Hotel Hell - Multiple TF
Tags: Inanimate, Unaware, Object TF, Caption, Objectification
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea? Join the Discord Server. Maybe there is a giveaway so don't miss it! Psss the uncensored versions are there as well!Hotel Hell - Multiple TFThe camera crew assembled outside the Grandview Palace Hotel, a three-star establishment in…
The camera crew assembled outside the Grandview Palace Hotel, a three-star establishment in desperate need of intervention. Standing before the entrance was Gerard Ramsley, legendary hotelier and restaurateur, his arms crossed and his expression already souring at the peeling paint on the facade. Gerard Ramsley had spent thirty years in the hospitality industry. He had opened fourteen hotels across three continents. He had earned more Michelin stars than most chefs could dream of. And for the past nine seasons, he had been rescuing failing hotels from their own incompetence on the hit show "Hotel Hell." But Season Ten would be very different. "Right then," Gerard addressed the camera directly. "We've got something special planned this year. New technology allows us to truly experience what guests experience and by that, I mean I'll be transforming into objects throughout the hotel. The bloody lot. If you want to know how a hotel really operates, you become part of the furniture." He gestured toward the hotel entrance. "The Grandview Palace. Three hundred rooms. Occupancy rate of twenty-two percent. Revenue is down sixty percent over three years. The owner, Mr. Davidson, claims he has no idea what's going wrong. Well, let's find out, shall we?" The transformation occurred in the production van, away from prying eyes. The sensation was never pleasant, Gerard had learned during rehearsals. Your bones dissolved. Your organs compressed. Your consciousness spread across whatever shape you were becoming. But the intel gathered was invaluable. Today, he would start as an office chair. The change took approximately forty-five seconds. Gerard felt his body flatten, his limbs extending into armrests, his torso becoming a seat cushion, his head reforming into a backrest with adjustable lumbar support. His consciousness was distributed throughout the black mesh and chrome frame, suddenly aware of every wheel, every lever, every thread of fabric that now composed his being. Staff members wheeled him into the front office and positioned him behind the reception desk. Then they left him there. Gerard could see the office through some strange omnidirectional awareness that defied normal vision. Stacks of paper everywhere. A computer running software that looked like it hadn't been updated since 2008. Coffee stains on the carpet. A dying plant in the corner that no one had watered in what appeared to be weeks. The door opened and a secretary entered. The secretary was a woman in her late twenties with black hair pulled into a messy ponytail and curves that her business attire struggled to contain. Her blouse strained across a chest that Gerard could only describe as monumentally disproportionate to her small frame. Each step made her assets bounce in ways that surely violated some workplace dress code. She walked directly to him and sat down. The impact was immediate and overwhelming. Her weight settled onto his seat cushion with the full force of someone who had clearly never heard of ergonomic sitting posture. She slouched immediately, her lower back pressing into his lumbar support at entirely the wrong angle. Her buttocks spread across his surface, warm and soft through the thin fabric of her skirt. Gerard's transformed consciousness registered every detail with excruciating clarity. The texture of her underwear through the skirt material. The warmth radiating from her thighs. The way she shifted, grinding her weight across his cushion as she tried to get comfortable. The viewers would later hear his commentary, recorded in post-production. "Right, so I'm now a chair. An OFFICE chair and this woman, who I can only assume is the secretary based on her position at the desk, has just sat on me. I have to say, her posterior is... substantial. The kind of substantial that suggests she spends more time in this chair than walking about doing actual work." The secretary began her day. Which apparently consisted of scrolling through social media on her phone. For forty-five minutes Gerard watched through his strange chair-vision as she liked photos. Commented on posts. Watched videos of cats falling off tables. All while supposedly on the clock, supposedly working, supposedly being paid to manage this hotel's front desk. A guest approached. The secretary didn't look up. The guest cleared their throat. "Excuse me?" Finally, she glanced up, her expression radiating annoyance at being interrupted. "Yeah?" "I have a reservation. The name's Adam." The secretary sighed heavily, as if being asked to do her job was the greatest imposition imaginable. She set down her phone and began typing with the speed of a sedated sloth. Each keystroke was punctuated by long pauses. Several times, she typed the wrong thing and had to delete entire lines. "Adam... Adam... I don't see a Adam." "I have a confirmation email right here." More sighing and painfully slow typing. The guest shifted uncomfortably while Gerard shifted uncomfortably beneath the s
