Night Skies Hotel: The Unrelenting Tide free porn video

Night Skies Hotel: The Unrelenting Tide By XXXecil Historian's note: This story is set in 1400 CE, 200 years after the fall of Gaia, the Sisterhood's primeline, to the Patriarchy. It is a dark time for the Sisterhood's remnant, less than 10 years after the end of the failed Second Campaign to halt and reverse the Patriarchy's expansion throughout the known timelines. Most of the remnant's allies have been destroyed, and other civilizations - fearful of the Patriarchy's seemingly unstoppable armies - are keeping their distance from the Sisterhood. *** It is with our passions, as it is with fire and water, they are good servants, but bad masters. - Aesop (620 BCE-560 BCE, Timeline 0600) *** "What in particular is so special about this timeline that warrants an extended visit?" Science Guild candidate Athena inquired, speaking with a polite but insistent tone to a glowing crystal that hovered in the dim light of the circular chamber, shining like a multi-faceted blue sun. "That in part is what you must discover while you're there." The voices resonating from the floating crystal were like a sing-sing chorus behind a waterfall. "While TL-169 isn't comparable to us or the Patriarchy, it is considerably more advanced than most of the other realities we are aware of." Management's multitude of voices continued: "We are at a point in herstory where technological civilizations remain a rarity; two centuries into this war against the Patriarchy, and still only a handful of these timelines understand the structure of the atom." There was a short, calculating pause. "TL-169's achievements include advanced telecommunications and nuclear power, making it a rare gem." Athena looked as though she were about to speak, but reconsidered. The blue gleam shimmered eerily across her lustrous mane of ink-black hair, which framed a face of sculpted porcelain perfection that was mature while lacking any hint of the ravages of age. Finally, the provisional member of the Science Guild nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps a reality capable of accelerated progress possesses some secret, or some unique element or condition that might be useful in augmenting our own efforts, particularly when coupled to our technology." "Or that of the Patriarchy," the crystal chorused. "As you investigate TL-169, be mindful of the possibility that the people of this world, or some rare element therein, might be of more use to our enemy than to ourselves." Athena absent-mindedly fingered her erect, rosy nipples upon ripe breasts. "What measures am I authorized to undertake to prevent a potential weapon from falling into our foe's hands?" The glimmering gemstone was silent for a moment, seemingly vibrating slightly. "In this, we will trust your discretion. You have excelled in your coursework and apprenticeships over the years. With that in mind, we believe you will have no problem passing your final exam ... and earning full, formal membership in the Science Guild." Athena nodded, then smiled wryly, eyes growing wistful as she placed hands upon her sleek hips. "I don't suppose this is a reality without the nudity taboo?" she wondered mischievously. "No. You are dismissed." "Pity," Athena noted as she strode from the chamber in search of clothing to reluctantly cover the lush curves of her statuesque body. *** "S-so in the end, she just wanted to ask me where - if I knew where that dunderhead linebacker Rob Brickson had ended up since high school," bemoaned Lee Tallman, a wiry, grey-eyed youth with tousled, mouse-brown hair, as he downed a glass of in-house liquor. "Uh, I'll have another, please," he told the bartender, a woman with a smirk on her face. "Sure handsome." She poured from a bottle with a label that sported a silhouette of voluptuous young woman who appeared to be dancing, refilling his glass with the alcoholic beverage. "What d-do I owe you?" "We'll just put it on your tab, handsome," the bartender remarked. "Thanks. So ... where was I?" "Your high school crush, Susan Collings. She called you, wanted to touch base after all these years, and you thought maybe you had a shot with her," said the green-eyed woman that sat at the bar stool beside him, showing what seemed an unusual level of interest. She was a rare redhead, what with almost all the other women in bar and hotel having raven-black, glossy hair. That was strange really, now that Lee thought about it. He hadn't seen a single male employee since he had checked in. Just these suspiciously gorgeous women, like his current companion. Like the other waitresses, she wore a stretchy white T-shirt/tank-top with the words "Swollen Bud" written in pink letters. The sheer cloth made each pair of nipples stand in stark relief above gold-weave bikini bottoms. "Y-yeah -" Lee gulped "- Susan Collings. She was ... incredible ... but, she was never ... I guess I never really had a chance. I'm, I'm not mad ... I'm not upset," he lied, pursing his lips. "So, uh ... I'm sorry, I'm being rude," Lee offered. "What is it really that you want from me? You've been sitting here for nearly an hour, listening to me and my sob story, without telling me what I can do for you." "What can I say," the redheaded waitress demurred, "you looked alone, like you needed a friend. You'll find it easy to make friends in this hotel." Her green eyes glittered emerald-like as her smiling face graced her cheeks with adorable dimples. "I'll say." Lee's grey eyes swept the room, seeing mostly male business executives at the tables, and all of them - yes, just about all of them were joined by sumptuous babes with jet-black cascading hair, dressed in outfits that barely restrained generous pairs of breasts. All seemed unusually, no, impossibly friendly. Was there some sort of escort service operated out of this hotel? Would a price for that service too, be added to his tab? "Heh, I'm, I'm impressed. I hope this Dark Skies Hotel opens up a franchise someday." "Night Skies, honey. And nothing would please me more!" his companion purred, reaching a hand toward his trousers, beginning to caress his leg, toward his suit jacket, where she touched a thick, hard cylinder near a pocket. "Wooo! Are you carrying something extra, or just happy to see me?" Lee suppressed the urge to chuckle. He had meant to leave the pills in his room, but, oh well, no helping it now. "No I just -" he sighed, as though caught red-handed in some crime. "The pills help with the symptoms of my autoimmune disorder, Sjogren's syndrome." It was something Lee had always been insecure about. Was his bad luck with the ladies because of his scrawny stature, nerdy intellect, or his disorder? Did they see him as unfit? An unworthy specimen not deserving of a woman? Luckily, his gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a newscast from a wall-mounted television receiving a local broadcast. "And in other news, President Rice extended her condolences in a formal ceremony at the United Nations building today over the recent suicide bombings in Switzerland. The president vowed that those responsible will be brought to justice. Vice President Schwarzenegger also sent a message of support from the G-8 summit in Bombay, India. It's expected that India will dominate international trade in Asia after the collapse of the Chinese government." Momentarily distracted by the news, Lee wondered aloud: "Do you think she'll win a second term? There's been a lot of fuss over the prospect of a woman president." "You'd be amazed at what women can do," the redhead cooed, fixing him with her green stare. What did she want with him? Lee thought. This sort of thing just doesn't happen to me! "So, your condition - it's not ... fatal, is it?" "Er, no - just some painful arthritis, very painful sometimes, and dry mouth." "Well, we've got just the thing here." Playfully, the redheaded, scantily clad waitress took his glass and poured the contents into his mouth with a girlish giggle. "Mmmh, spicy stuff ... never had anything like it. What's this drink called?" "Heh, heh. It's called 'Wild Woman,' and we brew it ourselves from a secret recipe." Everything here seems to have a female focus with sexual undertones, Lee thought. How odd. Aloud, "Huh. That seems to be a theme in this hotel and ... and you know, since you've got me all liquored-up, I've forgotten to even get your name." "Patty ... and I think I've got something else to help you with your dry mouth." And then she fastened her lips to his. I'm lip-locked with a dynamite babe that's with me just because I look lonely! Lee thought. He was just getting into the kiss when Patty suddenly pulled away. "H-whu-" "Turn around, lover. You've not going to want to miss this." She wheeled around his bar stool to face the stage as a voice over the intercom announced the "main event": A slick silvery pole descended onto a raised stage from a hidden shaft in the ceiling as a deeply throbbing, pulse-pounding music began. "Ah, I wasn't sure this was that kind of bar." Patty hushed Lee, pointing toward the stage, where a feminine silhouette began to emerge from behind some gauzy, pink curtains. It was strange, Lee mused as he stole a glance at Patty, noticing that she, too, was watching the silhouetted woman intently. Wouldn't any other woman be jealous beyond belief if she was out with a guy and he suddenly started ogling what must be a stripper coming out on stage? Yet she alerted me! Like many other women here, the stripper had a mane of night-black hair that flowed across her silken shoulders like liquid ebony. The makeup around her eyes and mouth sharpened the clarity of her classically perfect features with her high cheekbones and aquiline smoothness. Her lips were especially ripe and red, seeming as though someone had squashed a strawberry against her mouth. Her face reflected a certain haughty elegance that contrasted with the luridness of her profession in a way that evoked a sense of forbidden pleasures. But her face wouldn't be the center of attention for much longer ... She tore the sheer pink film of negligee from her curvy body and began strutting and posing, arousing the basest instincts of the onlooking men. Yet she was not fully nude underneath this flimsy layer; her breasts and groin were covered with circular patches of ... of ... was that whip cream? Apparently so! Under each melon-sized breast was a shape in the form of a small cross descending from the main patch of white cream. With a delicious shimmying of her torso, lips pouting in apparent brazen lust at the audience, she took a tentative lick of her right boob, slurping away a small patch of cream, reveal ing her moist skin. This was followed by a scintillating routine upon the pole, her hips and thighs undulating like a torrid waveform as she jiggled with teeth-clenched passion, thrusting her breasts onto either side of the pole, moaning and licking the steely shaft in a brazen simulation of what every man in the audience hoped she would do to them. As the deep bass throbbed and boomed from hidden speakers, she took another lick of whip cream, teasingly exposing yet another area of buoyant, slick breast-flesh. Lee, dazed and flush with embarrassment, would have figured out her pattern sooner, had he not been distracted by the tension of his rigid cock straining itself against his woefully tight pants. He adjusted his pants, giving himself a brief moment to think clearly, and - as she arched her back against the pole, panting and cooing with her mammaries thrust proudly into the illumination of the colorful stage lights while she swayed - Lee began to guess her plan. Her breasts were large enough to easily bring to her lips for more sensuous licks, her agile tongue dancing upon her nipple as her hips shimmied. "Yes ... she's going to complete the circle ... she'll keep licking herself until she's created a hollow ring around each of her nipples ..." As indeed the stripper did, her tits thrust moist and bare to the crowd amid raucous cheers and gasping moans - and not only from the audience. In seconds, she had started on the other boob. "She's making Venus symbols on herself ... in whip cream!" Lee realized, as the timeless emblems of femininity where sculpted upon her tantalizing, mammalian charms. Finally, after almost another minute of simulated thrusting and rutting, both breasts where thus decorated. The sensuous stripper slid to her knees near the edge of the stage, legs wide, breasts heaving and moist, her creamy pussy blatantly displayed to the crowd. Her index finger drew a circle around the top part of the sugary coating slathering her womanhood. "Now ... finish it ... finish the pattern!" she ordered with a sultry growl to the man closest to the stage. Needing no further prompting, the grizzled trucker's beefy fingers traced a cross-shape, completing the Venus symbol at her crotch. The stripper ceremoniously thrust the middle finger on her right hand in the center, straight into the depths of her femalia with a single, slick push. The shuddering of her shoulders came before her wild scream of passion. "She, she climaxed! She's, she's cumming ... right there on stage!" Lee exclaimed in awe. There was no way the stripper could fake the tension in her throat muscles, the sweat on her lovely brow, the blushing of her cheeks as the routine's finale brought her to orgasm amid hurling wads of dollar bills and yelps of rowdy joy that drowned out the now-fading music. "Please, check your glasses to see if you're our contest winner ... for tonight," the performer panted as the noise quieted down. "Hu-huh?" "Your drink glass lover, let's see if ..." Patty never finished, for as she held aloft Lee's glass of Wild Woman, there was an image darkening on its side, through some unsuspected chemical reaction just now taking place. It was an darkened outline of a voluptuous woman dancing on a pole. "But, that's mine ... that means ..." "BACKSTAGE PASS! TODAY ... IS YOUR ... LUCKY DAY!!" the redhead remarked with exaggerated emphasis as she smiled sweetly and gently tapped Lee on the tip of his nose. "B-backstage pass? W-with her?!" "She's a friend of mine. I'll help to introduce you two ..." *** The stripper's name turned out to be Bobbi, and she seemed to be more than just friends with Patty, as evidenced by their familiar embrace and how the two disturbingly gorgeous women grabbed each other's shapely asses when they greeted one another. Bobbi now wore a terricloth bathrobe that performed a valiant, if incomplete, job of concealing the full splendor of her womanly assets. "My shift's over for the day," she told them, striding over boldly to the blushing Lee to appraise him with a smiling glance. "I know you were promised a backstage pass - but since I'm all done here, how about if I just take you up to my room instead?" "Uhm ... well - I, I never -" No way! This sort of thing ... it just never happened! Not to him! Lee thought. He had really never even been in a strip club before, living an almost celibate existence most of the time, trying to avoid most women. Why? Because, frankly, he feared being rejected. "I found him for you, so I think the two of us should bring him over together," Patty suggested, surprising Lee with a firm squeeze of his buttocks. Bring me over? What does that mean? he wondered. The longer he stayed in this Night Skies Hotel, the more confused he became. The pair half-dragged, half pushed him to a nearby elevator normally reserved for staff. Bobbi hit the button for the 10th floor. "OK, what's the deal? This sort of thing doesn't happen in real life," Lee observed, rolling his grayish-green eyes. "Am I on 'Candid Camera,' or am I going to wake up next morning in a bathtub filled with ice with my kidneys missing?" Their twitters of laughter resounded through the ascending elevator. "Yup, you've got us. No backstage pass - we're just going to take you up to Bobbi's room and screw you