Alright, so...I'm dead. How did I die? That's the question isn't it? But I'd rather tell you about how I lived. That's the story worth telling in my opinion. Of course, not all of my life is worth hearing about. The first twenty-five years were filled with the same boring crap that made up everyone else's life. And mine would have been the same if not for my unwilling participation in a government led experiment to turn me into the perfect spy.
Let's just say if didn't work out the way they'd hoped.
Didn't end up great for me either to be honest. But the journey to get there, that's the story worth telling. But let me back up a little. My name's Thomas Emery, Tom to my few friends and almost no family. Just a normal guy in small town America. With big dreams and not enough talent, or ambition really, to make them come true.
I was pretty average all around, probably the reason I was chosen. Average height, build, hair color, yadda yadda. You get it. I wasn't special in any real way. I'd never been a loser per se, but I definitely wasn't the cool guy either.
It all started in late October. I stopped at a local watering hole to have a beer and attempt to drown the stress of a tough week. I grew up in this town, and I knew nearly every person in this dump.
Except for her. I should've known right from the start. This woman would have been out of place anywhere except maybe a New York fashion show. But my dumb ass was thinking 'Hey, maybe my luck's finally turning around.'
And in truth, it was. Just not in the way I was expecting. Or hoping for, she really was hot.
I would find out later that the serum she injected me with was filled with nanobots that were meant to allow me to reshape my body and alter people's perception of me. As well as increasing my pheromone production to a level that would make them amenable to doing what I asked them to do.
I was a guinea pig for some shit meant to make their spies even better. It certainly made
me
better.
I woke up the next morning feeling a fuzziness in my brain that was very expected after a night of drinking too much. What I wasn't expecting, were the multiple injection sites all over my body. In my neck, back, each forearm, biceps, chest and the big muscles of my legs were bleeding wounds that looked like they'd been made by four needles held closely together.
The strange thing was, they didn't hurt. Like, at all. It seriously looked like I'd been attacked, which I guess I had. In a way. My sheets stuck to me as I rolled out of bed, the dried blood gluing them to my body. Obviously, there was no sign of the blonde that was responsible for this. The only sign she'd been here, a lipstick marked cigarette butt in a mug on my coffee table. Along with one more glass than would usually be out.
I got in the shower and cleaned myself up the best I could. The wounds already seemed smaller than they had just a little while ago, strange, I thought. But the strangeness was only beginning.
I sat down at my computer and reached for the mouse to wake it up, but before I could touch it, a message popped up right in front of my face. And I mean, in front of my face, floating in midair.
"The fuck?" I said out loud. I waved my hand through the text seemingly floating on nothing only for nothing to happen. Swiping my hand through it didn't disturb it in the slightest. It was then that I focused and actually read the words. It said,
Thomas Ryan Emery
Subject 0006
Commencing Trial 1.4-2
Activate Rebuild Protocol? Y/N
I don't remember consciously thinking it, but I must have selected 'Yes', because I was instantly bombarded with mental images of what I would somewhat jealously admit, were hot guys. Not that I'm into that, but I can obviously tell when a dude looks like he should be a pro athlete, versus me, who could get winded just watching a game on TV.
The images stopped after a moment and were replaced by a ravenous hunger. I mean, seriously ravenous. I might have eaten a live chicken if I'd had one in my hands at that moment. I almost destroyed the living room in my shabby apartment trying to get to the kitchen as fast as humanly possible.
I tore open the refrigerator and went to town. Everything was on the menu. I ate until there wasn't a single scrap of food left in my place. Finally satiated, I thought. I sat back down and was completely shocked to see my bloated stomach returning to normal size right in front of my eyes.
Whatever that mysterious hottie had injected me with was seriously fucking with my mind. One minute I looked like I'd swallowed a beach ball, and the next I was back to my normal, schlubby self.
My phone dinged on the end table. Fuck, I must have passed out without plugging it in. It would be nearly dead by now, piece of shit couldn't hold a charge for more than a- wait, I'm getting off topic.
Anyway, I checked my phone to see that my boss, the ever-insufferable Debra, wanted me in the office today. It was a priority, no excuses, show up today kind of meeting. Perfect. Just how I'd hoped to spend my first Saturday off in who knows how long.
