Finding a spot on the beach had been a bit tricky. A holiday in July was guaranteed to be bustling, especially on such a small and popular beach. Luckily they did manage to grab a spot a bit down the beach from the main area. And did so before either Plynx or Augusta lost patience and started picking fights with anyone. 

Thisbe set up her towel under the large family-sized umbrella, the others not competing for the prime spot. Even Augusta seemed to recognise she should have it. The rest picked spots around the umbrella, before tossing on some suntan lotion. 

“Oh, mon amour, would you help me apply a little lotion to my back?” Augusta asked, batting her eyelashes while using her most seductive tone of voice.

Svetlana found herself blushing. “S-sure. Of course.”

She scooted over to Augusta’s side, who was laying on her stomach. Taking a few squirts of Augusta’s expensive luxury lotion on her hands, Svetlana began to work it in, spreading it evenly. Augusta let out a happy moan.

“Mmm. Oui. So delightfully firm. I adore the strength you use.”

“Heh, well…” Svetlana started, before realising she didn’t have the rest of the sentence figured out.

“Kevin-dearest, do me next, yes?” Plynx asked.

Svetlana had flinched at the wrong name, but found her resolve melting as Plynx rubbed against her, purring away. Maybe this was how she’d win the princesses over? It was worth a try, so she agreed, even as Augusta pouted over being forced to share. 

The application of lotion to Plynx was a bit different. While she wasn’t exactly ‘furry’, to the degree of an actual lynx, she was covered in a sort of soft peach fuzz that one still had to move with the angle of when wanting to be gentle. The reward of Plynx’s rumbling purrs made the effort worth it, though.

“See, this is why I-we chose a swimsuit that covers the back,” Mynx-Zyn said, as Svetlana finished up the application for Plynx.

“You-sister do not understand that this is a benefit,” Plynx replied, still smiling and purring.

Zyn made an unconvinced noise before running off into the water with an innertube in hand. 

Svetlana raised an eyebrow, wondering if Issiod’rians were late bloomers, or the Mynx girls were just outliers. She was about to ask Plynx when she felt firm hands on her own back, working lotion in. From the size of the hands, she felt safe in guessing it was Vivian.

“Figured you might forget about your own back again,” Vivian said.

“I—I was fourteen when that happened,” Svetlana replied with a pout.

“And, if I remember correctly, it was also the most recent time you’ve been to the beach,” Vivian said, her voice teasing as she rubbed lotion into the small of Svetlana’s back.

“I—mmm—maybe,” Svetlana replied, letting herself lean into Vivian’s strong calloused hands.

She was enjoying herself enough she barely noticed Augusta leave. It was only when Vivian finished, and moved on to helping O’tmyil with her back, that Svetlana saw where the blonde had gone. She was over by a tree, talking to a group of guys. A group of guys who were definitely hitting on her. 

On one hand, Svetlana knew Augusta could handle herself. She was a… not a blackbelt in savate (since Svetlana was pretty sure that wasn’t a thing), but whatever the equivalent title for an expert was, along with being well versed in several Russian hand-to-hand combat styles. Svetlana had never felt too much jealousy in general either. But, she also knew that people usually expected their romantic partners to step in in situations like this.

She was rather less aware of the fact Augusta was doing this on purpose, but she could easily be forgiven due to the eight or so metres between them. It prevented reading facial expressions and so she did not notice Augusta’s smirk as she kept glancing over. It was Augusta’s next step in her scheme. Another move meant to push buttons on Svetlana’s firmly discarded masculine shell.

Oblivious to that, Svetlana marched over, slipping between Augusta and the guys. “Sorry, boys. She’s taken.”

“She is?” one of the bro-dudes asked, sounding disappointed.

“Aawww…”

“How about you, though?”

Svetlana blinked, taking a moment to process that. “Me?” 

“Yeah. You’re dang nice on the eyes too.”

