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Night Skies Hotel: Destiny's Path By Solari Author's note: The following story is a direct sequel to "Night Skies Hotel," and expands on the universe introduced in that story. This story, "Night Skies Hotel: Destiny's Path," and its predecessor, "Night Skies Hotel," may be posted on any Web site so long as the Web site is free of charge, open to the public, and the story is properly credited. This story contains adult language and sexuality. If this is illegal from where you're accessing the Internet, or it personally offends you, please select another story to read. The author may be contacted at [email protected] *** The grunting and moaning permeated the smoky, hazy suite. A man and woman were making wild, passionate love - the woman on top in the dominant position, sliding up and down her partner's prominent member, slathering it in hot sex fluids. Up and down, up and down, the woman's Capri 120 cigarette glowing brightly from time to time, her full, sensuous mouth exhaling plumes of creamy white smoke that wafted and filled the air. "You're a good fucker, Trevor," the woman groaned, her long-nailed hands kneading her firm 'D' cup melons as she continued to ride his pole. "Much too good to ever let go." "Insistent, are we?" Trevor replied, his hands on the woman's pear-shaped buttocks, savoring their softness. "You should know, Marissa, that it's going to take much more than a good fuck before I ever offer professional advice to your employer." "Don't count on it, lover," Marissa cooed as the entire length of Trevor's penis disappeared deep into her pussy, gripped tightly by her vaginal muscles, the soft folds of her labial lips clinging to his rod. Marissa took one last long, deep pull from her Capri 120 cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs for a moment, and then exhaled the plume into Trevor's face. Trevor bucked as he sprayed his load deep into Marissa. At the same time, a warm feeling spread outward from her center as she, too, climaxed. Marissa slid off of her lover's wilting penis and lay on her side in bed next to him. She contemplated him as she picked up the employee orientation packet from the nightstand. She smiled devilishly as she looked to see what position he had been offered. "I suppose I can't blame you, Trevor," she mentioned. "Being a housekeeper would be a big step down in life for such a bright star as you." "What? A housekeeper?" Trevor retorted, a mixture of confusion and anger in his voice. "When I talked to management last night, they said they needed an accountant!" Marissa's smiled remained plastered on her face. "Well, they must have changed their minds after seeing how rowdy you got, especially at the bar and with the dancers." She tsked. "You left a bad impression. But around here, we like bad impressions." "I'm going to have a word with them," Trevor. "This is just an insult ..." "Not so quick, lover," Marissa purred, climbing back on top of Trevor. "A little more loving will put you in a much better mood." Over Trevor's admittedly weak protestations, Marissa began to nuzzle him, her full, pouty lips teasing his mouth, her pink tongue darting in and out. Her mouth then moved downward, kissing his neck and then to his chest, where she licked his nipples, slathering them with hot saliva. Trevor felt hazy and lethargic as Marissa continued her ministrations. "I really have to get going," he muttered, trying to get up. "No." Marissa once again planted her full, sexy mouth over Trevor's, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, a delighted smile on her face. "Trevor, you're going to be such a slutty housekeeper." Trevor licked his lips, and tasted lipstick. He felt his mouth becoming fuller and more pouty, changing into a Cupid's bow shape. "You'll need that sexy mouth," Marissa cooed. "You never know when you might encounter a guest in his room while cleaning." A blank look spread across Trevor's face as his eyes lost their focus and slowly began changing from a deep brown to emerald green. His light hair began to thicken and creep down past his shoulders, becoming bright red in the process. "Third one this week," Marissa commented, still sprawled out sexily next to Trevor. "But the first one for housekeeping." Trevor's transformation began to quicken as his body hair fell out and skin softened. His nails grew longer as his face softened and rounded. Eyelashes grew longer, the nose more pert. Other than for the blank look on Trevor's face, everything else was already changing or on the verge thereof. Marissa wasn't surprised. Each person she'd seen changed reacted differently once the triggers had been activated. Some changed faster than others - perhaps in an hour or two - but the process was slower in most. Trevor was going to be one of the faster ones. Which is good, since I don't want to baby-sit him all day, Marissa thought. Her own transformation had taken the better part of a day and early evening. Marissa rolled back on to Trevor and began to rub her ample breasts across his flat chest, her sweaty, erect nipples and wide, dark aerolae pressed against his nipples. Next she took his penis, once again erect, and guided it deep into her pussy, where her vaginal muscles caressed and pumped it. Finally, she wrapped her mouth around Trevor's nipples, and gently suckled and pulled on them. Coming up for air, Marissa commanded, "Finish your transformation, bitch!" As if in response to her command, Trevor's aerolae began to widen and darken as his nipples swelled to twice their original size and became erect. Small mounds began pushing out, and Trevor moaned as Marissa resumed suckling on his pulsating, expanding chest. She let out a muffled, delighted cry as Trevor's inflating tits bulged outward, filling her mouth with hot, supple female tit flesh. Trevor ... Trev ... Tre ... Trissa's emerald green eyes focused for an instant. She looked up into Marissa's own emerald green eyes, and then kissed her deeply. Their pink tongues tangled, and Trissa moaned, her pitch a sexy alto. At that instant, Marissa felt Trissa's penis go flaccid and slip out her own pussy, shrinking before her eyes. Marissa climbed off of Trissa's sweat-slicked changing body and lit up a long, slender Capri 120 cigarette. She savored a mouthful of creamy white smoke as Trissa's inverted pubic triangle sprouted above her splitting and fusing scrotal sac. As her inner labial lips formed and as her crevice deepened and began to lubricate, Marissa released a plume of smoke. Time passed, and Marissa grew momentarily bored. She focused on her cigarette, and was nearly finished before another voice interrupted her thoughts. "Care to share?" Marissa looked over to where Trevor had been, and smiled