Bikini Beach: The Regatta free porn video

Bikini Beach: The Regatta Synopsis: A few friends are looking for sponsors for their sailboat in the big annual regatta, but no one wants to help out. One of the guys overhears a conversation about 'diversity' in sponsorships, and he gets an idea. [email protected] ********************************************************************** Bikini Beach: The Regatta by ElrodW Tim flinched visibly as he heard Mike give the number. "That much for the entry fee?" he asked carefully, his heavily tanned brow wrinkled in concern. Mike nodded grimly. "When Enron collapsed, the yacht club lost a big sponsor. A lot of other companies decided to pull their money, too." He shook his head. "So the club raised the entry fee." Lewis leaned back against the rail of the boat. "We can't afford that," he complained. "No way can we get that kind of fee this late." "Yeah," added Harry bitterly from his perch atop the cabin. "What the hell do they think they're running, the America's Cup?" Mike looked down. He, like his friends, was devastated at the news. They were aboard Mike's boat, the 'Luck o' The Irish', sitting tied to the pier. For years, the foursome had sailed together, starting as teenagers when they met doing merit badges in the Boy Scouts. While some might consider it luxurious, the boat was only a twenty-seven foot Catalina - small by the standards of the yacht club. Mike's love of sailing had dictated his choice in housing; the boat slip adjacent to his condo was a feature he just couldn't do without. "Man, I really wanted to beat 'Night Shift' this year." Lewis echoed the sentiments of all the guys. The skipper of 'Night Shift' was an old high school rival of the gang who took great delight in rubbing in his victories over 'Luck'. Mike glanced around at his friends. Like him, they were all dressed in shorts and open shirts. Trim and athletic, their bodies were well toned and tanned from the time they spent sailing. Only Harry had any symptoms of excess beer consumption, but the hard work that the men put in sailing and racing kept his beer belly to minimal proportions. Weeks of exposure to the sun and the salt spray had done an effective job of bleaching their hair to lighter shades. If the men had been on a California beach with surfboards, they'd have fit right in. "Well," Mike said softly, "you want to go out and get in some practice?" Lewis snorted, while Harry shook his head. "Are you kidding?" "For what?" Tim added bitterly. "This is the last big race of the season, and we're not going to be in it." * * * * * Mike fiddled with a French fry. His heart wasn't in eating; he still felt bad about the race. Tim had been right; there wasn't really any point in taking the boat out. For the first weekend in nearly six months, the guys hadn't gone sailing. Instead, Mike had been on the phone to every business contact he'd known, trying to find some type of sponsorship. He even took Monday off work to call. But he'd come up empty-handed. And now he sat, alone, depressed. Even a bacon jalapeno cheeseburger and Guinness stout, his usual 'pick me up' dinner at Ed's Diner, his favorite eatery, weren't doing the trick. "Something wrong, Mike?" Mike glanced up at Selena, the waitress and a longtime friend. He was a regular, and when business was slow, they talked a lot. "It's the regatta," Mike answered slowly, twirling the fry in his fingers. "They raised the entry fee so high we can't afford to race this year." Selena shook her head slowly. "That's too bad. I know you guys really wanted to beat Mitch this year." Mike bristled when she mentioned Mitch's name. Mitch Logan, spoiled rich brat and skipper of 'Night Shift'. "Yeah, we wanted to be the ones to put that little shit in his place." "Is he racing?" Mike nodded glumly. "Yeah. Guess there are advantages to being rich." Selena wasn't good at business, but she did have a way of empathizing with her customers, which was probably why she made a good living as a waitress. "Well, I know you'll think of something." Mike shook his head slowly. "Maybe. I tried to find some corporate sponsors, but they're all being pretty tightfisted this year." Selena shrugged. "The race isn't for three weeks. Don't give up yet, sweetie." She spied another customer needing something, so she sauntered away, leaving Mike sitting, wishing that he could be as optimistic as Selena. Mike plunked his elbows on the table so he could lean his head into his hands. He shook his head slowly, fighting the feeling of hopelessness. There was no way they were going to find a sponsor - not with the economy the way it was. No sponsor, no race. Selena led two business-suit clad men to the booth behind Mike. He barely noticed as they sat down and Selena gave them their menus. As she came by, Mike lifted his empty glass, and Selena knew he needed another beer. "You should have checked with me," one of the men behind him said. Mike sighed, wishing the two had sat somewhere else. Either they didn't notice that he was there, or their topic of conversation wasn't sensitive. The first man continued. "With the EEOC and the NOW gang watching us, we have to be very careful about our PR events. Diversity, you know." "I know," the second man said heavily. "So now what do we do?" "We better find some women's sport to throw some money at, and pronto. Or else...." His voice sounded grim, and Mike amused himself thinking of the 'consequences'. One or both of the guys was about to lose a job. "Here you go, sweetie," Selena said nicely as she delivered Mike's drink. "Now don't go overdoing it, okay?" Mike nodded slowly, glancing up at Selena. "Okay," he acknowledged. As she sauntered off, Mike began to sip his beer. There had to be a way to enter. There just _had_ to be a way! * * * * * "You ready for your check, hon?" Mike glanced up at Selena. "Sure," he answered. Selena fumbled in the pocket of her apron for his check. "You know, I've never seen you this down," she observed. "That race has really gotten to you, hasn't it?" Mike nodded as he accepted the tab. "It'll be the first race we've missed in, oh, about ten years." "Ouch!" Mike sighed. "You said it. There's just..." He stopped suddenly. There was something nagging in the back of his mind, something he'd recently heard or seen. What was it? "You okay?" Selena asked when Mike halted mid-sentence. Mike frowned in concentration. Then his eyes lit up. "Those two guys that were here - you know them?" Selena shrugged, puzzled. "Yeah, they come in about once a week for dinner. Work for the big computer consulting firm down the street. Why?" "Maybe it's nothing, but they were talking about sponsoring teams. You hear anything about that before?" Selena glanced around, and seeing how little business there was at the moment, slid into the booth opposite Mike. "Yeah," she answered easily. "They've been sponsoring Little League, soccer, Boy Scouts, pretty much everything. From what I've heard over the weeks, they got sued by some women's group for discriminating in their donations." Mike sighed. So close, only to have his hopes dashed again. "Was it important?" Selena asked as she saw Mike sink again. Mike shook his head slowly. "Nah," he mumbled. "I heard the part about sponsoring teams, and I was hoping that I could get them to help us out." He laughed bitterly. "I guess the only way they'd help us, though, is if we were babes!" Selena's eyes narrowed at Mike's statement. "Can't you just put together a crew of ladies and skipper them yourself?" Mike shook his head. "Maybe, but I've got a hunch that if they wanted to sponsor a ladies' team, they'd want an all-ladies' team." He laughed again. "It looks like the only way we're going to get in the race is if the tit-fairy visits us and changes us into