senseless," Patti revealed. "Uh, huh." Lee's brow furrowed in confusion. This is strange, he thought, is my hair getting longer? It shouldn't be falling past my ears like it is now. Must be my imagination. But the lips pressed against his own were real enough, and he scarcely noticed as he was alternately pushed and pulled by the randy hotel workers into a luxurious suite. Once upon the bed, he found himself sandwiched between the buxom beauties, each one teasing and caressing each other's flesh as often as his own. It would go quickly, Lee knew, his body trembling with excitement, lust and disbelief. His penis had never really deflated. He was tempted to apologize in advance, because he knew he wouldn't be able to last long, but his words were stifled by a plump, firm mammary that was thrust into his face, nipple nestling between his lips. "I'm afraid I've still got some whip cream on my tits," Bobbi lamented with disingenuous regret. "I can trust you to clean up, can't I?" The ripe splendor of her decorated breasts fully occupied his mouth and lips, muffling any attempt to reply. Still, he had no regrets. Hmm, he thought, there seems to be some kind of moisture, other than cream, coming from her nipple. Licking the clear, warm fluid gave Lee an odd sense of euphoric bliss, but not quite as much as when a sopping wet pussy thrust itself upon his member; he couldn't see - but it didn't matter which of the lovelies had forced his rampant cock inside her womanly folds. He couldn't resist bucking his hips in pleasure as the coupling intensified into outright passion. Yet, something felt wrong while, at the same time, the rutting felt so right, so incredible - the fulfillment of every fantasy that Lee dared not dream. He knew his penis shouldn't be so rigid, so hard, so impossibly, painfully erect. Not that his lovers seemed to mind; the hoarse yelps of unfettered lust belonged to Patty, and from the sound of her moans, and the throbs in her groin, Lee knew that she was not the type to fake an orgasm. But there was more. Had the winner of the alleged "Backstage Pass" not been so drunk with lust, he might have noticed, and worried about, the tingling rippling across his skin, the strange tension pulsing across his chest, or the odd feeling in his hips, a pushing pressure in his pelvis - almost as if his hips were widening ... (((They're widening to contain fertile ovaries and to someday swell with your young.))) What? Where did that come from? Lee thought. Why would I imagine such a thing? "I think - hmm - it's good compensation," Bobbi murmured between grunts of lust as she switched Lee's sucking mouth to her other breast. "I admit, he was cruel to all the shy guys, the nerds in high school," the stripper continued. Something tugged again at the back of Lee's mind, but he was was too busy enjoying the sensation of suckling the clear moisture from her other nipple to pay any heed to it, let alone ask Bobbi what on Earth she might be talking about. "I ... he was extremely insecure around studious types - AHHHH!" Bobbi continued, eyes squeezed shut. "Secretly, he was afraid that his athletic skills wouldn't amount to much in the future, wouldn't get him a scholarship. He was worried that the brainy types would get all the jobs, and power. So he tried to make life a living hell for you, Lee. And a few others he deemed nerds." "WH-mmphllph?" The rational part of Lee's mind was admittedly curious, but it was much more fun to suck and fondle these spectacular tits rather than disengage his mouth long enough to form coherent words. "So I figure ... I should make up for how Brick treated you by making sure you had mind-blowing sex with two incredible babes." Bobbi pulled away from Lee's mouth, thrusting his head back against the satiny pillows. "Oooh! Look, Pat. Aren't his eyes the most brilliant shade? Almost like an emerald meadow." How can that be? Lee thought. My eyes are gray - yet she's saying they're sort of green! And I'm not wearing colored contacts! Bobbi straddled his chest while Patty rutted away on his penis, which was more rigid and more electrified than Lee had ever imagined possible. Patty spread her legs, the blossom of her twat glistening in the light - was her hooded clit pulsing with lust? Were those lower lips widening with an urge to devour his manhood? Those questions and more shot through Lee's astounded mind. Then the scent struck him. It was a very subtle, but somehow he was breathing in a faint aroma that seared his nerves and fanned the fires of his desire. His lips twitched and his cock surged in anticipation. The stripper smothered his smoothing, softening face with her drenching cunt. Without thinking, without wondering, he began licking, sucking and tasting her depths, another surge of euphoria momentarily disconnecting him from his surroundings, thrusting him into a pillowy realm of erotic wonder. "Yeah - UNNNGH! - I'd say it's fitting - NAAAHH!" Patty grunted between thrusts, "for a macho, muscled-headed bully like Rob Brickson to pass through here, and wind up as a nympho dancer at the Swollen Bud with breasts as large as one of his old footballs." "And I ... I'm gonna make it up to you - YAAAHH! - for all ... all that childish cruelty," Bobbi said, grinding her twat deeper into Lee's face. "Just imagine - WOOUHHH! - you'll have the rest of your lives together as sisters to patch things up," Patty added. It was too much for Lee. Deftly, the slender nerd slipped out from under the vaginas of his dual lovers and stood unsteadily beside the queen-sized bed. "What's the joke, ladies? What are you talking about?" Was his voice cracking? That hadn't happened since he was thirteen! "Why are - I'm not anyone's sister! And I'm sure that you're not -" Lee pointed to Bobbi, nude and sweaty upon the sheets "- Rob Brickson!" "Well no, not anymore, obviously! But don't worry about it. You'll soon be joining us ... within minutes, I think, and then you'll understand." "Girls, I don't know what's in that 'Wild Woman' you've been drinking, but I'm a man and ... and ... what the -" The mirror! There was a tall mirror next to the room's portable refrigerator, and in its silvery sheen it reflected a creature that was vaguely recognizable as Lee Tallman. Not that he had ever had much, but all his body hair was now gone, although it seemed like a lot of the follicles had migrated to his head, where lengthening strands now flowed past his ears to graze his shoulders - more than twice as much hair as he had had just yesterday! And if that wasn't enough, it seemed to be darkening, his normal mousy brown color now shot through with black, like ... like ... the women in this hotel! His surprised, probing hands now grazed his chest, raising questions such as, why were his nipples so hard, so enlarged and sensitive? What did it - No! It wasn't possible! It was almost as if he was changing into a woman. A woman?! Lee thought incredulously. No way! No way!! A throbbing, pushing sensation filled his thighs, almost as if the bones in his pelvis were thrusting outward, growing, widening - (((To bear young, to carry ovaries.))) No! That can't be! I'm a man! Lee raged mentally. This can't ... my chest ... it's tingling again - (((To feed your young, to bring the light to others.))) Where ... it's ... it's like there's a voice, a sensuous voice in my head, whispering secrets I can barely hear! he thought. "You've had your fun, Pat, but now I get to finish him off!" the former Rob Brickman asserted. The naked stripper tackled her latest conquest - and once again Lee's nostrils flared, picking up that odd scent again: subtle, but burning in its poignant stimulation. The euphoria came back, and his muscles felt weak, too weak ... somehow resistance didn't seem worth it, and he could hardly grumble as Bobbi straddled him, taking his shrinking penis into her womb and rutting upon it. "Wh-no! This ... this isn't real ... this sort of thing ... doesn't happen ... in real life ... I