Mom Son Horny Resort Day1
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The Resort - First Day free porn video
The Resort
By Sylvia Wechsel
First day
I write this diary as an attempt to put some order in my thoughts. What
I lived today seems unbelievable, and, if it were not so real, I could
think this is nothing more than an elaborate dream. What puzzles me,
however, is not necessarily what happened (which was weird enough), but
the way I behaved.
Everything started this morning. From my perspective I went to sleep
"last night" as a 46 year old bald, fat and bored and heterosexual male.
As I woke up I felt dizziness and disorientation, I could feel that
something was wrong, but could not give a form to what caused that
feeling. I could not recognize were I was, as well. It looked like some
four or five star hotel room, which looks approximately the same
everywhere in the world.
Still sleepy I decided to go to the bathroom. I was naked and the room
was cold, but the first thing I had to do was to relieve myself and to
wash my face. When I turned on the lights I got scared. There was a
beautiful, naked, young blond girl looking straight into my eyes, she
also looked surprised and scared. It took me a couple of seconds to
perceive that I was looking into a full-wall mirror: the young lady was
me!
I started to feel I was going to panic. I could not understand what
happened and how this was even possible. Finally the pressure in my
bladder insinuated and I sat in the toilet to pee. It was a strange to
feel the urine jet coming out of me without a penis to direct it. When I
finished I returned to the main room, searched, and found the light
switches. I turned the main lights on. A digital clock close to the bed
marked 6:05 am, but this said nothing to me, since I had no idea in
which country I was. I looked around and found the typical folders you
find in any hotel worldwide. Most of them were written in English, but
there were also some written in Portuguese, and this showed me, at
least, that I was still in Brazil. I found also one folder containing
the hotel name and address. I could not recognize the hotel, but I knew
the city, it was a coast city in the state of Rio de Janeiro. The most
amazing finding, however, was a folder containing a date, which I
assumed was recent: fact is that "yesterday" was 38 years in the past.
I felt again a cold shiver and decided to look for the air conditioner
controls. I found it, pushed many buttons, turned the thermostat to a
higher temperature, but it was useless, the air conditioner continued to
blow cold air. There was no blanket in the bed and the closets were
empty. I had nothing to protect my body from the cold, but then I
noticed there was something folded in a partially hidden armchair: it
was a translucent peach colored nightgown. I decided to to put that on,
at least it was better than to remain naked. I felt a rush of excitement
by wearing a piece of cloth which was so evidently female. I never told
this to anybody (it is useless keeping this secret anymore), but I used
to dress in my sisters' female clothes during my adolescence, when
there
was no one else home to see me. The sensation of that delicate piece of
cloth, decorated with lace, against my now soft skin, brought back those
memories in a rush. Contrary to my previous experiences, however, that
nightgown fitted perfectly my body, especially in my breasts and hips,
which were middle sized, but well formed. My breasts ended in large
aureoles and the nipples were erect, not only because of the cold, but
also due to the arousal I was feeling.
I removed the bed cover sheet, exposing the mattress, and laid myself
again, covering my body with that. Protected with the sheet and with the
nightgown I could finally stand the cold air and started thinking about
my situation. I must have slept again, since the next thing I remember
was a buzzing sound. I woke up again and recognized that sound was the
door bell, the clock marked 8:12 am. I went there and looked through the
peephole. There was a young lady on the other side. Still with the door
closed, I asked who she was and what she wanted. I hadn't speak a word
until then and hearing my strange, unknown, high pitched voice, was
strange.
She said:
- "Open the door, I'm here to help you and to answer some of your
questions".
I was afraid to meet anybody, but her promise to answer my questions won
from my fear and cautiously I unlocked the door and let her in. She is
a
beautiful woman, with long black hair and a sculptural body, which was
more than evident due to the fact that she was wearing a sort of tight
uniform. This looked like a single piece garment, made of green leather
(or a similar shiny material), which started as a high-heeled boot and
ended as full arm gloves. The uniform covered almost her entire body,
except in the front, where it was cut, coming from the shoulders, such
that each half of it covered one breast, down to the lower belly. I
realized that if the cut ran a little bit lower, it would expose even
her pubic hairs, but the way it was made, it exposed only her
bellybutton. There was only one world to characterize that uniform:
exciting.
Still afraid I let her enter the room, while I observed her body again.
