Riding the waves.

Now--Keiko was pretty. The face of an angel. Nice slim legs.

But she was never that.

That was not baseball. That accented sultriness? That was rocket science, molted into a coy tee.

And that ass?

She -- Keiko -- was skinny, in good enough shape, nubile. She was never 'thicc'.

"Holy. Holy mackerel." With one hand on his forehead, Lenny soaked in the way he had so transformatively altered someone he at one previous point knew. Not knew knew. But someone who, before, was just a modest, cute girl. Someone that was now a foxy sex-on-legs skank-lite. Someone that he'd greet on evening walks, while her dog tugged her past an irregular bump on the sidewalk.

What did all this have to do with the whole dynamic between Asians and blacks and their perceived statuses in society again? It was all getting kind of lost in translation.

Lenny jumped a little when he found his hand orbiting against the tent in his pants and nearly struck it erupt. He pulled it back, looked down, and stared grimly at his fingers. Then released a deep sigh.

Thus was the moment he'd decided he would like to see that ass.

Ding

Dong

After a few painstaking seconds, the door swung open, and before him stood Keiko. She beamed once she saw Lenny at the porch, in a streak of dejavu. After accepting her invitation inside, they made some small chit-chat. How were the folks, where her parents were, how was school going, what Arnold was up to. Apparently, he was currently asleep, and Yamamoto senior was on a trip up north. Mother's whereabouts were presently unknown.

"But considering how popular she is with her clients, it's just really hard to keep up."

As Keiko lifted a cup of tea to her lips, Lenny tried not to choke on his just ingested dose.

Keiko, however, noticed anyway, and laughed. "Oh, not those kind! At least... I don't think so." Giggle.

Lenny watched her cross a leg over the other and swallowed. Deciding it was time, he made to stand up -- only for Keiko to beat him to the chase as she had him follow her back to the living room, where she showed him a trophy she'd earned in a local dance contest at her school. Though, according to her, it was a bit cliche for her to win top honors for "Best Twerk", she was no less proud of the thing. Very few Asian girls went to her particular college, and she was glad to represent.

Gulping at her sharp, cutely gratified face, Lenny lifted a balled fist to his lips.

"Ahem... Keiko."

"Hm?"

"Uh-heh... you know what... I think I just lost my train of thought." When she flitted her eyes up to face him, Lenny was relieving an apparently pesky itch just above his left brow.

Suddenly boasting a seductive smile, Keiko looked around conspiratorially. Then she leaned forward to confer to him a whisper evoked for purely aesthetic purposes. "Hey. Mr. Fogsworth. Check this out..."

She took a step away from him. Then she moved her feet so she was facing opposite his person. She let down her arms, and took her fingers to the bottom of her skirt, and clutched as she tugged it upward.

"All those rumors about yellow booty..." She raised her brows suggestively. "...do you think my Asian ass lives up to the hype?"

Lenny gulped, face to face with the thick, nearly bare, smackable bottom of a girl whose ass previous was nowhere close to what she had on her today. Something she had had, presumably all her life up until that point, now supplanted by what was supposedly naturally, organically before him in an augmented, powerfully dick hardening show.

"H...how old are you again?"

"Nineteen," Keiko smiled. She cast her eyes down to look at the same glowing trove of glory that Lenny was just trying to absorb. "You, Mr. Fogsworth?"

Actual, real life biology: check.

Cultural perceptions: also check. (He still hadn't really conducted deeper research on that. Maybe he should.)

Meanwhile, Lenny was still rubbing the images out of his temples.

Those hips.

Those HIPS! If Keiko had those, what of her mom, Risa? Or all the other Asian women he knew. He shuddered a little. Oh, the bliss. Oh, the agony.

This was clearly a bit overboard, having really surpassed the original conceit of transmuting a stereotype from one group of people to another. He was just considering dialing it down when he remembered a baby shower party he and his wife attended, hosted by a friend of hers. Said friend was from Singapore, if he remembered correctly, and while pretty, like Keiko, she was not exactly carrying a man-slaying rump, that looked practically built-in with an extra layer of gravity-defying fat. Neither did any of her cousins and extended family and family friends which took part in the party -- except for Freya, she was a straight up bombshell. However, with one look at a Facebook photo, the same one he remembered being pointed to by his wife a few days after the shower, featuring all of the host's family and most of the other party guests collected for one unanimous group photo, he found his eyes going silly another time.

Instead of the previous picture, which was identical except a few "glaring" differences (on which will be now elaborated), all of the Singaporean and Chinese women in this photo were packing TITS and ASS that basically pushed against their dresses like jarheads in the cheek of a 5-year-old. He could've sworn some of those dresses were also not nearly that short, and one girl, who he recognized as the daughter of a priest, was even sporting a top that practically bared half of each creamy, spherical boob on her chest.

This photo had just been transformed into a retinue of smoking hot oriental chicks, and as far as Lenny knew, none of them were the type to go on catwalks or get implants. They were academics, -ologists, -iatrists, and nurses. They were family of friends and friends of friends of family.

"And now they all get asses you could bounce as many quarters off of as your mind could allow." Shaking his head, Lenny found himself growing steadily erect at the sight. Something about altering all these women, all these people, felt... weirdly intoxicating. Empowering. Agonizingly hot.

After drinking his last fruit shake of the day, jerking off into a towel, and falling into his mattress like a winged Cupid onto a roaming cloud, he subconsciously began a new checklist for a new, impending day.