He Wanders To The Laundry Room

Stacey stepped off the service elevator in the basement.

God it's hot, he thought, shrugging off his suit jacket to the floor as he walked towards the laundry room. Usually, the laundry room had its own hot humid air, but today something felt more intense about it, that air having seemed to spread through the basement and growing thicker and heavier as he approached the laundry.

As he opened the double width sliding door Stacey felt dazed and sluggish mentally.

His shirt was unbuttoned, the coloured streaks of what had spilled on his arm and been mindlessly smeared across his face had spread down across his body. He grinned as he untucked his shirt. When did he unbutton it?

The room was foggy, Jake and James had passed through a while back, the corrupted irons, washers, and dryers had turned the air into a thick haze.

Pausing Stacey breathed deep, he felt almost as if he was in a sauna, as he discarded his pants and shoes. He was overdressed, as the medicinal feeling haze condensed on his exposed skin Stacey just felt himself growing ever more at ease.

Just basking for a moment Stacey smiled. He felt his throbbing cock pulse and ache, pulling it free of his briefs he watched it bob slightly as if a dousing rod, Stacey bit his lip as he heard it more clearly.

The moaning.

Stepping forward he came into sight of one of the industrial washers. It beeped as if finished, the door popping ajar as Stacey advanced into the room, a flood of warm, black sud filled water cascading down onto the floor and dispersing into the haze.

The black corrupted water spilled outwards spreading across the room, soaking into unseen toppled laundry bins and piles, prone bodies, and then evaporating into the grey haze slowly reaching out from the room and onwards through the HVAC and other hotel equipment.

Stacey paused to strip his sopping wet socks. His feet losing any tension they might have had as they splashed through the shallow puddles as he stepped forward seeking to join what he could hear.

He didn't know why, his stoned mind guided by instinct, his body absorbing more corruption as he lingered about the corruptive mists.

“FUCK YES!”

“FOLLAME MAS DURO!”

“DUBLJE!”

Stacey didn't understand all the suddenly coherent words erupting from the haze all around him clearly, but something told him it was what he was seeking.

Stroking his cock, he stood still just listening, the impact of flesh on flesh, the slurping of mouths, moans, groans, gasps, screams.

Slowly he felt as if the haze was lifting, the mystic fog that had encompassed the room and was billowing outwards slowly inhibiting his senses less as he embraced its corruption and sought the sins it concealed and offered.

Not four feet away he saw two youthful bodies, perfect physical forms laying atop wet sheets, an olive-skinned woman pinned beneath a paler man, their eyes locked as they were helplessly compelled to fulfill their instinctive desire to fuck.

At the next washing machine a woman was bent over at the opening, the woman's face gurgling in water pooled in the bottom of the front load machine, until she flung her head back to gasp, her long hair flinging droplets into the air as she was screaming out in Bosnian as she was eaten out and fingered by a Latin woman behind her.

As Stacey admired the various bodies strewn about his soul and mind tried to raise alarm. All of the laundry staff were over middle-aged, none of them matched the youthful and beautiful forms engaged in various sex acts, often calling for more.

As Stacey turned around a corner a woman smacked his ass as she was being fucked over a folding table.

One woman had a man and woman clamped in an ironing table as if it were for bondage play, their searing flesh unleashing only cries and screams of pleasure and wanton desire for more.

Exploring the orgy further he soon found some people writhering on the floor in pleasure, at the center a golden scaled woman rode reverse cowgirl, flaunting her scaled body as her snake-headed tail penetrated into a pale blonde woman among the circle of bitten lovers.

Lucille's golden eyes locked with Stacey's, luring him to watch as the man beneath her thrust vigorously, hungering for what relief from the venom in his system being in her pussy provided. Arching his back he displayed his bulking chest.

Lucille had relished finding the corrupted laundry machines. She was almost impressed with how quickly the fog had formed, allowing her to shed the shameful illusion of her pre-demonic glory.

She'd wandered the room selecting from the buffet of staff, biting then gathering her first course. She enjoyed how they felt each other up and made out when piled together, their sexual inclinations discarded in favour of whatever actions they could take to relieve the burning desire of the venom.

Stroking his cock Stacey watched in amazement as two large, now scaly clawed hands clenched Lucille's sides and began hefting her up and down aggressively. Lucille screamed out in joy, excited to feel the smooth reptilian hide beneath her, his cock growing ridges within her as he grew closer to be her kind.

Orgasming as Lucille felt his soul unknowingly released to the Idol her snake-headed tail bit deep inside the girl she was fucking. The latest dose of venom and the bite causing her to hit a new climax, her spread locks of brown hair starting to fuse into a cobra-like hood.

Breathing heavily during a momentary pause as her recently turned prey basked in his corruption.

Gesturing to Stacey, Lucille smiled and flicked her forked tongue out. “Why don't you come closer and give me a taste.”