Poor spellcasting turns both Stella and her boyfriend into mermaids. Explicit.
Michael opened the door to his Santa Monica apartment and found candles strewn across the counters and tables. Curled runes written on sheets of printer paper were stuck to the wall with masking tape.
'Not again,' he thought.
"Stella? Are you casting a spell?" he called. He dropped his messenger bag next to the door and took a few steps toward the hall. Stella stepped out of her studio, with two more sheets of paper in her hands and a roll of masking tape around her wrist.
"It's almost ready," she said, flashing her boyfriend a smile as she passed by. With a creak of tape, she tore off enough to stick up the last two runes on either side of their TV. Stella took a seat on the sofa, then looked up at Michael expectantly.
Michael walked up behind the couch and leaned on its back. "I thought you said after the vacuum cleaner nonsense you weren't going to cast spells."
She rolled her head back, so that she was looking at him upside-down. "I've been practicing. Just small stuff, but I haven't messed up again. This isn't even a dangerous spell, it's not going to go...'vacuum cleaner'." She gave him an upside-down smile and reached up to scratch his neatly-trimmed blonde beard. "Besides, this is a spell for you."
Michael had to admit, he was intrigued. Still he felt like he had to be the voice of reason. He was a 'chill and whatever' kind of guy, but his girlfriend was actually, literally, a witch. By default, he had to be the grounded one in their relationship.
Michael sat down in the seat next to Stella, and they naturally leaned toward each other until their shoulders touched.
"I really appreciate it, but you know you don't need magic to be my girlfriend," he said, then smiled the sort of smile that could melt a hipster's heart. He meant it, too. He'd wanted to go out with the cute, slightly-dorky graphic designer before he knew she was a witch too. She hadn't even dropped the magic-bomb on them until they got serious.
"We've got the candles," said Michael. "How about just a romantic night instead?"
"I'm planning to make it romantic," Stella said. She raised her eyebrows and she gestured at the runes and candles. "This spell's going to turn me into your fantasy woman."
Michael shook his head and put an arm around her shoulder. "You don't need a spell to be my fantasy."
Stella slapped his chest with the backs of her fingers. "Don't be corny. I could be prettier."
But that wasn't the point, was it? He didn't want the prettiest person, he wanted Stella. The girl with the pixie-cut blonde hair, who wanted to look both cute and professional, who was still trying to find her identity beyond being the daughter of her New Age hippy parents. (Who were also a witch and wizard. But they lived up in Nor Cal, so he hadn't met them yet.)
If Stella was some perfect woman, she wouldn't have the snorting laugh that made him giggle or the little tapered corners on her ears, or any of the little weird things he'd grown to like about her. Being a witch was probably the hardest trait of hers to deal with, and that was just because she was kind of bad at magic.
Michael said, "Okay, fine, it's conceivable that you could look prettier. But I don't care about that, I love you because you're you. I care about your hobbit ears more than I care about how pretty you are." He planted a teasing kiss on her ear.
"Hey, they're elf ears, mister," Stella said, pushing Michael's shoulder. They tumbled onto the couch together, and soon were embroiled in a mock wrestling bout. It ended when Stella put her hands together on Michaels's chest and laid her chin on top of her hands, like some contemplative sphinx. She'd lost her glasses in the tussle, now laying on the floor.
"I know you don't need it," she said, "but I want to do this. It's a gift I wanted to give you, just for a little while. But if you don't want me to, I won't cast the spell."
Oh no, his weakness. Whenever she put a decision in his hands, it was painfully hard to take the route that disappointed Stella. Being stern or strict went against every fiber of his chill dude nature, so if she really wanted it...
"Okay, fine. But before you cast it--you've got the counterspell, right?" he asked.
Stella flipped through a few pages of a printed-out set of instructions. "Right here. