Chapter 1: The Test
The lobby was perfect.
Sterile. Secure. A fucking fortress of anonymity.
I stood in the shadow of the tinted glass doors, watching the parade of bodies shuffle past. The air smelled like old carpet and stale cigarette smoke, the kind of scent that clings to the back of your throat and makes you want to cough. But I didn’t cough. I just breathed it in, slow and deep, like I was savoring the last drag of a cigarette. Because this—this was the moment.
Two weeks ago, my phone buzzed with a text from an old acquaintance. "Hey, Roger! Just wanted to check in—Sarah is really excited for Harper's slumber party next month! She's looking forward to seeing everyone again. Her first year was a little rough. I was wondering if you could make sure she has a good time."
I wasn't surprised. It was typical of George Thompson to be out of the loop. His divorce from Sarah's mother had been as amicable as these things get, but it had left him a bit adrift. He was always the last to know. I could practically hear his voice, gruff and apologetic, as he asked me to keep an eye on his little girl at the party I didn't even know about.
I looked at the message again, the words blurring as my anger rose. Nichole had made sure everyone knew about our divorce, spinning some tale about me being inappropriate with Harper.
She’d painted me as some kind of pervert, a monster lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pounce. The house, the money, everything—all hers. And now, Harper barely even spoke to me. She’d gone from calling me "Dad" to barely acknowledging my existence. It was like she’d been brainwashed into believing I was the villain in her own life.
The divorce had ruined me. My job, my friends, my reputation—all gone. I’d spent the last year drowning in whiskey and resentment, until one day, I stumbled upon something in my lab. A gas. Fucking smoke.
It was everywhere. It was thick, too, not like the wispy shit you get from a dry ice machine. This was the real deal, and it could easily be seen. I'd made sure of that. I'd wanted to see it, to watch it work. But now, seeing it like this, I felt a twinge of unease. This was too much. Too real.
Once I realized what the smoke could do, I filed it away. Locked it up tight in my lab, planning on never using it. It was dangerous, too powerful. But then, that text from George, and all my anger, all my bitterness, had bubbled up, and I'd thought, fuck it.
But I needed to test it first.
And what better place than an apartment building in the city on a parade day?
The lobby was a good place to test the gas. Crowded, but not too crowded. Enough people to make it interesting, but not so many that anyone would notice a man standing in the corner, watching. The tinted glass doors kept outsiders from seeing in, and the residents had to scan their phones to get inside.
The lobby would be a congested mess of people pushing their way through, laughing and chatting as they made their way outside to watch the parade. The air was already thick with the scent of perfume and cologne, the kind of heavy, sweet smell that clung to the back of your throat. I stood in the corner, watching as the crowd swelled.
I checked my phone for the time. The parade would start in less than an hour.
Already, the lobby was a swarm of bodies, all moving in the same direction—toward the doors, toward the street, toward the promise of something brighter than this dimly lit, stale-smelling space. I let my eyes drift over the crowd, taking in the details.
They had no idea that I placed devices all over the building. Four in the lobby, to cover all the exits. One on each floor by the door to the stairs. And one in each elevator.
The devices were about the size of a quarter, so no one should notice them.
But if they did, they’d probably assume they were part of the building’s weird architectural detail. Either way, they were invisible to the casual eye.
I noticed a group of college girls huddled together near the mailboxes, their laughter echoing off the sterile walls. They were dressed in outfits that were more costume than clothing, their hair and makeup done in bold, vibrant colors. They looked like they were ready to party. I smirked, wondering if they'd still feel that way in a few minutes.
One of them, a tall blonde with a sharp wit and a devil-may-care attitude, caught my eye. She was wearing a pair of denim shorts that were more like a belt than actual clothing, and a top that left little to the imagination. Her hair was a bright blonde, almost white, and her eyes were a piercing blue.
