I was elated when I found out I won the lottery, but was slightly disappointed when I learned that the prize wasn’t cash. The prize, instead, was a ticket–a free pass to a luxurious hotel for a week; I suppose the hotel was sponsoring the lottery and such. If it’s of any consolation, I was informed that the free pass is the ultimate free pass, meaning that absolutely every expense I spend in the hotel will be covered. So, perhaps to release my frustration that I wasn’t winning any cash, I planned to bath in sparkling wines and waste as much as I could before the pass expires.
When I arrived in the hotel, I was shocked and struck in awe. Never have I even imagined something so extravagantly wasteful and yet so majestic. Every floor tile were meticulously gilded, every wall was art gallery of its own, every room was a place of heaven. Other lodgers, usually walking around as a couple of a man and a woman, surprised me as well, as they were stunningly attractive. Not one person was not admiringly beautiful, so I was slightly worried whether I even deserved to be here. Nevertheless, the hoteliers were perhaps the most kind and gentle people I’ve ever met, and I could not find even an inkling of contempt although they must have known that I came here only because of winning the lottery.
I was lead to my room which was chillingly grandiose. Silver-like fabrics, archaic furniture with histories, and three-stories high ceilings. Even the smell–no, the fragrance of the room felt something like I couldn’t dare to afford even if I worked my entire remaining life. Despite the hotel’s flamboyant impression and the hotelier’s manners, I decided to stick to my original plan. Waste all.
As soon as the hoteliers left the room, I searched for the menu for the room service. I found it immediately, since the binder glittered with rainbow colors of jewels saying “Services” was obvious enough. When I opened and read through the wine menu, I raised my eyebrows a little, but only for a little moment. The wines were priced at two or three digits at most, starting from 30s, but there was a little note on the top saying *thousands USD. Ah! The exorbitant price of the items offered were significantly higher than my best expectations. That meant that the cheapest wine they offered was $30,000! Chateau Annette: 45. Master Giuseppe’s collection: 72. Vino Oros: 98. Captain’s Legacy (1730): 180. “Tut-tut,” I clicked my tongue in utter shock and my disgust at the lavishness of the rich folks, but then there was an item that intrigued me.
Cum: 5,000. I had to read it again and again, but it was right there, in front of my eyes. Something named “cum” was priced at USD$5,000,000. And it was the most expensive item on the menu. No other wines or services came even close to it. I pondered, perhaps it’s some sort of obscure European word for something. Or some sort of acronym. It must be, I thought to myself. This item distracted me from the original plan of bathing in wine, and made my curiosity bloom in full action. What the hell could it be? Well, only one way to find out, and I wasn’t paying a cent out of it anyway.
I grabbed the telephone, which was answered in a matter of seconds, and I asked the hotel representative for an order of “cum.” I had to hold down so much of my laughter that I had trouble breathing, but who in the right mind couldn’t? Whatever this may be, it would be a story to tell. Something named cum, $5 million. Oh boy.
Then, I began to smell something very ambrosial. The air coming out from the vent was producing this distinctive smell, and I couldn’t tell why but I was gasping for more of the gas after I sniffed one breath of it. My fading conscious was telling me it must be a type of gaseous drug, but my desire triumphed over reason and I let myself be indulged with the smell.
Then, a transformation began to occur in my body. My body was shrinking at alarming rate, as hinted by my old clothes falling on the floor. My hairs touched far below my shoulders which could not happen in my normal hair length, while my bodily hairs seem to have retracted into my body or simply evaporated. I screamed, at out came not my voice, but that of feminine one. There were strange sensations running through my body as if my blood was fizzling. Slightly terrified, I ran toward the bathroom to check myself in the mirror, and there stood an image of a petite girl. The transformation was unexpected, but I was slightly amused at the sight of my new self. Perhaps it’s the gas drug still doing its work, but I was slightly aroused and started to fondle myself.
As I caressed my own feminine body, I realized I must be affected by an aphrodisiac of sort. Even sliding down my hand through my thigh made me moan and groan and twist my body in the surge of pleasures. Normally I would be very concerned about the situation, but as I breathed in more of the ambrosial aroma, my worries melted away like summer snow and my libido brewed in me. I ran back toward the emperor-sized silk bed, and absorbed myself in exploring this new body of mine.
In short, I masturbated. I was testing all these knowledge I gathered from watching porns, from slapping my ass to rubbing this newly-formed clitoris. The feminine pleasures were so better than that of men’s, enough for my head to go blank in heat. I was panting and moaning so loud, I didn’t hear another person entering my room. When I felt a gaze on the back of my head and turned back, there stood a completely naked man staring at me. I tried to catch my breath and was going to inquire who he was; but before I could do that, he jumped onto the bed and started to pound me from the behind. And I just recalled what I ordered through the phone. I just didn’t know it would be literally that.
The man was fucking me with a passion, but I could feel that he’s making of the love was not of his lust, but of his duty. Although he hasn’t said a word since he entered the room, the demeanor in which he carefully squeezed and pressed my body made it clear that he’s working for the hotel. I should have asked him to stop, told him I got the wrong idea, but then I was slightly amused at the idea that this man would be getting paid to fuck ladies all day, whether genderbent or not. Then, I felt a twitching in my feminine parts, and oh yes, I received precisely what I asked for. And then, I felt it–a true orgasm! “I’m cumming!” I screamed, without my intention of saying it. I reached for the man behind me, and begged for more.
“Of course, sir. You ordered it, have you not, sir? I am available for you for the rest of your stay. Please do enjoy.” said the man in perhaps most gentle voice I could have imagined. The joy and the relief I felt when he said he’s fuck me more was most heart-pounding experience I ever felt. At one side of my mind lay a worry–what would happen when the pass expires? Would I stay this way? Would I be kicked out? But on the other side lay my lust. I wanted the touch of men, and I was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
