HSA-355: No Vacancy

Ethan hit the bell at reception. He smiled at the young woman who came out of the rear office. “Room for Opeliska, Ethan Opeliska.” He nodded along to her questions while cursing the corporate attire that made her look so prudish. While she typed and printed and chatted, he weighed his options of asking her up to his room once her shift was over. He guessed she would consider him old. Ethan didn’t agree, but girls under twenty-five had lost a bit of flavor. Not that he needed flavor for the evening, and what they lacked in one department they made up for in others. Older women who went for him rarely need to prove themselves. They knew it was a one-night stand. They knew he would never see them again.

The young woman handed back his credit card, and Ethan thought better of making a proposition. Work might keep him in town for more than one night. He’d learned in past experiences not to piss off the hotel staff by fucking one of them. He didn’t rule out the cleaning crew, though. Ethan thanked her, picked up his bag, and crossed the lobby. It was late on a Tuesday, and a low season for the hotel. Still, a few lonely souls sat at the bar next door to the elevator. Ethan thought a night cap would have to suffice and grabbed a seat at the bar. He ordered bourbon. A middle-aged bartender, probably a few years older than Ethan at most, poured his drink, asked about his day, and told him her name, Lori. She left him and returned to the far end of the bar where she spoke quietly with a tired looking older man.

Not her, either, Ethan thought as he sipped the drink. At the end of a rowdy shift, a bartender might like a roll in the sheets with him to blow off steam. After a dead night, Lori would have aching feet, a sore back, and a strong desire to be as undesirable as possible as the hours of tedium came out largely in the form of slouching and gassy moods. Shame, Ethan thought. My type. He glanced around at the other smattering of patrons in the bar. A younger couple sat in a booth eating some terrible looking meals. Another two men sat at the bar nearest Ethan. They were talking, but clearly not friends. Ethan knew their conversation by heart. If either of the two hadn’t been present, Ethan would have been compelled to take up the missing stranger’s role in the conversation. As it was, he was a happy third man out, allowed to sit silently with his booze.

One other woman sat at the bar. She had a glass of wine in front of her, but it was beaded with condensation. Stood up, maybe. She was dressed up for a night out, but didn’t have the fatigue of sitting in a club or bar for hours. She had brown curls and a slender neck shown off by the navy blue dress. Her eyes flashed at Ethan for a moment, showing no interest or coyness. She shifted the glass and averted her eyes. Stilted lover. Some guy upstairs got too drunk at dinner and couldn’t keep it hard for her. Tough luck, lady. Everyone’s sleeping rough tonight by the look of it.

He swigged down his bourbon, asked Lori for a shot of whiskey, and settled his tab to his room. On his way out, he bade the woman a good night. She didn’t respond.

The hotel was on the older side, built in the 80’s, refurbished in the 90’s and again in the 00’s. The updates never really rooted out the oldness of the place though. The most recent effort’s choices in decor didn’t help, either. Ethan figured they were shooting for retro, but landed firmly in antiquated. Geometric carpets and dark floral wallpapers. Fat armchairs waited outside the elevator doors, illuminated by large oval lamps casting orange light. Thin sconces lined the corridor walls, creating a dim, stifled quiet.

Ethan made his way down to his room, number 1351. His keycard caused a whirling click as the door unlocked, and he stepped into the pitch black to fumble around for a light switch for a full minute. When he did find it, the resulting light did little to please him. The booze teamed up with the day’s fatigue, and his head throbbed. He left his bag by the door, and flopped forward onto the bed, intending only to rest his eyes for a minute. He had a long day ahead tomorrow. He needed undress, shower, and salvage a few hours of sleep. Instead, he let his thoughts drift as the minutes ticked by.

Time slipped. Ethan jerked up with a jolt of adrenaline. His heart thumped audibly in his chest, and his breath came in big heaves. He clenched his fist and tried to calm down. Fucking alcohol. One drink is worse than ten sometimes. A cold sweat had formed on the back of his neck. He got up from the bed, grabbed a cup from the in-room coffee stand, and went to fill it up in the bathroom. The sink ran out a tepid stream. It tasted metallic. He grabbed the ice bucket and went into the hall.

The ice machine was in a small room off to the side of the elevator, and it was occupied when he arrived. The woman from the bar, the one in the navy blue dress, stood in front of a vending machine holding her heels in one hand. “Hello again,” she said. “Trying to decide on a snack.”

Ethan nodded. The rush back to consciousness had left him uneasy and somewhat off balance. He managed a polite smile and moved past her to the ice machine.

