Earlier that same day, Nina saw her field of view swim. One minute she was looking at their camp in the woods,
the next she saw blue, deep blue, all around her. A sound. A soft crash, it was the ocean. A moment later she
could feel the sand beneath and make out turquoise blue water laping against the shore. It was warm, and
beautiful. "Steve! Where are we?"
Steve was sitting, taking off the hiking boots which looked very out of place on the beach. She followed his
lead as he responded, "a place my parents vacationed once. Pacific coast of Mexico, I think." The sand felt
good between her toes. Steve stood up, stripping down to his boxers, and she started to realize what he
intended. Nina didn't like to be naked with the lights on, let alone on a sunny beach in the daytime.
"What if someone comes by?" Steve had already pulled his shirt off and headed towards the surf. She called
after him, "Hey, couldn't you just do your blinky thing and get me a swimsuit?" He just shrugged, continuing
on until he was more than knee deep and dove into the blue water.
Only having been on the beach a few minutes, she could already feel the constricting heat of her jeans. She
looked, and seeing nobody around, gave in and started to peel them off. "Fine, but don't think this means you
can whisk me off and get me naked any time you feel like it mister." Her shouting was only half in jest.
Looking down at her legs reminded her of the reason she preferred the cover of dim lighting. While she looked
great in a pair of tight fitting jeans, her hips and thighs held a bit more feminine padding than she cared to
display. Knowing her high expectations came from airbrushed magazines and her unreasonably fit friend Keri
didn't do much to change the way she felt about it.
"The water's great Nina, get in here!" She pushed her concerns out of her mind and started to pull off her
shirt, when she remembered she had nothing on underneath. With her mind still shocked at suddenly arriving at
a beach paradise, it took her a moment to remember why. Right. She had taken off her bra back at the camp.
Right after -- she startled for a moment, looking down at the firm little tits she had given herself five
thousand miles away but only minutes before.
As if rediscovering her gift all over again, she looked down at her bare and slightly meaty thighs. She hated
them, but she would hate them no longer. She wanted them slender and trim, a bit tanned even, and she pushed.
It was slow, first the faint look of puffiness in her skin fading. Then she pushed harder, and it happened
faster. From the hem of her shirt all the way to the sand she watched as her familiar shape diminished into
something trim, sexy, and envious.