upon seeing Trissa. Her transformation was finished, the final touches obvious in her expansive buttocks and smaller frame. "Sure. We have time for a smoke break before returning to work," Marissa replied, reaching over to her half-full pack of Capri 120s. *** Marion "Storm" Rider had been driving for hours through the empty, desolate wilderness, catching sight of, well, nothing. All there was to see was a meandering highway amid the brown plains of an Upper Midwest locked deep in the grip of winter. Whatever the hell possessed Mark to go ice fishing at such an isolated lake? Marion thought irritably. Good walleye bite or not, there's better things to catch - and in much warmer climes than this - in cold weather. Like a good magazine, some hot cocoa and a recliner in front of a fireplace. He was supposed to meet Mark, but he hadn't found the motel his friend was staying in. According to the road map, the Kick Back Inn was another 90 miles or so up the road, but Marion was growing tired of driving through the dreary, sleeping landscape. He needed to pull over soon, or he might fall asleep at the wheel. The monotony of the landscape was broken far ahead by the glint of neon star. Marion squinted, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but the glow had vanished. Apparently the Kick Back Inn hadn't paid its electricity bill or something. I thought you only saw mirages in deserts, he thought. But then again he saw the neon glitter straight ahead, blossoming out of seemingly nothingness. As his car drew closer over the intervening miles, the neon star resolved itself into a riotous blaze of light. Goodness, he thought, I didn't think there were enough people in this part of the country to support anything of this size. Maybe it's a Native American casino? Marion pulled into the parking lot of the Night Skies Hotel. He took a moment to gauge the size of the structure - huge! - and then to check the road map. According to the map symbol - an androgynous being in some sort of bed - an inn was, indeed, nearby. Well, heck, Marion thought as he parked the car and stepped out, I wouldn't put it past Mark to screw up the name of the place. I bet this Night Skies Hotel is Mark's Kick Back Inn. Marion strode through the parking lot, which was filled with vehicles of all shapes and sizes (and from differing eras, but he didn't notice that, nor the buggies and chariots off to the side at the distant end of the lot, and strangely translucent), and entered the hotel lobby. He was immediately faced with a row of a dozen women behind the check-in counter, all busy with other guests. "I can help you over here, sir," a raven-haired woman called out after a few minutes. "Yeah, I'm looking for a Mark Evandros," Marion said. "We were going to rent a room together ... have you anything on him in the reservation system?" The woman tapped at her keyboard for a minute, studiously going through various screens. Her face brightened. "Right here, sir. A Mr. Mark Evandros arrived here last week, and your name is listed as co-renter." She smiled, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. "It looks like he's been waiting for you for a while now, sir." "A week?! What the hell?" Marion replied. "I thought he wasn't supposed to be here until a day or two ago!" "You will have to take that up with your partner," the woman replied diplomatically as she handed Marion a key card with which to access his suite. "Your suite is on the third floor, number twenty-four." Another dazzling smile. "We hope you enjoy your stay at the Night Skies Hotel, sir. Make sure to enjoy our amenities - an Olympic swimming pool, a renowned bar and adult entertainment, among other things. And don't be shy about asking our employees for help. That's what they're there for, sir." Marion mumbled his thanks as he gave the attendant his credit card. "Payment isn't necessary until check-out, sir," she said. "You don't stay in hotels often, do you?" "Uh, no. I'm something of a homebody," Marion replied, blushing slightly. The attendant nodded knowingly. "Well, maybe we can loosen you up here." "Perhaps," Marion said, "but I think ice fishing is our top priority during this trip." With that, he picked up his two bags and headed towards a nearby elevator. The attendant looked over at her nearby co-workers, and they smiled back at her, mirth dancing in their emerald green eyes. *** Marion swiped the card through the lock and stepped into the suite Mark had rented for them. To say that it was well-appointed was an understatement. There was a small kitchen, a living room, bathroom and two separate bedrooms. There's enough room here to house a whole family, Marion thought as he closed the suite door behind him and entered the bedroom whose door was open. He began to unpack his bags and, after thirty minutes or so, had everything stowed away. Returning to the living quarters, Marion was a bit surprised to see how clean the suite was. It was almost as if Mark hadn't been in the place most of the time. Maybe the hotel's amenities, along with the fishing at whatever lake Mark had gone to, had kept Marion's friend away for the most part. It wouldn't surprise me at all, Marion thought. It looks like this place is big enough to get lost in, if you don't know where you're going. Marion opened the refrigerator, expecting to see some filleted fish ready to eat. There was none. Confused, he checked the freezer. There was no fish there, either. "Hell's bells, Mark," Marion bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the suite. "You've either had bad luck ice fishing this week or you haven't done anything outside the hotel yet." Marion scowled as he eyed the closed door leading to what he presumed was Mark's bedroom. He started for it, muttering, "Maybe he's sleeping." A moment later, Marion was in Mark's bedroom, seeing nothing but rumpled bedsheets, a variety of unpacked personal items and, of course, no Mark. Sighing, Marion began to leave, but a glint of light reflecting off a small white package with flowery lettering caught his attention. "Since when did Mark take up smoking?" Marion thought as he picked up the unopened pack of Capri 120 cigarettes. "And women's cigarettes at that! Ha! I bet Mark had a lady friend in here, that's what." Returning the cigarettes next to the lighter on the dresser top, Marion tsked to himself. "Maybe this hotel was more of a distraction than Mark bargained for." Returning to the living room, Marion flipped on the television set - and was instantly assaulted by images of hard core sex. Two women were having lesbian sex. Surprised, Marion changed the channel, only to see a woman and a man going at it. He changed the channel for a third time, but to no avail: this time, it was four women, all