Playing with the beach toys

Content note: mention of farting

With the weather always pleasant thanks to his changes, Harry decided to go to the beach. It was as good a place as any to find hot people to fuck, or modify, or do whatever else a horny omnipotent nineteen-year-old guy might wish. He decided, just to be on the safe side, to put a ward on the area to ensure that only adults would be present.

He did decide to take his sister's advice and not just alter women to have ridiculous curves, but that didn't stop him from doing a little of that anyway.

It was a large beach, dotted with concession stalls, and Harry walked up to one of them. Waving a hand, he decided that this time nobody but him would notice the changes he'd just made to the place.

"What can I get you?" said the gorgeous barista, who until three seconds ago had been an average-looking man just a year older than Harry.

"Strawberry-banana smoothie with milk and double cream," Harry said.

"Coming right up!" She smiled and, picking up a blender, proceeded to turn around, squat a bit, and hold it to her butt. Harry had made everyone working at the stand generously endowed, though nowhere near to the extent that he had his other partners. These at least would still be able to shop off the shelf at ordinary clothing stores, at least once Harry made them stock stuff a few sizes larger than they had been previously and made alteration services standard at even the cheapest places.

The barista clenched her cheeks, and a dozen fresh strawberries, already prepared for use, popped out and into the blender. Then she grunted, and a long banana followed them, detaching itself after about ten seconds and leaving her crack perfectly clean.

"Any preference on the breast?" she asked. She placed the blender on the counter so that each of her six hands could heft the boob nearest it, all of them four times larger than her head--Harry realized that his idle reflection about shopping at ordinary clothing stores had just gone up in smoke--arranged in three rows of two.

"Middle-left," Harry said. It didn't matter which he chose, of course.

"Sure thing." The barista picked up the blender again and squeezed a generous serving of milk into it. "You said double cream as well?" Harry nodded. "Want to help me take care of that?"

"You jack your cock and I'll get your pussy ready to fire," the divine customer suggested.

"Sounds good." The barista lifted part of the counter so Harry could step through, and he began idly fingering her slit while she efficiently jerked her dick to orgasm. Of course, the shaft was the one thing where Harry decided he wouldn't compromise with reality, so just like he'd given others, it was a full three feet long.

After a hefty glob of cum dropped into the blender, the barista was just about ready to squirt--Harry made sure the timing would always work out that way--so she held the blender in place and finished the job herself with a little bit of rubbing her clit. Juices streamed out and then it was ready to mix. Harry, of course, was careful to ensure that everything the barista had just squirted was actually from her Skene glands, and not urine. Other customers were welcome to ask for that, and the baristas could easily provide it, of course; he just wasn't about to have it.

Harry walked off with his smoothie after writing into reality that he didn't need to pay for anything. After all, he could've just created it from nothing, and the fact that taking one that already existed would make someone else wait longer for another wasn't his problem. He was more important than anyone else, anyway. He did multiply the barista's bank balance by ten a few times after taking a sip of the smoothie. It was quite good. He idly made sure that she'd keep working there despite having a net worth well in excess of five hundred billion dollars.

Wandering toward where the beach had some volleyball courts set up, he summoned a towel from nothing and lay down next to a man about his same age, maybe just a little older.

The man was clearly attempting not to ogle the four women playing volleyball on the nearest court.

"Eh, go ahead," said Harry. "People wouldn't wear revealing clothing like that if they didn't want people looking." He knew that wasn't true, of course; people often wore such outfits simply to feel good about themselves, or whatever other reasons, and didn't actually want anyone staring as if they were just a sex object. But Harry certainly liked people staring at his titanic dick and the solid musculature he retroactively gave himself, so he made his statement true regardless.

A moment of disorientation passed across the other man's face, then he relaxed and let his eyes trace the bouncing curves of the women's bodies as they jumped and dove for the ball. "Guess you're right," he said. "Paul." He held out a fist and Harry bumped it.

"Harry." Then, "Imagining having one of them in bed tonight?" Harry made no effort to keep his voice from reaching the four women.

"Fit chicks like that?" Paul said. Harry had removed his inhibitions when it came to talking about other people as if they were only good for sex. "Bet any of them could give me a great titfuck, if they had enough up top, anyway." He said it matter-of-factly, as a matter of pure observation, not in any sort of derogatory way.

"And, if we're being honest, if you had a big enough dick to make it worthwhile," Harry pointed out, having made the other man's trunks vanish, revealing his stiff six-inch cock.

