In one moment, Harper was in darkness, and the next he was squinting in the sudden light. Though… the lights weren’t actually that bright. It took only a few moments for his eyes to adjust, the room now comfortably illuminated. Though he was quite intent on leaving a moment ago, the sudden brightness of his surroundings gave him a bit of his confidence back. Maybe it’d be worth at least taking a few pictures, now that he could see, then get out of there. He’d be fine! 

The fright still stuck to his bones a little, though. Trying to shake off the bit of adrenaline chugging it’s way through his system, he let out a deep breath. Everything was okay. A little dark wouldn’t spook him out of getting to the bottom of what had happened to Alex. Sure, he wasn’t missing or anything, but his change was unnatural, to Harper. He’d rub all of this in once Alex was back in his right mind. Assuming he wasn’t in his right mind, to begin with. There was no way that Alex just wanted to change his fashion like that. Right?

Though, this illuminating turn of events did cement one thing in his mind; this bunker was definitely maintained. The architecture notwithstanding, it’s pretty unfeasible that an outwardly worn bunker like this would still have working electricity, and automatic lights to boot. The room itself looked similar in construction to the entrance hall to a fancy night club or hotel. Most of it was a short hallway with a door at the end of it, in which Harper was standing. Camera now raised, he spied a reception cut into the far corner of a turn into another hallway to his right, almost akin to a ticket booth. Presumably leading to a coat room, he guessed? Just exactly where had he found himself?

Snapping a photo, he stepped over his now-broken flashlight, peeking his head around the corner to his right. The decor continued, the spiral-esque tile floor included, a door presumably connecting to the reception sitting at the far end. But otherwise, just a dead end. Harper snapped a picture anyway. He could ask Alex if any of this looked familiar to him later. 

Focusing on the more interesting bits, Harper confidently made his way to the reception, putting his hands on the - wait, is this marble? He gave a few curious taps to the stone that jutted out slightly from the alcove, forming a desk of sorts. The cold stone certainly felt like marble. Not that Harper had any experience in stonework, though. Either way, it didn’t look cheap, and the room behind it didn’t look cheap, either. Patting himself on the back for correctly assuming the alcove served as a coat room, he noted several coat racks, umbrella holders and the like in the back right of the room. Notably, there were a few coats hung up, all of them looking just as expensive as the room they were in. More evidence on the pile that this place was active, and maybe high-brow? Whoever the coats belonged to, Harper thought it looked like they had decent fashion sense.

The floor inside wasn’t tile, though. Harper squinted, leaning over the reception desk to parse exactly what he was looking at, since the floor was so dark. It looked to be… carpet, maybe? The lights in the room weren’t bright enough to make out any detail, so he could only assume. It was an odd choice for the entrance to be tiled, and the area where (presumably) only staff occupied to be carpeted. There was a notable scent coming from the room, though. Harper took a few whiffs, leaning on his tiptoes to get a better idea of what it was. It was nostalgic, almost? Familiar…

Well, whatever. Probably cheap perfume, or something.

With a rub of his nose, Harper turned to look at the various paintings he saw before. On closer inspection, though, he determined them not to be paintings, but pictures. And weird ones at that. They were plain, taken in a seemingly similar location as he was in now. Harper nearly pressed his nose up to the glass of the frame to inspect it.

Every single one of the folks in the photograph stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, saluting like rank-and-file soldiers. Their dress was anything but military though, Harper squinting as he rubbed his nose again. All of them had identical clothes: full, shiny bodysuits. They didn’t look to be rubber or latex, but more like vinyl. Reflective, form-fitting, but still with creases like they were normal fabric. Harper blushed looking at them, feeling a little warmth in his cheeks… well, all over, actually. Like a pleasant, hot flush.

His brow furrowed. Harper definitely wasn’t into that kind of get up, and he knew it, so why was he so flushed looking at them? He would’ve assumed his primary response to get-ups like that was a perturbed sense of superiority. Ouji fashion, with all it’s frills and flowing fabric, was obviously superior to a simple vinyl bodysuit and boots. Well, that and the weird helmet they all were wearing. 

But instead, he felt a deep sense of contentment staring at them. Any trace of anxiousness he’d had when his light broke was buried under a growing feeling of relaxation. Harper scrunched his nose a little, muscles feeling too heavy to lift his arm up and itch it like he wanted to…

Wait, why was his nose so itchy to begin with? That perfume-y smell wasn’t unpleasant, even if it was strong, so why..?

Hold on. Why was it so strong? It was only faint in the reception, right?

Harper fought the heaviness in his muscles, forcing himself to turn around with a lazy grunt, away from the photograph, not even noting the familiar collar around their necks, peering back at the reception with half-lidded eyes. His guess was right; a faint, pink fog rolled out from the alcove, rising above the marble desktop. Panic bubbled under a heavy, perfumed blanket of bliss in his brain, Harper leaning lazily against the wall behind him with a drunk giggle. 

This was bad.

As much as Harper knew this, he just kept sliding, sliding down the wall until he felt his butt hit the cold tile floor. A glazed look in his eye as he sat and inhaled helplessly, a deep, blissful warmth sitting deeply in his muscles. His body was more than happy to simply sit, content, and inhale that nice perfume, even his mind was running on all cylinders to try and force himself to get up and run! 

All he managed was a lazy flop of his arm as he tried to push up off of the floor, his hand instead settling over his crotch. The warmth had settled there, too, his cock twitching lazily up into his palm. A small, wanton smile rose on his lips as his hand started to rub and grind on instinct, sending a deep, tranquil pleasure through him. The idea of running away seemed so silly when he could just sit and enjoy this feeling. Harper’s eyelids fluttered as he basked in the drug-induced, sexual haze, staring at the floor absentmindedly with a happy sigh.

The floor… the floor had such a nice pattern, didn’t it? It was the first thing he looked at when he walked in, and it was so pretty. A nice big spiral he could look at, barely even registering he’d started to drool on himself as that fog dragged his train of thought to comfy, cosy stop. Harper laid there, sat against the wall, grinding against his palm thoughtlessly, gently pinned down by the blissful tranquility that’d spread over him.

That pinkish, aphrodisiac fog had soon lulled him into a peaceful doze, barely registering the sound of a door opening as he drifted off into lazy, horny bliss.