raven-haired goddesses with emerald green eyes pleasuring each other as only women could know how to. Marion's cock hardened. "Well, now I know what Mark was watching for pleasure," he said, still mesmerized by the images playing out on the TV set. It was another 15 minutes before Marion tore his eyes off the titillating show and managed to change channels again. This time, CNN came up. Hot and flushed, Marion decided he had to get out of the suite, sleepy or not, and find Mark. He had to be somewhere in the hotel, as his coat had been in his bedroom. To that end, he made sure he had plenty of cash in his wallet and left the suite. Before long, he found himself wandering into the Night Skies Hotel Bar, which was populated by mostly women at this time of the evening. Marion ordered a drink - something called a "Wild Woman" - and took a seat. Sipping and looking around, he marveled at the sheer number of women in the bar and on the dance floor. For a moment, he wondered if he had chanced upon a Ladies Night or something, but that couldn't be, as there were a few men scattered about, all of them with female partners. None of the men, insofar as Marion could tell, looked like Mark. "Hey, handsome," a woman's voiced called out. "You look lonesome tonight. Want some company?" Marion was surprised when the owner's voice seated herself next to him. "You're a rather forward type, aren't you?" he said. "Mmmm. You're not the first man to say that," she replied, her emerald green eyes sparkling in the bar's dimness. "And probably not the last." "That's nice. I don't need company right now," Marion replied tersely. "Please leave." Feigning a pout, the dark-haired woman complied. "See you around, handsome." Now that was just plain weird, Marion thought as he watched her sashay away, her generous ass a more than delightful sight for sore eyes. He ordered another "Wild Woman" drink and gulped it down, squinting through the bar's smoky atmosphere. Mark definitely wasn't here, but maybe somebody had seen him recently. Marion left his seat and approached the nearest occupied table, where a man and woman sat. Both were immersed deeply in conversation, and Marion could see that the woman had a name tag pinned to her rather skimpy work outfit. "Ma'am, I hate to bother you, but have you seen this man?" Marion asked, as he fished a photo of Mark from his wallet. "His name is Mark Evandros ... I was hoping you'd seen him here before since you're an employee." The young woman examined the photo intently; as she did so, Marion stole a glance at the man who sat with her. Marion didn't say a word as the man slipped a long, slender Capri 120 cigarette between his lips and lit it up. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke momentarily before exhaling it in a creamy white plume. His emerald green eyes had a distant look to them, as if he was in another world or something. "Sorry, but I haven't seen him," the woman said suddenly, interrupting Marion's thoughts. "Well, it was worth a try," Marion replied sheepishly, aware that he'd been caught staring at the woman's friend. "I'll try elsewhere." "Check out the casino," the woman called out after Marion's receding form. "Lots of people go there." She then turned to her boyfriend and smiled enigmatically at him. "Ooh, honey, your mouth looks so full and tender. Here, let me kiss you ..." *** On his way to the casino, Marion tried to check out the pool side area, but was refused entry by the two female security guards, who were busy locking the place up for the night. "You missed out by only a half hour or so," one of the women said apologetically, her emerald green eyes roving over Marion's body. "The pool area is usually open into the wee hours of the morning, but tonight it had problems with too much chlorine in the water." Marion nodded and continued on his way past the steamed up floor-to-ceiling glass panels. As he passed by the last panel, an indistinct form appeared on the other side of the glass. Long-nailed hands briefly pushed against the glass and Marion heard a muffled voice; he turned to peer into the fog-shrouded panel, but couldn't make out any more detail to the person inside the pool area. Shrugging, he continued on his way, never noticing the large protrusions that began to slowly push out from the shadowy form's chest area. *** The casino area of the Night Skies Hotel was anything but quiet, as Marion found out the moment he stepped into the vast, brightly-lit area. Assaulted by a riotous mixture of voices, music, bells and whistles, it didn't take long for him to become disoriented, which only grew worse as he plunged deeper into the crowd. It didn't take him more than five minutes to realize that he'd never find Mark in the casino. There simply were too many people, machines and activity going on to ever locate a single man. To that end, Marion found himself at a gaming table, attempting to re-orient himself, with a small degree of success. He made a point of showing some interest in the table, which had mostly women playing at it - including the dealer - along with three men. Before long, it was obvious even to Marion's non- gambler eyes that two of the men were losing, and losing big time. But that didn't keep them from placing more chips on the table, to the point that they no longer had their own money to gamble, but were using the hotel's money. "Um, guys?" Marion interrupted, "Shouldn't you slow down a bit here and think twice before getting any deeper into debt?" "Sir, they're making their own decisions," the emerald green-eyed dealer spoke. "Please refrain from offering advice - unless, of course, you'd like to join in on the fun?" "Yeah! Butt out, pal!" one of the men retorted, anger flashing in his emerald green eyes. "I'm one of those whales - y'know, a big-time gambler! I know what I'm doing, small fry!" Marion, taken aback by the reaction, fell silent, and the game continued. Both men continued to lose money, but the so-called "whale" seemed oblivious to that fact. Before long, the second of the two money-losers threw up his hands in defeat. The dealer spoke quietly into a small mic built into her collar. Before long, a squad of four female security guards arrived and escorted the loser, whose long, dark hair fell past his shoulders, away. He didn't protest. "What? Don't trust him to pay before he leaves the hotel's casino?" Marion quipped. "I doubt he could get away even if he wanted to. There are enough guards around here to ensure the security of Fort Knox, let alone a hotel casino." Even the "whale" was quiet as the dealer eyed Marion. "Aren't you a sassy one?" she finally said in a neutral tone. "But since you don't have the balls to gamble, I suggest you be on your way, handsome. And don't worry