The material of that uniform seemed to have been molded over her body
and looked impossible to dress. I realized that the material was not as
thick as leather, it was some sort of synthetic material. With some
difficulty I realized also there were thin separation lines between the
uniform and the boot and the gloves, but they were so thin that only
paying close attention they became visible.
She presented herself as Sara and told me, again, that she was there to
help me adapt and to answer my questions the best she could, but before
that she said we should dress more comfortably. She took some clothes
out of a bag she was carrying, gave me a miniskirt, panties and a
matching t-shirt, and took similar clothes to herself. She quickly
undressed and then I took out my nightgown and started dressing myself.
I had some trouble closing the zipper, since it was behind my back. She
helped me in that. Then she took flowery strap sandals out of the bag
and I put my tiny feet in them. Dressing myself so casually as a girl
reinforced my arousal and I noticed my nipples were poking out of my
breasts and were clearly visible under the soft clothe of that t-shirt.
After dressing herself and helping me with my own clothes, she carefully
folded her uniform and put that in the bag, together with the boots and
the gloves. I followed her and folded my nightgown and put it on the
armchair again. I was too afraid and too excited to think for myself,
this is why I did follow her blindly. After this ritual she told me a
story which I would find ridiculous if I hadn't the proof in my own
body.
According to Sara I was submitted to an experimental brain transplant
surgery! She asked me if I knew which day it was, and I told her I had
already realized I was in the future. This, according to her, was a side
effect of the procedure, which caused partial amnesia of the most
recent
memories. This amnesia ranged from subject to subject between 20 to 40
years and it seemed that I had taken the short straw, because my amnesia
was almost in the upper limit of that range.
The surgery was clandestine, since it involved something she called
"stem cell" therapy. It seems that during the long period of my amnesia
this kind of treatment was involved in some moral controversy, mainly
because these cells are acquired from frozen embryos recovered from
fertility clinics. The controversy was so intense that it lead to the
complete ban of stem cell research worldwide. Rogue scientist, not
satisfied with this decision, started the clandestine research. In order
to finance their activities they sought wealthy, dying men, who were
interested in cheating death. According to her, during my missing 38
years I acquired a considerable wealth and this is why I, close to my
own death, had my brain transplanted into the body of a 18 year old
girl, who suffered brain death due to a concussion following a car
crash. As a proof of that statement, she took out some papers out of her
bag and showed to me. I could recognize my own hand writing and my own
signature (a bit different from what I remembered, but still my
signature) in a document which said I was agreeing in participating in
that experimental surgery, date about six months before the present day.
The other paper was my own death certificate, stating that I died from
natural causes at the age of 83. The girl's certificate was also there,
but her name and other places which, I supposed, could identify her,
were covered by a black, thick paint. I could understand that, since her
identity, for obvious reasons, should remain a secret. Everything
seemed
OK and was consistent with Sara's story, but I couldn't get loose from
the feeling that something was not completely the way she told me. In
all cases I had to accept her explanation, I was, indeed, in the body of
a young girl and which other explanation could I imagine for that weird
situation?
I was hungry and Sara, as guessing, suggested we should do our
breakfast. The idea of walking outside that room made me shiver. One
thing was to talk to a girl who knew who I was and what happened to me,
the other was to face the anonymous public. In my mind everyone who
would see me, would recognize me as a man in a girl's body, and this,
for me, would be ridiculous. Seeing my hesitation, Sara asked me what
was the reason until I finally confessed my fears. She dismissed that
saying that everybody would see only what I am now: a young girl. She
broke my resistance, amazingly, saying:
- "The only thing that could give away what you are is the fact that you
don't have pierced ears, in the way to the restaurant we can go to the
shop of a friend of mine, who sells accessories, and she can do that for
you."
The need to go to that shop surpassed my fear of going out the room,
what I wanted was to go fast to that shop and have my earlobes pierced,
since this could give away my secret. We left the room and entered the
hotel corridors which, thankfully, were empty at that time. The hotel
had just one floor, so there was no need to take elevators. We walked
for a couple of minutes and then found the small shop, close to the
entrance of the hotel reception hall. Sara's friend was Celia. She is a
beautiful young lady, with short spiky blond hair, and tanned skin,
covered by tattoos. She wore a short t-shirt which displayed her lower
belly region so I could clearly see her navel stud. She also had a nose
ring piercing and, of course, three layers of earrings in her ears.
