Twirling, dancing, I fly beneath the coastal waves, little bubbles trickling out of my mouth as I pause to admire how the shifting sunbeams illuminate coral formations all around me. These mid-summer strolls along the reefs never fail to excite and intrigue me, giving plenty of chances to observe the lives of fish and play with the occasional snorkeler as they pass by. Underwater I feel almost as free as a bird, and as a shoal of fish ducks in and out of the rocky outcrops I reach out to grab one for a snack!

The otter's arm shoots out lightning-fast but its torso is slower to respond, breasts acting as leaden weights that end the motion short. A frown begins to spread across its face as it watches the damselfish escape, giving a glance down at their body before paddling up towards the shore. Emerging with a splash, it waves to the lifeguard on duty and receives a reply of "See you tomorrow, Lotus!" which it responds to with a smile, grimacing as soon as it turns away. Now comes the hard part, the too-long walk that always made it want to swim back into the waves and stay there till night fell.

Quickly striding up the beach clothed in a modest lime-green swim top with monochrome swimming trunks, it knew that there were a number of people ogling its body, there always were. Lotus was overly-endowed, with both its chest and the package between its legs excessively large due to a quirk of genetics. Although most others fawned over its exaggerated form, they were nothing but an inconvenience in its mind, making the otter's body front-heavy and less hydrodynamic. It wasn't that Lotus hated attention, had others focused elsewhere like its meticulously maintained fur, wonderfully plump tail, or diving prowess, but all that seemed to matter was those two areas of its body.

Back under its beach umbrella, a fluffy white towel covers everything up, making those unwanted gazes slide off it like the water had previously rolled off its fur. Then opening the cooler, the otter reaches to retrieve a snack from within, its favorite salmon sandwich that always made the walk back up the sand worth the journey. It has to sit down carefully, one leg at a time to prevent its own sack from being uncomfortably squashed beneath its legs and even then a further shuffling of thighs is required to get comfortable.

Taking a big bite and closing my eyes, the savory taste of fish was washing away my foul mood when I felt a shadow fall over me and heard someone call out a greeting. Forehead scrunching in irritation, I open one eye to see who it could possibly be bothering me. Hmph... Doberman, clearly male, clipped ears, looks to be middle-aged... I give 2 to 1 odds that he wants a date after seeing me. Hopefully he takes a hint easily enough. "Excuse me, you're standing in my sun. Could you move?"

The male nods and sits down on the sand beside my umbrella, looking out into the waves as he talks. "I apologize, I couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable you looked earlier." There's a long pause as I take another bite, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he keeps starting to talk before stopping himself. "Sorry, my in-person sales pitch could use work, but I've always been able to tell when someone isn't happy with their body. I run a specialized clinic and was wondering if you could use my services."

Sighing, I finish chewing and swallow before replying. Well, at least he didn't want a date. "I'm not interested in any kind of enhancement procedures, sorry. Was that all you had to say?" My remarks are met with two slow nods of his head, as he reaches into his pocket and plants the corner of a business card in the sand so it stands up. "That's okay, I was pretty sure you weren't looking for that kind of thing anyways. Here's my business card, feel free to visit my clinic and I'll walk you through what I *can* do to make you feel better about yourself." And with that, he was gone, sand-muffled footfalls receding into the distance.

I pause for a moment to shuffle my thighs, considering the weight of my testicles against my lap in between bites. How my sheathe-tip grazes the underside of my breasts as I sit like this. Might as well give the card a better look as I gulp down the last of the salmon, but I don't have high hopes at all, what kind of quack would approach a patient at the beach?

Cinnabar, M.D. Specialist in Cosmetic Reductions

I can feel something stir deep within my mind, but I brush it aside, too tired to even consider anything else today. Without much thought, I toss the business card into my beach bag and pack up, bundling the towels, umbrella, and cooler then dragging it all the way back to my car. Practically in a trance, I drive home, collapse onto my bed, and immediately fall asleep. Deep within the little death of dreams, I feel my body lighten and smooth out, flowing through the sea and becoming one with the currents...