Peonies Underwater (Patreon)

The heavy smell of hot water, soap, and cigarette smoke hit my nostrils before I realized I was lying on something soft, while damp warmth surrounded almost every inch of my body, as if I were not in my own bed on the thirty first floor of a New York high rise, but God knew where.

I opened my eyes and for several seconds just stared through the steam at the white tiles on the wall, not understanding why the ceiling was so low, where the sound of splashing water was coming from, and why someone nearby was speaking quietly in Japanese. The voice was male, hoarse, lazy, interrupted from time to time by brief chuckles from several other men.

I tried to push myself up and immediately froze.

First, when I jerked upward, something held me by the shoulder and almost immediately pulled me back into the warm water. Only then did I realize that a heavy man's arm had been wrapped around me all this time, while right beside my ear someone's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a slow inhale, a warm exhale into my wet hair. The man did not even look at me: continuing to talk lazily on the phone, he merely pulled me a little tighter against him, as if my sudden movement had been an ordinary attempt to get more comfortable.

Second, with that movement, on my chest, which felt far too strange at that moment, as if someone had placed two warm, heavy bags of water on me, immediately slid apart and downward, stretching the skin, their lower halves sinking into the water. I lowered my gaze without meaning to and for several seconds simply stopped understanding what I was seeing.

A pair of enormous female breasts rose out of the water in front of me. Not the neat hemispheres from advertisements and not the almost weightless silicone I was used to seeing in New York, but heavy, soft, completely natural breasts, spreading out under their own weight. Their undersides sank into the water, their sides spread wide, and the wet skin was almost entirely covered with tattoos of bright peonies and green leaves. When the man behind me pulled me a little closer again, both breasts slowly swayed along with the rest of my body, and I did not just see that movement, I felt it in the pull of my skin, the unfamiliar weight, and the soft pressure of the water from below.

I stared at them without blinking, no longer knowing what shocked me more, that I had these tits now or that this whole body was completely covered in feminine tattoos.

"What the fuck...?" I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice.

It was high, feminine, and, for some reason, slightly husky.

And only then did I realize there was a third thing. Something I had already been feeling but had not paid attention to. But now I could clearly feel my ass pressed against something hard and hot. The man was sitting a little higher up, his hips against me, and his hard cock lay along my ass cheek, pressing against me through the water, pulsing calmly, without hurry, as if that was its usual place. The hand on my shoulder tightened slightly and did not let go.

I abruptly tried to pull away and immediately felt my breasts sway with that unfamiliar heaviness again.

"Hey." The man finally pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at me. "Don't squirm."

His tone made it sound as if he had heard this a hundred times already and was waiting not for an answer but for me to lie back down and shut up. He did not even raise his voice, but merely squeezed my shoulder a little harder, his fingers digging into the wet skin, and once again I felt both breasts sway forward and down, heavy, soft, and not mine at all.

He had already turned away again and pressed the phone to his ear.

"No, it's nothing," he said in Japanese, and only belatedly did I realize that I understood every word. "Just some twitchy whore. She's got fucking amazing tits, though. Nah, bro, you know I like them huge."

Someone answered on the other end, and he laughed quietly.

I stared at his profile, feeling something inside me go cold for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

'Whore.'

A woman's bright laugh sounded from off to the side, followed by another phrase in Japanese, which, unfortunately for me, I now understood perfectly.

I tried to push away from him again, slid my wrist across his warm skin, felt his cock twitch beneath my hand again, and suddenly froze so sharply that the man behind me clicked his tongue in annoyance.

That evening surfaced in my memory, the one that only a second ago had seemed completely unrelated to everything happening: the empty apartment on the thirty first floor, the lights of New York outside the window, a glass of whiskey on the table, and my own voice saying aloud a wish that I had laughed at afterward. Not an image on a monitor, not a story I could close when the fantasy became too real, but the real thing. "I want to be inside all of this for real, just once. Not imagine it from the outside, but feel every second of it, without being able to simply open my eyes and go back."

"Fuck..." I said, almost inaudibly.

The man behind me, whom for some reason I was already beginning to see not just as 'some guy,' but as a specific person, shot me a quick glance.

"What now?"

I did not answer.

Because for the first time since waking up I stopped trying to break free and simply sat there, breathing heavily, while the water rippled softly around me.

'No. This couldn't be happening.'

'Wishes didn't come true. Especially ones like that.'

But the harder I tried to convince myself of that, the more clearly I remembered the last words I had said as I was falling asleep:

"And I want everything to be exactly the way I imagine it. Even if I change my mind when it happens."