Models: Mason Lear & Jean Hollywood
Note: Hollywood’s character is referred to as Ella throughout this piece. Please read my comments at the end for details of why I chose to do this. Thanks.
Elliott was increasingly certain that Fantasy Manor went on forever.
The whole place was a maze of corridors and apparently infinite rooms. Every time he thought he had a rough idea where he was, he’d turn a corner to find an entirely new wing of the building he hadn’t even realised was there. It would be nothing short a miracle if he ever found his way back to the room he and Maisie were sharing – retracing your steps was difficult when the halls seemed to shift around you.
Reaching the end of the hall, Elliott found himself in a large lounge. It was a bright, modern space, contrasting with the more rustic aesthetic of the corridor that emptied into it. While he had been wandering, Elliott had noticed that the manor was a mishmash of different styles: no two bedrooms were the same design and it looked as if the entire place had been built by a pantheon of architects all vying for dominance. Even so, somehow all the competing styles managed to blend together into a cohesive whole such that nothing looked ugly or out of place.
It took Elliott a moment to notice the maid outfit spread out on the sofa.
Anywhere else, Elliott might have been confused. But not here. After all, when you spent as much time around cosplayers as he did, you got used to finding unusual outfits in unexpected places. At any one time at least half of his friends were working on a new costume; no doubt somebody had come down early to work on this one and had just left to grab a snack from one of the manor’s several kitchens. Or maybe it had been left overnight, its owner having forgotten to take it back to their room when they came in exhausted and tipsy after the bonfire.
Then again, now he looked at it closer, Elliott realised the outfit did look a little… risqué. The skirt was notably short and fringed with lace frills, while the upper half was more like a corset than anything else, the provocative cut clearly designed to show of the wearer’s body. The main dress was accompanied by fishnet stockings, a lace-trimmed headband, a pair of small black heels and yet more lace accessories, namely a frilly choker and what appeared to be delicate lace bracelets. Atop it all was a dainty feather duster.
Leaning in closer, Elliott found himself drawn in by an unexplainable pull. He was a toddler seeing fireworks for the first time, an art fanatic in the presence of the Mona Lisa. Entranced, everything else faded away as he realised he had to touch it, had to feel the silk running through his fingers.
No sooner was the dress in his hands than the urge to slip it on consumed him. As the outfit’s strange magic sank deeper into his mind any resistance to the idea was washed away and almost immediately Elliott was stripping. The fear of somebody walking in didn’t even occur to him.
The dress didn’t fit him. Not even a little. However, before he had even pulled the shoulder straps into place the skimpy outfit was already transforming Elliott into a much more suitable host.
Years of outdoor events had left Elliott with a healthy tan, but now that colour faded rapidly, his golden glow leeched away along with his body hair until every inch of skin was as soft as it was delicately pale. Blemishes and scars vanished too, leaving his flesh pure as fresh snow.
Yet that snow was moving. Beneath the surface Elliott’s muscles shifted, and all at once he was getting smaller, muscles melting away, figure dwindling into slender limbs and a toned yet slim physique that was a far cry from his once tall frame. As his body shrank, the groans pouring from his lips shifted up several octaves, becoming breathy and feminine as his vocal chords restrung themselves.
A particularly strident gasp burst forth as a pair of small yet sensitive breasts swelled out from his chest. Hard nipples pressed against the silky touch of the dress and Elliott’s eyes rolled with the pleasure; when they dropped again, his lashes were lavished with mascara, his lids brushed with rosy eyeshadow, and his gaze twinkled with mischief. A delirious smile spread over lips that were suddenly shining with pink gloss, the blush on his pale cheeks catching the light as his now feminine face twisted with euphoria. As his grin widened, his cropped hair swept down, unfurling into a bleach blonde bob that remained dark at the roots.
By the time the magic released him, nothing of the old Elliott remained. Large hands were now dainty, a lanky physique had become enticingly curvaceous, and everything about his new body was sweet and sultry and oh-so-sexy.