girls!" He started to chuckle, but the noise died in his throat when he saw Selena's face. "Are you serious about that?" she asked in a somber voice. Mike frowned and cocked his head slightly, staring warily at Selena. "What are you talking about?" Selena didn't so much as bat an eye. "Are you serious about entering the race if you were girls?" Mike wanted to laugh, but something about Selena's demeanor told him she was very serious. "Yeah, I guess." He frowned again. "What are you saying, that you've got some kind of magic wand that can change us into girls or something?" Selena smiled and shrugged. "Or something. Let's just say I know of a place that can help you out. If you're serious, that is." * * * * * "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Selena stood with Mike in the parking lot of a water park with the unlikely name of Bikini Beach. Mike glanced at the ticket booth, then at the gate where many women were entering the park, then back at Selena. "I'm not sure why I'm going along with you on this. Magical changes are impossible." Selena shrugged. "Maybe. All I know is that I've heard this place changes guys into girls. I've seen guys buy tickets, but I've never seen a man inside." Mike felt a tremor - perhaps of unease - at her statement. "You'll forgive me if I'm still skeptical. But let's give it a shot." Selena nodded, then stepped aside and swept her arm toward the ticket booth. "Okay, let's go." Mike glanced at her, gulped, and stepped to the booth. "I'd like a ticket, please," he said, unable to contain the nervousness in his voice. The young lady in the booth glanced at Mike, then she smiled broadly. "I think a one-day pass will work for you," she said. Then she winked. "For this time, anyway." Mike felt a stab of discomfort as he signed the credit card slip. He turned with the pass in hand and stepped away from the window. "So now what? Bolt of lightning or something?" Selena shrugged. "I'm not sure _how_ it's supposed to work. All I know is that the park is supposed to change men into women. So let's go in and see if it's true." She added the last bit with a mischievous grin. * * * * * The men's locker room was much smaller than Mike had expected for a park as large as Bikini Beach. He stashed his clothes in the locker, then stepped to the door. He tugged, but it refused to open. As Mike frowned, he noticed the sign reminding the patrons to shower, and citing a health department regulation. "Okay," he said to himself. He turned back and stepped into one of the shower stalls. The warm water felt almost tingly as it hit him, and the worry and tension of the race sponsorship seemed to melt away. As the jets of water massaged his tense muscles, he let his eyes close for a few moments. Around him, unseen to him, the mist turned a faint pink. As the mist cleared, Mike stepped from the shower, marveling at how the water seemed to have washed away his tension. With a renewed bounce in his step, he walked toward the door, feeling hope again, even if this whole thing about 'magic' was impossible. Mike shielded his eyes from the bright sun and stepped out of the locker room. As expected, as soon as he'd showered, the door opened. Must be some kind of interlock on the door, he thought to himself. He took another step, and then froze when he found himself face-to-face with a seminude girl. Intrigued beyond his sense of decorum and decency, Mike glanced up and down the figure of the girl, wanting to whistle in appreciation. She was a very trim, athletic-looking girl, maybe five foot eight and one hundred thirty pounds, it didn't look like there was an ounce of fat on her. Trim flat stomach, modest and firm breasts, where Mike's gaze lingered for far longer than was proper, shoulder-length sandy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, well-tanned. Though she wasn't a beauty queen by any stretch, she was nonetheless an attractive young lady. Mike stared closer at the girl, at how she moved, at her facial expressions. Suddenly, his mouth dropped open in surprise. He dropped his gaze from the girl down to himself. "Holy shit!" he mouthed as his hands cupped his bare breasts, "It really works!" "Yes, Mike, it does," a voice sounded from behind him. Mike spun suddenly, his cupped hands hiding and supporting his breasts against the motion. It was the dark-haired girl from the ticket booth. "Would you please put this on?" the girl asked as she produced a bikini top. "Grandmother dislikes topless sunbathing." Speechless, Mike saw no recourse but to take the bra and put it on. He fumbled with the catch, then slid the straps over his arms. "How did I do that?" he asked softly. The girl smiled. "Much better. Now about the 'how', the water changed you, as you know. It also gave you some...feminine...skills." "Like putting on a bikini top?" Mike asked carefully. The girl smiled. "Yes. Now, about your other questions." Mike started. His mind was racing with questions he wanted...needed...to ask. And somehow, this girl had read his mind. Then again, if the water was magic and could change him to a girl... With an irritated frown, he brushed the hair back from his shoulder, only to have it sweep back. Mike's head snapped to the side to glare at the offending locks, but they danced away as he turned, only to return when he turned back to the girl. "By the way, I'm Anya. My grandmother owns this park. And yes, it's magic that changed you. Now to your questions. First, the magic wears off in the middle of the night after your pass expires. You're not going to be stuck as a girl forever." She grinned. "Unless you want to, that is." Mike shook his head, his eyes wide. "Uh, no thanks." Anya shrugged. "You can't blame a businesswoman for trying to sell a lifetime pass. Now, the change affects you locally; your male identity still exists for you to resume." She smiled. "It's much easier that way. Your clothing and identification have changed, too. You'll find your driver's license says you're Michelle Walker, and it will until you change back." "Wow!" Mike mouthed, amazed at the extent of the changes that Anya was describing to him. His hand reached up, as if of its own mind, to make one more futile attempt to brush the hair back off his shoulders. Even as he moved, he felt the bra strap dig, pulling on his shoulder. He frowned as he glanced down, changing his tactic from the hair to the breasts. He tugged on the strap, lifting it momentarily off his shoulder, only to feel the pull on his breast as the cup lifted with the strap. And his hair, the shoulder-length locks of light brown, now swirled down beside his face as gravity tugged at them. Mike let go of the strap, wincing as his breasts bounced again. He looked up at Anya, his expression slowly changing from irritation to pleading. The first impression of this very female body was curiosity; now, only moments into the change, little differences were making their presence starkly known. Anya laughed aloud. "It's not really _that_ bad," she said. "Remember, half the population lives like this." She watched Mike's reaction. "Besides, it won't take you very long to get used to the changes." Mike's frown deepened. "Like I'm _ever_ going to get used to this!" He tugged at both bra straps to emphasize his point. Anya just smiled and shrugged. "It comes with the territory. You want to race, you need to be a woman. And you can't be a woman without the normal, um, unique things of being a woman." "Yeah, but..." "If you can put up with it for a little bit, and if you can convince your friends to change, you'll be able to enter the regatta as a women's team. And that's what you want, isn't it?" Mike tried to think of a reply, but none came. Anya had hit the nail square on the head. * * * * * Michelle sat on the