can't ... you ... I ... won't ... won't ... CUM!" A final male orgasm thundered into him, almost without warning. Lee lost control of everything below his waist, his body pumping and jetting everything into the enveloping slit entrapping his manhood. It was as though he was ejaculating old fears, burdens and doubts, as though his prior life was spewing forth into the depths of her feminine sanctum. Patty rejoined the lovemaking, suckling upon Lee's chest, nibbling and licking his nipples, almost as if she was expecting something. "Finish," she murmured. Next came Bobbi's voice. "Finish your transformation, bitch!" she said forcefully. "Finish it!" Yes, there had been an orgasm of the body, but now ... now it was as though Lee's mind - no, his very soul - was climaxing, and he feared he would never be the same. "N-no! It's not real ... can't happen ... I'm a man ... I'm Lee! Lee Tallman!! I'm Lee Tallman!!!" Lee ... Lee ... Le ... Lllll ... "LEETA!" she shrieked, feeling the last remnants of her penis seemingly dissolving into a pink, sensitive clitoris, accompanied by the strange rush caused by the virginal opening of her cunt, its nether lips parting like the petals of a flower. There was an audible POP! as two pussies separated from each other, the newest one quivering, as if testing itself. "Let's see what management has in store for you," Patty said, reaching into a pink duffel bag at the foot of the bed. The bag was vinyl and contained a number of glossy file folders; she withdrew one that appeared blank at first, before lettering materialized in a manner not dissimilar from developing a photograph. "Hmm ... housekeeping," Patty noted. "Well, it's not as prestigious as a computer networking specialist, I suppose. But you'll find it has its own rewards, Leeta." *** In the end, it was all perfectly legal. He had had no choice but to sign all of the documents in order to get the financial backing his company needed to weather the recession. Preston Sinclair closed the bathroom door and began to unfasten the overly tight buttons of the business suit. I am going to need to wear such finery much longer? he thought. Am I going to have any control over my company at all by next month? The bastards had been clever. They hadn't tried a hostile takeover immediately, not when Preston's company first started running into the red, but the contracts he had been pressured to sign gave them the option of executive control over a majority of the company's stock. "I didn't think much of it ... didn't think it was that big a risk ... but now I know that some of those damned papers I signed were round-about ways to authorize illegal stock manipulations!" Angrily, the fiftyish, balding, stress-wracked executive threw down his tie as he turned on the hot water for his shower. That had always calmed his nerves. "I could bring them down," Preston muttered. "I could alert the FCC to the stock manipulations. But, dammit, my signature's on those papers! I'd rot behind bars with the rest of them if I tried to fight it!" A soothing spray of warm water enveloped him. "Ah! That's nice ... warm shower ... everything always seems brighter afterward." The bathroom started fogging up. "Maybe I'll just have to take the pension and retire. After all, I've been in this business long enough," he reflected, lathering himself up. "I mean, really, what's the point of all this? Do I really need another $10 million?" Preston didn't really have any hobbies anymore, nor much time for recreation or downtime. All he had to look forward to, if one could call it that, were meetings, more meetings, cooking the books and, oh, yeah, overseas meetings. Now look at where I am, he thought. This hotel's entire staff seems to made up of women. It must be some kind of weird fetish-oriented business, like Hooters or some-such. "Humph. It figures we'd schedule the conference in a place crawling with the most gorgeous women I've seen since we settled those five sexual harassment lawsuits. And yet, here I am completely -" He couldn't say the word. He couldn't admit, even to himself, his impotence. Millions of dollars flowed through his fingers daily; yet he no longer had the simple power to maintain an erection. He was ... "Hey!" The door to the bathroom creaked open. A short but spectacular woman strutted in, carrying an armful of towels. Preston was annoyed. She can't hear me taking a shower? he thought darkly. She didn't see the "do-not-disturb" sign? He paused, his gaze settling on her svelte form. Ahh, hell! If only I were a younger man! The woman was slightly over five feet tall, and a black-and-white frilled French maid's outfit strained to contain her generous bosom, a bosom where each breast seemed nearly equal to the diameter of the pail she had on her cart for mopping floors. Her waist tapered, adding emphasis to her flaring hips, the likes of which Preston had never imagined were possible, above sleek legs that were as perfect as a sculptor's dream. Her hair was an ink-black cascade with a surprising shock of red near her forehead. The natural, elegant beauty of her face would have brought the old classical painters to tears with longing. Even more shocking than the fact that a maid would barge in on him like this was the fact that - well, really, women who looked like her would ever take a maid's job in the first place. Preston continued staring in disbelief as he opened the blurred glass walling off the shower. A girl with her looks could get onto the covers of thousands of fashion magazines! he thought. She could write her own ticket as a model! Yes, her boobs are much bigger than those prissy fashionistas normally liked, but with a face like that ... "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" he demanded. Even to himself, it was unclear whether he meant this bathroom, or more along the lines of "working here in this menial job instead of warming the beds of kings or presidents?" "Oh! I'm so sorry, sir." the sultry servant purred, an undercurrent of sarcasm evident. "I didn't mean to intrude like this ... but there's no harm done." "What kind of hotel is this? I'm trying to take a shower!" "Yes, but if you're embarrassed about me seeing you naked, well, don't be -" With that, she tore off her lacy garments, revealing a bra-less wonderland of female splendor so eye-popping that it was enough to make even a statue blush. "There. Now we're both even. There's nothing at all to be embarrassed about." Preston backed up against the shower's tiled wall, incredulous. "What the - I ... I don't know what kind of operation this hotel is running, but I'm not paying for any kind of kinky call-girl room service." "This has - heh - nothing to do with money," the indecent housekeeper assured, nothing but steam from the shower covering her ripe, curvaceous form. "But still, I've acted ... improperly. You must let me make it up to you! And I know just the way -" As she stepped into the shower with him, Preston suddenly detected a strange, fleeting odor. It was faint, but memorable in a puzzling way. Something about it ... something about the way she smelled, it seemed to ... awaken something within him. As her slender arms wrapped around his neck, it felt almost like a tangible jolt - his cock! After 10 years of default celibacy, he felt alive! Awakened! So hard ... so rigid ... her hungry lips cut off his gasp, seemingly devouring his mouth ... the shower's warm spray adding a tantalizing, slippery element to their impending copulation. Her tits thrust into his face, making breathing difficult. His eyes fastened on those wondrous breasts, which seemed to ride higher on the maid's chest than one would expect, and seemed more perky and firm than was possible for melons whose size would challenge a cantaloupe. The woman teased his cock, slathering his straining rod with a lathery mixture of her arousal, water, soap, and shampoo. But as he suckled upon a plump, proffered nipple, he thought for a mere, fleeting moment that a clear, faint liquid - something other than the lather - was coating it. No, that can't be, Preston thought dismissively. It's just water from the shower. Her breasts electrified him with a surge of adrenaline and bliss that seemed almost ... narcotic? Yes, that was it: narcotic! But what came next was even better - the black-and-redhead began the slippery process of impaling herself fully upon his 7-inch manhood. After several slips, both bodies began to quiver as they were finally linked, his cock plunging deep into her cunt. The animal-like sensations bombarding Preston were not unlike physical blows as the pair collapsed into the bowl of the bathtub, focused entirely on mating. Preston had the strangest sensation that - as their naked forms pressed together, rutted together, mating and coupling and thrusting into each other - he was blending into her. His skin ... tingling ... a sense of agitation on his chest, strange throbbings in his groin and hips ... almost like ... her flesh was becoming his flesh. But whatever it was, it didn't matter to the businessman as he grasped her hips with a renewed burst of strength, thrusting - forcing - penetrating deeper into her sopping chasm of womanly pleasure. It's beyond belief! Preston thought ecstatically. Even in my twenties, I was never so hard! So eager! She shimmied upon his rod, her moves more similar to that of a stripper than a maid. He reciprocated, swirling his pelvis in a rhythm that heightened the stimulation of the velvety sex gripping his own deep within its hot, liquidic depths. It was his hair that finally revealed something was terribly amiss. Rather, the fact that he had hair at all. Preston had been balding for 20 years, and had only a horseshoe left around his ears ... and yet ... yet now there were moist, bronze-colored strands falling in front of his eyes. "Wh-huh? How? What ... what's going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?" His voice was higher, almost too high to be his. "It doesn't matter. You can't ... won't resist. It feels too good; you need to finish it as much as I need to feel it." Quit? Why would I want to quit? Preston wondered, his mind lethargic. That would mean that the naked heaven of these soft curves and bountiful breasts would no longer be pressed against me! Yet something ... seemed wrong ... with his chest ... it was tingling, throbbing ... and there was a heaviness that he knew, on some distant, clinical level, hadn't been there before. The odd sensation spread to his ass ... it felt like it was spreading, flowing. And now his skin - it was almost like someone else's flesh was replacing his own. But ... but it feels soooo good ... too good! Preston wailed mentally. It was becoming clear he just didn't have enough willpower to pull out of the maid's churning pussy. Afterward ... I'll investigate myself after I cum ... cum into her ... (((For the last time, sister to be.))) "Where did that come from?" Preston whispered. But the strange thought was just the first of many to follow: thoughts of a new mission, new goals beyond his petty materialism. A struggle between a glorious Sisterhood and a cruel empire called the Patriarchy. (((You are a part of the Sisterhood.))) "What? No ... I'm not ... MMMPH -" he paused, suckling a ripe tit thrust before him. "- not part of any ... Sisterhood. It makes no sense! I'm ... my hips ... skin ... chest ... heavier ... tingling ... growing ... ass, chest - getting larger? It can't be ... but I feel them ... I feel her. So good ... but I'm ... I'm not like her. I'm not a woman! I can't join any Sisterhood!" The maid renewed her assault, grinding and humping him with a manic intensity that would have been frightening if not for the sheer pleasure it generated. It was clear, however, that she was not joking or faking anything - her tightened facial muscles and hoarse panting betrayed a sexual craving Preston found almost unearthly in nature. "No - I'm not ... not a woman ..." Preston stammered. "Not for at least another minute," the woman agreed. "Im-possible ... you ... but I feel it, I feel it ... in my mind," he grunted as the pair wallowed naked in the bathtub, splashing water everywhere. Preston's weathered and jowled face started stretching ... smoothing out ... as though someone was remolding his face to resemble a younger person, somebody who was female. "I hear the voice ... in my mind ... you want ... want me to work for your sisters ... y-you want me to have sex ... you think ... you think I'm going to grow a pussy and ... and seduce men!?" Horror seized Preston. "I'm ... I'm not growing these tits that you want!" The businessman clutched at his chest, gasping in shock. There was much more soft, pliant flesh in his hands than there should be. His emerging, big-nippled breasts pulsed in his grip, enlarging even more as he held them. "N-n-not a slut! I'm P-Preston ... Preston Sinclair!" The maid's musical laughter refuted his words. She wrapped her legs around his waist, to better lock in what little bit of penis her lover still had. "But it feels so good to be a slut ... so good," she crooned. "Feels ... wonderful ..." Preston couldn't help but agree. "But ... it's wrong ... wrong to be a ... such a slu ..." His voice was rising higher, becoming softer with every word. "Why is it wrong?" "I c-can't .. c-can't remember now ... but ... wrong ... it feels ... good ... but I ... I remember ... my name! I still remember ... my name!" Sloppy auburn hair flowed, thick and lush, framing a soft, pert-nosed and full-lipped feminine face that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the middle-aged CEO known as Preston Sinclair. Preston ... Prest ... Pres ... "PRISCILLA!" the new woman shrieked, a muscle-rippling climax rocking her body, expelling every last trace of sperm she would ever produce into her lover's depths, leaving behind a tiny, quickly shrinking travesty of a penis Priscilla no longer needed - or wanted. It took mere moments for her sexual organs to fully rearrange, egg-laden ovaries and a lush uterus - linked by a pair of fallopian tubes - developing deep within her belly. Priscilla's pussy opened for business with an audible POP!, its thick outer and finer, clinging inner labial lips parting to reveal a wet, pink-walled tunnel burrowing into her being. *** Leeta found herself grappling with a naked, nubile creature who seemed no older than twenty, at least judging from the freshness of her face and cheeks and the bulging bounty of her DD-sized tits. Priscilla at first seemed firm and fit, but it took just a single touch to know she was all softness and fertile curves. Her face had less of the severe grace that Leeta had, and Priscilla's bright green eyes carried a vague hint of Asian, or perhaps Hispanic, descent. And when her new sister smiled, Leeta noticed dimples! The inspection ended almost before it began. Leeta and Priscilla rolled together, tumbling sideways as they fondled and kissed. For Leeta, there was a deep sense of camaraderie, followed closely by a feisty lust for Priscilla's flesh that was just as intense as when she'd been a man with a thick cock. "Thank you, sister," Priscilla breathed passionately, "for believing in what I could become." "W-want more ... more sex ... more cum ... more sisters!" murmured Leeta, eyes closed as she nuzzled Priscilla's full, bouncy breasts, breasts that had been flat and small-nippled only an hour ago. "N-not like ... orientation ..." "What?" Priscilla inquired. "You'll have ... orientation soon, to learn more details ... about your work here ... but they said ... what I feel, and now what you feel, the urges ..." "You mean the immense drive to be penetrated by a man? The fierce craving to feel a penis ejaculate its thick, creamy white load of seed deep inside me?" "Yes ... yes that," Leeta agreed. "It's supposed to ... to fade after you bring over a new sister ... after your first conversion..." "But it doesn't for you?" "No," Leeta