Strip Club
A dull rhythm droned in the background, whining treble sings a twisted techno melody. Brightly saturated neon lighting flickers on and off in your peripheral vision, a blinking rainbow of advertisements. Your eyes quickly flicked open and you find yourself in an opulent room with a deep purple color palette. Curtains, couches, tables, pillows, and much more adorn the gigantic empty drawing-room. Large fluffy pillows lined the dyed leather upholstery, the long thin fibrous hairs clumping together in all directions. The clumps stir, due to the fan in the opposite of the room; the gentle wind blows across your smooth scales.
The brown iris of your eyes grows thin as your waking eyes adjust to the bright flashing array of lights.
“This penthouse is amazing!” You say to yourself as you look down at your transformed body. You adore your serpent body, the long muscular ribbon of a spine holding your structure together, under piles of defined stretches of muscle. You take notice of the cream white suit you adorn, the sleeves perfectly tailored to fit your serpentine body.
A door opposite from you marked by a sign “EXIT”; a heart-shaped threshold flashes brightly with hot pink lights. The hot air is filled with the stuffy aroma of sex; the molecules cling to your forked tongue as you flicked it in the air, your sticky spit splashing onto the collar of your fancy suit. The sound of music begins to fade into focus as you regain your understanding of the surroundings. Though you clearly know that you’re not in the room that you once stood in.
This realization almost instantly snaps you out of your haze, driving you to spring up and look around your room for some kind of clue to the adventure you have picked out this time. Mere moments later an assistant bursts through the ‘EXIT’ door and peeks her head around, before meeting eyes with you. A weary smile spreads across her face, and her quiet squeaky voice begins to speak.
“Hello, Pimp Daddy” a woman adorning a tight black dress stands half-way in the doorframe. “You’re needed for your 3 O’Clock,” she said, clutching a clipboard close to her bust. You can’t help but take notice of her bust; how it’s way too big for her top.
“Okay, let them know I’m headed there soon..-ly!” you say, nervously. The female giggles as she exits the room, when she turns to leave, your eyes fall to her plump ass, pulled upwards tightly by the tightness of her black latex dress, shining beneath the sterile light fixture.
You begin to search through the room to find any form of identification. “Is this a lounge? A cafe? A bar? Maybe a-?” Your eyes fall to a deep purple colored pole. The glaring light reflecting down the long length of this thick structure; instantly you begin to understand. Your eyes widen as you realize that you’ve landed yourself a gig as the manager of a strip club.
A pile of papers sits on the table, your scaley hands reach towards the loose stack and turn them over. “(STRIP CLUB NAME) Est(DATE)” you turn the paper over once more to reveal an image of you standing in front of an immaculate building with flashy banners displaying the same name. A tall mirror behind a large king-sized heart-bed meets your stare, you instantly confirm that the individual on the advertisement is you.
All the anxiety you felt earlier suddenly melts away into excitement once more, the possibilities you can do with this kind of career are endless. You spend most of the day thinking of the benefits and alterations you’d do in this lifetime in order to live your perfect life this time around.
Written by Driftingdragon on 27 December 2019
The end (for now)