“Uh…” Svetlana muttered, trying to hold back a blush as she continued to find very little life experience telling her how to respond. The braziness of straight guys flirting with her wasn’t something she knew how to deal with.

“If anything, you’re hotter than your friend… uh no offence, miss. You’re a good 9 out of 10, but your friend here is, like, firmly a 10.”

“Pardon!?” Augusta hissed, pushing her way forward.

“You’re both seriously attractive, and the accent you’ve got is seriously nice, but she’s—like, those thighs.”

Svetlana felt a grin spreading across her face. Here she was, barely clothed, being compared favourably to another woman in attractiveness.

She was so lost in the clouds of euphoria she missed Augusta’s eye twitching as a vein in her forehead looked ready to burst.

“I will have you know, ‘she’ was a man until recently!” Augusta blurted, anger in her voice.

Svetlana felt like she’d been punched in the gut. The balloon of euphoria she’d been riding had burst, she’d fallen to earth. Her system was filling with adrenaline, and she began to worry about having to run.

“Huh,” a bro-dude muttered.

“Does that mean, like, you had the surgery then? Because that bikini isn’t leaving much to the imagination,” another asked.

“Dave, you don’t just ask that to a trans woman right away. It’s seriously invasive,” another said.

Svetlana blinked, staring at the one who had admonished his friend.

“I like tall girls,” the guy said with a shrug. “Had a trans girlfriend for a while.”

“That fact dissuades none of you?” Augusta asked, clearly surprised.

The bro-dudes mostly shrugged.

“It’s the 2020s. Hot is hot.”

Svetlana felt a new wave of confidence flood her, perhaps mixing with the adrenaline to unlock some sort of new emotion she had little experience with. The grin was back across her face.

“Well, I must say, I’m very flattered, boys,” she said, as she gave a confident shrug.

“And taken,” Augusta hissed, before putting a hand around the back of Svetlana’s neck and pulling her in for a kiss. 

A very good kiss. Also very French. As Augusta was never one to do things in half measures. Svetlana briefly lost track of everything but the kiss.

Augusta broke it and then turned to the bro-dudes with a smug grin. “Mine.”

“Oooh,” the guys replied.

“Kiss her again!” one cheered.

“Objectifying lesbians isn’t cool, Steve,” another one countered. “We should give them privacy.”

“Mhm, your friend is right, Steve.”

Svetlana and the bro-dudes turned around and looked up to see Vivian standing behind them. The one who’d made the ‘kiss her again’ comment paled and scurried off, the bulk of the rest following. Apart from the one who’d mentioned having had an interest in tall girls. He instead stayed to ask if Vivian had a sister, having picked up on the strong lesbian energy she gave off. She informed him she was an only child, and he left with a sad look in his eyes.

“I think Augusta broke,” Vivian said, drawing Svetlana’s attention back to the blonde.

She was red in the face and staring into space. “Lesbian… lesbiennes… ils ont pensé que…”

“You did kiss a cute girl in a bikini,” Svetlana replied, gesturing to herself.

It was exhilarating to have this new source of confidence in her appearance. Cartridge generally flirted with any girl who had a pulse—ok, no. Any girl who moved. Svetlana was still uncertain if Thisbe or O’tmyil had a pulse. But, back on topic, Cartridge calling her a babe had only meant so much, while Vivian’s words had meant more but were mixed up in being friends since grade 8.

But total strangers? That was thrilling.

---

Augusta had decided to distract herself from her frustration by heading over to the volleyball net. The others, besides Thisbe (who’d never been the most athletic), were happy to form a team. Other teams seemed mildly confused about the three aliens, but agreed to let them join in for some informal games.

That was a mistake.

While all of them were quite athletic, they had several flaws as a team. Firstly, there was the issue that none of the Mynx girls actually knew how to play volleyball, but they proved quick learners at least. Hitting things in the air was a natural feline instinct. Vivian had also played on the volleyball team in high school and university, so more than pulled her weight. Augusta and Plynx, however, quickly saw their competitiveness increase, trying to steal the ball from each other to the detriment of the team. It didn’t take long for that to descend into name calling once more. 

