Read Online Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) by Charles Hash - Free Book Online
Authors: Charles Hash
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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.
7
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.
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.
7
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.
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