Hugo stood at the end of the hallway that led to the bedroom. He was wearing pants over his full body latex suit, the hood pulled back, exposing his face. His eyes were darkened and discoloured, his cheeks had a strange, green pallor, as if starting to decay. Despite the obvious fact that Hugo was turning into one of the undead that the men were desperately trying to avoid, Dr. Schmidt stood upright and confident, reaching out toward his son, wanting to step forward and take hold of him in fatherly protection. At Hugo’s feet were the three zombie sex slaves that he’d been keeping secret in his room. Each undead concubine had their control collar replaced with a neck shackle attached to a chain, the other end of which was held firmly in Hugo’s hand. The shackled zombie lovers crouched and glared at the live humans that dared to enter their dank abode like ravenous wild animals.
“Dad. Meet the girls,” a raspy, distant voice emitted from Hugo.
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