She was the kind of girl who commanded attention, the kind who didn't give a fuck what anyone thought. She was talking animatedly, her hands moving in wide, dramatic gestures, and her friends were laughing, their eyes wide with mirth. She was the center of their universe, the sun around which they orbited.
I watched her, watched them all. They were oblivious, of course. How could they know that in a matter of moments, their world was about to change? That they were about to become unwitting participants in my little experiment?
I heard the familiar ping of the elevator. The doors opened.
A man stepped out first, his shoulders broad under a rumpled button-down suit. Behind him, a woman who was probably his wife followed, her heels clicking sharply against the tile, her posture rigid as a military drill sergeant. She was all sharp angles —her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze darting around the lobby like she was already calculating the damage of whatever parade disaster awaited them outside.
And then their daughter.
My breath caught.
She was the kind of girl who made a room stop moving just to watch her. Her uniform was crisp, the red of her skirt and jacket a striking contrast to the muted tones of the lobby.
The baton twirled casually at her side, the silver glinting under the fluorescent lights. Her hair was a riot of dark red waves, wild and untamed, falling just past her shoulders. She was shy, I could tell. Her eyes were wide and nervous, darting between her parents and the crowd, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was the kind of girl who probably spent most of her time trying to please others, to make them proud, to fit into the mold they expected.
She was perfect.
I didn’t hesitate.
Three pops echoed through the lobby like firecrackers on the Fourth of July—three quick, sharp bursts that made the girls jump. The smoke began to seep from the floor in front of every exit, curling lazily at first before thickening into a slow, creeping haze. It clung to the air like a second skin, swirling around the ankles of the girls near the mailboxes before rising higher, wrapping itself around their laughter.
I watched as the majorette took a hesitant step back, her fingers tightening around the baton at her side. Her eyes flicked up, darting between the thick gray haze and the group of girls who had suddenly gone quiet, their faces twisting into expressions of confusion. She looked nervous, her breath shallow, her shoulders tensing like she was bracing for something.
Her mother, though, was already moving, her heels clicking against the tile with a sharp, impatient rhythm. She grabbed her husband’s hand, her voice cutting through the sudden silence like a blade. "Emily!" she snapped, her tone dripping with the kind of authority that made it clear she didn’t have time for her daughter’s hesitation. "We’re going to be late. Don’t be ridiculous." Emily’s mother rolled her eyes, her voice sharp and dismissive.
"It’s just smoke, Emily. It’s not going to hurt you." She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the tile, and then she stopped. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent O as she looked at her husband. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and intense, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "John?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of her own heart. "What’s—what’s happening?"
But John didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing against her lips. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and then she was kissing him, her hands tangling in his hair, her body pressing against his.
John's hands were on her hips, pulling her closer, his mouth hungry and demanding. Mrs. Davis watched, her eyes wide with shock and something else—something dark and hungry. She took a step forward, her hands reaching out, and then she was pushing her husband's hands away, her fingers replacing his as she unbuttoned his shirt, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Emily, run!" John's voice was a growl, his eyes flicking up to meet his daughter's for a brief, agonizing moment. "Stay out of the smoke!" He didn't wait to see if she listened. He was already pulling his wife's blouse over her head, his hands fumbling with the buttons.
Emily hesitated, her eyes wide with shock and fear. She looked around, her gaze darting between her parents and the thick, gray haze that was now waist-high. She took a step back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and then she was turning, her uniform skirt swirling around her legs as she ran for the stairs.
That was when I realized the smoke bomb I'd placed there hadn't gone off. I cursed under my breath, my eyes scanning the lobby for any sign of her. But she was gone, disappeared into the stairwell like a ghost.
Oh, well, I thought, the smoke will probably catch her on another floor. Some other lucky bastard will get to have fun with her.
I turned my attention back to the college girls, my eyes finding them easily in the now-thick haze. They were huddled together, their faces twisted into expressions of confusion and lust.
My pants were already way too tight. I could feel the pressure building behind my zipper, the heat radiating from my body like a furnace. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. The smoke was working its magic, and I was right there with them.