“Oh, that one doesn’t work,” she said. “Have to go up or down a floor. I went down, myself.”

Ethan tapped the machine anyway, irritated to see she was correct. He looked at the woman again, pausing before he spoke. His memory of her seemed off. The dress couldn’t have been so bright downstairs, maybe it’s the light. Was she wearing lipstick? Did she put it on up here? Is she going back out? “Uh, thanks. I’ll run down there.”

She drifted back, slightly blocking his exit. “Or, you could just have some of mine. I got a whole bucket. Won’t need it. Only needed a few cubes, really. Why not come to my room, and we’ll swap. You can take my bucket, and I’ll keep yours.” She winked and put her hand on his chest.

Ethan ignored the numbness in his fingers and the dull hum in his head. “I’m Ethan.”

“Kerri, follow me.”

She led him back to her room. 1352, right next to Ethan’s. He didn’t have the chance to remark on it. Once inside the door, she unzipped her dress and shook it off as she walked to the bed. Neon pink underwear greeted Ethan as he trailed behind her, admiring the perfection of her body. Again, it nagged at him to have not noticed her beauty before. He blamed fatigue and forgot as she kissed him.

Her hands worked at his belt as he kicked off shoes. Seconds later, his pants pooled at his ankles as his shirt was flung away. Kerri pulled him close, pressing her breasts against his legs as she slowly peeled down his boxers. His cock strained to be free, but she held it down until a twinge of pain forced his hand to help. The second it sprang free, Kerri slurped it into her mouth with a happy hum.

Ethan’s head lolled back as he enjoyed the feeling. Few things in the world brought peace to his mind like having a warm mouth on his dick. Kerri seemed particularly eager to bring him this peace. Her head bobbed back and forth along the full length of his dick, tongue circling the head as her hand scooped and squeezed his balls. When she pulled away, she did so with a long coughing schlock, leaving a trail of spit running down her chin.

Not to be outdone, Ethan grabbed her by the thighs and lifted her up, tossing her further up the bed. She hooked her fingers in her panties, drawing them off in a quick motion. Ethan crawled up between her legs, lowering his mouth to her pussy before she knotted her fingers in his hair and yanked him up. “No need, pretty boy, just fuck me.”

Again, an odd sensation rippled through Ethan. Kerri used the lull to pull of her bra, showing off a pair of heavy breasts with fat nipples. Before he could object or back out, she guided his mouth to her tit, sighing as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. Lost in her touch and smell, Ethan lost his reservations. His hands pulled her hips into a better position. The head of his dick was slick with her spit, but her pussy was drenched in comparison. He slipped inside her even before he intended. Once inside, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He shoved his whole length in with a happy groan.

He wanted to stay like that for a while or for the rest of the night. The pure heat that enveloped him drove out every other thought as her pussy clenched around him. She kissed and nipped at his neck as her hips tried to move against him. He finally relented, sliding out of her and experiencing the caustic world once again before thrusting back hard. Her legs wrapped around him, adding to the force of each of his thrusts. She pulled his head to the side, and whispered with hot breath, “cum in me.”

Ethan tried to stop, but the trying made it worse. He felt the twinge of pleasure at the root of his dick. He pushed down hard on her as he came. She cried out, a high pitched gasp, but Ethan barely noticed. His head swirled as his balls emptied. When the warm trickle of cum oozed out around his dick, he slumped on top of her, a sweaty mess. She stroked his back until he rolled off her.

His mind raced, trying to process what had happened. Ten minutes earlier, he’d been half asleep in his room. Now, he was lying beside a woman he fucked without a condom. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t find anything to say. Kerri seemed content to lie beside him, arms wrapped together as his cum pooled between her legs. “Thanks,” he mumbled, “I needed that.”

Kerri sat up sharply. “You…you’re new. No. That’s not fair.” She hopped out of the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “That’s not fair!” she screamed.

Ethan scrambled off the bed, trying to grab his pants. As he did, he saw the shape in the doorway. It was something like a man, but without eyes, gray-faced and crooked, yellow teeth. The thing held a butcher’s knife in a gloved hand. It wore a black smock and moved with a crooked gait. Kerri saw the thing and tried to jump in front of it. She was tossed aside as the monster charged over the bed.

Ethan managed a wet gurgling noise that might have been a scream if not for the knife plunging into his chest. The creature straddled him, twitching with ecstatic joy as the knife came out bloodier each time. The world dulled. Kerri’s screams of protests faded, and the monster’s putrid breath dissipated. Ethan expected to be greeted by some profound thought in his final moments.