about the loser; I'm sure that if he can't pay off his monetary debt to the hotel, they'll simply put him to work washing dishes or doing housekeeping duties until the debt is erased." The dealer smiled, predator-like. "If he's lucky, though, he could end up in a more glamorous job." Marion nodded mutely and then took his leave. The atmosphere surrounding that particular gaming table had turned chilly all of a sudden. OK, I'm not going to push my luck, he thought as he finally found his way back to the casino's entrance. Outside the casino area, Marion fished around in his pockets, hoping to find the map of the hotel, so he could visit the areas he hadn't been to yet in his quest to find Mark. He found the map, but he also fished out a cigarette lighter. It was embossed with the Capri 120 logo, which consisted of flowery letters set amid a splash of color. Marion sighed. He would have to go back to the bar and give that guy his lighter back. *** A few minutes later, Marion was back in the bar, making his way toward the table where a familiar woman was still seated, a half-finished "Wild Woman" drink in his hand. The woman saw him coming and exhaled a stream of creamy white smoke that funneled upward from her full, pouty mouth. "I, uh, your boyfriend must have dropped his lighter in my pocket when I was in here earlier tonight," Marion said, extending the Capri 120 lighter to the woman. "I'm sure he missed it," the woman replied, smiling as she took the lighter. Marion looked around, realizing that the man was nowhere to be seen. In his place was another woman, a raven-haired, emerald green-eyed beauty with cleavage to spare. She, too, was enjoying a long, slender Capri 120 cigarette, just like her friend. The woman saw Marion's confusion, and her smile grew broader. "My boyfriend has gone to bed for the night," she stated. Gesturing over at the woman next to her, she added, "This is my girlfriend, Tera. She just got off work as an escort for the Night Skies Hotel, and we're relaxing a bit before we both call it a night." Marion harrumphed as his eyes drank in the twin beauties that the women were. He gulped the rest of his "Wild Woman" drink down. The women weren't dumb; they knew he was ogling them to a degree, and both enjoyed it. But the bar employee took sympathy on Marion; it was obvious he wasn't good with women. "I take it you have yet to find your friend, Mark," she stated matter-of-factly. "Uhm, yes. He seems to have vanished," Marion replied. "Well, it's getting late," the bar employee said. "About the only part of the hotel still open this late that you haven't visited yet is the, well, the adult part." "Sex shows," Tera added helpfully. Marion blanched. "Look," he said, "the casino part was adventuresome enough for me. Must I go to the, uh, sex shows?" I thought I came up here for ice fishing! "You'd be surprised at the number of hotel patrons who go to the sex shows," the bar employee said. "Perhaps your sensibilities are offended, but that could be exactly where your friend Mark is." "Aw, come on. I'll show you the way," Tera said, aware of Marion's indecision. "And I'll even do it for free." Taking a quick puff from her Capri 120, she stubbed out the cigarette, stood up and clasped Marion's hand. "Let's go and get this over with, Mr. Scaredy Pants." *** Tera led as she and Marion made their way through the hotel complex, passing by the restaurant, a number of private meeting rooms, and a gym filled with exercise equipment and lots of hot, sweaty women working out. Before long, the pair entered a section of the hotel that was used for guest accommodations and, judging from Marion's perspective, rather utilitarian quarters at that. "This is the 'poor' part of the hotel," Tera said, noticing Marion's curiosity. "You obviously rented a luxurious suite, but not everyone wishes to, or can afford it." She smiled. "Most folks go the luxurious route, however. After all, the Night Skies Hotel is a five-star establishment." Marion nodded, taking in the information. "Why are there so many women here?" he asked suddenly. "It's one thing I've noticed over and over again - there's like ten women for every man." "That's something you'd have to ask management," Tera replied. "I'm just an escort, which means I don't get into the details of whatever packages management offers as enticements for guests." She shrugged. "Maybe it's the time of year. Or maybe management is catering more to women than men. I don't know and don't really care." The pair lapsed into silence, which lasted until they came to a set of closed double doors with two women standing guard. "Your identification, sir," one of the security types asked. "You must be at least age 21 to enter the hotel beyond this point." Marion fished out his driver's license and handed it to the woman. "I didn't think I could pass for that young an age anymore," he quipped. Satisfied that Marion was, indeed, older than 21, the guard handed his driver's license back. "It's more or less a precaution, sir," the woman said officiously. "Federal, state and local laws, you know." With that, Marion and Tera passed through the double doors. Tera looked back at her sisters and they winked at her, light dancing in their emerald green eyes. Tera smiled devilishly, and adjusted her name tag provocatively. When Tera caught up with Marion a minute or so later, she could tell that he was already entranced by his surroundings. It wasn't exactly surprising, as the pair were in the middle of a large room, a room that was pounding with music and the beat of hundreds of dancing feet. At the front of the room was a stage with numerous poles and mirrors, and at least a dozen bare-breasted women were involved in various acts meant to arouse members of both sexes. Tera glanced down at Marion's crotch and grinned, seeing the beginnings of a tent forming. "If you think this is too much," Tera said, raising her voice to be heard over the music, "then there are a dozen or so other rooms, but with different atmospheres." "What do you mean?" Marion asked, tearing his gaze away from a dancing beauty up on the stage. "What I mean is that not all are like this room in terms of noise and activity," Tera replied. "Some are basically nothing more than topless bars, while others offer different music and mini-stages scattered throughout the room. And all, of course, have private alcoves, just in case a customer and a lady want some privacy." Marion accepted this information, then asked, "How's this going to help me find Mark? If anything, the activity here is even worse than in the casino!" Tera shrugged. "You look, that's what." "I don't have all night, you know," Marion snapped. "I'd like to get some sleep sooner or later so I don't drop dead from hypothermia