edge of the cabin, her long tanned legs dangling down over the cabin hatch. Her friends were sitting in the cockpit, staring uneasily at her. "Well?" she asked finally. Her hair was now pulled back off her shoulders, bunched up behind her with a scrunchie. That took care of the annoying hair problem, or at least all but the lock or two that refused to stay put. Lewis shook his head. "That's a pretty incredible story," he said slowly. "You expect us to believe you are really Mike, and you were changed by magic into a girl?" Michelle bit her lip. "I know it sounds pretty fantastic." She turned to Harry, and again winced inside as she felt her breasts sway with what seemed to be the slightest motion. "How bad do you want to beat 'Night Shift'?" she asked. Harry looked down between his feet. "I don't know," he muttered. "You're telling us things that only Mike knows, and that I know he'd be too embarrassed to ever tell anyone else. Everything you've said makes sense." He looked up, shaking his head. "But damn, Mike, you're a babe! Not Mike!" He glanced at Larry. "I just don't know." Tim glanced at the other two. Then he stood and climbed up on the cabin, beside Michelle. He glanced at Michelle's face, then looked down. "This sounds really weird," he admitted softly, "but I'm convinced you're really Mike." He glanced at Lewis and Harry again. "And I _really_ want to beat 'Night Shift. We _all_ want to beat 'Night Shift''." He paused, frowning as he composed his thoughts. "But if we race like this, it won't be the _guys_ beating Mitch. It'll be us - as girls." Michelle nodded slowly. "Hell, Tim, I know that." She gazed out over the calm water of the inlet. "And I don't know about you guys, but this is personal for me. I want to see that little son of a bitch lose, even if I don't get any of the credit." She turned back and stared evenly into Tim's eyes. "You _know_ 'Luck' is the only boat that can beat him." She glanced at the other two and watched them lower their gazes. He looked down again, shaking his head. "I may be crazy, but if this is the only way..." Michelle smiled. "Thanks, Tim." She glanced at the other two. "What about you two? You in or not?" Harry glanced at Tim, then at Lewis, and finally at Michelle. "We've sailed together for as long as I can remember. I'm in." He glanced at Michelle. "I'm not sure about being a girl, but I want to sail. I'm in, skipper." Lewis looked up. "Okay, if you guys are in, I guess I'll go along." Michelle started to say something, but Lewis shook his head. "But there are a few details we're going to have to work out." "Like what?" Michelle asked. Lewis held up a finger. "First, as girls, we're going to have a lot less upper body strength. It's going to be hard to work the lines and winches. If we can even manage." He let his cautionary words sink in. "Second, it's going to look kind of funny for us to enter as girls, and the day after the race, those girls will be gone. And third, unlike you confirmed bachelors, I've got a live-in girlfriend who probably will not like me changing into a woman." His expression suddenly became a bit less serious, a little more mischievous. "And if she _does_, well, I'm not sure she's the right girl for me." Michelle grimaced. "Okay, you've got some good points. Can we get an extra crew member or two? That would help with the strength issue." Lewis shook his head. "Unless they know what they're doing, extra crew would slow us down." Harry nodded his agreement. "Unless we spend some time with the new crew practicing." "Look, you're all assuming we can get a sponsorship, and that we'll be able to _effectively_ sail the boat." Michelle sighed and nodded slowly. "Okay," she finally said, breaking the silence. "How about this? Tomorrow, I'll take the day off, change, and see if I can get the money lined up." She saw the guys nod their agreement. "And then, after work, we'll change and take the boat out." She glanced around, and saw the guys slowly nod their agreement in turn. She adjusted her bra strap for perhaps the hundredth time, and decided she _wasn't_ going to tell the guys of some of the inconveniences she'd already discovered. No sense in scaring them off. Not yet. * * * * * "This is _weird_, man!" The feminine voice came through the closed door of the men's locker room. "We're losing daylight, guys!" Michelle said impatiently through the door. She knew that the guys were embarrassed by being changed into women. "But...we're _women_!" Michelle couldn't tell who was talking. She sighed, then grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. "Yeah, so get over it." She held out the bikini tops Anya had given her. "Now put these on and get outside." Michelle waited, and presently, three young ladies came out of the locker room. All three were glancing around nervously and blushing. Harry was walking like she was on eggshells, her eyes riveted to the orbs on her chest. She looked like she wasn't sure if she should cup her breasts to stop any jiggling, or leave them alone because holding them would be too much like feeling herself up. Lewis was shorter than Michelle, but perhaps a bit more muscular. Her hair was longer and blonder, and was currently fastened behind her head in a pony tail. Tim was slightly taller than Michelle, with long dark auburn tresses spilling off her shoulders and very pretty features. She was easily the most attractive of the four. Harry was the shortest, and while she wasn't chunky, she had extra body fat. Unlike her male beer-belly, her fat was distributed in female places. In short, Harry as a girl had the roundest curves. Her dark hair was cut in a short sassy style, as if to diminish the extra femininity of her figure. In reality, it had the opposite effect, making her look more exotic. "Okay, so do you want to go out in bikinis, or in our regular clothes?" Michelle asked. Harry frowned. "I looked at my street clothes. There's no way I could go sailing in them." She spat the words, clearly disgusted by what 'her' new clothes were. Tim and Lewis nodded. "We'd better go in bikinis." Michelle nodded. "Then get your stuff and let's go." Michelle's clothes were already in her tote bag, and unlike the other gals, she'd taken Anya's advice and was wearing a one-piece suit. She had only a short wait for the others to meet her by the car. "By the way," Michelle asked as they climbed into her classic Mustang convertible, "what did you draw for names?" Tim wrinkled her nose in confusion, and Harry laughed when she saw that. Tim frowned. "Sorry," Harry explained, her eyes widening at the soft alto of her new voice, "but you looked kind of sexy when you did that!" "And you sound like a sailor's dream," Tim retorted quickly, ignoring the sultry contralto of her own voice. Tim glanced at his license, now in a purse. "This says I'm Pamela," she said softly, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know if I like Pamela." Harry laughed. "If only you had the curves of a certain Baywatch Pamela!" She glanced in her own purse. "Gina?" She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds Italian. I'm not Italian, so how did I end up with a name like Gina?" Lewis swallowed hard. "Watch me get a name like Gertrude or something." She opened her own wallet and glanced at the license. "Well?" "Linda." She closed her wallet. . "I guess Linda sounds better than Tiffany or Brandi or something like that. Since it's only for tonight, I think I can live with Linda." Gina laughed. "Yeah, but can Shelly live with Linda?" The drive to Michelle's condo was short, and the conversation was mostly kidding among the new women. Michelle noted that the barbs were very nervous. Given that they had been guys not an hour before, it was understandable. And the guys were calling each