The Unrelenting Tide

"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!"