Test Subject — Chapter no 9

Chapter 9

Door Number Four

My whispered request has barely escaped my lips when the blanket whips off the bed. Then hands are spreading my legs again, invisible chains fix my hands to the bed, and I can’t move.

I feel the weight of a body on top of me, pulling up my little nightdress.

I softly sigh at the warm crush of it.

Suddenly, I feel something pull my nipple, hard. I scream out, trying to press my thighs together and hide the fact that this is making me wet already.

Next I feel teeth biting my nipples, hands pressing against my boobs so tight that I’m afraid they will burst, and a dick rubbing against my folds.

Finally, my knees lift up and that dick rams inside. I scream loudly, begging for more, while it feels like hundreds of hands are touching me everywhere.

I can’t handle the overload of all this sensation at once. I orgasm, screaming and wiggling around, still hoping for more.

Just as Mehdi finishes—I clearly feel the phantom semen inside me, even though nothing splashes out into reality—I close my eyes again and see Sylvan in the dark behind my eyelids.

I flinch and open my eyes. The room is dim, and all I see is my bedroom ceiling. But when I close them again Sylvan is closer, grinning at me.

He points down his body; I have to work to convince my surprised and orgasm-drunk brain to take in what he wants me to see. His dick is fucking huge again, rock hard. He gestures for me to hop on, and I willingly do so.

I don’t get any sleep for the rest of the night.

***

“Did you have a good night’s rest, Miss Woods?” Mr. Sire asks in the morning, and I nod slowly. He looks at me as if he knows better, but then points to a glass on the table.

“You know…,” he says, his tone conversational, “I don’t like dishonest people, so I’ll give you another chance. Did you have a good night’s rest?”

“I…didn’t,” I reply.

He smiles again, nodding. “I see. Please, drink.”

I take the glass. Today’s beverage is brown and sludgy, and when I gulp it down it tastes like earth and forest dirt.

“You will see subject number four today,” Mr. Sire explains.

I furrow my brows. “What about Number Three?”

“Hm.” He smiles and tilts his head, looking me up and down. “You will not need to take that blood. You are ready for Number Four.”

“Okay,” I say, and reach for the door.

“Oh, and…”

“Yes?” I ask, turning back toward him.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asks.

I frown and shake my head. “No.”

“And are you afraid of wild animals?”

“I think that wild animals are only harmful if you treat them badly,” I explain, still confused about where this is going.

He smiles, looking pleased at my answer. “Very well. For your own safety, press the button next to the door before entering. Otherwise, you will be greeted with violence.”

“I understand,” I say, and I head out into the hallway.

I’m curious now. Am I heading toward another couple of hot hours where I’m fucked out of my mind? Or will I be “greeted with violence?”

I duck into Richard’s clinic for the standard daily physical exam; that machine isn’t getting any less intrusive, but at this point I barely notice it.

Then I go to the locker room and open locker number four. Inside is… what, exactly? It looks like what Neanderthals wore after they first discovered how to sew fur together. Very weird.

It’s a short dress, if you can call it that. Really, it’s just a big fur pelt, which looks and feels like it belonged to some sort of dog once.

There are holes for my head and arms, and when I pull it on I find that it ends about a third of the way down my thighs. Long enough to cover my private parts, but not much more.

I’m still curious about subject number three. What kind of monster was that? Why did Mr. Sire decide I didn’t need to work with it? What was I supposed to wear for it?

Well, at least I can answer one of those questions. I open locker number three, to find that the outfit inside is just a bikini. Huh. Nothing special about that.

I shake my head and leave the room, passing doors one and two, then the mysterious number three, before stopping in front of number four. I unlock it and turn the door handle, then remember I’m supposed to press the button first.

I do so. The hallway lights go off, plunging me into pitch darkness.

“Well, I could have guessed as much,” I murmur, remembering Mr.

Sire’s question about being afraid of the dark. I wonder why I have to wear such a stupid outfit, if nobody is going to be able to see it.