while out on the ice." "It isn't my problem, handsome," Tera replied. "Now I've gotta run and get some shut-eye. Good luck finding your buddy." With that, Tera vanished into the crowd and out of Marion's life. For his part, Marion looked. And looked. And looked. But by the time he had entered the fifth room, he was dejected. Mark was nowhere to be found. He sat down at a table and ordered his fourth "Wild Woman" drink. The fifth room - known as the Tittie Bar - was obviously an adult knock-off of the more pedestrian bar where Marion had met Tera and her friend in earlier in the night. In addition to serving good drinks, this bar's employees had no problem showing flesh, either. Tits were bouncing just about everywhere as waitresses, bartenders and entertainers came and went. The bar's live entertainment consisted of an all-female rock band, conveniently playing in the buff. Marion listened to their music, which actually had a rather pleasant beat to it, and downed a fifth "Wild Woman" drink. Mark was all but forgotten about as Marion's world began to center around the hypnotic beat put out by the raven-haired, emerald green-eyed women on the stage. Marion's reverie was broken by a low moaning from a booth across from his table. A man was seated in there, along with two women. Marion wasn't into eavesdropping, but for some reason he couldn't resist just this one time. "I don't want to smoke," the man in the booth muttered, his voice thick with liquor. "Oh, aren't you adorable," the woman next to him cooed. She turned to her girlfriend and smiled. "They're always cute at this stage." Her companion agreed, and lit up a long, slender cigarette of her own. "The changes are just beginning to kick in, and sometimes ...," she leaned over the booth's countertop and blew a cloud of creamy white smoke into the man's face, " ... it leads to denial. Short-lived, for the most part." "I said I don't want to ...," This time the man's voice was cut off as the first woman planted a big kiss on his mouth. She pulled away after a moment, and Marion could have sworn he saw the man's mouth growing full and pouty. He blinked his eyes, sure he was seeing things. "It doesn't take long for them to fit in with the rest of us," the first woman said as she grabbed a lock of the man's hair and began to twirl it absent-mindedly. Before long, it was beginning to turn jet-black and grow longer, and thicker. "And then once they join our ranks, our new sisters begin to repeat the process, luring in more customers." "How long will it be before management reaches the critical number?" the smoking woman asked, clearly enjoying her Capri 120 cigarette. "I'm not privy to any details," the first woman replied, still playing with the man's hair, which had completely changed into a jet-black mass of soft, thick tresses falling below his shoulders. "We probably have a long ways to go yet, despite this whole timeless and dimensionless bullshit that comes down from on high every now and then. Until then, I suggest we simply enjoy ourselves." "Do you want a cigarette now, honey?" the smoking woman asked. The man, his face obviously becoming softer and rounder, was indecisive for a mere moment before his new, emerald green eyes filled with an insatiable light. He nodded, and the smoking woman pushed her pack of Capri 120s across the table to him. The man pulled a long, slender cigarette out of the pack and placed it between his full, sensuous lips. The woman next to him flicked a lighter, and by the flame's light, Marion saw a distinctly female shape beginning to thrust out from his chest ... "That does it, I'm outta here," Marion suddenly said to himself as he staggered from his table and toward the bar's entrance. "I've obviously had way too much to drink and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass." Marion nearly collided with another woman as he exited the bar, still looking back into the dark and smoky interior. "Whoa there, handsome," the woman cried as she held her hands out to keep Marion from bumping into her. "You seem to be in a hurry. Too much of a hurry, if you know what I mean." Marion eyed her curiously. Like so many other women in the hotel, she had emerald green eyes, dark hair and ample cleavage. And like so many of the women in the particular part of the hotel, she had barely any clothing on. But there was something else about her as well, a sort of air that exuded not only sexuality, but strength and intelligence as well. "My apologies, ma'am," Marion stuttered. "I, ah, I've had a bit too much to drink and was heading back to my suite for the night." The woman smiled. "Judging by the way you're stumbling about, you might need some assistance, handsome." "Uh, no thanks ..." "Whatever, handsome," the woman said as she held Marion up. "And why do you keep looking back into the bar like that? Did you see a ghost or something?" Marion shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Damned if I know, what with all this booze circulating in my system." He found himself staring at the woman again, wondering why her every gesture and word attracted him so. Marion was well aware that booze could make people look prettier than they really were, but he didn't think that was the case when it came to this woman or, for that matter, most of the women in the Night Skies Hotel. "If I may ask, what's your name, ma'am?" Marion suddenly asked. Damn. I'm being a bit too forward I bet, he thought. Double damn this booze! The woman, who found herself interested in Marion almost as much as he was in her, wasn't offended at all. "I'm Marissa. I'm a dancer." *** Some time later, Marion finally made his way back to the suite Mark had rented for them, but only with Marissa's assistance. He keyed the door open and dragged himself in; the growing sleepiness and booze, combined with no luck at finding Mark yet, all combined together to finally lay Marion low in the wee hours of the morning. He sagged onto the oversize plush sofa and closed his eyes, resting. Marissa closed the door behind her, a mischievous smile on her face. She wandered over to the coffee table and picked up the TV remote, flicking the machine on. The set was still showing CNN, and Marissa quickly changed it to one of the hotel's in-channel offerings: a channel that was tuned in to cameras located in one of the hotel's adult zones. Light danced in her eyes as pounding, hypnotic music filled the suite, produced by an all-female band that rocked as dancers twisted and curved on poles around them. This was more like home, and she relaxed even more, letting the atmosphere take her away. Needless to say, the music eventually woke Marion from his restless sleep - punctuated by vivid dreams that left little to the imagination - and he straightened