Celia was the living mannequin of her store. Sara told Celia about my
problem (and lied, telling Celia I came from an ultraconservative family
which didn't allow me to pierce my earlobes). If Celia found something
wrong with that explanation, she didn't give any signs of this. She came
with an instrument, which she called a "piercing gun", placed in my
left
earlobe and pushed hard. I felt a small discomfort, but I couldn't call
that properly pain. After that, she placed a delicate earring, forming a
small white flower with five petals and repeated the procedure in my
right earlobe, saying I should keep that in place until my skin healed.
During all time I felt the arousal growing. In my own culture, piercing
the ears was an exclusively female thing. Later I commented that with
Sara, but she said that during the 38 years of my amnesia men started
using earrings too, of course, not so frilly as the ones I had, and just
in one earlobe.
My hair is now in shoulder length, so they kept falling in front of my
eyes, this happened again , for the n-th time, when I was in Celia's
shop. Seeing that she said:
- "Let me help you with that".
And picked up a kind of rubber band covered with cloth and tied my hair
behind my head in the form of a pony tail. Sara payed the bill, but
Celia refused to charge for that rubber band. When I was going out of
the store I had a glimpse of my reflection in the window. It showed my
slim neck, lacking the Adam's apple, my tied hair and my ears decorated
with the earrings. It was so female, that I felt another rush of arousal
taking possession of me. From one side I felt worried and ashamed of
being a man inside a woman's body, but from the other side I was loving
to be a woman, especially a young woman like I am now.
After that we went to the restaurant and I could finally have my
breakfast. The restaurant was very large and from its windows I saw a
beautiful beach, with a couple of forest-covered islands in front of it.
The food variety was good, ranging from the American "eggs and bacon",
via a large bread selection (with the typical ham/cheese/salami
section), ending up in more "tropical" fashion, with a large selection
of fruits, both entire and sliced. When I was a man, I used to have my
breakfast in the form of a large cup of black/bitter coffee and a slice
of bread. Now, however, I felt a irresistible wish to eat fruits and
drink juices. It seems to me that this body has its own predilections
regarding feeding.
We ate our breakfast and, almost as we were done, a young woman
approached and greeted Sara in a scandalous way. I got afraid that
everybody else in the restaurant would pay attention to us, but it
seemed that everybody else found that kind of outburst perfectly
natural. I thought what else had changed in the society in the past 38
years. Sara presented her friend to me. Her name is Jenifer and my first
impression of her was not very positive. She was "too female". I
explain. She wore every kind of accessory a woman could use (collar,
bracelets, earrings and so on) and her clothes were colored, decorated
with flower motifs and, of course, vary small, showing a lot of her
beautiful legs, her belly and her shoulders and arms. A bit smaller and
she would show also a piece of her genitals and breasts. The two girls
started a animated conversation and I remained quiet, observing all
details of Jenifer's body and clothes.
Jenifer was telling Sara she was on the way to the beauty parlor in the
spa and invited Sara to come along. Sara apologized, saying she had too
much work to do, but then turned towards me and said:
"Why don't you go with Jenifer? I 'm sure you will have fun!"
Jenifer looked at me and, gladly, said, "Yes, come with me! It seems
that you could use the manicure services!
Only then I observed that my nails, although they showed the typical
long and pointed female shape, were not painted. A quick look to all
women present in that restaurant (including Sara and Jenifer) showed me
that all of them wore painted nails. I was, however, unsure whether I
could go or not, I wasn't feeling prepared to attend such a typical
female activity, like going to the beauty salon, but on the other hand,
not accepting could be interpreted like I didn't like Jenifer, or
(worse), that something was wrong with me.
Seeing my indecision Sara called me to go with her to the toilette,
while Jenifer had her own breakfast. When we had some privacy, Sara told
me that going to the Spa would be an excellent opportunity to make new
friends and, besides that, manicure and pedicure was not that
difficult,
I would need just to sit there while someone would work my nails. Sara
took a small purse out of her bag and handed it to me. Inside I found an
Id card, identifying me as "Sylvia Wechsel, 18 years old", a plastic
card with my new name and that of a famous bank known to me and small
items like a lipstick and some other makeup stuff, which I had no idea
what were useful for. Sara showed me a small piece of paper with six
numbers and then explained to me how the magnetic card worked and the
function of the PIN number, which she made me remember by heart,
destroying the paper afterward. She told me that the bank account
contained a small amount of my previous wealth, but that this would be
more than sufficient to all my future needs.