Ella blinked. She’d been daydreaming again. She knew she should be frustrated with herself for getting distracted, but she also knew that trying to push her fantasies away was a pointless effort.
The pretty young maid paused as the realisation struck her. What was she doing? Why bother denying her desires when she could indulge them instead? With her skimpy uniform to lure in her prey and her knack for playful flirting to ensnare them in her clutches, it would be so easy to make her fantasies into a reality she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
Snatching up the rest of her uniform, something twitched with excitement beneath Ella’s dress: perhaps there was still a little of the old Elliott left after all. In barely a few seconds she had slid into the stockings, donned the headband, pulled on the heels and slipped the choker and lace cuffs into place. A smile playing on her supple lips she wielded her feather duster delicately, the handle clasped gently like the stem of an elegant, old-timey cigarette holder.
‘Time to pay our guest a visit,’ she said, glancing around at the lounge as if the manor could hear her. Then, like a mischievous sprite off to cause trouble, Ella skipped off down the corridor, her mind once again teeming with sordid daydreams…
Lounging in bed, Maisie tried to muster the energy to drag herself from the sheets for the twentieth time in as many minutes. Unsurprisingly, as with all nineteen times before, she failed.
Maisie wasn’t a morning person. She’d never been able to understand how anybody could actually want to get out of bed early when there was so much comfort to be had in the warm bedsheets – bonus points if that comfort was to be found in the arms of a hot hookup. And when it came to Maisie, it was rare to find her sleeping alone.
Her friends always joked that she wanted to fuck every member of the group. While it wasn’t a goal she actually had, she was already up to ten, and she’d been eye-fucking Solomon for so long she was hoping he’d be number eleven by the end of the week. Despite her promiscuity, everyone knew she wasn’t a slut – she simply loved sex. Soft or hard, emotional or carnal, straight or anything else besides, for her there was no better thing than being tangled up in a lover’s embrace and losing herself to the pleasure.
Still, throughout all her sexual exploits, there was one sensation Maisie had never been able to experience. But today, Fantasy Manor was going to change all that.
Playing on her phone, Maisie frowned as a tingling sensation washed over her right foot. It felt strangely weighty, and when she moved it to the edge of the bed the motion tickled the top. Her frown deepened.
Then it shifted to stunned disbelief.
The foot that popped out from the covers was not hers. Not only was it broader and more veiny, with thicker toes and more pronounced ankle bones, she realised now that the tickling was the result of dark hair, which now covered the upper half of her foot, rubbing against the covers.
Maisie only had a few seconds to be shocked – after that the tingling engulfed her entire body and pleasure came rushing in with it.
It was difficult to tell if the bedsheets were moving. At first Maisie thought they were, thought she saw them clinging to her more tightly than they had before. But soon she was writhing so much that if there was any magical movement to the covers, all hope of discerning it was lost. And with her body concealed beneath them, it was impossible to see what was happening to her either.
But Maisie could most definitely feel it.
The first sensation was the loss of her tits. Once magnificent, they suddenly deflated, the sensation taking Maisie’s breath away as if winded. With her breasts gone, the sheets collapsed onto a chest in which she could feel firm muscle. A heartbeat later that muscle was spreading, thin tendrils snaking outwards before swiftly enlarging, fibre overlaying fibre until her entire torso was rippling with subdermal strength. From there her arms and legs likewise firmed up, while across most of her changing body thick layers of hair sprouted into being. Her chest, her abs, her crotch; her calves and thighs and forearms; the back of her hands and her formerly shaved armpits – all of them were soon coated with black fuzz, trimmed yet nonetheless copious.
And the hair didn’t stop on her body. As Maisie moaned, even more germinated across her jawline. Soon she had a cropped beard that rose up into dark sideburns, while a thick moustache dominated the upper lip of a mouth that was no longer hers. Ironically, despite the excessive growth elsewhere on her body, the hair on her head actually receded. Her hairline rose by an inch or more, yet the style itself didn’t change: Maisie always wore her hair long and swept back on top with the sides shaved, and the manor kept it that way. Still, with the broad brow and the sideburns dropping into a beard, there was no longer anything feminine about the look.