himself, spying Marissa at the end of the sofa, still wide awake. "You don't sleep much, do you?" Marion asked. "And you obviously don't know how to ask before barging into someone's suite." Marissa feigned a pouty look. "Well, handsome, you weren't going to make it back here on your own volition; who knows what part of the hotel you might've ended up in had I not helped you back." She paused and her pout vanished, replaced by a sweet smile. "And I think that if you really hadn't wanted me in here with you, you would've said so ...," she glanced up at a clock on the wall, " ... before you fell asleep three hours ago." Marion harrumphed, and got up from the sofa. "You just keep thinking that, lady," he said as he headed to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, the first thing that struck Marion was the cleanliness of the bathroom. There were no used bath towels or washcloths lying about. The soap in the tray was still in its wrapper. He opened the medicine cabinet and saw that the complimentary toothpaste, razor and shampoo hadn't been touched either. How odd, Marion thought. You'd think that Mark would have at least bathed a few times in the days he was here ahead of me, or shaved or something. This place simply doesn't look too lived in. Marion closed the medicine cabinet and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He knew it was a very good possibility that the hotel cleaning staff was simply good at what they did, and that accounted for the cleanliness of everything. But it wouldn't explain the bedroom that Mark had used - the bedsheets in there were rumpled, and personal items were scattered about. Why hadn't the cleaning staff at least made the bed and arranged the pillows? Sighing, Marion rubbed his eyes and turned away from the mirror, unanswered questions still floating about his mind. An instant later, he was peering at himself again in the mirror. Something wasn't right. Something was amiss; Marion could feel it. He stared hard at himself, before it finally dawned on him: his eyes were mismatched. His right eye was blue, like it always had been, but his left eye was now green. Emerald green. "What the hell?" Marion muttered disbelievingly. Then, as he watched, his remaining blue eye began to slowly change, acquiring a hue that soon resolved itself into a beautiful emerald green color. Marion blinked in astonishment. He had emerald green eyes now. But eyes just don't randomly change color; that's something that only happens in newborns, not adults. At least that was what Marion had always thought. Marion rushed out of the bathroom. "You won't believe what I just saw ...," he babbled to Marissa, who still sat on the sofa. "You have to leave the hotel now, Marion," Marissa said, interrupting his babbling. "Huh? It's frickin' five in the morning!" "It's beginning, isn't it?" Marissa asked. She looked at him closely and nodded knowingly. "Your eyes, they're emerald green now. They were blue. But now they're emerald green. Just like all the women in this hotel." Marion spluttered helplessly. Marissa was talking out of her ass, and his mind was still too cloudy from the disturbed sleep and booze to make any sense of it. "Get out of the Night Skies Hotel this instant, Marion, if you value your life as you know it," Marissa continued. "The longer you stay now, the more the changes will become pronounced. Eventually, you will become one of us ..." "What's the meaning of all this hocus pocus crap you're spewing?!" Marion screamed. "Marion. It's me, Mark," Marissa whispered. "You've got to believe me!" "Mark?" Marion hissed. "You're definitely not Mark! For starters, you're a woman!" Marissa sighed, and began to talk fast. She didn't know how much time Marion had, so she told him things, that only Mark could know. She had to convince him to get the hell out of the hotel before it truly became too late for him. To that end, she saved her most intimate knowledge of Marion to the very last, in case he wasn't convinced by what she said before. "Marion, you're infertile." Dumbfounded, Marion's mouth hung open, slack-jawed. Marissa continued, "You received the diagnosis only three months ago, after years of fruitless attempts to have children with your wife. You told me about it right after you told your wife. That's how close we were. You told me, your best friend, ahead of most of your family. Isn't that saying something?" Marissa paused for a moment. "This ice fishing trip of ours was meant to be a cathartic thing in the end." Marion stared at Marissa, beginning to see her in a different light. If this was true, it would explain why he had been drawn to her earlier in the night, and vice-versa. "I also know why 'Storm' is your nickname," Marissa added. "It's because you were born right in the middle of a blizzard, and your mother couldn't get to the hospital. She was all by herself - your father was stuck in town - at home, and she gave birth to you in the bedroom after 16 hours of labor." Marissa smiled. "You weighed six pounds, eight ounces and was born screaming." Logically, it should have been impossible for Marissa to know any of what she had said. Marion had never been very forthcoming to many people about himself, but Mark had been one of the few with which he felt safe and comfortable with in discussing matters. They had known each other since childhood, after all. "Mark. My God, Mark. It's really you," Marion whispered, staring at the shapely form his friend now exhibited. "What have they done to you?" "I ... I didn't follow the rules," Marissa replied haltingly. "Of course, I didn't know the rules until I figured them out for myself after the fact. But by then it was too late. I was already beginning to transform into a woman of the night." She paused, remembering the not-so-distant past. "I wrote something up real fast and sent it out over the Internet and to your e-mail address, Marion. It was a warning to people to avoid the Night Skies Hotel." Marion looked over at the wall where the phone was; sure enough, there was a broadband Internet connection next to the phone jack. "You've got to leave this instant, Marion," Marissa continued. "You still have a chance to escape the destiny that the Night Skies Hotel has intended for you. Go now, and don't ever look back!" "I won't let your memory be forgotten, Mark," Marion said. "And I'll do everything in my power to make damn sure this hotel doesn't get anymore innocent victims!" With that, he was out of the suite and flying down the hallway, the suite's door left wide open. Marissa peeked into the hallway and saw Marion going around a corner towards the hotel's lobby area. She then went into the suite's bedroom that had formerly been hers and retrieved her pack of Capri 120 cigarettes. She