(Alpha Stamen) meets a cute nerdy girl on the beach.

As quick as they came, a week of brutal storms were finally past.

Residents and tourists across the Whitecoast emerged from shelter to find their beloved, pristine beaches torn asunder by nature’s fury.

The city skyline was still intact, the buildings having been made with frequent hurricanes in mind. The enormous old-growth trees that were a staple of any elf city had weathered a hundred times worse without ruffling their ever-green, enchanted leaves. However, out on the beaches, anything that hadn’t been nailed down flew off, or simply floated out to sea with the high, churning tides.

Though the waves were intense, they were no longer enough to swallow a man whole, and elvish authorities invested in getting life back to normal declared it safe.

The first day the beaches were reopened, they were packed to capacity.

In some places, it was standing room only.

That would have bothered Akane Kobayashi more, given she was a regular… if the packing material was anything but a bottomless supply of elves. Delighted to, in the safety of their territory, away from most prying eyes and ‘lower races’, wear the most revealing goddamn swimsuits.

Micro bikinis, mere strings held up by a choker? The high heels were the real kicker, and their sharp points could be found absolutely everywhere. Heels in sand was asking for trouble, but cute elf girls loved to do that, and though some fell over, many demonstrated literally inhuman grace.

It gave those wide, childbearing hips a playful sway you couldn’t find elsewhere. These were elves, so a thick ass and lower body that inherently suggested breeding was common to all their genders, and all benefited from heels.

Slingshot bikinis putting on a wondrous show of tension mechanics? All the better, with the figures of an average elf girl. ‘Average’ meant something different to high elves, with heaving busts, flat stomachs, and wide hips suitable for getting a firm grip as they were pounded.

Which was Akane’s job, as an alpha stamen. Born for conquest, she was enormous; well in excess of three meters tall, skin a dark brown, hair black and wild but short, and with a body thick with muscular definition. Beneath her own black bikini top, an ample soft chest gave way to chiseled eight-pack abs, rising and falling evenly. Her broad shoulders and thick thighs would have shown power even in a business suit; much less with so much skin exposed, and her rippling back and steel-crushing thighs flexing every other step.

Her arms and legs were tree-trunks, and plenty was shown off by her own bikini bottom, wrapped in a pair of denim shorts… which couldn’t do a thing to hide a gigantic bulge.

Needless to say, despite being a ‘mere’ human being, Akane was turning a lot of candy-colored heads. Her sunglasses hid keen, ocean-blue eyes, which spotted and returned appraising looks, but couldn’t conceal a smug smirk of satisfaction.

Growing up a giant, you couldn’t be overly concerned with public opinion. But seeing firsthand all this talk of ‘greater’ and ‘lesser’ races overturned in a single second by the looks of awe in the eyes of guys and girls alike felt good. Suspecting even girls with boyfriends hanging off them were mentally doing a bit of compare-and-contrast was fantastic.

It felt as warm as the sun, which was back to eternally shining down on this beach.

Save for spots of cover, like the endless forests of umbrellas made to protect lily-white elf skin… or the eternal staple, the beachfront cafe.

Manned by a pair of frantic nekomata girls, whose cat ears wiggled in panic as they tried to satisfy an endless parade of fancy and exacting orders, having decided the best way to cut down on their drag coefficient was to remove all their clothes but a pair of equally-overworked aprons.

A choice Akane supported financially, in return a blessedly-simple order of a big, cold bottle of water.

Given most of the ladies were here to work on their tan, find a partner for the evening, or enjoy the more innocent pleasures of play on the beach, like swimming, building doomed sandcastles, and knocking volleyballs around like cannonfire, nobody was looking to hang around the cafe. It was like a hummingbird feeder; people came in quick, waited exactly as long as they had to, and were gone again in the blink of an eye, an endless procession with only one exception.

A girl perched on one of the too-small stools, in a too-small swimsuit, looking out towards the choppy seas with a wistful expression.

She’d have drawn Akane’s eye in a brown paper bag, much less that alleged golden ‘bikini’. It could have just been an elaborately-woven collection of string, for all the material on display, and all the skin it covered. Her silver choker had more coverage combined than the entire rest of the ensemble, even with little gold chains hanging down to her hips. Her long, braided dark-blue hair framed a bombshell hourglass well. Long, thin arms and legs. Her chest was enormous and perky even for an elf, her waist narrow, and of course, those thick hips. Akane couldn’t see the stool, she just had to assume the woman was sitting rather than levitating.

Given how spectacular she looked with such heated and numerous competition, a treat standing out in a well-kept buffet, she could have also just been a sculpture made by the establishment to give spirit. An idealized figure of everything an ‘elf girl’ conjured in the deepest imaginations of fantasy.

Though the gentle sighs she heaved outwards, and the times she reached up to adjust her thin-rimmed glasses, made that hard to believe. The way she was gently nursing a faintly-glowing light blue martini just completed the picture of a lonely maiden who wasn’t enjoying her beach trip very much.

She didn’t acknowledge the people swarming about her, though when Akane stepped up, and the elves parted through both physical necessity and fear, she did spare a glance.

Sideways, then up.

Then, she looked back out towards the sea, tearing her eyes from this paragon of masculine power in a feminine form.

Oh, no, now Akane had to say something.

Taking a moment to knock back her entire goddamn water bottle and then squish it flat as a pancake let her consider a suitable approach.