Maisie went to scream when her dick came in, but the pleasure was so intense the sound snagged in her throat. All she managed was a strangled croak when the covers started to tent. Pushing out from her pussy her new manhood was impressive, lifting the sheets high and twitching as it grew, followed by a pair of swollen balls.
Her new genitalia was the final stage of her transformation. After that the ecstasy faded and Maisie slumped back into the pillows panting heavily. Dazed, her eyelids fluttered. Her mind felt empty. Hollowed. As if somebody had reached in and scooped out everything that made her up. She couldn’t remember why, but she was shocked.
Just before unconsciousness rushed up to claim her, Maisie thought she felt the bedsheets rise up her chest as if to tuck her in. Then everything went black…
Mason awoke to find Ella in his room.
The maid was stood at the foot of his bed. Her eyes were wide, her jaw was open, and she was gazing longingly at the tent he had pitched in the bedsheets. She flushed when he caught her staring.
‘I’m sorry, sir, I was just–’
‘Don’t bother with the excuses, I know exactly what you were doing,’ Mason smirked. He raised an eyebrow and admired Ella’s body in return. ‘Call me that again.’
Ella frowned. ‘Call you what?’
Mason’s smirk got wider. ‘Sir. Call me sir again. I like it when pretty girls call me that.’
Ella flushed deeper, but then an impish smile spread over her lips. She seemed to become a different woman. The tension left her stance and instead of longing her eyes now glittered with lust. ‘As you wish, sir. I hope I’m not intruding. I only wondered if you needed any of my services this morning.’
‘Oh, I think I do,’ Mason nodded. ‘In fact, I was hoping you might provide me with some breakfast in bed.’
The maid visibly squirmed. She ran her feather duster up and down her leg as she replied. ‘Of course. What would you like to dine on this morning, sir?’
Mason’s smirk broke into a grin, his teeth showing beneath his dark moustache. ‘You,’ he said, just before he burst into motion like a tiger exploding from the undergrowth.
Mason had Ella down on all fours before she even knew what was happening. She gasped as he drove her forward, yet when she looked back over her shoulder Mason noticed a note of apprehension in her expression.
When he lifted her skirt, he realised why. Ella’s pale ass was round and plump, her hole winking at him through the mesh of her fishnet stockings, beneath which she wore no underwear. And the lack of panties revealed something a little extra down there too. Ella’s little cock was as hairless as the rest of her body, the cord of her stockings criss-crossing the soft skin of her balls and the small nub that was her shaft.
The lustful man couldn’t deny he was surprised at the revelation, but that didn’t mean he was any less hungry for her. In fact, the mental image of Ella’s she-cock bouncing about while he pounded her ass set his own dick twitching. Fresh desire welled up inside him: this was going to be fun.
Without missing a beat, Mason tugged down Ella’s stockings and buried his face in her ass.
Ella’s apprehension left her in the sensual groan that tumbled from her lips. She relaxed into Mason’s embrace, welcoming the grip of his hand on her ass, leaning into him so he could press himself even deeper between her cheeks. Her lids fluttered, her heart thumped, and she felt herself start the slow but inexorable descent into orgasmia as his thick tongue probed the insides of her tight hole.
Despite having only arrived yesterday, Mason had instantly caught Ella’s attention. Something about him had drawn her in – an animal attraction she could neither explain nor resist – and she had spent every spare moment since imagining herself wrapped up in his arms, writhing in his bed, worshipping his body.
Still, she hadn’t actually expected anything to happen. While the remote privacy of the manor meant it wasn’t uncommon for employees to hook up with guests, Mason wasn’t here for a relaxing break. Recently divorced from a wife who had done everything she could to make the process incredibly messy, the manor was his escape from the wreckage of his ordinary life. His priority now was to heal so he could subsequently move on, and Fantasy Manor was a safe space for him to do so.