placed one of the long, slender cigarettes between her full, sensuous lips and flicked her lighter. Its tip glowed brightly as she inhaled deeply, enjoying the creamy white smoke that filled her mouth and lungs. "Good luck, Marion," Marissa whispered as she released a plume of creamy white smoke from her sexy mouth. *** It didn't take Marion long to reach the hotel's lobby. He was glad to see that there was only a single woman behind the counter. "I'll be checking out now," Marion stated as he walked up to the counter. "The name is Marion 'Storm' Rider and I have a wife to get home to." The woman keyed through several screens of information, but her emerald green eyes narrowed as she closed window after window. After a minute had passed, she looked up apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, but there is no Marion 'Storm' Rider in our system. The closest name we have is Megan 'Storm' Rider." She smiled. "Is it possible your name was spelled wrong?" "No, I don't think so," Marion said as he backed away from the counter, his horror evident. "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful green eyes?" the attendant asked, a malicious smirk on her face, light dancing in her own emerald green eyes. Marion ran for the lobby doors, but they seemed to recede the closer he got to them. He ran toward them again, but they kept receding, seemingly forever out of his reach. "No. This isn't really happening to me!" Marion cried out in frustration. "I'm having some sort of nightmare, that's it! I'm ...," he stared at his hands, too stunned to say anything as his nails began to grow, stretching beyond the tips of his feminizing fingers. "You will come with us, bitch," a cold, authoritative voice spoke from behind Marion. "You've got a job waiting for you." Marion whirled around and saw that the lobby attendant had been joined by four other women from the hotel's security office. He felt a surge in adrenaline and started hopelessly for the lobby doors again, but a hypnotic music began to fill his head, and he began to feel hazy and lethargic. He came to a stop and his arms fell limply to his sides as the four security guards came up to him and began to escort him deeper into the Night Skies Hotel. All the time, the hypnotic music - the same music played by the all-female band in the Tittie Bar - continued to fill Marion's head. *** Before long, the security guards had deposited Marion back in his suite. He collapsed into the sofa and looked around in a daze, still befuddled by the music in his head. Only now the music was also blaring from the television set , pulsating through the smoke-filled air in the suite as a pair of long- nailed feminine hands literally tore off Marion's shirt while another pair of women's hands began to shred his pants. "You won't be needing these clothes anymore," a voice purred near Marion's ear. "They cover too much of your body and, besides, would only be shredded by your transforming body." Marion looked in the voice's direction and saw Tera, the escort he'd met earlier that night in one of the hotel's bars. She was nude now. He glanced in the other direction, and spied a flame-haired woman, also nude. Marion didn't recognize her. "These are some of my friends, Marion," a voice called out from one of the bedrooms. The voice grew nearer. "You've already met Tera. My other friend is Trissa, and she usually works in housekeeping." Marion recognized the voice. It was Mark's. Or, rather, Marissa's. She stood in front of him, completely nude as well, her cleavage bulging outward, a long, slender Capri 120 cigarette clasped sexily between her long-nailed feminine fingers. Licking his lips, feeling them becoming fuller and more pouty, Marion stammered, "I failed, Mark, I failed. I'm sorry." "Failed? You failed the moment you checked in, Marion," Marissa cooed. "And, please, call me Marissa. You wouldn't like it if I called you Marion, would you, Megan?" "I, I'm not Megan," Marion stammered. He pressed deeper in the sofa's cushions as Marissa drew nearer to him. "And you're not Marissa, Mark! Clear your head!" Marissa took a pull from her Capri 120 and blew a cloud of smoke in Marion's face. "Oh, you were always so na
ve, Marion. Always too trusting. Well, you'll be much more worldly pretty soon, Megan." She leaned in and kissed Marion deeply, her sweet, pink tongue tangling briefly with his more reluctant one. She took another pull from her cigarette and resumed kissing Marion, filling his mouth with creamy white smoke. Marissa pulled back, grinning lasciviously as thin streams of smoke escaped from Marion's full, pouty ruby red mouth. "I wanna fuck him," Trissa piped up. "I wanna feel his tits push against mine!" "Me, too," Tera chimed in. "How I long to see Megan born, to see her smoke and fuck like the rest of us!" Marissa cooed at her sisters' words, massaging her own prominent mammaries. "Yes," she murmured, "let's complete his transformation into one of us. Let's help him become a wild woman!" As the women guided Marion into his bedroom, he gathered his wits about him ever so briefly, only to see and feel his ass and hips begin to expand outward into female proportions, stretching his underwear - his only clothing left intact - taut for a moment before it tore off, exposing his soft, sweat-slicked, hairless skin. The haze returned as he was lowered onto his bed, his penis ramrod straight. Marion ... Mario ... Mari ... Mar ... "No!" Marion cried out. "My name is Marion! Marion 'Storm' Rider is my name!" A soft laugh. "Not for much longer," Marissa cooed. Marion felt her weight straddling his body, and watched helplessly as she grasped his penis and positioned herself above it. Marissa slowly lowered herself, and squealed with pleasure as his penis penetrated her swollen, dripping pussy. Soon she was riding him hard, his shaft completely buried within her, grasped by her vaginal muscles and slathered in her hot, vaginal sex secretions. Marion marveled at how his sweaty body - now mostly hairless - had started to soften and round as Marissa fucked him, her tits bouncing up and down, a freshly lit Capri 120 dangling from her mouth as creamy white smoke swirled about. She leaned down, rubbing her breasts against his chest. He glanced over to his side and saw Tera and Trissa in each other's arms, kissing and gently tickling sensitive spots, awaiting their turn with him. Marion brushed a lock of long, jet-black hair away from his emerald green eyes, but his luxurious mane of thick, soft hair continued to lengthen, crawling down past his shoulders. Marion reached out to caress Marissa's firm, prominent mammaries with his soft, long-nailed hands. "Yes, that's it, Marion," Marissa sighed, enjoying the feeling of another's hands on her