Ariel longed to be a real woman, not a monstrous half aquatic creature. She spent her days sitting on a rock with her seashell comb, letting the water lap at her tail, leaving its salt crust on her nethers. She watched the fish play and quietly detested their scaly backs and the fins that resembled her own.
Occasionally she'd catch sight of a boat, and she couldn't help rushing to it and swimming along side, even with the danger of violent men who, when they spotted her, attempted to net or harpoon her every time. They just couldn't leave her alone, thought the half-woman. Did they notice or care that their parts might not match her parts? Not a bit. She was all fish down below. They saw her breasts and lips, her long hair, and they desired her. She desired them as well, but not as a creature. She longed for them as a woman who would go with them and live among them in their houses. (She had no concept of marriage or fidelity). She wondered what it would be like to have sex like a human.
Sitting on her rock, she traced the scar from one of those encounters with a finger. A harpoon had grazed her waist and left a long red line, which gradually healed into a long white line. It hardly made her more cautious. She was young, desperate, invincible.
Every few months Ursula would come around, offering a date, a kiss, a feel, anything at all for the lovely Ariel. Ursula had charms of her own- a beautiful young face, long dark hair, a gracile figure with pert little breasts. Nothing like the Disney version at all. But Ariel had no interest in the hideousness below the waist. Eight tentacles, each more disgusting than the next, substituted for fins or legs. What else lay in that region, Ariel refused to even speculate upon.
Ursula would make her offer, be rebuffed in an unkind manner, and then jet off back to her own business, followed by her lamprey lackeys.
But eventually, her desire for Ariel bred a plan within her devious mind. She would kidnap the minx, and have her way. If Ariel had any sort of brain, she's see how eight tentacles were a vast improvement over what those men carried around with them.
That summer, during a bout of lazy sun basking, Ariel felt something brush her fin. She looked down and saw a pesky crab, which she flicked into the sea. Just then, she felt tentacles crawl across her skin. Inexorable, powerful. There was one around her eyes, blinding her to her captor, and another around her waist. She was dragged off her rock and down under the sea, enduring a painful scraping as she went. She fought back, thrashing (can we say like a fish out of water- no probably not), thrashing like a gut speared sturgeon.
A tentacle began to search for her mouth. She could not imagine anything more disgusting than having that slimy limb invade her. She tasted nothing but salty brine, but somehow more piquant than the ocean water she breathed, as the thing made its way past her lips, then touched the back of her throat to elicit her gag. Ursula's friends, the two lampreys, each latched onto one of Ariel's nipples and dug in their teeth. She cried at the sharp pains, and tried to beg for release, but her mouth was stretched by the tentacle, and she could barely make sounds.
Ursula whispered then in her ear "Submit to me, my love, and I will grant you one wish, for I am a witch."
Ariel could not submit. She didn't have it in her. She only had fight. She used her hands to try to pry the tentacle from her mouth, and then her waist, but it was useless. Ursula was much, much stronger.
Yet another tentacle found its way to her wrist, encircled and held it painfully tight. The other wrist was pinned in the same way.
"Submit", she heard again, low and seductive. Ariel flapped her fin ineffectually.
She felt a reaching and groping toward her one opening down below. Arms pinned, mouth stuffed, breasts in agony, all she could do was wait in terror for what she suspected Ursula was up to now.
As it entered her she felt the suction cups sliding over a sensitive spot and felt the first jolt of pleasure. She tried to block it out, as just too horrible to imagine, getting pleasure from this thing, this rape.
"Submit" she heard again, and this time her body relaxed itself, almost against her will. It was hypnotic, the witch's voice.
"Submit". And she did. The fight left her, her fin hung wretchedly straight down below her and her eyes rolled in her head. The tentacles squeezed and pumped at her. One was around her neck now, stopping her breath. She felt more jolts of pleasure that did not stop until she blacked out.
When she woke up, she felt colder than she ever had in her life. And she felt wet. All over. She was on a beach of sand, thinking she could not remember ever having felt wet before, it had always just been her state, unnoticed. But now she felt distinctly cold and wet. And more than a bit slippery. Especially down... below... between her legs.
Ursula. Her wish. Legs. It all floated through her memory like a long, suckered appendage.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
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