Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) (7 page)

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Rhylie sobbed hysterically. The doctor licked her lips with her fat, forked tongue.

“Initiate Sexual Response Level Ten,” the doctor commanded methodically. Sexual pleasure exploded through Rhylie’s body, forcing her eyes to roll back into her skull. Her hips bucked involuntarily as she orgasmed harder than she ever had in her life. She squirmed on the table as her nipples hardened and pebbled. She struggled to close her legs, to fight against the cascading pleasure as it rolled through her body, but her restraints were unforgiving and merciless.

And then it was gone, leaving her gasping and heaving for breath. Her mouth was dry and her thighs and ass were wet. She began to weep softly.

“Very interesting,” the doctor said. “Sothu would love you.” She laughed mirthlessly.

“Please, no more. Please,” Rhylie begged as she wept. The tears were getting harder to come by.

“We still have more exams, Gota,” the doctor said.

“I just want to go home,” she begged. The doctor laughed.

“You have no home, Gota. You have nothing. You are nothing. And if I have my way, that is all you will ever be,” the doctor said.

“No no no,” Rhylie said. “Please no. Please let me speak with the Empress. Please.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Gota,” the doctor replied. “She has instructed me to not involve her in these proceedings. She wishes to remain blissfully unaware of the lengths I must go to rehabilitate you properly. She has a gentle soul, and it makes her a kind and benevolent ruler.” Rhylie closed her eyes and continued to weep softly, without tears this time. Her eyes felt swollen and cracked. She just wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep forever.

“I hate you,” she said softly. She didn’t care if the doctor smiled at her or not.

“Initiate Disease and Infection Procedure Level Ten,” she heard the doctor say. Fever, followed by chills wracked Rhylie’s body. Boils sprang up on her flesh, growing and pulsing like living creatures until they erupted with a rancid, thick pus that filled the room with a foul smell.

She began to dry heave violently, but there was nothing for her stomach to give up but a thick, bitter foam that filled her nostrils and choked her. The sores on her skin began to trickle blood, slowly at first, gradually growing into a slow, steady flow that pooled on the table around her.

Her sense of time was lost to her in fevered dreams. It could have been moments, it could have been hours, but to Rhylie it felt as though several lifetimes had passed before her symptoms eventually began to fade, leaving her skin pocked with scars. She was weak and dehydrated, but alive.

“Yes, you’re very resilient,” the doctor said, obviously disappointed. “A susceptible immune system, but with a rapid response. Both frail and enduring as a race.” She waited for a response, but Rhylie wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. After a long pause, she issued another command.

“Now let’s test gestation,” the doctor said. “Initiate Reproduction Level One.” More white cilia emerged from the table, sliding into Rhylie’s hips and thighs. Within minutes, her stomach began to swell, growing round as the skin on her belly stretched tight. Her eyes widened in horror as her breasts began to grow firm and ache. Something twinged deep within her belly, as though it were making a home in the recesses of her pelvis.

“Unfortunately, we cannot undo this part of the process,” the doctor said. “But your tests are finished for now. Return Subject Human Three to her Chamber.”

The table lifted and carried Rhylie from the room and out into the corridor. The door swirled shut behind her, and the table brought her back to the Chamber, where it released her.

She spent the next several hours on the couch, sobbing and cradling her cat with the lights turned out.

Rhylie couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to move. Her mouth was parched and her eyes were swollen and sore from crying again. Her cat lay beside her on the couch, purring as she nuzzled it.
Death can’t possibly be worse than the life I’m living
, she thought before pushing it away. She still had something to live for. The tests and medical trials had continued daily for weeks as far as she could tell, though they had switched to a more psychological nature, increasing in intensity. She had begun to suspect that the doctor was torturing her for the fun of it, forcing her to deal with her fears on an intimate level, and quickly reminding Rhylie of her failures, usually with harsh, painful discipline. Her pregnancy had progressed rapidly as well. Time was quickly losing meaning. Everything was quickly losing meaning. Even the child growing inside of her was becoming a twisted, aching reminder of the hopes and dreams that she had lost. But the baby was all she had left. The doctors had refused to tell her the gender. She was beginning to think they weren’t doctors at all. Vorcia had not visited her once during all of the tests.

