Mermaids

I deferred the decision by taking him in my mouth and gliding my scarlet lips down the length of his shaft. I had grown adept over the weeks at taking him all the way, even into my throat.

When I married my ex, all those years before, I had been a virgin, almost entirely unschooled in the ways of sex. Simply spreading my legs for him had been terrifying, and his determination to fuck my breasts had seemed perverse and had left me silently humiliated. By the time of our first anniversary, it had all become mundane and frankly tedious. Not until meeting my secret lover, years later, did I truly have a sexual awakening. I had the first orgasm of my life in a bathroom cubicle, my tongue in his mouth, his fingers against my clit. I couldn't get enough of him.

Never once did I imagine I would one day be on my knees worshipping Henri Duchamp's cock, and considering whether to sell myself to him, body and soul. To be not merely his possession, his sex toy, but his willing whore.

But as I fucked my mouth with his cock, my hands massaging my cum-soaked breasts, all I could think was how desperately I wanted him in my cruelly neglected cunt.

I paused briefly to say, "Okay," then resumed my efforts, until rewarded with an eruption from his wildly thrashing cock.

*

It started, naturally, with a new corset. This one bound me from above my waist all the way down, tapering to a point beyond my toes. It was tighter too, my waist having been visibly narrowed by the silver corset. The scarlet brocade and black lacing was exquisite, but I was quite unable to use or even touch the lower half of my body.

I was given a wheelchair to use, to get around. It had a protuberance in the seat, resembling a little a misshapen dildo. It slotted into my corset at the rear and pressed against my crotch. "It serves a double purpose," the corsetiere said. "It takes away your urine, if you need to pee. The other, well... you'll find out quickly enough."

As indeed I did. As soon as I rolled the chair forward, driving the big wheels with arms unaccustomed to such effort, I screamed at the sudden penetration of my vagina. It was the surprise more than anything that forced the cry from my lips; having a cock drive into your most intimate place without any warning at all is inevitably a shock, no matter how much you've been praying for exactly that.

The corsetiere was trying not to laugh as I sat there gasping. It wasn't painful. Indeed, it was a very welcome penetration, but it was so unexpected and the rush of sensation had me squirming ineffectually within my new corset. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment under the corsetiere's amused gaze.

"I'll take you to lunch now," she said, and guided my chair through the corridors to the staff canteen. She hadn't given me any other clothes, but I soon stopped caring that my breasts were on full display, because the movement of the chair itself was driving the dildo into me. With each step she took, the wheels turned and the dildo thrust tirelessly into me, filling me again, again, again, giving my too long neglected cunt the treatment it had been craving.

Even as we reached the canteen, my body yielded to that possibility. I tried not to show the convulsions that were wracking my flesh, but it must have been clear to all, the way my breasts magnified even the slightest tremble.

With so many eyes on me, more than ever I felt like a zoo exhibit: The Greater Breasted Slut, perhaps.

*

The humiliation of not being able to move about - to go to the canteen, or to visit Henri, or to just get the hell out of the cramped cupboard I called my room - without subjecting myself to a rhythmic pounding from an unfeeling dildo was offset somewhat by the awkward pleasure I derived from that same rhythmic pounding. The funny thing was how quickly it all started to seem normal, as if a corseted woman being fucked by her wheelchair (while on her way to meet her owner, who would come all over her huge breasts before penetrating her scarlet-lipped mouth) could be anything other than utterly surreal.

Somehow in the space of a year I had evolved from a perfectly normal bored and faithful wife into the sexual plaything of a perverted billionaire. Being bathed in cum had become an almost daily occurrence. I hadn't touched my clit in months, and indeed had only glimpsed my pussy twice in that time, despite which (or, really, because of which) I was almost constantly horny.

Any anger at how I had been enslaved and transformed into a helpless slut, corseted and kept in chastity, exposed in public too, had been washed away by arousal and more orgasms than I could count. I might have wished the cock fucking me with every spin of my wheels were real flesh and blood, driven by hot desire and not cold machinery, but it served its purpose well.

I only wished I had extra arms, so that I might both drive the wheels and attend to my breasts, sucking on my nipples as that dildo thumped into my ever eager cunt.

