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“It’s all right. That’s normal.”
“It is?” I don’t understand how that can possibly be normal under any circumstances. “Normal for what?”
“Considering what you’ve been through.”
“Was I in an accident?” A brief flash in my brain brings forth a series of loud bangs and the scent of something burning. “Was I attacked?”
“No.” She shakes her head and runs her fingers over my arm again. “Nothing like that.”
“What, then?”
“You’re a volunteer for a special project.” She gives me a huge, breathtaking smile that goes straight to my dick. “There are only a few of you who were able to withstand the process, but you’re doing just fine. I’m really happy with your results.”
The throbbing of my cock is distracting, and it takes me a second to comprehend her words.
“Results?”
“I’m sorry,” she says with a shake of her head. “Let me start a little slower.”
She pulls a rolling chair to the side of the bed, sits and leans close to me.
“We live in dangerous times,” she says. “A war that has been fought for decades isn’t going well for our side. You’re a soldier in that war. You volunteered to be a part of a project—a project that has made you faster and stronger than anyone else.”
I consider her words. Something about them fits into my head; round peg, round hole.
“What’s my name?” I ask.
“You are designated number seventy-two of eighty-nine. I thought I’d call you Sten for short. Seven, two, eight, nine—S-T-E-N. Sten. Get it?”
I nod, but I can’t say that I understand it. It feels oddly familiar to me though I have no idea why that would be. Like the idea of being a soldier, the name just seems to fit.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“My name is Doctor Riley Grace,” the beautiful woman says. “You can call me Riley.”
“Riley.” I like her name. I can practically feel the syllables vibrating through my skin. I like how it sounds in my ear and the way it feels on my tongue.
I’d like to feel her on my tongue.
“Relax now,” Riley says. “I’m going to give you an injection.”
I focus on her face as she prepares a hypodermic needle and presses it to the inside of my arm. As she presses down on the plunger, I feel a surge radiating from the injection site through the rest of my body like a low-level electrical pulse.
My body stiffens at the sensation, and Riley discards the needle and strokes the inside of my left arm until I calm. She keeps her hand against my skin, rubbing gently, but the calm in my body doesn’t reflect the turmoil in my head.
I have no memories of my past, yet everything around me feels familiar. The lab, the equipment around me—even the sharp sting as the needle punctures my skin seems like a reoccurring condition. It’s not a comforting feeling but familiar all the same.
This isn’t right. None of this is right.
There’s something important in the back of my head. It’s a tiny, annoying prick of sensation that I can’t quite comprehend. It’s definitely there, like an itch I can’t reach, but I can’t retrieve it.
I need to remember something.
Something important.
But I don’t know what it is.
~The End~