By the second game they played, Augusta ended up hitting Plynx’s ear instead of the ball in a particularly dreadful display of ‘teamwork’. The other four tried to keep playing around the two princesses, who’d descended into a full on brawl, but that proved as futile as expecting the girls to play on the same team. Luckily, they at least didn’t have their swords this time, so Svetlana and Vivian were able to pull them apart (to the disappointment of a decent chunk of the crowd). 

---

Svetlana closed her eyes as she quietly bobbed in the water. Pretending to be a boy had been no fun, but pretending to be a buoy was significantly more enjoyable.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the terrible pun. Though she was now left with the difficult decision: to continue enjoying the relaxation of the water, or to return to shore and subject everyone to that pun.

---

Vivian and Plynx had gotten hungry at around the same time. As such, Vivian had led Plynx over to try the Port Dover tradition of cheap footlong hotdogs. Of course, being a tradition and it being Canada day, there was a line. Which left Vivian wondering how to talk to Plynx about Svetlana. 

“What is in the ‘hot dog’ anyway?” Plynx asked, derailing Vivian’s train of thought. 

“Uh… probably pork?” 

Plynx stared at her. “You-Vivian do not know? Yet expect me to eat it?”

“It’s either pork or beef. Or a mix. They’re both fine… well, depending on your religion, but I don’t think that affects you,” Vivian replied. “I suppose mutton is a possibility… that’s fine too, though.”

Plynx looked skeptical, but her gurgling stomach betrayed her and ate away at her reluctance. By the time they made it to the front of the line, she gave in and ordered one.

It wasn’t anything amazing, but it was cheap and filling. Though Vivian still felt a bit concerned about the amount of mustard and onions Plynx had loaded on her hotdog. Still, she seemed happy, so Vivian was willing to leave her to it.

They headed back to the others on the beach, and found Thisbe mixing a groan with a giggle as Svetlana wore an obnoxious grin.

“What are you up to now, Sveta?” Vivian asked.

Svetlana’s grin grew larger, before she replied with one of the worst trans puns Vivian had ever heard. Which was saying something, as Vivian had heard more than a few from other friends. While Vivian groaned, Plynx looked concerned. She said nothing, however.

---

Svetlana was halfway through applying a refresher layer of suntan lotion to O’tmyil when a thought struck her.

“Why are you wearing suntan lotion?” she asked her robotic girlfriend.

“I enjoy the application process by yourself and Vivian,” O’tmyil replied. 

“Ah. Fair enough,” Svetlana said, before going back to the application process. 

---

Having had enough swimming, Svetlana decided it was time to hit the beachfront bar. The rest of the group followed her, an odd concern in their eyes. Well, minus Mynx, who were busy being fascinated by the sand sculptors near the pier. 

Svetlana elbowed her way up to the bar and grabbed the cocktail menu. She’d always shied away from anything other than the basics before, for fear people might realise the fragility of her masculinity. Now she was free of all that, though, and ordered the girliest drink she could.

It proved to be bright blue and burned more than whiskey. 

She loved it and ordered a second as soon as she finished the first. By the time she was working on that one the girls had pushed their way forward: Vivian, Thisbe, and O’tmyil on her left; Plynx and Augusta on her right. 

She turned to the blonde princess with her best puppy eyes. “Since you’re rich, will you pay?”

“Fine,” Augusta muttered, before pulling out her wallet and passing the bartender a small crimson slab of fifties. “If there’s any left over, keep it as a tip.”

The bartender’s eyes lit up and she was suddenly significantly more enthusiastic.

