Slither - Edward Lee [94]
After minutes more of excruciating mouth-play on her abdomen, he finally lowered himself to his knees.
She breathed through hisses, then quickly raised her legs, splaying everything before his face. The bottoms of her thighs rested on his shoulders.
Trent tinkered further with her angst, refusing to ar rive at the mark. She was truly hanging now, her arms straight as rods, her bare heels thunking his back, trying to pull his mouth closer. Trent just kissed and sucked ever more along the insides of her thighs.
The way she began to shudder, he would've thought she was climaxing even before his mouth finally found her sex.
Annabelle let out a delicious moan. If Trent had been able to see her face, surely her eyes would've been squeezed shut in the most potent pleasure, and every muscle in her flawless body flexing beneath the tan skin.
Her moans rose to repeated crescendoes, her flesh quaking, then-
Just as he expected her climax to let loose-
"Get me down!" she shrieked. "There's someone behind you!"
Trent heard an unpleasant metallic clack! of some sort, and before he realized it might have been the sound of something hitting him on the back of the head, his vision began to blur. It seemed that black ink had been dumped over his consciousness, and-
Trent collapsed flat on his back.
Only one second of awareness ticked by before he'd fully blacked out, and in that second, he saw two things:
Annabelle hanging helpless and naked against the tree.
And a man in a decon suit, gas mask, and hood reaching out for her.
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(I)
Nora corkscrewed in the water as the pulsing, pink worm tightened its coil around her waist. Somehow her instinct turned off her panic and turned on her defensive mechanisms; as the worm coiled in one direction, she violently flailed her body in the opposite, hoping to retard the thing's efforts to fully encircle her.
She thrashed, wielding her knife. No thoughts of horror or fear filled her head-only reaction. The worm seemed the width of a garden hose, but it had to have been ten feet long. Eventually it wrapped around her body several times, then began to constrict.
Its strength was dizzying, as though two hefty men were pulling on each end of a rope looped about her waist. Had it gotten around her neck, she knew she'd be strangling now, but this wasn't much better. The worm was trying to squeeze all the air out of her body ...
Her free hand clamped just under the tapered cone of flesh that was the worm's head; this was all that kept it from slithering about her throat .. .
Nora was running out of air. Her flippers kicked to the surface, but the worm's posterium-its tail endraveled around her legs, tightening more.
Meanwhile, unvented carbon dioxide began to swell in her lungs .. .
Through her mask she viewed the worm's eyeless head and the sphincter of muscle that composed its frontal duct. The fleshy ring opened and closed akin to a heart valve, driven to attach itself to her mouth through which it would either empty its digestive enzymes-to feed-or empty its ovarial reservoirs-to plant its eggs.
The mouth had no jaws-just the grotesque, pulsing ring-and no teeth, but instead something worse: a circle of "stylets" that would sink into the meat of her back throat like fishhooks, to keep the worm's body securely attached to the host. The most revolting sensation of Nora's life was the feel of the worm's own throat clamped in her hand, its skin-or hydrostatic sheath-moving back and forth-like the foreskin over an erect penis.
At that moment, she thought: I'm going to die now ...
She felt something tear through her swimsuit-and her skin. Seawater burned into a six-inch-long gash down her abdomen. The worm was now a belt tightened around her waist ...
Nora's knife had shot down, then, and cut the belt in half.
She'd done it without thinking, cutting herself in order to cut the creature ...
Half of the worm's length drifted away, dead.
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