South Tower - The Security Guard's Tale Pt. 01

Lance Walker was standing at the entrance to what he used to think of as "his" nightclub, 'SCORCHED', inside the Atlantisea Resorts in Atlantic City. It was two in the morning, when they historically had closed. Now closing time was 3 A.M. The new manager, who he supposed was his boss, technically, had decided there was enough revenue in that last hour to justify being open.

He didn't care. He was salaried -- that just meant an extra hour of work for no pay, five times a week, sometimes six. Thankfully the club was closed on Tuesday nights, so it would never be seven. Usually, at closing time, he'd go to one of the many bars located around the property and pick up some newly transformed woman for between $100 and $200 and just absolutely have his way with her. His accommodations, in the South Tower, with all employees of the resort, came with a balcony overlooking the ocean. Periodically he would bend one over the railing, letting the passerby below look up and try to place the origin of the moans and shouts. After some time the Director told him to stop that, but he still got a girl out there at least once a week.

Transformed women. There were a lot of them. Some men too. By his guess about 2-4% of their guests got the hotel's special treatment. The details eluded him but the changes were obvious if you literally stood and watched people for 10 hours a day, which he did. He had no idea why they were doing this, only that the Director was heavily involved and he doubted that the ownership of the property knew. If they did, man, this was crazier than he thought.

Directly behind him, though he rarely looked save for shouting matches or the telltale signs of someone getting fucked where they not ought to be, stood six elevated stages. Three to a side, with three blackjack tables surrounding each. A poker table was in the far back of the room, lit under the same low red glow as everything else. Depending on the time of day, four to six of the stages would be occupied. They had one brunette, and the new manager Cait was raven-haired. Other than that, they were all varying shades of blonde with DD tits or larger. There was an ass for everyone though, they were an equal opportunity club in that regard, he thought.

Given it was 2AM, prime time, if you will, all six stages were occupied. Best Lance could tell four of them currently on staff were actual dancers by profession, so to speak. Meaning they came to this hotel as they currently were. Only one of them provided "extra" services that he knew of and she was discrete. The other two -- well, they'd arrived fairly normal. One was named Cameron and he was pretty certain she used to be an accountant. Now she was known for her insatiable appetite, sucking off probably twenty men daily if he had to guess. The other was named Ashley and he had no idea what she formerly was. By the time he'd run into her she'd been long gone -- she'd blown him twice in the back office and then he was told by the Director to give her a job on stage. He fucked her daily for about a week straight after that, and on and off since then if he was feeling lazy. Half of their manager's job was making sure she didn't arrive with cum noticeable anywhere, unless it was at the request of a high-roller or something.

He got tired of the bimbo ones and the ease of access, what with two right here in the club. That was the other thing with this place -- not all of them changed the same way, or even predictably. Lance didn't think the Director himself was able to 100% predict the results, though he sure had a better idea than Lance. That's why Lance went to the bars. The ones offering themselves there tended to have no scruples, yes, but they at least appeared to retain some intelligence. He needed some conversation occasionally, after all.

So at 3:05 AM he took a seat at the lobby bar next to the elevators for the West Tower, the guest accommodations closest to his club. There were three other elevator lobbies, each with a corresponding tower, lobby bar, and club. Numerous other bars, restaurants, etc. dotted the gaming floor. Today he was going for low-hanging fruit.

He sat at the far end, opposite a seventy-ish man who was a perennial fixture at this particular lobby bar. Lance didn't think he was an "affected one" as he had begun to think of them. He was just a dirty 70-year-old man who couldn't believe how lucky he'd been getting recently with the ladies. To his left sat a couple in their 40s, obviously trashed and chatting away to the overnight bartender, Andrés. A few other red-eyed gamblers. Nothing of interest.