He died waiting.

Ethan sat up wheezing, heart thudding in chest, and cold sweat drenching his body. He was in his room. His hands moved over his body, reaching into his shirt, and finding healthy in-tact skin. A sob wracked his body as he hunched forward over the bed. He thought he might be sick and tried to stand, only to teeter on jelly legs and plop back on the bed.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. A fucking real as shit nightmare, but that’s it. I’m alive and lucky I didn’t piss myself. He took a deep breath and held it. Breathing it out in a low stream, he took account of his surroundings again. The clock read 11:04. He guessed he’d come up to the room near 10:45. Everything else was where he left it. He considered going back to sleep, but, feeling childish, was too afraid to turn out the light. He grabbed his room key and headed to the bar. If I can’t sleep, I can at least pass out drunk.

Downstairs looked nearly identical to when he had left. Lori still chatted with the friend at the end of the bar. The two men had turned their focus more to their drinks than their banal conversation. The couple still sat over their dull looking meal. Only the woman from the dream had left. Once back at his stool, he ordered another whiskey and settled in.

Lori remarked about thinking she’d seen the last of him. He didn’t have the humor to muster for her, nor did she have the patience for a guest in a foul mood. She left the drink and went back to her conversation. The only substantial change occurred on the far side of the lobby. A new guest was arriving and having a vibrant conversation with the desk attendant. Strangely enough, the voice sounded familiar, conjuring up old memories.

It was a woman who looked familiar. She stopped off at the bar, ordered a soda and asked if she could take a drink to her room. While Lori prepared the woman’s drink, she looked up and down the bar, noticing Ethan. “Oh my god,” she said. “Ethan? It’s me, Julie! Julie Edwards, my god I haven’t seen you in a decade.”

The memory cracked open instantly. Ethan underneath the bleachers of a college intramural field, Julie Edwards wearing a Pi Phi t-shirt with his dick in her mouth. “Fucking hell, Julie? What are the odds?” He hopped up and gave her a hug as he searched out more memories about her. How had it ended between them? What happened to her after college? None of it seemed forthcoming. “You still look amazing.”

She smirked. “You don’t look too bad yourself. I still talk to a few of those guys you always hung out with. They all look like shit. Marc? Remember? He plays golf with my fiancé eight times a week. Has to waddle from the cart to the hole. If he can stand up with six beers in him.”

“Marc was a dickhead,” Ethan said.

“Still is, but now he’s an overweight dickhead with a drinking problem.” She paused as Lori put down the drink. “What about you? Got a lady in your life? Someone finally tame those urges of yours?”

“Not yet,” Ethan answered, grimly remembering his dream. “Still searching for the one, I guess.”

Julie didn’t seem to hear him. Lori asked what room to charge the drink to and Julie answered, “1353.”

“Sounds like you’re across the hall. I’m in 1351. Uh, if you want ice…” No, idiot, that wasn’t real.

“Sorry?” she stepped a little closer to him. The lobby wasn’t loud, but he’d been muttering.

“Nothing. I won’t keep you, Julie. It was nice to see you.”

“God, you too,” she leaned in further. “I still think about you, sometimes. You were…something else for a little country girl like me. I should get Ian to write you a thank you note.”

“Your fiancé?”

“Right. How long are you staying? I’m here for meetings till the end of the week. It’d be nice to have a friendly face to eat a meal or two with.”

“One night only, I’m afraid. Would promise to meet you for breakfast, but I feel like I’m drinking mine at the moment.”

“Next time, then.” She bent close and kissed his cheek. “Really, I’m so glad to have run into you.”

She gathered her things and headed to the elevator. Ethan watched her go and cursed himself for knowing what room she was in. Fiancé, you ass. Drink the booze, get too drunk for my dick to work, and put this night behind me. He swigged down the rest of his whiskey, ordered another, and tried to deny the slipping sensation that would pull him into a maudlin quest for companionship.

Forty minutes later, he tried to keep his legs from turning to jelly as the elevator eased to a halt on floor thirteen. The familiar patterned carpet made the hallway stretch and twist as he fumbled his way to his room. He paused to find his key, and his head turned to see the number of the door across the hall. A thin line of light glowed at the base of the door. Before he knew it, Ethan’s hand knocked underneath the number. The door opened, and a dream manifested in front of him.