At least, that’s what Ella had thought. But given that Mason was currently feasting hungrily on her ass and filling her body with enough lust she thought she might burst, clearly she had misjudged his intentions. Not that she was about to complain, of course.
Awash with bliss, the words were out of Ella’s mouth before she could stop them: ‘I bet she never let you fuck her ass.’
Mason lifted his head. Her ass was suddenly cool in the absence of his tongue. Horrified by her lack of self-control, Ella turned to him with an apologetic look on her face.
But Mason was smiling. ‘Then that’s a bet you’d win. Anal was never her thing.’ A devious gleam entered his eyes. ‘But I’ve always been eager to try it. Besides, what man could resist an ass as perfectly fuckable as this?’ He spanked her, laughing as she inhaled sharply.
Her impish confidence returning, Ella bobbed her hips teasingly so that her cheeks bounced. ‘In that case, why don’t you let me help you see what you’ve been missing? After all, I’m at your service, sir. Your satisfaction is my only concern.’
That was all the encouragement Mason required.
Ella could hardly process the pleasure that rushed through her as Mason fed his hefty manhood into her hole. The initial flare of pain when he entered her soon mellowed, the lube now coating his cock allowing him to slip in more easily, and once it was gone there was only euphoria. He stretched her right to the threshold of discomfort but never further, penetrating her deep enough that every minute motion rubbed against her P-spot. It was as if his cock had been made to fit her ass – her sordid soulmate.
‘Oh fuck,’ she breathed, gripping the bedsheets with white-knuckled ferocity. Her feather duster, still clamped in one hand, trembled in her grasp. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuck… I don’t know what that dumb bitch was thinking when she turned this down, but your cock is perfect, baby.’
Mason’s face was likewise twisted with pleasure. Eyes clamped shut, head thrown back, he groaned long and low as he sank ever further into Ella’s hole. ‘Holy fucking shit, you’re so tight. You’re like a fucking vice – it’s incredible. Oh yeah, I could get used to this. Do you know how long it’s been since I last fucked anybody? Three years. Three fucking years she refused to go any further than kisses and cuddles. I’ve almost forgotten what sex is like.’ Ella didn’t need to turn around to sense the carnal hunger written on his face: she could hear it in every word as he lowered his voice and growled. ‘I think it’s about time I remind myself.’
Ella had just enough time for realisation to dawn. Just enough time to realise that yes, of course it made sense for Mason to be horny beyond belief after years trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage. Just enough time to understand that if there was one thing that could possibly help him move on, it was the orgasmia of shameless sexual indulgence.
Then Mason was thrusting, she was moaning, and her thoughts devolved into a swirling tempest of ecstasy.
A giddy smile warped Ella’s lips as Mason delved in deep. Starting off slow, his pace nevertheless steadily increased, years of suppressed sexual frustrations gradually bubbling to the surface. What started as long, sensual strokes soon evolved into shallower, faster pumps that set her ass wobbling and her dicklet swinging about beneath her. All the while he kept one or both hands on her rump, holding her firmly in place. Not as if Ella had any intention of pulling away, of course; Mason’s passionate, forceful fucking had her jaw hanging slack and her entire body thrumming with lust – no way was she giving this up.
In fact, she wanted more.
‘Oh yes, keep going. Don’t stop, sir. Fuck my ass just like that and don’t ever, ever stop.’
Leaning down, Mason looped one hand under her torso and pulled her up. With the bedsheets suddenly removed from her grip Ella clung to his powerful arm as he hissed taunting words into her ear.
‘Such a foul-mouthed little girl. I’ve got a good mind to report you to your superiors for using such bad language. Then again, I’m sure it doesn’t have to come to that. After all, if you’re not my maid it doesn’t matter if you swear or not. And I don’t think you are my maid anymore, are you? No, you’re just my needy, naughty little slut. What are you?’
Pretty features contorted with arousal, Ella practically screamed the admission. ‘I’m your slut, sir. I’m your desperate, shameless slut and I’ll do anything for you. Just please, don’t stop fucking me.’
Mason’s low chuckle sent thrills down her spine. ‘As you wish, gorgeous.’