Then he saw her walking from the lobby elevators. Short, cute. Brunette hair back in a pony-tail, adding to an already youthful appearance. Sun dress. Still wearing a bra -- those tits of hers weren't bouncing freely enough -- and some flat open-toe shoe that Lance guessed was overpriced. Big, almond shaped hazel eyes. You could see just enough tightness in the fabric of the sundress to know she had a nice ass. Most importantly, she looked confused and horny. Those were the telltale signs, he knew.

As a very muscular, fairly young guy, Lance could've done just fine for himself the old-fashioned way. As a matter of fact, he already had -- he'd been married for five years, the marriage ending two weeks after they moved into the employee housing. His wife had claimed something was "very wrong" with this place. He hadn't been 100% aware of it yet, but she was right.

Oh well, he thought. Better to have gotten that over with based on her premonitions than to have her walk in when I'm railing a 22 year old Latina over our balcony.

But Lance wasn't doing things the old-fashioned way anymore. He didn't need to, and there had to be some perk to this job, other than the money he no longer found a need for. He decided this one wasn't too far along, but definitely needing some plumbing work done by the look of her. Instead of waiting for her to reach the inevitable conclusion that he was the youngest, most handsome of the bunch in here at 3AM, he decided to take the conversation to her.

"Excuse me -- Miss?" He had stood from his stool and taken a few steps toward her as she approached from the elevators. His tone was professional, cordial. He never knew whether they suspected anything or not, and it was better to play it safe and let them make the move. It never took long. "Do you need help with anything? You look a little lost. I'm off-shift now..." he gestured at the drink "... but I'm the security supervisor for that nightclub over there." He deliberately stood between her and the nightclub to obscure the view of any after-hours activities currently going on. "If you need help finding something I can point you in the right direction."

She looked relieved, initially, then ran her eyes over his chest and face before biting her lower lip slightly. Her cheeks flushed a little bit -- she looked even cuter embarrassed, to Lance. "Oh! Uhm...no...well, not no, but like..." she sighed. "Ugh, I'm not looking for anything but maybe uh...like a drink? If you could? I don't mean to be so forward but I uh -- "

He cut her off. "Don't say another word -- it's nothing." He pulled back the stool next to his and sat back down. He gestured for Andrés to come around and the young bartender quickly did. "I'll take a Manhattan and she'll have..."

"A Vodka martini." She smiled at Lance, more than a little seductively. "Thank you...uh...I'm sorry! What's your name?"

"Lance. And yours?" He raised his eyebrow ever-so-playfully, just barely sipping his drink.

"Mallory. I uhm, thank you for the drink. You must meet a lot of people working here."

You don't know the half of it, girl. "Oh, not as many as you'd think. I mostly try to keep out of sight and out of mind -- we're not like cops or anything but people don't like security hanging over them or watching them too closely. Weirds them out, you know?" He looked away towards Andrés, who was giving the slightest shake of his head as if listening to a familiar routine from an old comic.

"I can't imagine anyone minding having you over them..." She suddenly blushed, realizing she just spoke her thoughts out loud. "Oh my god, I'm like...so sorry I'm really not like that...I just...- "

He cut her off before she could get too far ahead of herself. She was mostly together still, and he liked that. Plus, those big eyes, the nice chest, the curves of her waist against her small frame...the hot ones were fine, but the cute ones he absolutely ravaged. "Don't worry about it; slip of the tongue." He touched her shoulder slightly. That seemed to work somehow; her face was a little more colored and her eyes were looking directly at his lips.

"Yes, that's...that's all...I'm sorry. But you are in really good shape, I guess since we're on the topic. Do you have to stay in shape for your job?"

I was already in-shape and since I've gotten here, I haven't had to exercise once to keep this body. "Yes, it's important to keep up with yourself in case you're breaking up fights, running someone down, etc. Plus, it doesn't hurt with the ladies." He winked.

It didn't take long after that. A few more well-placed touches of the arm, a double entendre or two, and she asked if he wanted a nightcap upstairs. He'd have rather went to his accommodations in the South Tower, but since she was still mostly together he didn't want to push anything.

