Three Wishes

— Hey! What the hell?! Why do I have tits and what’s with this stupid outfit?! — Steve shouted, throwing his arms out as the coastal waves of the Pacific splashed around his thighs, lifting the skirt and exposing white panties.

— What the hell, Miyuki?! — yelled a voice from behind the camera. — Now we have to reshoot everything!

Steve—now Miyuki—turned toward the source of the shout in shock. On the sand, under the sun, a black camera gleamed, and next to it a short Japanese guy in a baseball cap was angrily flailing his arms.

— What the fuck? Fuck off! — Steve yelled in a surprisingly high, melodic voice that was nothing like the voice of the fat trucker he’d been for the past few years.

He flinched at the sound. That voice… it couldn’t be his. It was… light, juicy, with that almost sing-song tone that brought to mind anime girls and Japanese pop stars.

He looked down again and the panic returned. This was definitely not a dream—his breasts were shaking too realistically under the wet, clinging white blouse. And the sensation of water droplets, fabric, and even...

— What? God, no-no-no! — Steve screamed, plunging his hands between his legs under the water and feeling only a smooth surface, with soft, curved shapes that absolutely shouldn’t have been there.

Heat flushed through his whole body. He jerked upright, water splashing everywhere, and the skirt, caught by the rush, flipped all the way up, revealing exactly what he feared most: the white panties were hugging a new… nonexistent reality. Everything that had defined him as a man was gone. Not even a trace remained. Just smooth, firm, alien sensitivity that made his knees buckle.

— What the… fuck, what kind of madness is this?! — he whispered, grabbing his tits with both hands.

They were… warm, soft, firm. Under the thin wet fabric of the snow-white blouse, his nipples were almost showing, slightly darkened from the cold and the arousal. His fingers instinctively squeezed the curves — and his body jerked. A tender, pulsing wave shot down his spine.

— Miyuki, goddammit! — came the voice from the shore again. — I said: pose for the cover! Camera’s rolling, we’re redoing the take!

Steve spun around sharply. He wanted to scream, spit, run. But then suddenly, a realization hit him like Thor’s hammer.

— The genie... — he whispered, remembering what had happened three weeks ago in a roadside bar.

That guy had seemed shady from the start, but the booze made Steve not care. For whatever reason, the guy had talked him into saying those three wishes.

‘I want the beach, somewhere chill. A good body — not like now with the gut and the back. And with a Japanese chick, a hot model type, one that’s always horny, not like those… you know what I mean!’

Steve smacked his forehead with his palm. It all lined up. The beach? Sure. Only now you’re knee-deep in water, in a cosplay skirt, wearing a snow-white blouse with your nipples poking out like goddamn beacons.

The body? Of course. The body was in amazing shape.

— With a Japanese girl? Yeah… A Japanese girl. Miyuki was a Japanese adult model.

— That was… goddamn GENIE! — he exhaled. — He took it all… literally…

— Miyuki, stop spacing out! Camera’s rolling, now playfully tug on your collar! — the director shouted again. — Give me a look like you just got caught! You’re on the beach, a schoolgirl after class, teasing for the camera!

Steve gasped for air, sharply inhaling the salty breeze, feeling the wet fabric clinging to his body, once again becoming fully aware of the soft trembling of his tits, pressed tightly by the soaked blouse. The panic, mixed with sudden arousal, tightened everything inside, his knees buckled, and he nearly dropped into the water.

And that’s when he saw it.

On the shore, behind the camera, beyond the shouting of the irritated Japanese guy in the baseball cap, there were… men. Not just passersby. No. These were assistants, cameramen, some pretty boy with a mic around his neck and a tan on his face. They were all staring. One was smiling. Another slowly licked his lips. Someone gave a low chuckle, and Steve—now Miyuki—felt a wave of something wash through her body… He didn’t know what it was… burning shame? strange curiosity? But the body was definitely reacting—and not just the body.

— Why are they… looking at me like that? — he whispered, the words coming out like a purr, half flirt, half confusion, as he shifted his hip and placed a hand on his waist.

He locked eyes with one of the men. Looked about thirty, short hair, thick eyebrows. And the moment their eyes met, Steve… Miyuki… bit her lower lip—and the movement came out so naturally, like she’d done it a thousand times before.

And only after a few seconds did Miyuki realize she’d been frozen in that pose, lip under teeth, for way too long.

‘What the fuck… am I doing?..’ flashed through her mind. But her body kept going on its own. The hip was still pushed forward slightly, back arched, hand flirtatiously resting on the waistband. Her gaze still clung to the man by the camera, and a strange tingling sensation curled deep in her stomach.

Steve tried to straighten up, but the second he twitched, the Japanese guy on the beach yelled:

— Yes! That’s it! Hold it! Camera’s got it! Miyuki, now slowly turn, show your ass, and… surprised expression! Like you just saw your sensei on the beach! Go!

— I’m n… I’m not… — she mumbled, about to stop posing, when she caught a glimpse of that guy again, and a thought flashed through her mind: "I want him to want me" — and Miyuki felt a wave of heat rise up, washing through her down to her toes.

She straightened up, but didn’t run. Instead… she slowly turned, lifting her skirt just a bit, deliberately, feeling the fabric of her panties tighten over her curves. The camera clicked, and someone on the shore gasped.

She gave that very look of sudden surprise: wide eyes, mouth half open, though inside she was trembling with unconscious delight and a strange new craving—to be seen, to be wanted.

‘God, why am I doing this…’ slipped through her mind, but her tongue was already slowly licking her lips, her hip swaying in sync with the rhythm of the waves.

They were filming her. They wanted her. And worst of all—she fucking loved it.