grunted. "and it leaves me feeling conflicted! "I feel almost cheated because your penis didn't last long enough, but I also want more sisters ... more of this fellowship with women like you ... and more cocks!" Leeta continued. "I still crave men and sex - I want ... still want ... to seduce them by the dozen, to feel rough hands pawing my breasts and cum shooting in every hole until I'm lost in orgasms." She paused, thinking. "And you ... since I converted you ... it might be the same." Leeta's eyes brightened with intensity at the prospect. "You might be a perpetual nympho! And every man you transform into a sister might become one, too!" Priscilla laughed. "Well, I look forward to testing your theory, sister!" the auburn-haired convert giggled happily. For her part, Leeta swore she felt the other woman's cunt pulse in anticipation. Minutes later, the two were out of the shower and checking with more than a little anticipation to see what Priscilla's new career would be. The file in the package on the wall began to develop, and Leeta's thin, arched eyebrows shot up excitedly. "Ooohhh! It looks like you get to be a masseuse!" she pronounced. "Well, I'll start practicing with you!" Priscilla tackled her sister, thanking her for the transformation with a pleasant, unforgettable bout of nipple-licking, pussy-fondling lesbian sex. *** The spa, near the Night Skies Hotel's top floor, was a sight rarely experienced by ordinary guests, since it was largely reserved for VIPs whose deep bank accounts pretty much guaranteed that they would always get the ritziest of rooms and suites. Besides that, being on the hotel's upper floors gave the spa's patrons a sense of seclusion and exclusivity. Little of the hubbub from the lobby, casino, restaurants, and strip clubs far below disturbed the lofty heights commanded by the VIPs. Private quarters ringed the jacuzzis and steam baths, with a profusion of pleasant, colorful ferns and snaking, twisting vines adding to the atmosphere's relaxing, tropical ambience. Wide, deep windows opened up on the hotel's surroundings, but they were opaque more often than not so that the sense of being in an earthly paradise wasn't disrupted. Tyler Raxton was in a delicious mood as he relaxed on the massage table. The negotiations are going smoother than I could have ever expected, he thought enthusiastically. Hearing a soft knock, he looked up to see a gorgeous woman gliding into the room. "Good afternoon, Mr. Raxton. My name is Priscilla, and I'll be your masseuse today." She was a busty knockout, like almost every worker in the hotel, but what Tyler found odd was the fact that she was wearing a soft, comforting terricloth bathrobe - something that seemed more suited for a guest than a lowly employee. Nonetheless, Tyler thought, I certainly have no objections to this total hottie putting her hands on me! "Good, you've already got your shirt off, Mr. Raxton. We'll get started immediately." Priscilla wheeled a metal cart next to the table. The cart was loaded with bottles of creams, ointments, and salves. They carried brand-name labels Tyler never seen before, including a bottle of "Hand Job" cream that the woman was vigorously applying to his muscled back and shoulders. "You're a very handsome man, Mr. Raxton," Priscilla complimented him. "It's a pleasure to have you with us." "Mmm ..." Tyler was already deeply relaxed, a wry, confident smile plastered on his square-jawed, patrician face. He was young, rich, blond and built like a Greek god; chicks loved him! But the women in this place were, well, they were a bit more forward than most. He enjoyed the prickly sensation in his skin as Priscilla applied generous amounts of "Hand Job" cream. The only problem? From his position, he was unable to see the cream's effects, seemingly melting away the hair on his back and arms wherever the cream touched. "It's important to remain completely relaxed for this session, Mr. Raxton," Priscilla instructed. "If it helps, close your eyes and banish all negative emotions. Don't allow doubts, fears, or suspicions into this room. Just lay back, and let me do my job." Taking her advice to heart, Tyler reveled in the sensuous blessing of her soft, delicate hands teasing their way across his shoulder blades, then down further, grazing his thighs, and finally her feather-soft digits began kneading his ass cheeks. Tyler groaned with pleasure. Priscilla smiled, slathering on additional cream, bringing more bliss to the man beneath her skillful hands. A few minutes later, Priscilla repositioned herself, squatting in front of Tyler's face to work on his shoulders from the front of the table. That seems strange, Tyler thought. Can't she reach my shoulders from behind? Hmm. Oh, well, these people are supposed to be trained, to know what they're doing. As the minutes passed, the exec lost sense of his own position in the room, almost as if he was floating on a cloud of pure sensuality. All his troubles and fears started fading ... Ah, look ... her bathrobe has fallen open, the businessman thought. A bare breast beckoned, its soft, plump nipple enticingly close to his mouth. He smiled. Just one lick ... a single lick of those gorgeous, fertile breasts couldn't hurt! Tyler nuzzled her exposed chest as she kneeled in front of him, breathing in a curiously faint, yet stimulating scent. He sighed into the deep, sweat-slicked valley between her mounds, finally giving in and licking a moist nipple ... He jerked away, horrified. "What the - oh my g- I ... I don't mean to ... I mean ... I didn't intend to harass ...!" She put a finger to his lips, hushing him. "Mr. Raxton, I've explained this: no nervousness, no anxiety, no worries here. If suckling on my nipples relaxes you, then by all means, suckle. Let yourself go - have no fears or doubts." Priscilla thrust her bosom closer to Tyler's mouth. Reassured, the businessman wrapped his mouth around an erect nipple, nibbling, suckling and gently pulling on it with his teeth. Hmm ... her breasts are moist, Tyler thought idly. Did she just get out of the sauna? How odd. It's almost like there's a liquid of some sort coming from her nipples. He grinned goofily. Well, whatever it was, it only made him more relaxed. "Alright, Mr. Raxton. Time to turn over," Priscilla announced, helping him to lay face up on the table. That seems unusual, Tyler mused. I thought most masseuses worried only about back muscles for sessions like this. Hmm. I suppose it doesn't matter ... she's the professional masseuse, not me. Once again, Priscilla brought out the "Hand Job" brand of cream, this time applying it vigorously to his chest, her graceful hands kneading and pulling at his flesh. There was a cool, prickly sensation, and for a moment, Tyler thought the cream was actually removing his chest hair. Nah ... that couldn't be. It's just my imagination, he thought. Still, the cream seemed to be seeping into his skin, bringing a mind-numbing pleasure with it. Had Tyler been more lucid, he might have been more concerned about the odd sensation on his chest as Priscilla stroked and kneaded his pectorals. As her masterful fingers worked their magic, there seemed to be more and more flesh for the masseuse to work with. It wasn't much longer before his chest seemed to be carrying a new weight. The more Priscilla's hands pulled and spread and pressed, the deeper they sank into soft flesh - far more flesh than Tyler should have had up there. One of her hands darted to his waist, removing the towel covering his painfully erect manhood. Now Tyler was stark naked, his body seemingly bordering on hairlessness, his chest starting to bulge outward with twin mounds of still-expanding flesh. There must be something in that cream, he thought, seemingly half-drunk. By all rights, he should realized what was happening to him ... but instead, he felt so relaxed and trusting of Priscilla that all he did was smile, chuckling as he gave in completely to her ministrations. Her