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Day of swimming turns into day of sex.

Are they pleasure, or pain?

I shudder.

The longing is there again. I reach down to stroke myself.

"Ahhee!"

The flesh is so raw! I try, but I can't do it. I hurt too much for the pleasure.

But I know.

Soon the longing will go beyond the pain.

I look at my desk. The pale blue bottle sits there looking so very innocent.

Willing rape in azure glass as one of my more poetic colleagues called it. Before he shot himself. I grab it from my desk and stuff it into one of the drawers. Sitting down, my bare ass cold on the leather chair. I've stopped wearing pants. They get in the way when the longing hits and I'm too sore for cloth to touch me. I look again at the papers on my desk.

Lab reports. Endless lines of data all showing the same thing. The death certificate for human civilization.

The lights flickered, they had been doing that all afternoon. I knew that soon they would go dark forever. No one was there to keep them going. Like all the rest they were naked in the streets. Fucking like animals!

Grabbing the papers I throw them across the room. Scattering the useless things like snow. I grab my chair and smash it into the window! The tempered glass shatters, but doesn't fall. The chair crashes to the floor from my limp fingers as I slide to the floor, back against the side of my desk.

I sit crying. The longing is so great now. I can't help it, I grab my cock.

"Ahhaaa!

Screaming in pain I yank at myself. It feels like my skin is pealing off, but I can't stop.

I can hear them. They're in the building! We tested the perfume here. Once you're around it, you can recognize it anywhere. That was part of what we loved about it. How easily you could recognize someone wearing it.

I hear screams in the building now. My lab people probably. We sealed the building thinking we would be safe. With cases of the vile stuff stored here we thought somehow we would be safe.

What fools.

Put a fox in to guard the chickens you'll have cock for dinner everytime. Haha.

The need to cum again was over powering. Dehumanizing.

But that was the sick horror of it. Even when you cum it doesn't help. The need comes back within minutes or with a single whiff of the blue flower.

We soaked the world in it! Draped ourselves in it like kings of old. The first weeks were wonderful. Walk into a crowded bar. You could take your pick. One, two, hell a dozen if you wanted. Before the night was out they would beg to do anything you could think of. Any perversion.

And the more times you put it on the stronger the effect!

Oh dear god what have I done?

I hear movement in the hall. I pull myself to my feet. Still holding my cock I reach into my desk. I pull out the pistol. The end of the barrel is still bloody from when my friend shot himself.

The steel is cold against my temple. Breathing hard I yank on my cock. Come on, once more. Just one more time!

I smell the flower!

My hand shaking as I bring down the gun. It drops unheeded from my fingers as I bury my nose into the skin on the back of my hand. Oh god yes!

Looking in the drawer I see a small pool of light blue liquid under the bottle I had tossed inside. Oh god no!

I hear my door take a hit. They could smell it!

I grabbed up the bottle trying to close it. My irrational mind thought that would help. As I pulled the bottle out the top comes off completely.

I feel the liquid splash my chest, my legs. As I fumbled for the top it covers my hands.

I hear cries of lust and watch as the doorframe starts to splinter.

Dropping to my knees hunting for the top! Had to get it closed! Had to close the bottle!

I might as well have been trying to close the gates of hell by throwing snowballs at them.

I was kneeling down on the lab reports laughing as the door shattered. The smell of the flower covering me, filling my nose. I look up as they poured into the room. Dozens of them,

They rush at me. Their eyes wild with lust, with need. Their bodies naked, dirty, scratched, they fell on me. Hands tearing at my skin, holding me down!

I welcomed it. A just reward for my crimes.

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