“You need to eat, Gota,” the Chamber said. “For the baby. It will be here soon.”

“I will soon,” she murmured into the cat’s soft fur. “I just want to lay here.” The baby was the only reason she had kept eating. Without it, life would not be worth living.

“You should bathe as well, you have developed a significant coat of oils and salt,” the Chamber chided. “If I had a sense of smell I would be thoroughly offended.”

“I don’t care if I’m dirty,” Rhylie replied. “Nothing matters anyway.” She was tired of crying.

“Why would nothing matter? I don’t understand,” the Chamber responded.

“There’s no one to be clean for. I don’t care if the Empress or the doctors see me like this,” Rhylie said sitting up on the couch.

“I can fabricate someone for you to care about,” the Chamber replied flatly, without a hint of emotion.

“I…I don’t know. No. That’s weird,” Rhylie responded. “It’s not right. This doesn’t even act like a real cat.” She sighed.

“What do you mean?” the Chamber asked.

“I can’t explain it. It just doesn’t. It doesn’t even play or anything. It just lays there and purrs,” she said as she scratched its head.

“I took it from your memory. If you want it to play, then make it play. It is yours to control,” the Chamber said. Rhylie frowned.

“That doesn’t make it a real cat,” she said stubbornly.

“If you cut it, it will bleed,” said the Chamber.

“That doesn’t make it real either,” Rhylie shot back angrily. “That doesn’t make any of this real.”

“But this is all real, Gota,” the Chamber said. “Anything you desire can be fabricated. You do not have to remain here in your parent’s compartment alone.”

“I like it here,” she said stubbornly. “It makes me feel safe.”

“I see. Perhaps you would feel even more secure if you had someone to keep you company,” the Chamber said.

“I have company,” Rhylie said rigidly, and lay back down beside her cat. “I don’t care if it’s real or not.” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

“What about Ryan?” the Chamber asked. Rhylie’s stomach lurched.

“No. No. I can’t,” Rhylie stammered. “It wouldn’t be right-”

“Hey sugar,” Ryan’s voice came from behind her. She rolled off the couch, dumping her cat on the floor and stood up. Her ex-boyfriend was in the kitchen cooking something. It smelled like breakfast. “Did you sleep well?” Rhylie’s mouth dropped open. He was shirtless and had that boyish grin she remembered so very well.

“No,” she said. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.”

“No?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No, this can’t happen,” she said. “Make him go away.”

“What are you talking about, Gota?” he asked. “Make who go away? Me?” She clenched her jaw.

“You know what I’m talking about,” she said angrily. Ryan froze in place, a shocked expression on his face. The smell of breakfast vanished from the air.

“Do you desire for me to execute him?” the Chamber asked.

“No!” she exclaimed. “What kind of question is that?”

“That is what it would require,” the Chamber responded. “He is alive now. He is yours. Just as you always wanted.” The thought was both frightening and comforting. Frighteningly comforting. She felt sick to her stomach, and then the pains began.

She dropped to her knees as her stomach clenched involuntarily as though making a fist. Clear, watery fluid began to drain from her, running down her thighs in steady rivulets that soon turned into streams. Something broke inside of her and she felt a gush of warmth flood from her womb, soaking the carpet. She howled as the pain sent a wave of heat flashing across the surface of her skin followed by a sheen of sweat. The door swirled open and the doctor walked in with her assistants. The apartment reformed around her into a fabrication of the testing room. Rhylie didn’t even notice as the tabled formed beneath her, restraining her as though she were in birthing stirrups.

Her breasts were on fire as she began to lactate, producing trickles of milk that streamed steadily down the curvature of her enlarged breasts. It seemed like an eternity had passed before she gave birth to a fat, healthy baby with a tassel of fine black hair atop its head. It had her dark eyes and button nose.

“Remove it,” the doctor said flatly.

“Where are you taking it?” she demanded to know. She was covered in sweat and her hair was plastered to her head. A pool of watery blood and afterbirth spread across the table. They wouldn’t really take it from her would they? It was
her
baby!