The blonde reached me first, her bright eyes glazed with a hunger that wasn’t there five minutes ago. “Fuck, you’re just standing here waiting,” she breathed, her hands tearing at my belt before I could speak. Her mouth was on mine, tasting like cheap vodka and mint gum, and then she was on her knees, yanking my jeans and briefs down my thighs. The wet heat of her mouth swallowed me whole, her head bobbing furiously as Zoe’s hands gripped my ass from behind.
“My turn, bitch,” her sister grunted, pulling blondie's hair to drag her off. She spun me around, pushing me against the cold mailboxes, and hoisted her leg over my hip. I felt her wetness through her shorts before she shoved the fabric aside and sank down onto me with a sharp, guttural cry. Her green hair stuck to her sweaty neck as she rode me, her nails digging into my shoulders.
Their two friends were on me next, a blur of greedy hands and hot skin. Someone guided my face between Mary’s thighs from behind while Annie fed her own pierced nipple into my mouth. The world narrowed to the slick sounds of fucking, the smell of perfume and sweat, and the raw ache in my spine as they used me. “Pass him here,” Mary panted, pulling my head up to kiss me, her tongue pushing the taste of her own pussy into my mouth.
The pressure shifted, bodies rotating, and a new, frantic rhythm took over. I was on my back on the filthy tile, looking up at the buzzing fluorescent lights, when a different weight settled on me. It was Emily’s mother, her controlled mask shattered into something desperate and vile. “Don’t just stare, you pathetic fuck,” she snarled, her hips pistoning, her polished nails raking my chest raw. Over her shoulder, I saw John, his pants around his ankles, pinning the blonde against the wall, her legs hooked around his waist as he drove into her with a mechanical, furious pace. The redhead was on her knees before him, taking him into her mouth each time he pulled out of the blonde. The lobby was a chorus of grunts and slapping flesh, a single animal, breathing in the grey haze.
The smoke was everywhere, thick and suffocating, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the heat, the pressure, the way their bodies were on fire.
Emily’s mother was still riding me, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm that made her tits bounce with every thrust. Her blouse was open, her bra discarded somewhere on the floor, and her nipples were hard, almost purple, with the way she was gripping my shoulders. “Fuck me harder,” she hissed, her voice raw and desperate. “I want to feel you break me.”
I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh, and slammed into her with everything I had.
The force of it made her gasp, her breath hitching as she cried out, “Oh God, yes—don’t stop, fuck—” Her back arched, her head thrown back against the wall, her hair falling in dark waves around her shoulders. Her pussy was so wet, so tight, that every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my spine. I could feel her walls clenching around me, her body trembling with each deep, relentless fuck.
“You like that, don’t you?” I growled, my voice rough and guttural.
“You’re gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” My fingers dug into her hips, my grip bruising as I drove into her with brutal, relentless strokes. She let out a choked cry, her nails digging into my shoulders so hard I could feel them break the skin. “Fuck, yes—*fuck*—” she gasped, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her pussy was so tight, so wet, that every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my spine. She was close, I could tell. Her body was trembling, her muscles tensing as she fought to hold back.
But I wasn't having it. I wanted her to come, wanted to feel her fall apart around me. I reached between us, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles. "Come on, you fucking slut," I growled, my voice low and dirty. "Come all over my cock."
She let out a choked cry, her body convulsing as she came, her pussy clenching around me like a vice. "Fuck, yes," I grunted, slamming into her again and again, my own orgasm building in my spine. "Take it, you little whore. Take it all," I grunted, my body tensing as I came inside Emily's mother, filling her with hot, sticky ropes of my cum. She shuddered, her body milking me for every last drop, before collapsing onto my chest, panting and spent.
I noticed Emily's father is no longer fucking the blond. He was fucking the redhead, and they seemed to be enjoying every second of it.
The blonde was standing next to her green-haired sister. They were watching us. Emily's mother and I. No... they weren't watching Emily's mother. They were watching... staring... at me.