other by their male names, as if they were _afraid_ to refer to themselves by the names on their new IDs, or to use feminine pronouns. Michelle smiled to herself; If she hadn't already spent a couple of days as Michelle, she knew _she'd_ be doing the same. Eventually, the guys would start calling each other Pam and Linda and Gina - and calling her Michelle instead of Mike. Michelle also noted that the gals were doing the same nervous actions that she'd done on her first change. Pam, with the longest hair, was constantly fighting to keep it from blowing in her face. While Gina's hair was short enough to keep out of her face, her breasts were causing her the major problems. Every time Michelle peeked, Gina was adjusting her bra or holding her breasts to keep the motion under control. Only Linda seemed to have gotten off easily; with her hair already in a ponytail, she only had the minor annoyance of her hair tickling her back but not flying in her face, and with modest bustline, she was less 'bouncy' than Gina. Michelle laughed, and at a stop light, she quickly dug in her purse and pulled out an extra scrunchie. "Here. Use this," she said as she tossed it back to Pam. It didn't take long to get the boat ready; Michelle had already checked it out before taking the guys to Bikini Beach. A quick check of the rigging, check of the sails, and Michelle started the engine. Slowly, the boat putted out of the slip, then Michelle turned and headed toward open water. The sea breeze would be dying soon, and they needed to get some practice quickly. "Gina, get the cover off the mainsail. Linda, Pam, ready on the winch." Despite the change in body, Michelle was comfortable giving orders from the helm. "Okay, hoist the sail." She shut off the engine while Linda and Pam worked the winch. "Come on, get the sail up!" "It's not going up very well!" Pam snapped back. "Are you sure the lines are clear?" Michelle glanced topside. "Yeah, they're clear." She frowned. Linda's earlier fear about body strength was being demonstrated very early. In the front of the boat, Gina was working to free the jib. It took a frustratingly long time to get the sails set. "Okay, let's start with some easy maneuvers," Michelle directed. She steered the boat as close to the wind as she could, then when the girls said they were ready, Michelle glanced around to make sure the boat was clear. "Prepare to jibe!" she barked. She waited a second, and when she was sure her crew was set, she ordered, "Jibe, ho!" At the same time, she spun the helm over hard to starboard, swinging the bow across the wind and to the other side. Overhead, the boom swung as the sail fluttered, and then it swung from the port side when Gina released the traveler. Michelle was prepared, but Linda was nearly struck by the boom. Then it was clear of the cockpit, and Linda began to pull on the line to tighten the boom. In the forward cockpit, Pam released the port line on the jib and let it flutter. She ducked to avoid the boom, then grabbed at the starboard line and began to pull it taut. "Get that line in!" Michelle barked. The boom was swinging wildly, the sail fluttering uselessly as Linda, then Gina struggled to tighten the line. For several seconds, the girls fought the sail, until finally it was under control. Michelle sighed. Pam was still trying to get the jib taut; overhead, the tufts on the sail fluttered instead of streaming straight back to indicate proper trim on the sails. Linda saw Pam's struggle, and she lent a hand to the line. At long last, the line was secured, and the ship was trimmed again. Pam, Linda, and Gina looked at Michelle, their faces all echoing their internal frustration. "That was one of the sorriest jibes we've ever done," Michelle commented. It was unnecessary; the others knew it. * * * * * Not much went well. When they tried sailing very close to the wind, Michelle stayed at the helm while the others hung on the windward side, adding their weight to counterbalance the boat. That exercise had nearly ended in disaster; Michelle steered the boat as close as she did when it was three guys, neglecting to take into account the significantly reduced mass of the girls. She'd had to spill the mainsail and hastily turn to keep from overturning the boat. They tried to sail with the spinnaker, the huge balloon-like sail used exclusively for sailing downwind. To say that the girls had difficulty with the sail was an understatement. They hoisted it without too much problem, but when the were lowering it, they nearly lost the sail overboard as the wind tugged and pulled at the vast expanse of cloth while three girls fought to reel in the errant sail. And in the meantime, the jib was not being hoist, which in a race would have meant precious loss of time. Finally, they turned and headed back toward the slip. Michelle was sailing the boat very easily, with the sails not trimmed for the most efficiency. None of the girls wanted to expend the extra effort. For a long time, no one spoke. "Well," Gina finally said something, "you still think this is a good idea?" Michelle sighed. "I don't know," she answered slowly. "We sucked, didn't we?" Pam asked rhetorically. They all knew their performance had been less than good. "Boat coming up from astern, off the port side." All three spun at Linda's report. "Shit!" Michelle cursed. "It's 'Night Shift'." Slowly, the hated rival slid up alongside the 'Luck o' the Irish'. The girls could see that the 'Night Shift' crew were gawking and staring at them, and they suddenly felt very self-conscious in their bikinis. "Ahoy, Luck," Mitch's voice sang across the water between them, "is Mike aboard? Or did he finally get the sense to sell his boat?" Michelle felt her face burning with anger. "No, my brother isn't aboard," she answered, trying hard to keep from cursing. "He loaned me the boat so we could get in a little practice." "Practice? You mean to tell me you girls race?" Mitch sounded both incredulous and condescending in the same statement. "Let's ram the little bastard," Pam whispered insistently. Her face was as red with anger as Michelle's. "Well, we're thinking about it," Michelle answered, nearly biting her tongue to control the profanity she really _wanted_ to yell. "Tell you what, ladies," Mitch yelled back, "why don't you sail with me in the regatta? I've got enough deck space for passengers. Especially for ladies such as yourselves!" Michelle smiled pleasantly, but behind the smile, she was fuming. Ever the arrogant bastard. "Pam, Linda, when I say go, we're going to dump the sail, cut behind him, and take his wind. Okay?" The girls' eyes widened. This was a risky move; it meant deliberately cutting close across 'Night Shift's stern, and it would take precise timing to execute. But they saw the anger in Michelle's eyes, and they felt the same rage toward Mitch. "Okay, let's do it." "Ready?" She waited a few seconds while the girls moved slowly into positions. "Go!" Gina dumped the traveler while Pam released the jib line; both sails immediately flopped loosely in the wind. Instantly, the boat lost headway. Michelle gave a glance to the side, toward 'Night Shift', and then she spun the helm hard to port. The bow of the boat swung around, slicing through the water until it looked like a collision was certain. And even as the boat turned, Pam grabbed the jib line while Linda and Gina readied themselves on the mainsail. As soon as they saw that they would clear the stern of 'Night Shift', the three tugged frantically at the lines, resetting the sails. At the same time, Michelle spun the helm expertly, turning back on the same course as 'Night Shift', only this time on the opposite side. As the wind filled the sails, the boat leaped forward. At the same time, 'Luck's sails blocked