I can access it easily to reload.

I lift the rifle to my shoulder, and I’m about to start firing when I hear a sound inside my head.

“Sten, there’s a problem!” There’s panic in Riley’s voice, but I don’t understand why. My position is sound, and I should have no trouble knocking out the enemy. Besides, it’s just a simulation. Why is she rattled?

“Everything looks good to me,” I say.

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