Their eyes were dark with something I couldn’t quite name—something hungry, something shared. Greeny stepped forward first. She pulled Emily's mother off me, tossing her to the side like a used rag. "My turn, cunt," she said, her voice low and dangerous. She straddled me, her green hair falling in wild waves around her shoulders. Naked, her body glistening with sweat and cum. She reached down, guiding my still-hard cock into her pussy with a low moan. "Fuck, you're big," she gasped, her hips starting to move in slow, deliberate circles. "I can feel you stretching me out."
I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. "You like that, don't you, you little slut?" I growled.
Her sister, the blonde , was on me next. She straddled my face, her pussy already dripping with arousal. "Lick me, you fucking pervert," she commanded, grinding her hips against my mouth. I obliged, my tongue diving into her wet heat, tasting the tang of her desire. She moaned, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. "That's it, you dirty fuck. Make me come on your face."
Meanwhile, Greeny was still riding me, her hips moving in a steady, relentless rhythm. She leaned forward, her tits pressing against my chest, her breath hot on my ear. "You like that, don't you?" She leaned back, her green hair falling around her shoulders as she watched me. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. "You like watching me fuck you, don't you?" she whispered, her voice husky and seductive. "I love it," I growled, my voice low and rough. "You're so fucking beautiful like this."
Greeny's sister, the blonde, was still grinding her pussy against my face. "Oh, God, that feels so good," she moaned, her fingers digging into my hair.
I could feel the smoke starting to dissipate, the thick haze thinning, and I knew I didn't have much time. I needed them to come soon, before the gas wore off completely. I redoubled my efforts, my tongue diving deep into her pussy, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles.
Greeny was still riding me, her hips moving in a steady, relentless rhythm. I could feel her pussy clenching around me, her body tensing as she got closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Make me come, you dirty fuck."
I reached up, my fingers finding her nipples and pinching them hard. That was all it took.
Greeny’s hips snapped forward with a sharp, guttural cry, her pussy clamping down on me like a vice as she came with a low, keening wail. Her sister—blonde, bold, and dripping with her own release—let out a choked, triumphant scream right as her own orgasm hit, her thighs trembling around my face. The blonde collapsed against me in a tangled heap of sweat and gasps, her breath hot and ragged against my skin.
I held Greeny up. I still needed to come , and I wasn't done with her yet. I rolled us over, pinning her to the floor. Her legs wrapped around me, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on. "Fuck me, you filthy bastard," she panted, her eyes wild and hungry. "Make me feel every inch of that big cock."
I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as I drove into her with long, deep strokes.
The sound of our bodies slapping together echoed through the lobby, mingling with the distant, muffled sounds of the other couples still lost in their own lustful frenzies. Greeny’s nails dug into my forearms, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
I felt my balls begin to tighten , the pressure building like a storm ready to break. "You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?" I growled, my voice raw with lust, my hips pistoning harder. "You’re gonna take every fucking inch of this cock."
She let out a broken moan, her body arching off the floor as she came again, her pussy clenching and unclenching around me like a vice. "Fuck, yes—don’t stop—" she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure. Her legs tightened around me, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on.
I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure in my spine turning into a white-hot wave. My cock throbbed, my balls tightening as I drove into Greeny with a final, brutal thrust. "Fuck, yes," I grunted, my voice raw and ragged as I came, my body convulsing as I filled her with hot, sticky ropes of my cum. She let out a choked cry, her body shuddering as she came with me, her pussy clenching around me like a vice. We rode out our orgasms together, our bodies trembling and slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged, gasping pants.
As the last waves of pleasure subsided, I rolled off her, my body spent and sated. I looked around the lobby, taking in the chaos we'd created. The smoke was almost gone, the thick haze dissipating, leaving behind a scene that looked like a war zone.