“I thought I heard footsteps,” Julie said. She wore an outfit that was little more than leather straps. They ran up her thighs, framing her ass. They crisscrossed her stomach, buckled in place by gleaming silver hoops, before encircling her ripe breasts and ending in a tight collar around her neck. She smiled innocently. “I didn’t want to go through all this trouble for nothing.”

The gears in Ethan’s mind turned slowly as what little thought capability he had left was rapidly stolen by the swelling in his pants. “What about your…Ian?”

Julie shrugged. She gently took Ethan’s hand and guided him into her room. The door thudded shut behind him as they walked to the bed. “We have an arrangement. I travel a lot. A girl has certain needs. All Ian expects is that I stay safe. I thought I might film us to give him a little show, but he might not like seeing someone who had me first. Oh, looks like your moral hesitations don’t reach below your belt.” Her fingers worked deftly, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall to his ankles. Her palm rubbed the bulge in Ethan’s boxers. “I wonder if you still taste the same,” she whispered as she dropped to her knees.

Ethan felt as though his brain was swimming laps around the inside of his head. The swaying winnowed down to a single focus as Julie’s mouth opened and his cock slid over her tongue. He looked down to see her ass jutting out behind her as her tits dangled, somewhat suspended by the straps. Her wide eyes looked up at him as more and more of his cock slid down her throat. She’d clearly improved her technique in the intervening years. Her face crinkled with the hint of a smile, obfuscated by the throbbing dick in her mouth. Ethan grinned back at her, grabbed the back of her head, and pushed.

His balls squished against her chin as her throat convulsed around his dick. Her breath shot out in hot streams against his body as she adjusted. He stopped nudging her forward, but she still wriggled her way down to the root of his shaft before sealing her lips at the base. Her tongue thrashed along the underside of his dick while the muscles in her throat gave the head of his cock a peculiar and pleasurable massage. Ethan wanted more. He wanted a chance at the bouncing ass in his eyeline. He wanted to pull at the straps and hooks of her outfit while his cock pulsed inside of her. Yet, these thoughts drove him toward climax even faster. As he glimpsed Julie’s hand sliding between her legs, he grunted, grabbed the sides of her head, and erupted down her throat.

She pulled her mouth away with a soft gurgle, spit and cum oozing out over her lips. She grinned at him as she licked herself clean. “Yep, still taste the same.” Her eyes flashed, “Delicious.”

Ethan reached out for her, intending to pull her up and return the favor as best he could, but he paused as he watched her smile grow wider. Julie’s cheeks pulled taut, stretched over her teeth until the edges of her mouth split, flesh parting like paper as other teeth, sharper teeth, appeared. Ethan stumbled back until he hit the door. By the time Julie got to her feet, her grin was from ear to ear, her face barely more than a collection of sharks teeth gleaming as she took careful steps toward her prey. “What the fuck!” Ethan grabbed at the handle as Julie lunged.

The creature’s jaws sunk into his shoulder. He felt the point of each tooth as it pierced through skin, muscle, and raked against bone. Ethan screamed as he was tossed back into the room. He landed on the bed, blood gushing from the wound. The Julie-thing was on top of him, her horrific face smeared with blood. Her eyes crinkled again, a hint of a genuine smile, before her jaws snapped closed around Ethan’s neck.

Ethan sucked in a cold breath as he jerked up on the bed. The feeling of teeth in his neck faded as his eyes focused on the clock. 11:04.

Nausea swept over him. He scrambled to the bathroom as the lingering booze in his stomach turned on him. His heart thudded in his chest as his body heaved. The instant exhaustion of vomiting offered little reprieve from his panic. He wiped his mouth and looked at the nearby door. He turned the bolt and put on the door catch before also propping the bathroom door against it.

Ethan checked his room, looking under the bed and in every drawer, but found nothing. He went to the window and peeked out, seeing a normal city down below. He drew the curtain shut again and collapsed in the nearby chair, bringing his knees to his chest as he tried to control his panic. After a moment, his hands checked his neck, feeling down his shoulder in search of scars or wounds. He found nothing. “What’s happening to me,” he whispered.

A knock drew his attention to the door. He didn’t move. Minutes ticked by, and the knock came again. “Room service,” came a sweet, lilting voice. Still, Ethan didn’t budge. His eyes focused on the shadow in front of his door. At the third knock, he crossed the room, closed the bathroom door and peered out through the peephole.