But Henri wasn't finished with me yet. "Do you remember this?" he said, taking a blue box from his safe, the very same box I had once tried to steal. He showed me the vial of intensely blue liquid, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "This is the product of decades of research and millions of dollars. In fact, you could say I even built this whole zoo from nothing just to have somewhere to test this. I even bought you."

I gulped. "Me?"

"You. Yes. When I heard about the attempted theft, I feared the worst, that everything was lost, but then I saw you and knew you would be perfect."

I knew it was pointless to resist him, but his words terrified me. "What will that do to me?"

"It will make all who see you adore you..."

*

It was the last corset I would ever wear, and it wasn't made of silk and steel. In fact, I had no idea what it was made of. The corsetiere suspended me by my arms, naked within a nest of spitting cobras - or industrial robots, anyway, that spat gels of various colours at my skin.

Within minutes I was covered in a translucent, many-hued second skin from just below my breasts down to the tips of my toes. "Keep still," the corsetiere had said, but as a second layer was added to the first, and then a third, the choice to move was gradually taken away from me. As the gel set, it tightened until it hugged me as firmly as the corset ever had.

The outline of my legs and feet faded within a tapering form. Just as the weight of my body grew unbearable, I was gripped at the waist by rubber pads, and lifted high up. The robots kept working, however, building my new body squirt by squirt.

Until I was looking down at what was unmistakably the lower body of a mermaid, dull red in colour. The ultimate latex fetish costume. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Of course Henri Duchamp the mermaid fucker had turned me into a mermaid. How had that not been obvious from the beginning.

Arielle the mermaid. How very fucking poetic.

The rubber pads at my waist carried me across the workshop and lowered me into a tank of water. The liquid buoyed me up, taking away my weight, and I rested for a long while, clinging to the edge for support.

The corsetiere was reading a number of diagnostic displays. "It's working really well," she said. "I don't think there will be any complications."

"You mean apart from the obvious?"

She laughed. "Part of me is envious," she said, "but, yes, I wouldn't like to spend my life being stared at by strangers."

I groaned. My thoughts hadn't reached that far yet. "I mean, how am I supposed to swim? I can hardly move in this thing."

She smiled. "Trust me, Arielle. This time tomorrow you'll be swimming like a fish."

*

My body was on fire. For hours. It was exhausting just to be alive. Perhaps being immersed in water was the only thing that stopped me spontaneously combusting. For the first time since Henri Duchamp bought me from my husband and forced me into chastity, I lasted a whole night without thinking about sex once. It was morning before the burning in my flesh eased up, and then I drifted into a state of semi-consciousness.

When at last I awoke, I was startled to see that the dull red of my lower body had blossomed into bright scarlet with traces of gold. My hands traced the outlines of gills where my thighs should be, and somehow my scales were sensitive to that touch, as if this weren't merely a rubber suit but in fact a part of me.

And I could move! In ways I found difficult to understand, for I had no obvious knees but rather a more serpentine flexibility, and my tail - too far away to be my feet! - flashed with gold as I waved it powerfully through the water.

That gentle caress across my new skin stirred a familiar arousal, and my nipples hardened in response. The temptation to bring them to my mouth and suck on them, as I had done so often before, I resisted. The corsetiere was next to the tank, watching me curiously. "How do you feel?"

"Strangely good," I said. "Restless."

She nodded. "Eat first, then we'll move you to the aquarium."

I nodded, taking the bowl of bland yoghurt from her and wolfing it down.

The tank was transported up through a hatch in the roof by a crane, and for a few minutes I had a bird's eye view of the zoo below through the glass walls of the tank, before being lowered gently into the aquarium, the abrupt change in temperature making me shiver for a moment.

But then I was free - free, of course, being relative. I had never swum before in my life, but I took to it like a fish to water, exploring the artificial reef and its multitude of inhabitants, a rainbow of colours.

I saw the windows where the zoo's visitors stood watching, many pointing excitedly at me - which was a new experience. I was more used to mockery than delight. Ignoring them, I searched for the sunken galleon, and found it by the scent of rotting timber.

But there was another scent in the water, an elusive one that tugged at my attention. She found me before I found her. Rachel, the mermaid, swimming around me with an easy grace I was yet to master. Her scent was divine. It made me want to capture her and hold her and taste her. Just the thought of it made my clit throb with urgency.