Clothes were strewn across the floor, bodies were tangled together in various states of undress, and the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. I sat up, my body aching from the intensity of the past hour, and looked around for my clothes. I found them in a heap near the elevator, my shirt stained with god knows what and my jeans torn at the knee. I pulled them on anyway, wincing as the fabric rubbed against my raw skin.
"Did that really just happen?" The redhead asked, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and exhilaration. She was still on her knees, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she stared at me.
I smirked, pulling my jeans up with one hand while reaching down to adjust myself with the other. "Yeah, it did," I replied, my voice low and amused. "You okay?" I asked, extending a hand to help her up. She looked at it for a moment, then took it, her fingers still trembling slightly. I pulled her to her feet, her body brushing against mine, and I felt a spark of something—affection, maybe, or just the lingering effects of the smoke. I pushed it aside, my mind already racing with the next steps.
"I'm... I'm fine," she stammered, her eyes darting around the lobby, taking in the scene for the first time. "What... what was that?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with shock and confusion.
I shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "I don't know," I lied , my voice calm and detached. "Is everyone okay?"
The lobby was a scene of stunned silence, the air thick with the scent of sex and lingering smoke. The girls were frozen in various states of undress, their eyes wide and dazed. Emily's mother was the first to recover, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "What the hell was that?" she demanded, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers.
The green-haired one let out a nervous laugh, her fingers nervously twirling a loose strand of hair. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "One minute we were just planning to watch the parade, and the next—" She gestured vaguely around the room, her eyes flickering over the discarded clothes and the bodies still tangled together.
The redhead let out a shaky breath. "I think we were all just... really... really... aroused," she finished, her voice barely audible. "I mean, look at us." She gestured at the group, her eyes taking in the disheveled state of their clothes, the flushed skin, and the glazed eyes. "We're all... we're all naked, or almost. And we just... we just had sex. With each other."
"I think it was the smoke," the blonde chimed in, her voice still shaky but gaining confidence. "I mean, it's the only thing that makes sense. One minute we were fine, and the next—" She gestured around the room, her eyes wide. "This."
"Well, the parade's started," the college girl with black hair announced.
"The parade... Emily?" John's voice cut through the stunned silence, his tone sharp with concern.
"Where's Emily?" Her mother asked, her voice sharp and cold, cutting through the lingering haze of smoke and sex. The lobby was still a mess of discarded clothes and tangled limbs, but the air had cleared enough to reveal the stark reality of what had happened.
John looked around, his eyes searching frantically. "I don't know," he said, his voice strained.
"She ran," I said, my voice calm and matter-of-fact. "She didn't want to get caught up in whatever was happening here. I saw her run up the stairs."
"John? We'd better go look for her. I have her phone and her key," her mother said. She was already moving, grabbing her clothes.
"We need to find her," she said, her voice sharp and urgent. "She can't be far."
John began to quickly dress, his hands shaking as he pulled on his shirt and pants. "We'll go look for her," he said, his voice tight with worry. Chloe and Zoe exchanged a glance, then stepped forward. "We'll help you look," Chloe said, her voice firm and determined. "We know the building better than you do." John hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you," he said, his voice gruff with gratitude. "We'll take the stairs," Zoe added, already heading for the door.
"I'll stay here, in case she comes back," I volunteered, trying to sound helpful. The girls nodded, their faces etched with concern as they followed John and his wife to the stairs.
---
Twenty minutes later, Chloe returned, her face flushed and her eyes bright. "We found her," she announced, her voice breathless with relief. "She's okay. A neighbor let her into his apartment before the smoke got to her. She's a bit shaken up, but she's fine."
I let out a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping as the tension in my body eased. "That's good," I said, my voice steady.
"His apartment," huh? I wonder...
"Well, I'm going to head out and catch what's left of the parade," I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.
"Oh, okay. It was... Um... Nice meeting you..." She blushed slightly, her eyes flicking down to her hands. "I mean, it was... interesting."
I smirked, pushing open the heavy glass door and stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk. "That's one way to put it," I said. "I mean... Nice meeting you, too."