Without warning, Mason scooped her legs out from under her. Momentarily weightless, Ella landed in a sprawl on her side, surprised to find that Mason’s cock was still buried in her ass – he had dropped down to the bed with her, clutching her to his chest as they fell to ensure he didn’t have to spend even a heartbeat unsheathed from her hole.
Mason immediately made the most of his new position behind her. Gripping her by the knee and hefting one leg into the air, he spread her hole wide and resumed his frantic pace. The bed creaked with the motion, but all Ella heard was her own desperate groans dancing through the room. Rather than strike it square-on, at this angle every thrust merely glanced against her P-spot. In doing so it not only sent waves of pleasure flaring through her insides, but it also teased her with the promise of even greater ecstasy on the rare occasions he did manage a direct hit. Never knowing which thrust would deliver a full strike or just a glancing blow, Ella was left in a perpetual state of anticipation. A limbo of arousal.
Inch by inch, Mason allowed Ella’s leg to drop until finally it was back on the bed. With his hand now free, he took the opportunity to push her stockings further down her legs before grabbing her ass. Her little she-cock was sandwiched between her thighs twitching erratically as lust flooded through her.
By now Mason had abandoned all pretence of sensuality. The clap of his crotch against her ass rang out like gunfire and each blow left Ella’s skin stinging. Years of unfulfilled needs and deeply suppressed lust had finally surfaced to consume Mason so that now he was more animal than man, acting on carnal instinct with little thought for the woman whose ass he was buried in. Through his eyes she was little more than a sex toy – a hole to take out all his sexual frustration upon.
But Ella still didn’t have any complaints: she liked it rough.
There were many things she hadn’t expected when she entered Mason’s room. But perhaps the most surprising of all was his stamina. For a man who hadn’t fucked in years he had the endurance of a veritable pornstar, and Ella couldn’t quite believe how hard and fast he could go without tipping himself over the edge. What was more, each time they shifted position his hunger for her seemed to increase. The insatiable glint in his eye would burn all the brighter as he fucked her with renewed vigour, savouring the expressions of horny delirium that twisted her pretty features.
She was so taken aback by Mason’s stamina, in fact, that she completely failed to notice her own. Though her dicklet constantly twitched and tingled as if imminently ready to spurt her load, she somehow managed to hold it back.
At least until Mason finally broke.
When he came, Ella was on her back with her ass over the edge of the bed. Mason had her foot against his chest, one hand clamped around her ankle and the other clutching her lower thigh. All at once his grip tightened and his face crumpled as he gave a roar of release.
One second Ella’s insides were devoid of his cum, the next they were full of it. She could feel his hot seed swirling around within her, erotic warmth blossoming through her hips as it did so. The divine sensation mixed with the pleasure on Mason’s face was enough to push Ella over the edge and a moment later her own climax arrived. Little pearlescent squirts were ejected over her stomach and dress, only stopping when Mason’s grip finally relaxed and the last jets of his orgasm had finished. It was almost as if the injection of cum into her ass had forced her own load out.
The experience left Ella briefly broken. Overwhelmed with arousal, she could only lay sprawled across the tangled bedsheets moaning softly.
When she came to her senses she found that Mason had pulled out and was lying beside her stroking his still rigid cock.
Under normal circumstances she would have been surprised that he’d managed to maintain his erection after emptying three years’ worth of desire into somebody. Yet she could already feel her own libido returning. The longer she spent on the bed, the faster she seemed to recover, her exhaustion swiftly fading away as fresh desire rose up inside her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have said the manor itself was eager to see them continue, granting them stamina and recovery beyond their natural means.
Whatever the reason though, Ella didn’t care. All she knew was that she had never felt lust like this before, and she wasn’t willing to let their fun finish with a single orgasm.
‘So, were you satisfied with my service, sir?’
Mason grinned. ‘Absolutely. You went above and beyond in the pursuit of my satisfaction – but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. This can be our little secret.’
