Fiona Funkenmeier, 52, President of Cedarwood Women's College

***

FORWARD

Welcome to my branch of Harem Hotel. Fair warning - this branch will be somewhat darker than a few of the previous branches, and feature some fairly **** transformations.

Those transformations will NOT include actual ****, personality ****, iq reduction, scat, gore, or anything against the rules (****, ****, **** ****, etc.) Transformations are no fun if the subject doesn't get to "enjoy" the results!

It is important to me to state from the outset that the events described in this story should be absolutely not be interpreted as anything that would actually be desirable in the real world. A variety of immoral actions and the unhappy consequences thereof will be portrayed here.

Furthermore, I will state that any resemblance to individuals, places, or institutions, real or fictional, are completely accidental. The viewpoints of the characters certainly do not represent my own. This story is not an allegory or social critique, and it is not written with any political implications in mind. It is nothing more than pure, unfiltered, completely unrealistic gooner fuel.

Stories are a fun opportunity to indulge our imagination and explore taboos in a way that leaves no one hurt. In the real world, let us always remember to respect each others basic dignity as human beings.

With that in mind, please enjoy!

***

Fiona Funkenmeier gazed out of her sixth floor window as the soft glow of the setting sun gradually enveloped the picturesque limestone buildings of Cedarwood College. Shaking out her long, blonde hair, she rubbed her tired eyes beneath a pair of wide vintage glasses. Leaning back from her cluttered desk, she took a moment to reflect, allowing the tranquil scene outside to momentarily distract her from the unpleasant task of reviewing next year’s budget. As president of the small Women’s College, this task was the one that weighed most heavily on her shoulders. There were simply too many demands and not enough money, as the school faced declining enrollment and an increasingly thrifty student body. Not that she could blame them. She remembered matriculating as an undergraduate herself – nearly 35 years ago, now – and all the financial anxiety that had come with the decision. Still, she had found all that she could have asked for at Cedarwood – an enthusiastic community of scholars and creatives which had buoyed her into a distinguished academic career. First as a historian, and then as an administrator, when she decided that she could do more good in management, despite the thanklessness of the task. Not to mention the woefully long hours. Sighing, she returned to the chore at hand. Perhaps, she might be finished by midnight...

***

Esther shivered as she stood before the nondescript white door, nothing but utter, infinite emptiness stretching out in every direction. The diminutive Asian woman wore a neatly ironed white blouse tucked into a short pencil skirt. Nervously, she toed the small lump carefully hidden within her right shoe. This meeting had to be perfect. And it would be – she had made sure of it. She was careful. The producers were powerful, yes, but surely not omniscient. And even if they knew – maybe they wouldn’t care. As long as she could deliver. If they gave her the chance.

The door swung open, silently. She swallowed. But her determination eclipsed her fear, and she strode into the room with her head held high.

Three figures looked down at her from behind a long desk. She could not resolve their faces in her mind, but she could see that one was tall and slim, one was short and round, and the third was broad and muscular.

“Good afternoon, sirs,” began Esther in a voice that was only a little higher than usual, “Thank you for taking the time to review my request to host a season of Harem Hotel. I hope that my business plan was satisfactory; I believe I was quite thorough. I am confident that the novel formulation will provide satisfactory entertainment for our esteemed viewers.”

“Your plan was indeed thorough, but your confidence is unwarranted,” stated Slim, “The viewers are fickle, and you have only been on one other show. As an assistant.”

“Which failed,” continued Muscular, “And you were a fool to think we didn’t know about Victoria. After that mess, we had her slated as tentacle fodder in world 387-b. You are lucky you didn’t join her. Absurd to let someone so disobedient host a show.”

“Hmm. But it was clever, how you saved your old master,” countered Round, “And some of us are interested. All for the viewers, after all.”

“We did reach a verdict,” stated Slim, “You will have your show. With only a few… small changes. You may review the updated plan on your way out.”

“You may keep Victoria. Consider it a gift,” said Round, “We don’t give those often.”

“And a reminder,” sneered Muscular, “Learn from her failure. Repeat her mistakes, and there will be no second chance for you.”

With these ominous words, Esther found herself magically pushed from the room, the door swinging closed behind her. She collapsed to her knees, exhaling in relief as she clutched the thick pad of paper detailing the newly modified plans for the next season of Harem Hotel. Her season. Hurriedly she retreated, leafing through the documents for the changes she would need to account for. No time to lose.

A faint yell emanated from the lump under her toes. It went unnoticed.

***

The sun had fully set when Fiona looked up from her paperwork to find that she was not alone. An unfamiliar Asian woman, clad in a black pencil skirt and white button down stood before her. Closer inspection revealed a delicate silver pendant that disappeared between her breasts, leading to a small object beneath her shirt, which seemed to be… squirming? Fiona rubbed her eyes and pinched herself.

“Congratulations!” Declared Esther, with an enthusiastic smile, “Welcome to Harem Hotel: Catastrophe at Cedarwood College!”

Fiona blinked rapidly, wondering if she had finally worked herself into hallucinating.

“I beg your pardon? Who are you and how did you get into my office? And what do you mean, catastrophe?”

“My name is Esther, and I will be your host for this season. I’m here to keep things fun and full of surprises!”

Her smile grew impossibly wider as she clapped her hands together.

“And you, Fiona Funkenmeier, have been selected as the one and only Master of this season’s harem!”

“Harem?”

Fiona pushed back from her desk, face twisting into a scowl.

“Is this some kind of prank? Look, it’s nearly 10:30 in the evening, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, but you do,” responded Esther, “and I think its about time we introduced the contestants. So, let’s head somewhere more convenient.”

And with a firm clap of her hands, the pair materialized on the main stage of Cedarwood College Student Theater.

The large room was gloomy, but for several powerful spotlights which flicked on to highlight an ornate golden throne on a raised dais, surrounded by a semicircle of eight simple folding chairs.

“What the hell…” Breathed Fiona, her voice echoing faintly off the dark walls.

“Now,” instructed Esther, “If you’ll just go ahead and take a seat on your throne, we can bring in your lovely ladies and then we can explain the rules!”

Fiona stared at her for five full seconds. She carefully looked around the room. Then she sprinted for the backstage exit. Flinging open the door, she leapt through…

Only to find herself, paradoxically, leaping back onto the stage from the other side.

“aaaAAAh,” she yelled, steadying herself as she turned to again glare at Esther, “What the hell-”

“It was a good attempt!” interrupted Esther,

“And I’m sure you are confused. I assure you, all shall be made clear! But we are on something of a timetable here, so I’d appreciate if you’d go ahead and take a seat. We have our eight contestants to summon, and the audience definitely doesn’t want to hear me repeat the rules for all of them. I really don’t like using **** on the Master, but if you won’t play along, I’m afraid I won’t be left with much choice! I promise, at the end of the day, this is all for your benefit.”

Slowly walking back across the stage, Fiona considered her options. Escape had proven impossible, and while Esther was hardly a brawler, even thinking about attacking the petite Asian somehow made her stomach twist in fear. Fiona had always thought of herself as a rational person, but she could find no explanation for Esther’s teleportations. She knew she wasn’t asleep, and she didn’t think she had been ****, either – everything else about the world seemed far too normal for that. Deciding to play along for the time being, she finally seated herself on the throne, the bright spotlight illuminating her nervously perched form.

“Great!,” continued Esther,

“Now, let’s meet the contestants!”