Page 47 of Lagoon

The gun was at his jaw now. She couldn’t reach his temple anymore. He turned to look at her, swallowing again.

She licked her lips, gazing up at him. “This some kind of striptease, Luther?”

“Just want to make sure you enjoy the show,” he whispered.

“Nothing to see right now,” she said, her voice going velvet. “Maybe you’re shy. I could help you out.” Her hand was at his crotch.

He grunted again. “I mean, you do have a gun to my head, Angela, so I can’t exactly stop you.”

“You can’t,” she agreed, trying to undo the button on his pants. She couldn’t do it one handed.

He helped her out.

She got the zipper on her own.

They pushed his pants down together. The pants were practically at his knees when the stinger was finally free. It sprang out and pointed out. The air felt good on it. It pulsed. His cock was jutting out over top of it, scaled, shimmering, but otherwise human-like.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s really huge.”

“Yeah.” He liked that she was looking at him, that he was bare for her like this. He liked it alot.

“I want to touch it,” she said.

“Well, you can do what you like with a gun to my head,” he managed, his voice strained.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” she whispered, her voice gentle.

“Are you kidding? Please touch it,” he groaned. “Please.”

Her fingers were on the stinger, fingertips grazing over it.

He jerked at the sensation.

“Is it sensitive?”

“Mmm,” he managed.

“Like, cock sensitive?” She wrapped her hand around his cock, as if he needed to feel that to gauge the sensitivity.

He shut his eyes and made only garbled noises.

“Okay,” she said, returning her hand to the stinger, but now jerking it off, holding it in her fist and loosely rubbing her hand up and down the length of it.

He shuddered, eyes shut, teeth gritted, overwhelmed by the sensation of that. He’d thought about doing this to himself at one point, but there hadn’t been time to masturbate lately or to explore his strangely altered body like this.

“What the fuck am I doing?” she breathed.

You can stop,he tried to say, but his voice wasn’t working. A strange pressure started in his balls, not unsimilar to the sensation he had before he had an orgasm, but this was different.

A jerk happened, something moving into his stinger. It felt fucking fantastic. He gasped.

He could feel it—whatever it was—moving up the thing, and he could see it, too, an oblong shape traveling through the long protuberance. He moaned, because every movement felt good, really good, like an orgasm building on top of itself, getting better and better and then—

Oh, shit, it was coming out of the tip of him, and it hurt but it felt good, too,sogood, better than any time he’d ever come in his life.

The egg pushed out, the shape mashed from being inside the ovipositor but growing rounded and spherical as it emerged. It was like the ones that killed Nancy—fleshy, veined, slightly translucent.

It came free of him with an obscene slurping noise as he let out a high-pitched sound of pleasure—fuck, that was good—and then it plopped down on the ground.

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