Mischief flashed in Ella’s eyes. ‘Why, because you don’t want any other guests competing with you to make use of my services?
‘Do you really think I’m that shallow?’ Mason asked, feigning offense.
‘Definitely. But so long as you fuck me deep, I don’t care.’ Ella rose to her knees, squirming a little as his load shifted inside her. ‘The thing is though, I think I’ve been neglecting my duties.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mason frowned.
‘Well, throughout all of that you were the one doing all the work. You put in all the energy fucking my brains out while I barely lifted a finger. That doesn’t seem right to me. After all, I’m supposed to be the one serving you. Do you think you can forgive me, sir? Do you think I can make it up to you?’
The impish smirk that twisted Mason’s lips was answer enough. ‘Always so eager to please. What did you have in mind, gorgeous?’
Crawling forward, Ella pressed him back amongst the pillows. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, sir. You just lie back and relax. Let your slut handle the rest.’
With a naughty wink, Ella turned her back on him, straddled his hips, planted her hands on the pillows either side of his head. Lifting herself up she aligned her cum-slick hole with the head of his throbbing cock. Braced for the pleasure, the pretty young maid sank down slowly, welcoming every inch of her lover’s cock as it once again plunged deep inside her. Then she began to bounce, her little dick flopping about with every rise and fall while Mason’s breathless groans were all the encouragement she needed to work his perfect cock like the shameless slut she truly was…
Thanks for reading!
This is one of those stories that I feel could run the risk of misrepresenting the model upon who it is focused. The reason for that is while the main model is credited as Jean Hollywood, the character they are portraying goes by Ella.
The thing is, Jean has gone by both names during their career, and to the best of my knowledge at the point when this scene was originally filmed they were working under the name Ella rather than Jean. Therefore when it came to writing this piece I was faced with a choice: use the name they identify by now, or use the name they identified by then (and the name many people may most associate with them if they are only a casual follower of Hollywood’s work). I would never wish to deadname anybody, however in this instance I have no idea whether Hollywood considers Ella a deadname at all, especially given how strongly linked the name is to a large amount of their work. On top of that, though their social media states that they identify as he/they, to the best of my knowledge much of their content has been put out with the implication that they are portraying trans female characters. Hollywood has also posted in the past that they do not much care about pronouns, which further makes it difficult to know exactly what approach to take here. Another confounding factor was the fact that there is a male model named Jean in a later chapter, so I then had to consider what to call them if I named Hollywood’s character Jean too.
In the end I opted to name Hollywood’s character as Ella for a couple of reasons. Firstly, this is a name they have gone by in the past and which is tied to much of their work, this scene included. Secondly, it prevents confusion with the Jean character who appears later in the series and ensures I do not have to rename them to avoid said confusion. I also opted to have the character identify as she/her given Hollywood’s previous statement about having no interest in pronouns and the fact that doing so makes the most sense for the characters within this piece.
I will be fully open about this and say I’m still unsure if I’ve taken the right approach. I always try to write my stories as ethically as possible, though in Fantasy Universe stories especially I try to put extra thought into how I am respecting the models therein. The last thing I ever want to do is disrespect or misrepresent these models, because they are the reason I’m writing these stories in the first place. I recognise that it is extremely unlikely Hollywood will ever read this, but if they ever do I sincerely hope they do not feel misrepresented and that my comments here go some way to explaining why I have written this the way I have.
While sourcing information surrounding how Hollywood identifies I did also stumble upon a tweet they made in which they explained they do not identify as trans. This was something I wasn’t aware of until now, but given everything I’ve said about wanting to respect the models it was also not something I could ignore. As such, I have not tagged this story as transgender, and I have retroactively removed the transgender tag from any stories on my blog in which Hollywood appears (unless those stories also included models who identify as trans). Moving forward I will likewise avoid applying said tag to future stories Hollywood shows up in.
Please note: in the interest of continuity, some of the images used in this piece were edited. All original images are available in the galleries below.
Image galleries: https://www.pornpics.com/galleries/gender-x-films-mason-lear-ella-hollywood-55561659/