As we returned to the restaurant, Jenifer was finishing her breakfast
and I joined her, leaving for the Spa. I was afraid, it was the first
time I was walking without Sara to support me and I felt I could be
betrayed as the male I was in every step I gave. Jenifer continued
talking, she made me a few questions I didn't know how to answer, so I
avoided them. Fortunately, however, she was more interested in talking
about herself, so I was safe.
The Spa was located in a building outside the main Resort building.
Leaving the air conditioned area for the first time since I woke up, I
felt the intense heat typical of the coastal areas and the sunlight
hitting my exposed skin (arms, face and legs). I felt nice, remembering
past experiences in the same situation. When we arrived at the beauty
parlor, which was a separate room close to the entrance of the Spa ,
Jenifer quickly greeted the other girls, both the ones sitting in the
chairs and the workers. It seemed to me that Jenifer was a frequent
customer of that place. Jenifer introduced me to the other girls and
said I wanted the manicure and pedicure services. I was conducted by a
young, beautiful, black girl to a chair and she told me to takeoff my
sandals, to extend my fingers (both of hands and feet) open and relax.
The young girl, whose name was Marina, asked me which color would I
chose. I had no idea how to chose a color for nail polishing and, in
the middle of my misery, I had an inspiration: I asked her what she
would suggest. She told me a dark green color would fit well my light
skin, my blond hair and my green eyes. I accepted her logic, what else
would I do? To chose a color myself? Then she started poking my nails in
my left hand, while another girl sat close to my feet and started
working them. By that time Jenifer was engaged in a cheerful
conversation with the other girls and soon I was learning everything
about the economic, sentimental and sexual lives of a handful women
which I didn't know (and which were not present, of course). If this is
what it means to be a woman, then I will have a hard time adapting.
After finishing with the "poking" in both hands and feet, the girls
began painting my nails, first using some transparent liquid, and then,
after it "dried", with the green paint, which had a dark emerald
tonality. The treatment took, what seemed to me, an eternity, and I must
confess I napped under its influence. When they finished with me, I saw
that Jenifer had her face covered with some white cream, had two
cucumber slices over her eyes, and that her hair was wrapped in a towel
forming a sort of turban. She told me her treatment would take a while
to complete, at least one more hour, and suggested I should look for
something else to do. I had no idea of what. Then one of the workers,
which was free, asked me if I already had my pubic hairs waxed. I
remembered the view of my body in the mirror at the room in the morning
and reminded clearly that all my pubic hairs seemed to be present in the
places they were supposed to be. So I answered, no. The girl asked if I
didn't want a "brazilian". I had no idea what was a "brazilian", but
since we were in Brazil, I assumed this was something that women
typically did here, so I agreed.
The girl conducted me to a separate room, and asked me to take off my
skirt and panties. After I did that she asked if I preferred to lay on
my back or with my belly under. I had no idea of what would be better
(or worse), but I said I would prefer to lay on my back. I assumed it
would be better to see everything she would do to my body. She made me
lay on my back over a kind of hospital bed and put my feet in special
suspended appendages, which made me stay with the legs wide open,
displaying all my genital area. She began, gently, by cutting the excess
hair with scissors and then shaving what she could with a razor blade,
including around my anus. Having a sharp metal blade so close to such a
sensitive area made me feel goose bumps, but the girl did it skillfully,
so I didn't feel a thing. I had no idea that this would soon change.
After she finished she began applying patches of some sticky white
material in the form of leaves all over my genital area. With her hands
manipulating my body so close to my vagina made me feel aroused again.
I
felt my inner parts becoming wet and my nipples pointed outside, being
clearly visible trough my t-shirt. The girl noticed that and gave a
little complicity smile. I must have violently blushed, since I felt my
face becoming hot, as if on fire. At the same time this increased my
arousal. Soon however, she began pulling the wax patches away and then I
forgot the arousal and felt a pain like I never experienced before. I
made my best not to cry, but as it finished I had tears in my eyes.
After finishing, she applied some talk powder which eased a bit the
pain, but it took about two hours until the last signs of that torture
disappeared.
