Mating Season E-Book

Nixie Fairfax

• Herausgeber: Nixie Fairfax
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Tammy Underwood, assistant of renowned cryptozoologist Dr. Benson Wackerly, has been left alone in the lab with orders to keep an eye on a strange new monster they’ve captured. It seems like an easy enough job…till the monster enters a state of intense arousal that looks likely to prove fatal if the massive, incredibly well-hung creature can’t find a female to mate with. With no way to contact her boss, and unable to watch the poor thing suffer, young Tammy decides to offer it the only female available: herself.

Leseprobe

Mating Season

By Nixie Fairfax

Copyright 2019 by Nixie Fairfax

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

“I hate to leave you on your own like this,” said Dr. Benson Wackerly as he zipped up his briefcase, “but my trip into town simply can’t wait any longer.”

“I’ll be fine,” his lab assistant Tammy Underwood assured him.

The portly cryptozoologist grabbed the bulging briefcase, then strode to the door, his white lab coat billowing behind him. He stopped in the doorway and turned to Tammy.

“Remember to keep a close eye on Specimen 121C. Its bio-signs have been rather erratic lately. Given the nature of the deviations, I suspect the creature is simply about to enter its mating season. Some variation of the rut or the musth. But still, it might be something more serious. Even if it isn’t, the creature’s condition bears watching. We know next to nothing about its reproductive habits.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be on him like a hawk.”

“It, my dear. How many times must I tell you: The specimen should properly be referred to as an it.”

Tammy ducked her head, her long red hair falling forward to shield her flushing cheeks. “Sorry, sir.”

“We must always strive to maintain the proper scientific distance and objectivity. If we grow too attached to the specimens, if we indulge our instinctive tendency to commit the pathetic fallacy, we risk compromising our detachment and hence we jeopardize not only the integrity of our research and our stake in the wondrous pageant of scientific progress, but indeed the very foundations of humanity’s future, sunk as they shall surely be in the firm, unwavering bedrock of truth, reason, and the scientific method.”

“I know, I know. I’ll try not to be so pathetically fallacious anymore.”

“Excellent. Now I really must go. Call me if there are any significant changes in the creature’s condition.”

“Will do.”

And with that he departed. Tammy stood there, listening to the Jeep roar to life outside and the rumble of its engine fade away into the distance. Then she turned and looked around the room.

They were currently occupying Field Station 27, one of dozens of small research labs set up in remote locations around the U.S. by the North American branch of the Worldwide Eldritch Incident Response Directorate (W.E.I.R.D.). Used by agents to temporarily contain and study unusual creatures and artifacts until arrangements could be made for the specimens’ relocation to one of the agency’s larger facilities, each field station consisted of a large central lab ringed with smaller rooms, including sleeping quarters for the agents when longer stays become necessary. As they had lately. Thanks to a shocking rise in weird happenings in recent months, the main facilities were packed to capacity, and though new cells for captured monsters were being built at a record pace, stays in the field stations were growing longer and more frequent.

Which sucked. It wasn’t that spending extra time with Dr. Wackerly was so bad. Despite his many foibles and the nosehair-curling odors he sometimes left in the bathroom, he was a brilliant cryptozoologist, and young Tammy was learning heaps of valuable things from him. And it wasn’t just that it was keeping her away from her hirsute quasi-boyfriend in the Pacific Northwest (which all things considered wasn’t really such a bad thing anyway). It was that the place was so darn tiny! Everything was crammed in here, packed tight like nuts in a jar. The field stations, never meant for extended stays, had been designed with an eye to utility and economy rather than comfort. The counters were barely two feet apart and were jammed from end to end with lab equipment, and if you weren’t careful coming or going, the front door would whap against the computer terminals in the west wall. Why, you couldn’t take a single step in here without tripping over a bundle of cords or knocking over a test tube or accidentally brushing up against the valve of a canister of liquid inertron and causing a leak of the extremely valuable compound (and thus being docked half your paycheck in the process).

Tammy’s rueful survey of the room ended with the large titanium-necromantium cell that took up most of the north wall. That was the one place that wasn’t cramped, for it needed to be able to accommodate the various specimens they collected, some of which were quite large. The cell’s current inhabitant, which was staring back at Tammy through the transparent sheet of necromantium that formed the cell’s outer wall, was a good case in point.