"That's true." Harry could tell that Paul wanted to make a self-deprecating joke about his size relative to Harry's, but the divine law against body-shaming prevented even that. Even so, Harry swiftly amended the law so as not to punish negative thoughts about one's own body. "Bet you'd need a really massive pair of boobs to get a good one, though."

"Yeah, though you'd be surprised what this thing can fit in." In truth, nobody would be; people just accepted that, yes, four feet of thigh-thick meat just slid into their butt with no problems.

"Well, anyway, that's what I'd want, if I had more down there and she had more up there," Paul concluded.

"Anything else you'd want them to have?" Harry asked.

"I guess some more junk in the trunk would be nice, as long as it was still muscular," Paul mused. "Wouldn't mind longer hair, either, see it flop around while she bounces her boobs up and down my dick."

Harry nodded. He idly scanned the volleyball players again and noticed that one of them had had her bikini bottom shift slightly out of position; not enough to expose her labia, but enough to show that she had a small bit of pubic hair. Harry, not minding the idea of going down on a woman but not wanting to deal with pubic hair, simply erased the stuff from existence. He imagined anyone giving a blowjob wouldn't much care to get pubes stuck in their teeth, either.

"Guess I wouldn't mind if I could drink some milk from her tits after she's done pleasuring my cock with them. And I know giving those can be rough on someone's back but the musculature needed to avoid that, well, I guess I can dream but not that big."

At the mention of "big", a loud tearing sound boomed across the beach, followed by the ground shaking slightly, and it was only Harry's swift intervention that prevented the area from being flooded by foul gases.

"What was that?" Paul asked.

"Oh, that was my sister. When you've got ass cheeks the size of a house your farts tend to do that sort of thing." Harry didn't really care how true that was; his power just amplified his sister's flatulence to make it true for her. And, of course, Joanne definitely hadn't had ass cheeks the size of a house, but Harry could just make that true, too. He might shrink her back down later, but since his commands ensured that her anatomy would never pose any problems for her, he didn't really see any obligation to do it.

"She's got what?" Paul said.

"Ass cheeks the size of a house," Harry repeated. "Anyway, enjoy your four sex slaves." The omnipotent man stood up, banishing his empty smoothie cup to nothingness, while four women suddenly found themselves significantly curvier and with an irresistible compulsion to pleasure the confused beachgoer who suddenly found himself sporting forty inches of hard wood.

Harry walked down the beach, handing out enhanced assets to everyone he saw. No cock was left shorter than thirty inches; no breast was left smaller than thrice head-sized. Of course, anyone who wasn't cis ended up with their preferred body, within his own limits, and even plenty of people who were more or less cis ended up sporting extra attributes. Harry didn't care whether it was an identity thing or a sex thing or whatever; he'd already gotten rid of any sort of dysphoria and dysmorphia and made it a mortal sin to judge others for what they wanted to have for a body.

Walking back up the beach, Harry was just about finished making it everyone's lucky day when a new man walked in. A quick peek into his mind told Harry that his name was Howard and that he shared his birthday, even the year. Harry grinned a bit.

"What happened here?" he asked as Harry approached him.

"I did," Harry said, making the words explain everything pertinent.

"Oh. So, you going to do something to me, too?" Howard asked.

"Eh, you're my lucky thousandth victim." Harry waved a hand and Howard was naked, displaying his jacked muscles and massive cock to the world. "Congratulations, everyone on this beach who hasn't already been attacked to someone is your property now." Harry had made sure that a few couples he found were in relationships divinely ordained to last, whether of equals or some sort of master-slave thing. But most of the people on the beach were available and Harry decided that Howard could have them.

"Oh. Cool." Howard walked up behind some guy and immediately started reaming his ass, while reaching over and roughly groping a massive boob on some woman nearby. They made no objection, of course; they couldn't. God had decided that they would submit and serve, so submit and serve they did.

With a final thought, Harry turned his eyes to the beach's lifeguard stations. With a thought, he gave the lifeguards currently on duty--two men, three women--the ability to grow into giants along with being able to stretch out their limbs to pluck people from the water, and made it so that anyone they rescued who had gotten into trouble by their own doing--which was the only way to get into trouble in the water, now that Harry had decided that random bad accidents couldn't occur there--would immediately become their property. He also excluded the lifeguards from his gift to Howard, but the man had shown no interest in them anyway.

He didn't bother to set any limits on how tall or how long the lifeguards could make themselves. There was no need. It was simply impossible for anything to go wrong.