“He must be destroyed,” the doctor said coolly, as though she were talking about a stray dog. “We cannot allow him to live.” Rhylie howled wordlessly as she struggled against her bonds. The doctor cocked her head to the side, a slight smile on her lips, as though she were amused by Rhylie’s anguished tantrum.

“I’ll fucking kill you all!” Rhylie began screaming over and over as she thrashed about on the table, desperate to escape her restraints. She had never felt so enraged or violated, even during all of the testing.

One of the other physicians finally said something in their native language.

“No, I want to hear her scream,” the doctor responded without looking away from Rhylie. Rhylie ceased her threats and closed her mouth, staring at the doctor with hate-filled eyes. “I want to hear all of it.” The other physician just nodded in response. “Humans have one of the shorter gestation rates of any of the intelligent races. Initiate Sterilization Procedure Level 1.”

Rhylie felt a pain inside of her, a burning sensation below her belly button. It was over nearly as soon as it had begun. It was almost innocuous compared to what she had just gone through.

“What did you do to me?” Rhylie asked fearfully, but she already knew the answer. A thickening wave of nausea welled up inside of her.

“We neutered you. Now you won’t ever have to worry about going through that again,” the doctor said, smiling down at her with that sick, evil grin. Rhylie wanted to throw up.

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing this to me?” The doctor didn’t bother answering her question. They left through the door, leaving Rhylie restrained to the table. Only after it had swirled shut did the table shift to an upright position and release her. She stood there for a moment, weak and drained.

Her knees buckled as the ground swayed beneath her. She slumped to the floor, hitting her head on the corner of the table beside the couch. Bright white light followed by pain and nausea swept through her. In a moment, Ryan was by her side, crouching over her. He lifted her up in his strong arms, cradling her, and put her down gently on the couch.

“Are you ok, sugar? You’re bleeding,” he said, kneeling beside her, his brow knit with concern. He stood up and walked to the bathroom. He returned in a few moments with a wet washcloth, with which he began dabbing her temple. “It’s not that bad.”

“It stings like hell,” she said, her eyelids fluttering.

“Language, Gota. Such language will get us in trouble,” he whispered. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Who cares?” she asked.

“I care,” he replied.

“I need a shower. I stink,” she said, changing the subject. Ryan laughed.

“Yes. Yes you do. I should have breakfast finished by the time you get out,” he said. “But first we need to take care of this cut.”

“Good,” she replied. “I’m starving.”

*

The shower was steaming, but it wasn’t hot enough. No matter how high she turned it, she couldn’t get it as hot as she wanted it. She felt like she wanted to scrub the last few weeks away and start anew with a fresh skin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Ryan around after all. He had broken her heart before…but this one couldn’t…could he? Still, it would be better than just talking to the Chamber and petting her cat.

When she got out of the shower, her breakfast was sitting on the kitchen table. Ryan had already started eating. She sat down in her towel and picked up a spoon, digging in and eating the scrambled eggs. There was something off about them, but she couldn’t figure out what.

“So what do you think about having children?” Ryan asked. He picked up a piece of bacon off his plate, and examined it closely before crunching on it.

“Wh-what?” she stammered. “What the hell kind of question is that?” Anger flared within her. She tried not to think about the baby the doctors had taken from her, but the emotions came flooding back, raw and primal.

“Language, Gota,” he cautioned, pausing to frown. “You always used to talk about wanting children. That’s why I left, remember?” Rhylie put her fork down and narrowed her eyes at him. “You wanted a family and I wanted to explore the galaxy…” he put the other half of the bacon down and looked at her. “I regret that. I never replaced you.”

“Stop it,” she said. She really didn’t like where this conversation was coming from, or where it was heading.
They took my baby
, she thought. She didn’t want to know what they had done with him.

“I’m just being honest,” he said with a flat expression on his face.

“No, you’re not. Just drop it, now,” she said angrily. Ryan frowned.

“We should talk about it sometime,” he said. “When you’re in a better mood.”

“No, we shouldn’t. We should never talk about it. Never again,” she said.
What the hell was going on
?