It was a woman wearing a blindfold. Long blonde hair covered naked shoulders and lightly brushed the biggest pair of tits Ethan had ever seen. She wore a black skirt and a pair of heels while holding a glass in a gloved hand. “Room service,” she said again, smiling at the small window in the door.

The panic in him ebbed as he gawked through the small window. Despite all good reason, he unbolted the door and opened it. The woman smiled, her breasts wobbling as she strode into the room. “I didn’t order…” he muttered.

“A nice glass of warm milk,” she said. “Come sit.” She patted the chair he’d been in moments before as she placed the glass down on the table beside it.

In a numb haze, Ethan did as she said. He settled down in the chair, trying to hide his erection. “What is this place? Is it hell?”

The woman laughed. “No, sweetie, of course not. You think you’d get to see tits like these in hell?” She bent forward, taking her breast in her hand. She squeezed and a shot of milk sprayed into the air. She leaned over the glass and positioned her nipple inside of it. With steady work, she milked herself. Ethan watched the glass fill up, mouth watering the whole time. “There, one glass of warm milk. Drink up.”

Tentatively, Ethan did as she said. His hand shook as he brought the glass to his mouth. As soon as the first drop hit his lips, he began to gulp it down. The milk warmed his insides and calmed him, but he wanted more. The woman leaned close, dangling her breast in front of his face. He threw the glass aside and slurped her nipple into his mouth as her hand rubbed at his crotch.

The milk surged into his mouth, but he swallowed every drop he could. Barely one mouthful was gone before milk leaked out from around his lips. “Careful,” she said. “We want to keep you as a valued guest for some time. Wouldn’t want you to pop too soon.”

Ethan barely heard her as her hand pressed against his cock. He thrust vainly as he came in his pants, all too aware of the swelling feeling in his stomach…

Summary Report Regarding Kerri Nelson
HSA-355
October 1st, 2020

Ms. Nelson first attracted the attention of FBI agent REDACTED who was pursuing the investigation of multiple homicides across several major cities. Shortly after her apprehension, a psychological evaluation concluded Ms. Nelson to be highly disturbed with a fixation on a hotel where, ‘you fuck, die, and fuck again.’ Our team was notified after her descriptions of sex acts became more and more outlandish. Though initially dismissed as a mere madwoman, the descriptions she provided matched, at least in style, the descriptions given for the ‘Lodging’ or HSA-355.

Once under our purview, it quickly became clear that Ms. Nelson was at least partially telling the truth. Ms. Nelson disappeared in 2005, at which time, she would have been twenty seven years old. Testing concluded Ms. Nelson is still twenty-seven years old at the time of this report, fifteen years later.

By her account, Ms. Nelson checked into the REDACTED in Washington, DC, in the fall of 2005. Though the hotel seemed normal at first, her first night ended with her brutal strangulation at the hands of a masked intruder who cornered her in the elevator. Notably, this occurred as she returned to her room after having a brief sexual encounter with another patron she met at the bar. Ms. Nelson claims to have woken up after her murder with the intervening hours reset.

Ms. Nelson estimates she repeated this cycle near thousands of times. Her partners grew more and more outlandish or lavish. Including, but not exhaustively: men in costume, men with multiple penises, inhuman creatures with tentacles, various anthropomorphic creatures like minotaur or centaur, women with highly adaptive bodies such as growing clitoris or swelling nipples capable of penetration. She also claims that some nights she would not have a partner, but simply masturbate in front of a mirror to please what she believes to be a god.

Unfortunately, Ms. Nelson also believed the way to return to the hotel was to continue appeasing this ‘god’. It is likely we can attribute seven unexplained murders to her hand. While we will provide closure to investigating authorities, Ms. Nelson will remain under our care.

As to why Ms. Nelson was chosen or who preceded her, we remain in the dark. She believes that she failed to satisfy the entity and was therefore replaced. She gave a description of a man who matches a missing person case for Ethan Opeliska. The date range of Mr. Opeliska’s disappearance and the date range of Ms. Nelson’s reappearance line up. So far, we have found no similarities in character or history between the two.

In general, Ms. Nelson does little more than add weight to some suspicions regarding #355. Other reports in the archive correspond with visiting this “Lodging” either for short, one night stays or more long term engagements. Until it demonstrates some type of pattern in its victims or manifests itself more fully in our dimension, I recommend classifying #355 as Level Omega.

Additionally, Ms. Nelson provides no further value to us as a witness. Although, she is very eager to attempt any means of returning to #355. I know Agent Marlow is curious to have a human test volunteer for #498.