hands finally left his chest, and even through his haze, he could see his engorged, plum-colored nipples atop protruding mounds. The nipples' aerolae darkened, expanding and thickening as he watched, oblivious to the extent of the danger he was in. Hmm ... must be some strange, temporary allergy. Nothing to worry about, nothing in the world to worry about, Tyler reassured himself. Not a thing to worry about ... no ... not a thing ... "Too tense," Priscilla complained. "A lot of men suffer from pelvic tension during these sessions." She sighed. "It looks like you're going to need a lot of extra attention for that." The sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs tingled at the touch of her confident, yet feather-soft fingers. Finally, inevitably, she slathered her right hand with cream, wrapped it around his throbbing 8.5-inch length, and began pumping away. "Wh-whoa! I'm ... I ... that actually ... gets me excited! C-can't relax ... with your hand ... there ...!" Priscilla nodded soberly. "Yes, so it seems I'll have to take care of this erection before we continue." She discarded her bathrobe with a flourish, revealing a lush and naked body at the height of its sexual splendor. Pouncing upon his form, she pinned his arms, then straddled his pelvis. Her full, luscious lips parted, revealing a slick, wet pink tongue that daintily licked at Tyler's feminizing nipples. Moments later, her mouth fastened upon his newly enlarged pleasure points. This ... this doesn't make sense, Tyler thought, dazed. None of it makes - Priscilla impaled herself on his cock, cutting off any coherent thoughts he might have had. She snarled, buttocks tensing as the slippery man-meat slid past her labial lips and plunged deep into her, a slippery, seething journey of tactile ecstasy that didn't end until the hot, wet glove of her vaginal muscles gripped his entire shaft. Tyler's skin flushed with heat, as though something was forcing its way out from the inside ... something smooth ... something erotic. "Had to be ... this way ..." the sultry masseuse murmured. "I knew ... promised you ... that if ... if I went down ... I'd take you with me." She moaned, rutting with pure joy atop him. "You knew I wouldn't dare ... expose the stock manipulations ... but now ... now things have changed - UNNNGH!" Her lips curled into a feral expression, and sweat speckled her brow. "Wh-huh? What're you ... talking about ... and why ... why do I - Hey! M-my chest ... my hips ... my legs ... I almost ... I look like a woman!" "Yes ... you don't have much cock-time left," Priscilla hissed, her teeth clenched as waves of pleasure emanated from her center. "Listen up ... while you're still you. Preston c-couldn't stop you ... from your hostile takeover of his company ... but you'll n-never get the rewards ... you're one of us now ... or will be in moments. If I ... go down ... y-you go down, Tyler." "Y-you sound like S-Sinclair ... but ... you're ... you're a total babe!" "Just like you." "N-no way ... that's not .. .it doesn't..." Try as he might, Tyler could no longer deny what was happening. He lifted a hand, hardly recognizing it as his own - it was too slender, too delicate and, as he watched, long, red feminine nails sprouted from his fingertips, growing a full inch in length. A big pair of boobs jiggled on his now-hairless and feminine chest Adding insult to injury, his legs had also changed, becoming sleek and clear of hair. Priscilla gave a final shimmy of her torso, her inner folds rippling in a way that gave a milking-motion caress of the penis penetrating her - and, in that instant, Tyler exploded deep into her. So intense was his final male orgasm, that his body clenched whilst spurting his sperm, lust, and very identity into the slippery snatch engulfing his manhood. "I ... I ... aaahh...!" Priscilla could see that Tyler's transformation was just shy of being complete. She rotated herself into a 69 position, placing her mouth near a still-erect cock, her deflowered pussy hovering above the shifting, feminizing face of the treacherous young tycoon. Droplets of creamy, white semen - laced with estrogen and pathogen - splattered all over Tyler's soft, ivory-smooth face, framed by waves of dark, curly hair shot through with blonde highlights. "The smell ...!" he gurgled. "It's a kind of pheromone, lover. You'll find it quite impossible to struggle now - and, soon enough, you'll be producing it, too." Priscilla took his quivering cock into her mouth with a single slurp, her tongue working its magic upon the now-rapidly shrinking, pinkening member. Almost like a popsicle melting, she fellatioed her mate beyond his manhood, leaving behind only a hypersensitive, pink stub - a clitoris. Priscilla smiled at the development, but she wasn't finished with him just yet. "Now we've got to get rid of that ball sac of yours, handsome," she whispered into his ear. She resumed sucking and licking, feeling his nuts pull up into his body, transforming into fertile ovaries. A thin, red line fissured through Tyler's sac, splitting it with an audible POP! as the halves thickened into outer labial lips while, in between them, more-delicate inner lips formed and parted. Priscilla pulled her mouth away from the virgin cunt, admiring the fine, V-shaped spray of black pubic hair that sprouted through reddish skin above Tyler's new pussy. A Venus mound pushed outward, completing the sex change between his full, womanly thighs. "Tyler ... I'm Tyler Raxton," he cried out, his voice high and lilting. Tyler ... Tyle ... Tyl ... Ty ... Ty ... "TYRA!" she screamed, arching her back, fully conscious, fully aware, and fully part of the Sisterhood. The cry signaled Leeta that it was her time to shine. She strode into the private suite, nude and drenched in fluids that might have been just water from the steam baths, sweat from copulation or, perhaps, a mixture of both. "Well, let's see if we finally got lucky," she said, observing Priscilla and Tyra thrashing and wallowing in each other's arms on the floor, caught up in an instinctive lesbian frenzy that allowed them to bond with each other on a spiritual and emotional level. She understood exactly what they were going through and, stepping around them, went to a nearby envelope that was attached to the cushioned massage table. The envelope would contain information on Tyra's employment status. "No dice," Leeta sighed, seeing the contents. "It seems Tyra will be working at the casino." She shook her head. "Close, but she's still not a dancer, and that's what I need right now." Still, a plan took shape in Leeta's mind, a next step toward the scheme she had concocted while reflecting on her own boundless nymphomania. A predatory grin formed. "I know just what to do." *** "Do you think management knows what we're planning?" "I doubt it," Leeta assured Priscilla. "I don't think they pay much attention to people that have already been transformed." They stood in the darkened front of Tyra's newly assigned living quarters, speaking in hushed voices. Behind them, a coffee table had been set up with three men and a woman, the newly minted Tyra, seated at it. Tyra had grown into a wide-eyed, button-nosed bundle of womanly charms with dark hair flecked with blonde highlights, wide breasts, and a smile that reminded you of the girl next door - if the girl next door was a giggling nymphomaniac who resented wearing anything more than a pink string bikini. "Heeyyy ... my sisters are here! You're just in time - I'm down to my bikini!" This game of strip poker, however, was anything but fair. On the side where Leeta and Priscilla would be joining Tyra was an assortment of low-numbered, jumbled cards taped to the underside of the table. Every chance they could, the drop-dead gorgeous women would hide their hands and secretly replace some of their cards whenever their hands got too good. No matter what the draw, each girl held nothing but randomized hands of no profit. And so their clothes