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Chapter One
PresentDay
Planet Earth
Chance
“You’re going to love it here,” my friend Brock says as he lumbers down Main Street, escorting me to my new room in the males’ dorm.
My head is spinning. My life just changed in the span of one minute. I shake my head as I try to absorb what just happened.
They call us splicers. We were created in a science lab deep in the Rocky Mountains west of Denver. I was kept in cages barely large enough to lie down in until three years ago. That was when the army raided the rogue military science operation and liberated us.
They loaded us into large black helicopters and took us to Area 51. Under the direction of Colonel Slater, they worked with us over the last three years, helping us assimilate into society. We learned reading, writing, and basic social skills. All of that time, we were never allowed near a female. Never saw one. Never evensmelledone.
Three months ago, we were all brought to this enormous area in a remote part of Texas. I think of it as a reservation. A splicer reservation.
They housed us all in barracks on the southern edge of the property and conducted their final selection for the twenty of us who would be the first to integrate with women. They picked not only the most socialized and compliant of us, but the males they thought would be the least frightening to the women.
Sadly, I was not picked.
I’ve never said a word in protest, but I didn’t understand how Ty, the male with all that tiger DNA, or Noble, who has lion DNA, or Nyx, who is a naga, were somehow less terrifying than me with my equine DNA. I look like a storybook character—a centaur. Frankly, I think I should have been in that first cadre of lucky males.
There’s an Old Western town at the north end of the property that used to be the set for a television program. They brought in twenty women to create little shops to make an attraction for visitors. We males are to be taught trades, learn to socialize with the women, and eventually mingle with visitors. The end goal is for us to assimilate into society and leave the fenced boundaries.
Personally, I think we splicers will be ready to integrate with the humans long before they’re ready to accept us.
When I wasn’t picked to be in the first group of lucky splicers, I soldiered on under the tighter restrictions of the southern barracks. Coping with whatever is thrown at me is what I was bred to do.
After the first twenty left, we’ve taken to calling ourselves the rejects, though I don’t like to think of myself that way.
A few days ago, Ty got permission for me to take part in a production number he and some friends performed when the top brass came to see how the Splicer Project was going.
For the life of me, I don’t quite understand what it was all about other than he called it Bollywood dancing. The final dance incorporated the theme of an Indian wedding. I was brought in for the “groom” to ride in on to meet his “bride.” They told me it’s tradition for the groom to ride in on a white horse. I was the closest thing they could find.
I had no complaints and was happy to help. It got me out of the barracks for an hour.
After the dance, everything happened at once. Olivia, the “bride,” gave a passionate speech requesting I be able to join the males in the dormitory. Brock, who seems to have a great deal of grizzly bear DNA, is escorting me there now.
All the males are still full of adrenaline from watching the performance.
“Glad you’re here, Chance!”
“Yeah. In my opinion, you should all be allowed to roam free,” Nyx says. That naga male is always one to speak his mind.
The others are heading to the dining room to feast on Indian food, but I’m happy to bypass that so I can check out my new room and decompress.
I’m not so sure Nyx is right about all the males from the southern barracks roaming free. My equine DNA has equipped me with a poor sense of smell compared to most of the other splicers. Even so, the scent of all the women is drifting in from the nearby dining room.
Suddenly, it becomes crystal clear why I was not in the first group to be integrated. It doesn’t have to do with aggression; I’m one of the least aggressive males here. Nor is it that my looks are intimidating. These women have seen and been around horses all their lives, if only on TV.
No, it’s neither of those things.
I wasn’t included in the first group because my body is not built for pants. The military tried several styles of coverups, but no matter what we tried, nothing worked. I have no waist. Everything fell off within a few steps. My genitals are still exposed.
I never understood why the humans made such a big deal about fitting me for pants. Until right this minute.
Right this minute I have a raging hard-on that can probably be seen at twenty paces. And that’s simply from the scent of human women tantalizing my nostrils over the savory smell of Indian spices wafting from the next building over.