Finally she placed a mirror in front of my genital area and showed her
service. All hair, except of a thin strip in front, were gone. I asked
the girl why she left that strip and she told me that was called a
"landing strip" and that she left it because it was beautiful, but if I
wanted she could take that away too. Just the though of having to endure
more of that torture was unbearable, so I decided to leave that
"landing
strip" in place. Then I was free to go, I dressed the panties and the
skirt again and left the room. This time Jenifer was ready and waiting
for me. We payed the procedures and, for the first time in my life, I
used the bank card with the special machine to pay the bill. That was
definitely an advance in comparison with my era.
It was time for lunch again, so we went back to the restaurant. At each
step I felt the pain in my skin and the whole time Jenifer kept her
endless talking. As we arrived we found Sara waiting for us. The lunch
was a typical buffet, but as happened during breakfast, I felt no need
to take a full plate as I used to do when I was a male. Again, the
feeding habits of this body are definitely different than my own. Sara
praised me for the "job" in the Spa, especially after she learned I had
the "brazilian". I felt like a little child receiving a compliment from
her mother and this made me feel nice. Now I realize I was already
enjoying being treated as a girl. This is something that bothers me, I
felt like I had to be in discomfort due to that situation, but in fact I
was willing to feel more female.
Sara explained Jenifer that my suitcases went missing and that I had to
do some shopping. Jenifer, of course, did agree to go with me to the
nearby city, saying she loved shopping. Just one word about Jenifer, her
exaggerated female attitude was a bit intimidating at first, but being
close to her made me feel comfortable displaying my eagerness towards
feeling female, so I, unconsciously, I think, began behaving like she
did and this made me feel free.
We called a cab and Jenifer told the driver to bring us to the city
mall. I never saw (or at least I didn't remember seeing) such a large
concentration of shops in one place. The shopping expedition was a kind
of a play we both played. Jenifer made me enter every shop of that place
which sold female clothes and accessories and in each shop I had to try
the clothes, lingerie, shoes and so on. The amount of money I could get
from that card seemed to be infinite so, under her influence, I bought
many, many things. Under Jenifer's suggestion I bought dresses, skirts,
female looking pants, panties, bras, high heeled shoes, sandals, makeup
stuff , purses, collars, earrings and many other things. She made me buy
also tree bikinis, saying we should visit the beach tomorrow, since it
will be Sunday (only then I noticed I had no idea which day in the week
it is today). I bought so many things that we had to ask for help to
bring all bags to the taxi, four hours later. Before leaving I bought
this notebook and a pencil, since I had already the idea of writing this
diary.
We were both tired and Jenifer went to her room, to rest. I was alone
again and I tried to sleep, but something bothered me. Finally I began
unpacking all bags and trying again every piece of clothe I bought. I
dressed the best I could and went from the sleeping room to the toilette
to see myself in that full body mirror each time. My past experiences
dressing in my sister's clothes came to my memory, only now every piece
of cloth fits perfectly in my curves. When I finished with the dressing,
I got the makeup stuff, went to the toilette and tried to apply myself.
Of course I did a bad job, I had no idea on how to do it. I decided to
ask Sara to teach me how to use it. She is the only one I can trust with
my secret.
Then I started writing this journal. I need to put on paper what bothers
me. First, as I already wrote before, I felt I should not be so
comfortable with my situation as I was. After all, from my own
perspective, "24 hours ago" I was a male and, except for those isolated
crossdressing experiences of the past I remember being happy as an
heterosexual male. So how can I feel so comfortable with the idea of
being a girl? Am I under the influence of some drug, or maybe, some
hypnotic suggestion?
This transplant story is also suspicious. I searched close my scalp and
found no sign of a scar. I think something like a brain transplant would
require at least opening the skull. Other thing: how it is possible to
transplant my brain in my present body? I vividly remember my head as a
male was definitely larger than the one I have now, so how was it
possible that my brain fitted this body? Also, I remember from my old
days that transplants required taking anti-rejection medicines for the
rest of the life and I didnot take any drug and no one talked about this
the whole day. Of course I have no idea how medicine evolved in the
past
38 years, or, at least, how this supposed transplant was made, but I
still get the feeling that something is not right. I will go sleep now,
perhaps tomorrow I can get more answers.
Julianne
- 27.10.2022
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