‘Wait, what do you mean I’m going to become a goddess?’ Darren pressed, his mind whirring. ‘I’m an Original. It’s forbidden – it’s impossible. You heard Madame Shatter, my mind isn’t capable of dealing with the sensation of goddesshood. It would send me insane.’ Having left the horny sissy and her unlucky lover in their room, he and Goddess Lash were now working their way through the manor corridors once
Sleep slid from Darren like a silk sheet being pulled away. Not so long ago he would have considered it a strange sensation to shift from sleep to consciousness in a single breath, but these days it felt almost natural, the weary grogginess and protesting limbs he would have felt during the morning in his old life a thing of the past. Truthfully, he preferred it. He preferred a lot
The clatter of ice against glass startled Anne, dragging her back to reality. Glancing down the bar, she spotted one of the bartenders pouring an amber liquid over the ice cubes he’d just emptied into a small whiskey tumbler. In front of him a young woman smiled giddily, watching him add several more measuring cups of various liquids into the glass; whatever the drink was, it certainly wasn’t whiskey, and
The shop was a transformation enthusiast’s heaven. Every shelf and railing and cabinet and display was dedicated to a different kind of deviant product, and when it came to naughty transformations, what the store didn’t sell wasn’t worth talking about. The shelves behind the counter looked like they belonged to a particularly depraved alchemist. Countless vials of vivid pink Elixir stood tall and proud alongside flasks of Formula, the deep
Fantasy Resort’s communal lounge was sleek, comfortable and, presently, abuzz with hushed conversation. Ordinarily it was a space where the resort’s guests could relax together, chatting over drinks poured from the well-stocked bar set towards the back of the room. Tonight, however, the crowd was quiet, huddling together in little groups and whispering amongst themselves while casting furtive glances at the other people in the room, their suspicious gossip driven
Her hands full of laden paper bags, Phoebe kicked the door closed behind her. Dropping her cargo on the rug she gave a weary sigh as she slumped back against the door, groaning as the exertion of the day caught up to her. Her arms ached, her back protested against every minor movement, and her feet felt as though she had gone about the entire day barefoot – she wouldn’t
The grounds of Fantasy Resort were still as Brooke meandered along the winding paved pathways. Still, but not quiet. While the waters of the many pools were calm and undisturbed, the spreading palms barely ruffled by the sea breeze and the path lights cast a warm, comforting glow to illuminate the walkways and communal areas, the air was thick with moaning, groaning, and the occasional resounding crack of a hand
‘Alright then, let’s take things up a notch,’ Kara smirked. ‘Never have I ever had sex with a friend?’ A united blush rolled through her three companions and they glanced timidly at one another. Swaddled in her fuzzy black dressing gown she reclined into the pillows looking pleased with herself, her wine glass cupped idly in one hand. Her slender frame looked tiny in the huge bed, the pale complexion
Disclaimer: the male model in this scene, Bill Bailey, passed away in 2019. If in light of this you do not wish to view his work, please skip this chapter. Waving Brooke off with a smile, Nia waited until she had disappeared amongst the buildings of the resort spa before turning back inside. As she did so, she thought she heard a faint and distinctly erotic moan coming from the
‘Isn’t this place amazing? The rooms, the beach, and now this.’ Jace waved his arms across the verdant greenhouse, a gleam of awe in his eye. ‘I love this resort. I mean it’s… it’s just stunning in here.’ Darting to his side, Kenna took him by the shoulders and span him around to face her. With her crop top barely more than a blue band concealing her modesty and her