I open the door and go inside, closing it behind me. I see nothing, not even my hand in front of my face.

I think quickly, trying to figure out how to navigate. This room is on the same side of the hallway as Mehdi’s, so the structure should be the same.

Which means that the creature with the chains should be… I stretch out my arms and walk in what I think is the right direction, but after not even two steps, I hear a deep, threatening growl.

I stop in my tracks, and my blood runs cold.

Mr. Sire asked about fear of wild animals… This can’t be a bear or wolf, right? There’s nothing supernatural about them.

I change direction and walk to where I think the table should be, in the corner farthest away from the creature.

Stupidly, I bump against the table. I let out a quiet “fuck,” and the growl disappears. It’s like the creature heard me and is waiting to find out what I’ll do next.

“My name is Cat,” I say carefully, running my hand down the wall trying to find the file. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

I hear a soft sniffing. After some fumbling, my hand finds the file, but this was a stupid idea. I can’t see enough to read it.

Instead, I look for the metallic bowl with the syringe and strap. I find it —without hurting myself—and slide it toward the front of the table, so I can easily find it again.

“How the fuck am I supposed to take your blood in this darkness?” I whisper. As if in response, I hear something like an animalistic chuckle.

“Can I come closer?” I ask. No response, so I take a step forward, but immediately the growl returns—quieter this time. “I left the syringe on the table,” I reassure whatever-it-is. “There’s nothing I can do to hurt you.”

The growl fades away again into more curious sniffing.

I get closer and extend my hand, keeping my eyes open in the hope that they might adjust at some point. At this point, though, I doubt that’s going to happen.

“I’m very close now. Can I touch you?” I ask. The sniffing stops. It’s dead silent now.

“I take that as a yes,” I whisper, and I take one last step forward.

My outstretched hand bumps against something hairy. Very hairy.

“You feel very soft,” I say—a little louder now, since I haven’t been eaten whole yet. As a reaction, I get a woof of affirmation, like what I would expect from a dog.

But this can’t be a dog, because I keep running my hand higher up what can only be a chest—a chest that’s above my head.

“Can I…touch your body?” I timidly ask. As an answer, I feel a tongue stretch out to lick my hand.

I chuckle and pet the furry beast. I think I can hear a big, heavy tail beating the floor, as if the creature is sitting and wagging its tail.

I have to spread my arms almost full-length in both directions to reach both the creature’s front legs. How huge is this thing?

It holds up one paw and lets me examine it by touch. It’s heavy, and big enough to easily cover my whole belly.

“You’re very cooperative.” I chuckle. In response, it starts licking my face, which makes me laugh. “And affectionate,” I add.

I stretch up to find the creature’s shoulders, and then I feel along them to reach the neck from both sides. Carefully, I find the face, making sure not to touch the eyes.

I feel long, pointy ears, then carefully slide to the front of the snout, which is very long. When I reach the mouth, I stop.

“Can I touch your teeth without you biting me?” I ask. The tongue reaches out to lick me again. I take that as a yes.

Slowly, I let my hand slide down, the creature baring its teeth so I can feel them. They are immense; one tooth must be about the length of my hand, and the breath is warm on my face.

I take back my hands and chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a wolf, but you’re way too big for that,” I say. “What are you?” I can hear the creature stand up, rattling its chains, and then I feel warmth close to my face as it breathes on me.

Gently, the snout presses against my head.

“What are you trying to tell me?” I wonder. The snout pokes into my stomach, making me laugh. “Me? What about me?”

It growls, then lets out a low “aroo…”

“Okay…you can howl, but you’re not a wolf. And when I asked what you are, you pointed to me, so…oh, fuck,” I whisper. I can hear it panting.

The sound is almost expectant, like it’s waiting for me to put the pieces together.

“This is going to sound crazy,” I start, “but after my last two days…are you a…werewolf?”