Her room looked untouched except for an airport bottle shot in the waste basket and a slightly sunken in, damp section of the sheets. Her suitcase remained untouched on the floor, still zipped-up. There was a second one, also. He wasn't going to ask.

He undid the black pants he wore for work and took off the gray security shirt. She took a look at him, shirtless, and stared. He walked closer, caressing the side of her cheek with the back of his hand, lowering himself significantly to kiss and nibble the side of her neck. His 6'3" frame towered over her by a foot, at least, and it took significant craning of his neck. She moaned and he bit down a little harder, then released, kissing the spot where he'd left his mark.

"Ohhhh....oh honey....just do what you want with me..." Mallory was still standing, eyes closed, sun dress off and down to the bra and panties.

Lance didn't need further instruction. He stepped closer, grabbing her arms at the sides, turning her around so her heart-shaped ass was his to enjoy. He undid the bra, letting her C-Cup tits fall free. She was pulling the panties down herself. As soon as she pulled them past the curves of her hips and beneath her thighs, Lance pushed on the small of her back. She took the hint, bending over and giving him access from behind, her panties still around her ankles.

Another employee benefit when he began here was the now-8-inch dick that had once been a normal six. Without hesitation, he entered her with most of his length from behind, his right hand on her waist and his left pulling back her ponytail. Her head arched slightly from the pull as he entered.

She let out a yelp that may have initially been surprise, pain, or a mixture of the two. It was quickly replacing by panting and a low, soft whisper as she urged him on. He began to move in rhythm, no longer holding back and inserting his whole length into her with each thrust. Each time he felt himself as deep as he could go, he gave her hair a tug again as he withdrew. His right hand was gripping her ass firmly, but he now reached around to cup a breast from behind and Mallory's whisper turned into a louder moan.

She was tighter than he imagined she'd been, maybe because he was used to the girls in the club. He started to pick up the pace significantly as he released her hair to move his left hand to her waist, allowing him greater control as he prepared to finish inside of her. He was moving violently quick now, not wasting a second as he continued to slam against her ass, inserting his member as deep as it could go. Mallory's increasingly loud moans had converted to cries of "Fuck....yes!" and "Use me!" as he continued pounding away.

With perfect timing, he felt her pussy clenching around his and her tiny hands clenching the sheets in a death grip as she put her head down and let her orgasm take her. Lance put as much effort as he could into one final thrust before he felt his own wave of pleasure, spurting stream after stream of his load into her pussy.

He pulled out, wiping the tip of his dick between her cheeks as he withdrew. He went to back away a step or two. They usually felt embarrassed or fell asleep here for some reason. But Mallory was different. She spoke up.

"Don't...don't go." She was still panting, and seated on the bed now, facing him. Her face looked even cuter after being fucked senseless, and her quickened breathing had her perky tits rising up and down. Lance was ready to go again. "I....thank you...really. But don't...don't go. I was feeling...weird, and now...my thoughts are like, all scrambled, you know?"

I know all too well what's happening to you and I can't do a thing to stop it. But damn if you're not one of the cutest ones to ever set foot here. "Well I'm not due at work for..." he looked at his watch. "...twelve hours. Do you want me to stay here with you?" Lance was mildly surprised at himself. He usually found any reason to bail. Not to mention the Director wouldn't approve of hardcore fraternization, especially with some random guest who was obviously still in-process for whatever he had in mind.

"Yes...please...I just...don't feel myself. It's not you, you're like...so nice and cute and great in bed." She giggled. Not a good sign, Lance thought. "But I like...would feel safer with you around me."

She scooted back into the bed, tossing off the panties that were around her ankles as she did so. Lance hopped in beside her, and she wrapped her small frame inside of his. She was asleep almost instantly. Lance was wide-awake. Wondering what, exactly, was up with his employer. And why they chose the people they chose. And how it all worked.

Those thoughts were all in his head when he heard a tap at the door. A tap like a key card against a reader. He heard the lock disengage as a beam of light came out of the hallway and across his face, a shadow stepping inside of the room.

Shit.