the wind from 'Night Shift'. Mitch's sails fluttered uselessly. "Yes!" Gina screamed joyfully, as she saw 'Night Shift' slow. In mere moments, 'Luck' was back in front, and with her sails trimmed, she was slowly increasing her lead over 'Night Shift'. * * * * * Michelle leaned back in the booth, ignoring the two-thirds of her burger sitting uneaten on her plate. The foursome were the only ones in the diner; by going sailing early, they'd skipped dinner and were now quite famished. Or at least, Michelle thought, as she eyed the remains of her burger, they thought they were hungry. She shook her head. "I didn't know this body had such a small stomach," she muttered. Like her compatriots, Michelle was in her 'street' clothes, which in her case, consisted of a pair of tan shorts and a white polo shirt. Across the booth, Linda nodded. "Tell me about it," she sighed. Instead of her bright red bikini, she wore something only slightly more modest - a light blue halter top with a darker blue denim skirt that ended far above her knees. Every so often, she shifted as she tried desperately to pull her skirt lower on her legs. "I can't get used to this stuff," Pam complained softly. The scoop neck on her top displayed bounteous cleavage, while her shorts clung to her rear and hit practically nothing of her legs. She picked up her handbag and dumped one pocket on the table. Lipstick, mascara, a compact...a variety of items spilled from the little bag, and every one of them associated with female beautification. "Look at this stuff!" Michelle laughed. "And it looks like you used some of it, too!" Pam glared at her. "Yeah, well...I figured I ought to try it." "And it looks like you did a pretty good job, too!" Gina chimed in. Gina's outfit was a white sundress, trimmed with white embroidered lace, and sleeves worn off her shoulders. It left no room for a regular bra; she wore a strapless bra under the dress to contain her bounteous bosom. With bared shoulders, billowing fabric covering her boobs, and an elastic gathered waist, she looked quite sexy. The scowl on Pam's face was a reflection of her feelings. "It's really weird - I actually knew how to use this...stuff - like I've been doing it for years!" She shuddered involuntarily. "Like my brain was changed!" Michelle laughed aloud. On the first day, she'd experienced exactly what Pam had described. "The girl at the park - Anya - told me that would happen. It's supposed to make it easier for us to function as women." "Yeah, maybe," Linda frowned, "but it's still kind of creepy! Like when I know how to put on a bra, or when I automatically sit when I go to the bathroom!" "Look, it's part of the setup; if you feel strange, then you couldn't have been really changed - not in your mind," Michelle laughed. Her laugh sounded hollow; her experiences had left her with some doubts as well. Still, as skipper, she had to think of the morale of her crew. "Now, if you didn't think it was weird, then you'd have been changed." "But if we'd been changed that much, would we even remember that we were guys once?" Pam pondered. "Well," Gina said softly, "I wish the owner of that beach park would have given us some clothes that were less...showy!" That brought a welcome laugh, relief to the discussion about what had and hadn't changed. In truth, Michelle didn't want to think about the magnitude of changes any more than the other girls did - the magic was clearly very powerful, and he was frightened by it. After a couple of seconds, Pam looked thoughtful. "Well, we didn't do too badly at the end, did we?" Gina nodded slowly. "Not when it counted, we didn't." "Yeah," Linda agreed. "We could beat that little shit if we worked hard." Slowly, Michelle glanced around the table. "So, are we in?" Gina glanced around, then she slowly nodded. "Yeah, skipper, if we can beat 'Night Shift' like this, I say we go for it." Linda and Pam added their assent. "But we're going to need an extra hand or two," Linda added. "I'd go for two, skipper," Pam offered. "We need the weight on a beam reach, and it would help to have extra hands on the lines." "Okay. Let's see if we can get them, and tomorrow, I'll get us signed up with our sponsor." She saw the puzzled looks. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I talked to the PR folks at Q-Tech. They thought it would be a great idea to sponsor an all-women's yacht team in the regatta. If we're good, that is." She smiled. "Tomorrow night, we're going to take the VP of the PR group out with us, and if she likes what she sees, we've got the money." Linda stood and started walking toward the rest room. The others laughed when they heard her cursing - it was obvious that she'd forgotten and accidentally started into the men's room. When she came back, she appeared to be in some discomfort. "What's wrong?" Michelle asked out of concern. Linda sat down with heavy sighs. "I hurt in places I didn't know existed," she complained. "You're sore?" Pam asked incredulously. "You didn't have these monsters," she cupped her large breasts for emphasis, "bouncing around all evening. My straps dug into my shoulders, the muscles that hold these things hurt..." Then she caught Gina's disapproving stare, and saw the size of Gina's chest in comparison to her own. She bit her lip. "Sorry. I guess I shouldn't really complain if Harry isn't." Michelle started giggling. "Listen to the two of you," she guffawed. "You're talking just like girls!" She started laughing aloud. For a few seconds, the other girls stared at her, then they broke into laughter, too. * * * * * "So you see my problem," Mike explained patiently. He was sitting on one side of a booth at Ed's. In front of him, a bacon jalapeno cheeseburger was getting cold. Anya nodded. "And what is it you'd like of me?" she asked warily. Mike smiled. Straight, to the point. "I need to find a couple of crew members," he explained bluntly. "And you're wondering if I'd be interested, right?" She saw the look on Mike's face, and knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "Just sailing. You're not trying to come on to me, either, are you?" It was less a question than a statement of fact. Mike nodded slowly. "If I recall from the way that one guy was hanging around you last time I was at the park, you're already attached." He saw the surprised look on Anya's face. "All I'm interested in is a crew for my boat." He let the words sink in. "Besides," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "we'll all be girls, so it'd be hard for me to come on to you, wouldn't it." Anya laughed aloud. "Touche." She shook her head. "No, I don't really think I'd like to go sailing. Not in a competition, anyway." She saw the disappointment forming on Mike's face. "But I know where you can get a couple of girls who'd love to sail." Mike's face perked up. "Our mechanic used to be in the Navy, and I'm pretty sure she said she used to sail a lot, too." Mike nodded. "That's one." "My boyfriend Greg might be interested, too." "But..." "You need girls, not guys, right?" Anya grinned. "Well, what do you think you guys started off as?" She pulled a cell phone out of her purse and punched a few numbers. After a very quick conversation, she hung up. "He's at the NRD frat house, so he should be here in a couple of minutes." As promised, Greg arrived within minutes. Mike sized him up as he slid in beside Anya. He wasn't overly athletic, but he also wasn't the nerd he'd been expecting. "Hi, I'm Greg," he extended his hand and greeted Mike. Mike shook his hand. "Mike Walker," he replied. There was no hint of jealousy in Greg's voice, nor in his demeanor. Mike was relieved; suspicion on Greg's part could have doomed the whole thing. "Anya told me you had a proposition." Blunt, just like Anya. Mike