melons. "You were always meant to join our ranks." Marion ... Mario ... Mari ... Mar ... Ma ... Megan cried out with pure pleasure as she pumped Marion's seed deep into Marissa for the last time. Her penis began to go flaccid and it slipped out of Marissa's dripping pussy, becoming pink and growing smaller before her eyes. "Better hurry up, my sisters, if you want a piece of the action before Megan is completely here," Marissa crowed triumphantly. Tera and Trissa were all over Megan as Marissa, her part done, stood back, smoking and massaging her mammaries. Tera planted her pussy over Megan's mouth, and she cooed as Megan's dainty pink tongue began to flick along her outer and inner labial lips, culminating with a solid push against her clitoris. Trissa licked Megan's nipples, and moaned with expectant delight as Megan's aerolae began to expand and darken, quickly followed by her nipples growing fat and seductively prominent. "Yes, it's about to happen!" Trissa said breathlessly. Tera pulled away from Megan's face, which was slathered with hot fluids from Tera's pussy. Megan smiled dreamily, her soft, round face almost glowing as soft, slight protrusions began to develop beneath her large nipples and wide, dark aerolae. The protrusions began to inflate and push outward, developing into a pair of firm mammaries. Tera and Trissa each took a swelling tit into their mouths, suckling on them as they continued to grow out of Megan's soft, hairless and sweaty chest. The valley between Megan's sprouting breasts continued to deepen as her glorious tits finally finished growing, bulging out of her chest at a man- and woman-stopping size 36D. Tera and Trissa removed their sexy mouths from Megan's mammaries, and she caressed them gently, enjoying the small bolts of pleasure that arced through her body as she played with her nipples. "And now for the final act," Marissa said as she rejoined her sisters in Megan's bed, her tongue flicking playfully against Megan's miniature pink penis. "It's pussy time!" Megan spread her legs wide and ran her hand between her thighs, coming to rest near her shrunken penis. She felt an intense itching just above her penis and, moments later, a thick inverted triangular mat of black pubic hair sprouted. Megan moaned with anticipation as her scrotal sac tightened, split down the middle and then fused into the outer labial lips of her developing pussy. Inner lips began forming and the crevice began to push deeper into her body, seemingly chasing after her retreating balls, which were changing into ovaries. A Venus mound pushed outward slightly as her pussy began to lubricate itself, the remnant of her penis undergoing its final change into a hypersensitive clitoris, which was soon protected by a sheath of pink skin. A quake rippled through Megan's body, and her transformation was complete. Marion was now Megan and Megan was now Marion - the same soul, but radically altered both in physical and non- physical form. Megan disengaged herself from her sisters and climbed out of the bed. She stretched, admiring her new physique. Turning to Marissa, she smiled sexily and asked, "So, what's my new job, lover?" "I thought you'd never ask," Marissa replied. Her emerald green eyes twinkled. "You're going to be a dancer, just like me." She paused. "In fact, I asked management for that to happen. I wanted us to do everything together, just like we did in our former lives." Megan reached over to Marissa's pack of Capri 120 cigarettes. She placed a long, slender cigarette between her pouty lips, flicked a lighter, and inhaled deeply, the creamy white smoke filling her mouth and lungs. "I'll smoke, dance, drink and fuck to that," Megan commented, a plume of smoke flowing from her mouth. She smiled and inhaled again, the tip of her Capri 120 glowing brightly. *** "So how goes this expedition?" management asked in multitude of female voices speaking as a single entity. "Very good, my mistresses," a lackey replied, absent-mindedly rubbing her mammaries. "Our manifestation into this timeline's era on the North American continent has resulted in thirty-six new women being added to our ranks." "We thought as much," the voices replied. "We felt our strength grow. Not bad for a short period of time in a rather isolated part of this continent." "And now?" the lackey asked. The voices laughed. "We will withdraw once again into the dimensionless void, and await yet another opportunity to present itself," they said. "In time, we will reach the critical number of women we need. It is then that we will be able to manifest in multiple dimensions and many parallel timelines simultaneously. "It is then that we shall destroy our enemies and claim their timelines and dimensions for ourselves," the voices added. "We shall do to them what they did to our timeline so long, long ago." The lackey smiled and saluted the insignia embedded into the wall of the chamber where management met. The symbol was that of the Nation, of female empowerment, at the center of an alien Earth ... *** Author's note: First of all, thank you for reading my story. If you have any constructive comments, please feel free to send me an e-mail at the address listed at the beginning of the story or to the destination offered by the Web site at which this story is posted. Secondly, the "Night Skies Hotel" universe will, I hope, in time become a universe in which other writers besides myself, the originator, will wish to contribute to. If this is the case, I request that the following guidelines be followed: 1. Please be kind enough to e-mail me at the address provided at the beginning of this story. It's just the neighborly thing to do. 2. The transformations must be physically descriptive and, preferably, slow (bonus points if you are good at the "mental" changes as well). In other words, no "insta-changes" allowed. I despise "insta- changes" in general, so it's nothing personal against any aspiring writers. 3. Please leave the major "mythology" stories to me. What are "mythology" stories? Well, the term is stolen from "The X-Files," where mythology stories were the stories that could affect the entire "X- Files" universe in a major way. The "Night Skies Hotel" mythology stories will follow the same vein, if and when they're written. I'm sure this stipulation will raise the most questions for any potential writers, so feel free to e-mail me with any questions. But it is my fervent hope that the budding scope of the "Night Skies Hotel" universe - especially as detailed in the closing parts of "Destiny's Path" - will allow a great deal of freedom in writing good stories. 4. These guidelines are subject to change. But that's not likely to happen, as I like to keep some things set in cement. Until we meet again ... Solari