Chapter 9 - A New Life? - IX
"Let's begin," she said, her voice slow and deliberate. "1%."
An overwhelming presence flooded the chamber. My vision blurred, and my consciousness wavered for a moment. My legs gave out, and I collapsed, my head slamming hard against the polished jade floor.
"This feeling... this..."
It was like the pink gas, but far more intense. In the brief moment I lost consciousness, half the slaves in the room began convulsing. Blood gushed from their eyes, noses, and ears, foam bubbling from their mouths as their bodies writhed on the floor. Their pants were soaked in semen, spurting uncontrollably, as if they were pissing it out against their will.
The rest of us, myself included, staggered but clung to a sliver of sanity. Some clutched their chests as if on the verge of a heart attack; others frantically masturbated, their eyes glazed over, completely lost to the world but still alive.
The sensation was familiar but far more intense. The gas had a cumulative effect: first, it accelerated blood flow, spiking heart rate and lung capacity, which in turn sent a rush of blood to the muscles—especially the penis. Then, a hallucinogenic wave of pure desire took over the brain, amplifying sexual urges exponentially. The longer you were exposed, the worse it got, making it nearly impossible to stay sane without giving in to the need for release.
But this aura... this presence... was like a runaway train at full speed. No, worse—it was like a jetliner crashing with no way to stop. The symptoms didn't build up; they hit all at once. From deep within me, I heard a guttural roar, as if a beast long caged was fighting to break free, driven by insatiable lust, a savagery without limits.
'If that beast takes over, I'm fucked.'
About five seconds passed. That's all it took for half the slaves to die. Some of their heads exploded from the pressure, brains and blood splattering across the floor. Others drowned in their own fluids, while three had already torn off chunks of their own bodies in their frenzied desperation. The remaining twelve, myself included, swayed unsteadily but stayed on our feet.
I slowly pushed myself up, but before I could steady myself, that angelic voice rang out again.
"2%."