A blazing afternoon near the beachside boardwalk…

You stood just off the sand, licking a melting ice cream as the sun hammered down. Your black T-shirt was soaked through, sticking to your back like wet paper. All around, people strolled in swimsuits and breezy clothes—laughing, relaxed, barely sweating.

"God, it’s too hot… Girls have it easy. They get to wear next to nothing and no one bats an eye. Meanwhile I’m roasting in this damn shirt..."

You thought to yourself before a strange shimmer passed over you like heat haze, but thicker.

Then—POP.

A sudden, dizzying tug wracked your body. Your shirt tightened, then tore. Your center shifted. Your chest inflated. Hips widened. Balance gone. You gasped and heard a voice that wasn’t quite yours.

You stumbled, catching yourself on a post. Sweat trickled down unfamiliar curves. Your soft serve somehow survived the trip.

You looked down. A black tube top. Smooth skin. Heavy breasts. Tight shorts clinging to wide hips. Long auburn hair in your face.

You turned no one was looking. The beachgoers just walked by like nothing had happened.