Svetlana ordered a few more drinks, trying other fruity things that proved stronger than she expected. Thisbe had one bloody mary and became giggly, while also slipping back into 19th century speech habits. Vivian nursed a beer or two while mostly keeping an eye on Thisbe. O’tmyil ordered a full bottle of vodka and chugged it in one swig, seemingly just to terrify the bartender as the robotic girl was incapable of actually getting drunk. Plynx had a couple Caesers between various finger foods, which Svetlana leaned over to nibble on herself. 

Lastly, Augusta seemed to spend more time trying to convince the bartender that a number of beers with very German sounding names were actually from France than she spent drinking. Yet she was still reasonably inebriated when Vivian scooped Thisbe up and began carrying her off.

“What’s up?” Svetlana asked, confused by the sudden motion on her side that didn’t have food.

“Thisbe’s losing a bit of control. She needs one of the packs from the cooler,” Vivian explained.

“I had no plans to bite that fine gentleman, dearest Vivian,” Thisbe protested with dramatic hand movements. “I merely relayed the fact as they are: his blood smells most alluring to my nose.”

Svetlana nodded slowly. “Y-yeah. Get her something to eat.”

Thisbe continued to protest as Vivian carried her off. Svetlana waved as they left, which seemed to distract Thisbe into waving back.

Once they were gone, Svetlana was struck with a thought. “I want ice cream.”

Having declared her intentions, she got up and headed off towards the ice cream parlour.  Augusta didn’t notice, being deep in explanations about the history of Alsace, and how, being descended from both the French and Austrian royal families, she was the rightful ruler of the lands regardless of how old of a claim one used. O’tmyil and Plynx both noticed, however and hurried after her.

They had made it about a third of the way when there was a flash of red. Svetlana had almost finished turning, readying for a possible alien threat (as best she could while mildly intoxicated) when the crack of the fireworks reached them.

Plynx shrieked and jumped over Svetlana’s head. She was about to say something when there was another boom of the fireworks and the feline girl latched onto Svetlana, her face pressed against Svetlana’s chest and her claws digging into her girlfriend’s back.

“Loud,” Plynx managed, before flinching at another boom.

Svetlana flinched herself, not from the noise as much as the way Plynx’s claws dug deeper for a moment each time there was a bang. 

“It’s ok. It’s just fireworks,” Svetlana replied, rubbing Plynx’s back to try to calm her down.

Another bang proved it wasn’t working nearly as much as Svetlana hoped.

“They are too too loud,” Plynx groaned, tightening her grip again.

“I recommend we get her inside,” O’tmyil said. “The noise should be muffled, and less painful for her ears.”

Svetlana nodded and led Plynx into the public changeroom. It was the nearest building she felt was guaranteed to be open while not playing any sort of loud music. Once inside, Plynx dislodged herself from Svetlana. She was still flinching with each bang, but it seemed the noise had dropped for her from ‘painfully loud’ to merely ‘annoyingly loud’. 

“You’re bleeding,” Plynx gasped, as she finished wiping tears from her eyes.

“Only a little,” Svetlana replied, giving Plynx a smile as she tried to ignore how much the scratches stung.

“I should clea—” Plynx started, before wincing at another bang. “Maybe I should just stay over here, to not hurt you more.”

Svetlana tried to reassure Plynx, before O’tmyil stepped in and took over washing Svetlana’s back. Which ended up meaning removing her bikini top, as Plynx had clawed through it in several places. As the fireworks wrapped up, Plynx stared at Svetlana. 

She wasn’t sure why, and so offered a soft smile, hoping that would help with… whatever was going on.

---

The person across from her was a woman. Plynx felt sure there was no denying it. Kevin was showing complete comfort with this new body. 

The used and half broken sex-reassignment-ray that Plynx’s little sisters had brought must have been miscallibrated. Or affected humans in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Why else would two men firmly into their adulthood be happy with the results of being forcibly changed into women?

It would be significantly less comfortable for her love, but if she wanted to get him back to being himself, without risking a war with her love’s home planet, Plynx was going to have to improvise.