smiled. "You want something to eat while we discuss it?" Greg shook his head. "Nah. It was pizza night at the house. I'm stuffed." "My friends and I are sailing my boat in the regatta in a couple of weeks. We're going to be shorthanded, so we need to find a couple of extra hands." Greg glanced at Anya. "Sure," he answered as he looked back at Mike. He seemed puzzled by such a simple request. Mike shook his head. "Not so fast. You see, we're going to be...a little different for this race." "Oh. You're entering a women's crew, and you need your hands to be changed, too." Mike's jaw dropped. Greg sounded like changing sex to race a sailboat was no different from changing pants. "Uh, yeah," he stammered. Greg laughed. "I've changed...well, let's just say I've been in a woman's shoes more times than you'd care to guess," he admitted with a grin. "It's no big deal. Well, sometimes they're a big deal." He grinned and held his hands in front of his chest - way in front - until Anya's elbow dug into his ribs. "Oof!" He glanced at Anya, frowning. "Would you get serious?" she complained. Greg nodded sheepishly. "Okay." He turned back to Mike. "It'd be fun to go racing. I assume you're going to want something kind of athletic?" Mike furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow you." Greg glanced quickly at Anya. "You know, the body. Athletic and fit, right?" Mike's mouth dropped open momentarily. "You talk about a new body like you're shopping from a catalog." He shook his head. "Yeah, that's about right." Greg grinned. "And the trim package is optional, right? Since it'll just be us girls on the boat?" He winced as another elbow caught him in the ribs. * * * * * "Are you Jenny?" Michelle asked hesitantly, as she peeked into the pump shack. A curvy young girl of perhaps twenty, wearing shorts and a halter top and with her long red ponytail disheveled and her face smeared with grime, looked up from the dismantled pump motor. "Who wants to know?" she asked warily. Michelle winced. Though she looked to be a sweet young thing, the tone of her voice left no doubt that this pump shack was her territory, and woe to anyone who disturbed her domain. "Anya said I might find you here." The girl's angry glare lessened - a bit. "Yeah? What do you want?" Michelle felt her jaw drop a fraction. "Are all of you around here so blunt?" Jenny straightened, and the gaping crevasse of her cleavage, so prominently displayed as she'd been bent over, vanished. "Yeah, more or less," she grinned. "So what can I do for you?" "I'm trying to get an extra hand for my yacht for the regatta. Anya said you'd been in the Navy and might be interested." Jenny gazed at Michelle, sizing her up for several quiet moments with only the steady drone of the pumps interrupting the silence inside the hot pump shack. "You any good as a skipper?" she finally demanded. Michelle visibly flinched. "What?" "Are you any good? Do you know what you're doing?" She walked casually over to Michelle and stood toe-to-toe with her. "And more importantly, can that dainty little body of yours handle a yacht?" Michelle tried to draw herself up straight, which only had the effect of pushing her breasts out. She wasn't even aware of the result. Jenny laughed. "You haven't done this very much, have you?" "What?" "Changed." Michelle frowned. "I thought I was...how can you tell?" "I don't know. It's the little things, I guess. You work here as long as I have, and you learn to notice." "Oh." Michelle thought for a second. "I don't know. You'd have to judge for yourself. My crew thinks I'm okay, I guess." Jenny laughed again. "Honest. I like that." She picked up a rag and wiped off her hands. "Tell you what. You buy me lunch, and we'll talk about your offer." * * * * * "So you think that this scam will help you win?" Jenny was again blunt, almost to the point of being offensive. She sat across from Michelle, studying her lunch companion carefully. Michelle frowned. Jenny's words _were_ offensive, and deliberately so. "Sure, we'd like to win," she said slowly through a clenched jaw. "Who wouldn't?" "But?" Michelle sighed. "I don't know how to explain it." She gazed out the window for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts. "Look, why do you work at the park? Is it because you want to move up through the ranks and take over someday?" Jenny started, then she grinned. Michelle didn't give her a chance to interrupt. "The guys and I have been sailing together for a long time. A very long time. Truth is, if we made it to the top, I don't think we'd have quite as much fun as we do. For us, sailing is the fun part. Competing is the fun part. Winning is frosting." "Except for 'Night Shift'?" Michelle started to glare at Jenny for her impertinence, then she was overcome with the truth of Jenny's words. "Yeah," she finally said. "The only win we all want is to beat Mitch Logan. You know, put him in his place. He's an arrogant little twerp, and it's been kind of...personal. So yeah, we want to beat him. And I've got the only boat that _can_ beat him." She shook her head. "He may be an annoying little vermin, but he's got a good boat and a pretty good crew. But we're better." Michelle tilted her head to one side. "Satisfied with the purity of our motives?" Jenny laughed aloud. "If you knew how many times I'd been scammed, you'd understand why I had to ask." Michelle looked puzzled. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't be, what, twenty? Twenty-one? You're talking like you've been around a lot longer." Michelle shook her head. "So, are you interested?" Jenny raised her eyebrows. "I'm not sure yet. You never answered my other question. _Your_ opinion. Not what your crew thinks." For a moment, Michelle was confused, then she remembered. "Oh, am I any good?" She shrugged. "Yeah, I'm good. Not great, but good enough to beat 'Night Shift'." Jenny laughed. "Good answer. Blunt, to the point. I like it." She grinned. "I don't have to ask. I already know the answer." Jenny watched puzzlement spread over Michelle's features. "To tell the truth, Anya talked to me about it this morning. I took a little time off to check up on you and your mates." Michelle's confusion changed to a mixture of shock and anger. "I've learned, through some tough lessons, that it's best to get as much information as I can before making any decision." Michelle gawked, open mouthed, for another second, then she nodded slowly, a grin spreading on her pretty face. "Fair enough," she agreed. "So, are _you_ any good on a sailboat?" Jenny laughed again. "I was wondering if you were going to ask me that." She sipped her diet cola. "I grew up on a farm, which, by the way, is how I got so good at fixing things. Well, you can figure out that a farm in Iowa doesn't have a lot of water around it. I didn't start sailing until after Dad lost the farm and I joined the Navy." Michelle's eyebrows shot up. "A farm kid...joining the Navy?" Jenny smiled. "Sounds kind of funny, doesn't it? Yeah, well, after we lost the farm, I wanted to get as far away from there as I could. I figured the Navy was a good way to go - better than the Army where I might actually get shot at!" She took another sip as she shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, while I was training, a couple of friends and I started sailing. Mostly we sailed the little things, like the Sunfish type boats. Once, we took a week cruising around the keys on a twenty-five footer. I'm not real good, but I'm not a rookie either." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "Of course, it's been a while since I've been sailing." Michelle nodded. "That's better than having two rookies on the boat." Jenny smiled enigmatically. "So, are you going to ask me to join your crew?" Michelle nearly spilled her soda. "What? Oh, yeah! Of course! I'd be happy to have you on my crew!" "Glad to be a part of the team," Jenny said warmly. "I assume we're going to be doing some practice for the next couple of weeks?" Michelle nodded. "Yeah. It'll take some time for us to be able to work together, and Greg has to learn a few things." "And it's taking you some time to get used to your different bodies, too." Michelle grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Something like that." Jenny took another sip of her soda, then she set the nearly empty glass on the table. "Duty calls. I've got to get back to the park," she explained as she stood. Michelle picked up the receipt. "Sure." They walked out of the caf? toward Michelle's car. "A couple of tips," Jenny offered as she climbed in. "One, don't change every day. I'm told that it puts a serious strain on your body, and that it can even get dangerous. Transformation shock, I think I heard Anya call it. Greg said it's pretty painful." Michelle's eyes widened. "I think she said something about it, but I don't think I was paying attention." She glanced over her shoulder and backed her car out of the parking slot. Jenny nodded solemnly. "It's very serious. So you're probably going to have to change for the weekend to get in the most practice that you can, and maybe one or two nights during the rest of the week." She'd obviously anticipated Michelle's question. "Oh, yeah," Michelle answered softly as she dodged through traffic. "I guess since I'm already changed, it won't hurt to go sailing tonight. Meet at my condo at six?" Jenny nodded. "I'll hitch a ride." She smiled. "I've got a company car I could use, but it just doesn't seem right to use the Boss's car for personal trips." The ride back to the park was very short. Michelle pulled up beside the turnstile to let Jenny out. "You said you had a couple of tips?" she prompted. Jenny paused, looking thoughtful. "Oh, yeah," she said as she remembered. "Greg's a good kid. He has a little growing up to do still, but his heart's in the right place. Still, he sometimes gets a little carried away." She read the expression on Michelle's face. "Oh, no!" she quickly added. "He'll do fine sailing. It's just that, well, don't be too surprised at his appearance when he shows up tonight." * * * * * Greg was everything Jenny said he'd be...and more. Much more. When she pried herself out of the car, Michelle's eyes popped wide open, as did those of every guy within three hundred yards. Short, at something around five feet six counting the three-inch heels, with short and very blonde hair, Greg was dressed in a very skimpy bikini that was clearly struggling to contain the enormous breasts on her chest. Michelle frowned - there was something...familiar...about Greg's appearance. With a confident and very sexy strut, Greg walked to the dock. "I'm ready," she said in a very sultry voice. Pam shook her head as she gazed at Greg. "I don't know if you remember, but this isn't a pleasure cruise," she said caustically. Greg shrugged, sending tremors through her big boobs. "I know. Look, do you have any idea how good of shape the average stripper is in, compared to the average girl?" Greg's words filled in the missing piece in Michelle's mind. "Traci Topps?" she asked cautiously. Greg grinned, then spread her arms and spun around in a graceful model twirl. "In the flesh," she answered. "Only I go by Gwen when I'm a girl." She grinned. "Most of the time, anyway!" Linda sighed. "Those...things...are going to get in the way every time you have to pull a line! How do you expect to be useful looking like that?" Jenny snorted as she gazed at Gwen. She paused on her very large breasts. "At least she brought enough ballast topside," she said sarcastically. The lighthearted observation wiped away Linda's concerned question. Gwen made a show of adjusting the cups of her bikini and sticking out her chest. "Jealous?" she asked Jenny playfully. In response, Jenny threw a towel at her. "Okay," Michelle said in a commanding tone, "that's enough. It's time to get serious." She frowned, then glanced around. "Wasn't Anya going to come along for the ride?" Gwen shook her head. "Nah, she said she didn't want to be a distraction." Jenny snorted again. "Yeah, she probably figured your two distractions were more than enough!" * * * * * Surprisingly, at least to Michelle, Gwen - even with her ultra-curvy body - was doing very well. Her enthusiasm and ability to follow directions and work hard more than made up for her inexperience; within two hours, she was starting to anticipate Michelle's commands as the boat maneuvered. "We're losing daylight. Let's head in," Michelle called out as she spun the wheel. The boat settled down on a leisurely broad reach. Gwen watched the movement, then grabbed for the lines to trim the jib. "Let it be," Michelle said lightly. "We're done working for the night." Gwen glanced at her, then she nodded slowly as she blushed. "It's okay to be enthusiastic," Linda said with a laugh. "But even _we_ take a break from time to time." "What do you think, skipper?" Pam asked the question on everyone's mind. Michelle shrugged. "How about we find out what _you_ think," she prompted in an open-ended question of her crew. She was clearly reserving her judgment until she heard from the others. Linda glanced around. "I think we're a lot better than we were the other night," she said. "The extra hands help, as long as we don't get in each others' way," she added, glancing sharply at Gwen. Pam nodded. "If we'd been sailing like this for two hours the other night, I think we'd have been pretty tired. With the extra hands, I think we're doing pretty well." She glanced around. "The extra bodies really help on the beam reach. A lot more than I thought it would." Jenny laughed. "Yeah, well, the five of us probably weigh about what the three of you used to. Comes out about even." Gina nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I'd say we did a good job. Except for the mix-ups on the tacking." "And that one jibe really sucked." Linda was practically glaring at Gwen. Gwen, for her part, noticed the venom in her voice and the anger in her gaze, and she was squirming uncomfortably. Michelle noticed the accusatory look. "Look, Linda, you get someone new and you tell her to tighten the downhaul without telling her which line is the downhaul, and what do you expect?" Gwen caught the slight rebuff Michelle gave Linda. She was pretty sure the others had noticed, as well. She also noticed how Michelle had referred to Gwen as 'her'. "You haven't said much, skipper," Pam noted. Michelle smiled. "We've got a few rough spots," she admitted. "Frankly," she added with a wry smile, "I think we're doing a hell of a lot better than I expected. On the whole, I think we'll be in good shape for the race." She watched the smiles of her crew, letting them feel good for a few moments. "On the other hand, we didn't fly the spinnaker tonight." Pam winced, remembering the difficulty they'd had the last time the girls had tried to sail with the balloon-like spinnaker. She glanced at the sun setting on the horizon. "Are we going to try it tonight, to see how we do?" Michelle followed Pam's glance, then she shook her head. "The winds are going to be dying down in a bit. I think we should head in. We can try the spinnaker tomorrow night." Gwen bit her lip. "Tomorrow?" "Problem?" Linda asked in a harsh, confrontational tone. Gwen ignored Linda. "Remember what Anya said about transformation shock," she reminded Michelle. "Trust me - you don't want to go there." Gina looked more than a bit worried. "It's bad?" Gwen nodded, her countenance very solemn. "It's agony during a change. Once it starts, you can't change for a long