But I needed this shitty job if I wanted to keep my shitty apartment, so I got up and threw on the most presentable shirt and slacks I had. I'd worn them already that week, but I hadn't spilled anything on myself, so I was good to go, I figured. With a coating of some cheap body spray, I was out the door and in the car.
The drive across town was soul-crushing on a regular workday, and doubly so on the weekend. Every other driver seemed to be looking at me with pity as they went to go hang out at the lake, or do some other inane activity that I told myself I would have loved to be doing today. But honestly, if I hadn't been called in to work, I would have been playing videogames or doing some other dumb shit, don't judge me.
I pulled into the parking lot and with a quick mental pep talk, made my way into the building. My coworkers all looked equally pleased to be here instead of doing literally anything else. "Any idea what this super important meeting is about?" my buddy Eric asked.
"Nope," I shrugged. "Can't wait to find out why we're here."
Eric just chuckled and flashed me his million-dollar smile. The guy was pretty cool, but fuck him for being so handsome, you know? If he had even the slightest bit of self-confidence, he'd have been drowning in women. Well, maybe not in our hometown, but in general. I could never understand how someone so good looking could repeatedly blow it with every woman he ever talked to.
We settled in to hear Debra's standard bitching and threats to withhold our bonuses yet again if we didn't step it up. I'd been here three years and hadn't seen a bonus once in all that time. And I wasn't the only one either.
Debra stalked to the front of the room and snidely looked down her nose at us as she began reaming everyone out for being behind on this or that. She was one of those bosses that only cared about getting shit done on time, not whether it was done right or not. Until it was clear that it wasn't done right. Which was the sort of meeting this was.
"Anything to add, Tom?" she asked me. I'd honestly been zoning out, thinking about how hungry I already was again.
"Uh, not really," I very convincingly lied. "You said it all, Debra."
"Typical," she snorted. "Drop the ball and take no responsibility for it. Very reasonable attitude to have, given the scale of your fuckup."
"
My
fuckup?" I was incredulous. Okay, now I
was
paying attention. "Who was it that pushed us to get this thing out when we told you it would take another month? Was that me that did that?" I had no idea why I was actually speaking my mind. My M.O. my entire life up until this point had been to stay under the radar and try to slide under the shitstorm instead of facing it head on. Very courageous of me, I know. If they'd given out medals of valor to desk jockeys, maybe the guy who won it would have let me polish it for him.
"You little...My office. Now!" Debra just barely kept her anger reigned in as she pointed to her office, like we didn't all know where she hid out all day while we did the real work.
I did the walk of shame while my coworkers balked, unbelieving that I would actually be dumb enough to open my stupid mouth during our monthly 'You're Worthless' meeting.
Debra slammed the door behind her after following me into the cramped pigsty she generously referred to as her office. "Feel better, getting that little diatribe out of your system?" she asked, venom practically dripping from her teeth.
"If everyone would just do what I say, things would be better around here in every way," I replied, for some reason. I instantly felt the same fuzzy feeling in my mind that I did when I woke up that morning. Like something was moving around in my brain.
"I think you should learn your place and just do your fucking job without complaint!" she got in my face, backing me up against her row of file cabinets.
"Well I think you should suck my fucking dick, bitch," I replied, the words leaving my mouth almost before I had time to think them.
Without a word, an iota of argument, Debra fell to her knees and reached for my pants. I was too stunned to move as she pulled my dick out and slurped it into her mouth. She bobbed her head back and forth, getting me hard in no time. I wasn't super experienced at the time, but she was better at it than the few other blowjobs I'd been lucky enough to get.
The only thing not to my liking about the situation was the hateful glare she was shooting me while she sucked me off. "Enjoy it," I ordered. I had no idea what was making me say these things. I'd have never told my bitchy boss to suck my cock before now. Not that I hadn't thought about it, it just wasn't in my top ten fantasies or anything.
My command took immediate effect though, her expression softened and she began to moan on my dick like she couldn't have been happier doing anything else. The look of hatred turned to one of begging, her eyes pleading with me to give her what she wanted so badly. Her mouth flew up and down my dick, dragging her tongue up the underside until she swirled it around the head on every other stroke. She was working hard on me, wanting me to cum in her mouth.