would come off ... "Gentlemen, welcome to the Night Skies Hotel," Leeta greeted. "Liquor up front, and Poker in back." Tyra and Priscilla chortled, and the game commenced. Steadily during the night, each of the women was forced to surrender various articles of clothing; first was the apron from Leeta's maid outfit, then the denim short-shorts Priscilla was wearing, and then her T-shirt came off. Leeta studied her male prospects as she shimmied out of an over-stuffed bra, the latest price she had to pay for deliberately randomizing her hand. Now she sat topless, openly encouraging the men to leer at her spectacular globes of tit flesh, their nipples erect and loaded with enough pathogen to transform an entire football team. She shivered in her eagerness for someone to suckle on her, causing her already-hard nipples to stiffen even more. The first candidate might have been a young Japanese business man, but he spoke fluent English, and had a clean-cut, hard-working demeanor that was only now slipping, thanks to the sight of the women's tantalizing mammaries. The second man was a beefy, bearded trucker with a green and yellow John Deere hat, a scar across his grizzled cheek, and a "Semper Fi" tattoo visible through the thick hair of his muscled forearms. Finally, there was a teenager, probably no older than eighteen, with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a boy out to see the world on his own for the first time. Apparently as a symbol of youthful rebellion, he had dyed his spiky hair a punkish bright green and, when he grinned, Leeta could see he also had a tongue piercing. Leeta's cunt lubricated itself to the point of being drenched as she contemplated transforming them, and what sort of sisters they would become afterward. Will they all be like me? she wondered. Or will they end up as normal sisters? She wouldn't have to wait long to find out. Priscilla brought a cigarette to her full, red mouth, lighting it with a flick from a silver-cased, die-embossed lighter. She took a deep pull from the long, thin all-white super-slim cigarette, its end glowing brightly. After savoring the smoke for a moment, Priscilla exhaled a thick, creamy white plume from her lipstick-slathered mouth. A rich, minty scent soon filled the room, leaving the men slightly intoxicated. "Boys, if one of you wins this next hand," began Tyra, "not only will my sisters and I get naked, but you, too, can get naked ... and from there, we'll let nature take its course!" She grinned, sliding her hand onto the Japanese businessman's erect package. Hands trembled ... Adam's apples bobbed ... and eyes widened as Priscilla and Leeta nodded in agreement. A few minutes later, the beefy trucker had the winning hand - although he was on the verge of losing far more than he had ever bargained for. "Oopsie ... we lose! That's it girls! You know what we have to do!" Kicking off her shoes, Leeta stood atop the table, completely nude. Priscilla and Tyra rose from their chairs, caressing their naked forms in lurid invitation. The businessman signaled his interest in Leeta, his hand closing in on the supple flesh of her bulging right breast. Meanwhile, the trucker unceremoniously grabbed Tyra, threw here down on the bed and proceeded to engulf her with his bulk as the two rutted. The teenager, his mouth wide with awe, sniffed and licked at Priscilla's pussy like a dog in heat. Unlike before, there were no shocked protests or exclamations of disbelief as the pathogen did its work upon its victims' genetic code, inserting itself into every critical juncture, resulting in physical and mental changes modern science, as defined by the standards of TL-600, would find impossible. As for the men, well, if they noticed what was happening to them, they were either to horny to care or too horny to think straight. Not that either would have done them a bit of good at this point in the game. The couplings were wild and savage. Leeta ground down upon her Japanese lover's 6-inch cock, occasionally dappling his chest with clear, hot liquid from her throbbing nipples. Meanwhile, Tyra was buried beneath the trucker's robust weight, but from the way her legs clasped his pelvis, and the way her arms scratched his back, it was clear her screams were of pure joy. The young punk thrust himself doggie-style into Priscilla's cunt, and indeed the howls of animal pleasure they both made were not unlike a pair of beasts inflamed by the mating season. It might have been mere minutes, or it might have been hours, but soon the men were midway through their transitions, their penises shrinking rapidly, the girls helping them along with tongues and jerking hands to maintain their arousal. Something, however, seemed different with the green-haired teenager: His body was already mostly hairless and softening while his limbs were more slender, but his cock refused to relent. Leeta knew some males responded differently to the pathogen and, apparently, the teenager as one of them. He had already cum twice within Priscilla's sopping pussy, yet his penis remained rock-hard, and his desire remained unabated. He grunted wildly as Priscilla eased down on the mattress to catch her breath, but the teen reacted on pure instinct, grasping Tyra - whose lover had rolled off her once his tits had started growing - unceremoniously plunging himself with a perfect stroke into her pussy. It was impossible to miss his relieved groan. His face began shifting into that of a stunning teenage girl, but Leeta knew he would be one of the slower ones. His body is resisting the pathogen! she thought incredulously. His mind, however, was not. He could think of nothing but where his next pussy would come from, and so he began to rotate among the three women, thrusting and rutting each in turn, while his lovers relished the attention of his long-suffering penis. Finally, palms gripped tightly around Leeta's breasts, cock buried to the hilt in her twat, his body spasmed like a rag-doll amidst strained gurgling, and Leeta knew this was to be his final blast of cum that was jetting up -up into the more-than-welcoming void between her legs. The teen screamed in a higher pitched voice and fell to the floor thrashing, his form rapidly feminizing before their eyes as the pathogen exploded throughout his body and mind, bringing about changes that were as painful as they were pleasurable. "SAMANTHA!" wailed the tall and athletic woman with extra long legs who had once been a trucker. "TAMIKO!" howled the female that had once been a Japanese executive. Considering the build of most Asian women, Leeta found it a bit ironic that Tamiko seemed to have the largest breasts in the room, seemingly even incrementally larger than the firm, jutting melons Leeta herself sported! "ARIEL!" yelped a teenage girl who was of exquisite face and form, had respectable C-cup breasts, but, strangely enough, also had a thick mane of green hair. Her hair was far longer, down to her shoulders, and was a shade darker, but somehow the green hair dye had been incorporated into the altered DNA that now governed her hair color. Well, I guess that's one more piece of evidence showing that the pathogen isn't entirely predictable when creating new women, Leeta mused. The lesbian orgy that followed was critical to Leeta, for she didn't want to become overly distant to the spawn of her spawn. It's important to for them to bond with me and each other, Leeta knew. And so she did, thrusting her nipples into their mouths, ramming each other's middle fingers into whatever sopping pussy happened to be nearby at the time and, overall, encouraging behavior that would leave some of the most experienced call girls in Las Vegas agape. Eventually, the cluster of six women collapsed onto the floor in a tangle of sleek legs, jiggling tits and vaginas spasming in ecstasy. "Ch-check them ... check ... what careers ... they each have," muttered Leeta, still recovering from the toe-curling orgasms produced by Ariel's ma