The Unrelenting Tide

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.