I had never before lusted after women, and had ridiculed this particular one for being Henri Duchamp's big-breasted mermaid sex toy, but now I was almost dizzy with lust for her. It wasn't just my body that Henri had transformed.

She darted away and I raced after, determined to catch her and excited beyond measure at the thought. The water caressed my aching nipples, both soothing them and stoking the fire of my need.

It was strange and liberating to be the pursuer, instead of the passive slut I had been reduced to for months. I could smell her arousal in the water too, and knew she was leading me somewhere, not escaping me.

*

In the privacy of his personal state-of-the-art communications suite, Henri Duchamp watched as the AI collected and sorted data streams from hundreds of robotic eyes and other sensors embedded in the aquarium. A 3D projection of the two mermaids, almost in real time, filled the centre of the room, two creatures of stunning beauty and the product of a life-time's work.

Rachel had been a success, but Arielle was his masterpiece. His transformation of her had begun the moment he bought her from her shamed husband. The enlarged breasts had just been the obvious change. Far more major had been the sensory network within her flesh and the transmitters that even now relayed every touch to the computers around him.

"Calibration complete," a voice said, and Henri smiled as he slipped naked into the VR suit. Already he was hard with anticipation.

*

To an island she led me, barely more than a rock but well shielded from the public. We emerged together, treading water face-to-face. "You must be Arielle," she said.

I nodded. "And you are Rachel."

She smiled and moved closer. "It's so nice not be alone. The only company I've had for three years has been Henri. The sex is great, but I'm just a toy for him really."

"Me too," I said. "He had me in corsets and chastity for months."

Rachel laughed. "Explains that hourglass figure of yours." She brought her hands to my waist and pulled me closer, until our huge breasts were squashed together.

"God I want to kiss you," I said, and pulled her closer still until lips were pressed against lips. Right then, I didn't care who or what she was, I was just so happy to have someone to kiss, someone clearly as hungry for me as I was for her. And she tasted sublime.

I could feel her pressing against my clit, rubbing against it, and I thrust it against her rhythmically as we kissed, until it occurred to us both that something was wrong. "What the hell?" she said, breaking away from me, and we both sank beneath the surface for a clear view.

My clit - if you could call it that - projected out and forward, almost like a cock, from the slit where my new pussy was. Rachel swam down for a closer look, and after a moment's hesitation wrapped her lips about it and sucked gently. The pleasure was so intense I climaxed almost immediately, and thrashed wildly within her grip as she continued sucking on my clit, until at long last my convulsions eased and my clit diminished in size.

"Wow," she said with a peal of laughter as we returned to the surface. "That's an added bonus..."

"That was amazing," I said, once I could speak again. "Thank you."

Rachel grinned. "You can thank me by using it the way God intended - or Henri, if there's a difference."

We kissed for a while, and I soon felt the hunger stirring again. I kissed her breasts and sucked on her engorged nipples, and gradually worked my way down to the slit with its intoxicating aroma of her arousal. I buried my nose her, drinking up that rich organic fluid, swirled my tongue about her clit, and could deny myself no longer.

My own clit was erect once more. She helped me guide it into her, and with our tails thrusting powerfully at the water she fucked my clit with her pussy as hard as I fucked her pussy with my clit.

It was a surreal experience to be fucking while fully submerged, to be fucking her as if I were a man when so clearly neither of us was entirely human any more. We kissed as we fucked, and tugged and pinched at each other's nipples as if it were an endurance contest. But mostly my focus was on how good her pussy felt as I thrust my clit deep into her. I continued pounding it into her even as I felt her convulsing within my arms, my own climax building steadily, and it was with her mouth against mine that I reached the summit, and she held me tightly to her as I convulsed through a long, intense orgasm.

*

Henri sighed, very satisfied indeed. He had had the pleasure of Rachel many times, but never like this. He had been able to feel the air and water, every kiss and every caress, the sweetness of Rachel's pussy as his cock thrust into her.

"Replay," he instructed, and moments later her lips were wrapped again about his cock, sucking with real enthusiasm. This time his climax matched Arielle's, and her convulsions matched the pulsing emissions of his cock.