"Help!"
Jon snapped out of his sun-tanning daze at the sound of the panicked voice from the water. Looking out through his rose-coloured glasses, he scanned the beach for a lifeguard, someone who would spring to action in case of an emergency. Jon was shocked when he found none.
"Help!" the voice called out again.
Jon climbed to his dainty feet, and with the feel of his breast forms bouncing in his skimpy blue bikini top, he bounded toward the waterline in the direction of the voice. As he sprinted through the crowded beach, his round rear end waggling back and fourth as he did, he felt alive, powerful, like a real man.
The water was cold as he plunged in, but not so cold that it would cause a cramp. As Jon pulled himself through the water, with a front crawl an Olympian would be proud of, he listened for the voice, trying to narrow in on where it was coming from.
"Help!"
It was off to his left. Jon turned and swam. He could see some splashing a few meters away, then nothing. The swimmer must have gone under! Jon sped to the last location of the swimmer, took a deep breath, and plunged below into the cold water.
It was murky beneath the waves, but that didn't dull Jon's resolve. He would be damned if this swimmer drowned on his watch. Down and down Jon swam. He could feel sticky seaweed all around him as he dove, deeper and deeper. So filled with adrenaline was he that he didn't think to wonder at his luck when his right hand touched the hand of the swimmer.
Jon grabbed hold and, with the might only a true man like he had, he pushed the man above him toward the surface. Jon struggled to follow, but had found himself tangled in the seaweed. He kicked, he wiggled, and he got loose, but only after the seaweed had pulled and rubbed his skin until it was raw. That didn't matter, though, as soon Jon's head breached the surface, as did the struggling swimmer.
Remembering his swimming lessons, Jon swam behind the man (Jon could see that it was a man now, a medium-build, balding man in his late forties) and wrapped one arm around his neck. Then, with the man resting on Jon's breast-form enhanced chest, Jon swam for shore.
It was a longer journey back, but Jon was a strong swimmer. Soon he was on the beach, the man lying on his back. Jon checked for a pulse but found nothing. He wracked his brain for what his high-school CPR training had taught him, but it was so hazy that it only came in bits and pieces.
Since nobody else was volunteering to help, Jon once again played the hero. Performing the life-saving technique as best as he could, he first brought his puffy lips up to the man's lips and began to breathe. But that wasn't right, was it? Maybe the man needed more stimulation. Wasn't there something about sweeping the throat? Knowing just what to do, Jon thrust his tongue into the man's mouth and explored.
Then, after a moment or two, Jon remembered the man's heart. He needed to get that going too! Wasn't there something about pushing? Or thrusting? Something about using body weight?
As if a switch went off in his brain, Jon smiled at the knowledge of the next steps. He swung his leg over the man's prone body and straddled his waist. Then Jon began to alternate between pressing his breast forms into the man's chest to start his heart, leaning back and resting his round behind on the man's groin to give the man's chest a break, all the while remembering that every few reps he should lean in and sweep the man's mouth with his tongue.
Jon was no expert at CPR, but he had hope that his technique was working. For one thing, after a few minutes, the man's mouth began to respond to Jon's tongue, making a kissing-type shape with his lips, his tongue slipping into Jon's mouth. This type of involuntary response was encouraging for Jon, but he knew that the man wasn't out of the woods yet.
A few minutes later, when Jon was giving the man's chest a break, resting on the man's groin, the man began to thrust into Jon's behind, another involuntary response, obviously, but Jon rubbed the man's groin with his bikini bottoms anyway, trying anything to bring the man back to the land of the living.
After about ten minutes, Jon knew he was victorious. Just as Jon was about to lean forward to stimulate the man's heart again, his patient's eyes burst open, his hands pushed upward into Jon's chest and grabbed his breast forms (another involuntary response, of course), and pushed Jon back onto the man's groin. The man grunted three times, then sighed. Behind him, Jon could feel warm liquid running into his bikini bottom, filling his ass crack with a hot sticky substance. He'd seen men cough up sea water in the movies, but he'd never heard of it coming from there. He smiled and figured that you could chock that up to another thing you should believe from television.
"Thanks, babe," the man grunted, thrusting into Jon's rear end again, "I needed that."
All around a crowd had gathered to watch the rescue, and one by one they began to applaud Jon's efforts. He swelled with pride. Climbing off of the man, he adjusted his bikini. It was then that he noticed how smooth his skin felt. He looked down at himself. Every hair below his neck was gone, as if it had never grown. The seaweed must have pulled it out! Not only that, but his skin was so smooth it was as if it was brand new!
Jon couldn't believe his luck. Maybe he was being rewarded for his good deed, but with his "out-of-the-spa" treatment skin, no woman would be able to resist him! Once again, Girl World was proving itself to be the best vacation spot in the world.