time. A very long time." "I take it you've been through it," Linda observed softly. Like the others, she looked uneasy. "Yup," Gwen confirmed. "Once you start having the pain, you've got to stop changing." "Or?" "Or it can injure you. Leave you stuck, maybe in between." She shook her head. "I had to stay in a body a little more...exotic...than this for almost three weeks before it was safe to change back." Gwen's words were sobering to the girls. Michelle's slight course change caught the attention of the crew. Linda perked up and glanced around. The 'Luck' had been overtaking another boat, and now, Michelle had to maneuver to avoid the slower yacht. The boat they were coming upon was a much larger two-masted yacht that currently had her sails stowed and was moving under power of her engine. The legend on her transom read 'Pleasure Island'. "Thirty-five foot ketch?" Jenny asked out of curiosity. "At least, and a custom job to boot," Linda said. She let her gaze drift over the vessel, taking in the lines and details of the boat. "I haven't seen them before, have you?" Gina shook her head. "Nope. Think they're tourists? Or here for the race?" Michelle shrugged. "Don't know. But they're sailing like tourists." The crew laughed. "Besides, even if they are here for the race, they're not in our class," Linda added. Gina shook her head slowly. "Damn, they've let her go to hell, haven't they?" "Waste of a good ship," Pam agreed. Gwen frowned. "I don't get it. The boat looks pretty nice to me." Michelle laughed. "Look at the way they've secured the sails. Not very neat. The sails - what I can see of them, anyway - look kind of ragged." She pointed to the mainmast. "And look at the standing rigging. It's loose." Gina nodded in agreement. "And look at the wood." The larger boat was wooden, unlike the fiberglass hull of 'Luck'. As Gwen looked closer, she could see what Gina was talking about. The lower hull was painted dark green, with a white upper hull, but the paint was clearly chipped. The deck and trim were varnished, and even from a distance, Gwen could see that the wood seemed weathered and grayed. Jenny shook her head. "I don't know much about the hull or the rigging, but that engine is missing on at least one cylinder." She shook her head more. "Stupid punks. Can't even take care of a simple engine." The newcomer made a sloppy course adjustment, and Michelle was forced to correct her own course. "Ahoy, Pleasure Island," she called in a surprisingly strong voice. The crew of the 'Pleasure Island' spun as one, all startled by the sound of Michelle's voice. They were positively surprised at being overtaken, but their surprise quickly changed. "Ahoy," one of the guys called pleasantly. "Thanks for the warning - I was about to turn." He grinned wickedly. "Although, I have to admit that bumping into a boatful of beauties wouldn't be all bad!" Michelle clenched her jaw at the boorish comment. "Idiots!" she muttered under her breath. "Hey," another guy called, "do you girls need any help sailing your little boat?" He tilted something to his mouth; Gwen figured it was a beer. "No thanks," Michelle said through gritted teeth. "I think we can handle our little boat just fine." Michelle was about to add some very caustic comments when Gwen brushed her shoulder. "Let me handle this," Gwen said softly. As the other girls watched, frozen by their astonishment and curiosity, Gwen crawled up on the deck, carefully holding one of the shroud lines for balance, her large bosom strategically thrust out for emphasis and struggling to get free of the tiny bikini cups holding the mammoth breasts. On 'Pleasure Island', the guys suddenly crowded to the rail, their eyes fixed on Gwen and her huge round tits. "Hey, gorgeous!" a guy called, "you want to sail on a real ship?" Gwen grinned, and jiggled her chest. "You mean, like go sailing with some real men on a real yacht?" "Yeah!" Nearly all the guys joined the chorus. Gwen smiled, jiggling a bit more. "You know, I'd be ever so grateful if some real men would take me out sailing. Sailing is, like, fun, but it'd be even _more_ fun with some men as company." The guys on 'Pleasure Island' were practically drooling, and Gwen wiggled her butt, then she carefully cupped one breast with her free hand. She had a pouty, come-hither look on her face as she put on her show, and the guys were anticipating getting to know this buxom lady much better. Gwen straightened and grinned. "I'll tell you what," she said, slowly, "if you guys find a real boat crewed by real men, please let me know so I can go sailing with them." She tilted his head in a very snooty gesture. "I don't sail with spoiled rich kiddies on broken down barges!" She climbed slowly back down to the cockpit, then turned one last time. With a defiant grin, she pulled her top down, exposing her bare boobs. "Take a good look, kiddies. When you grow up, maybe some woman will let you play with boobies as nice as these!" As 'Pleasure Island' fell slowly behind 'Luck', her crew fuming and cursing at the serious humiliation they'd taken from 'Luck', Gwen accepted the high-fives from the other girls. Linda shook her head in disbelief. "That was amazing!" she acknowledged. "How did you learn to do that?" Gwen blushed. "Anya taught me. "You must spend a lot of time as a girl to have learned that," Gina observed. There was something in her voice that Gwen couldn't quite understand. Gwen shrugged, but Jenny put her hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Go ahead, Gwen. Tell them." Gwen glanced at Jenny, studying her expression to understand the sudden compulsion to discuss their private lives. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I guess it's one or two days every other week," she acknowledged. "Why?" Gina's question was simple, direct, and echoed the thoughts of the other girls. Gwen shrugged. "I don't know. The first time - I guess I was curious. After that, well, I got kind of caught up in some personal things." Her voice faded, and her eyes got a far-off look. After a second or two of staring at the horizon, she shrugged again. "Now, I guess it's just for fun. I do some consulting work for the Boss, so I have to change to go in the park." She grinned. "Sometimes, it's fun to spend a girl's day with Anya." Jenny laughed. "And sometimes, you do it for a prank with that goofball fraternity of yours!" Gwen blushed anew. "Yeah, I guess we do get carried away sometimes." Jenny's eyebrows raised, then she cupped her hands way out in front of her body. "Yeah, like the time you guys went to the Halloween party as a bunch of Dolly Parton clones? Or the time you wanted to see if Zena Fulsom's boobs could possibly be real?" Jenny glanced at the other girls, her eyes leaking tears of mirth. "_That_ was funny! She could barely move for the beanbags hanging on her chest!" She ignored Gwen's glare. "Or how about the time..." Gwen slapped Jenny. "Hush," she scolded. "So, why do you _really_ do it?" Pam asked. Gwen half-smiled. "I guess it's fun," she finally admitted. "Fun?" Michelle's astonishment was genuine. "Yeah." Gwen started to dance slowly, her motions becoming more erotic and sexy as she caressed her boobs. Slowly, she stripped off her bra, fondling her tits to the imaginary music. After a couple of minutes, she stopped, gazing at the others with a shy smile. "It's fun to see how the other half lives. It's fun to take frat guys for suckers and get free drinks and dinner for a hell of a lot less than the show I just gave you!" Gina looked thoughtful for a second. "Have you ever...you know?" Gwen flushed crimson and looked down. Jenny punched her arm. "Come on, Greg...er...Gwen. Tell them," she urged. "Yeah," Gwen answered softly without looking up. If anything, she was even red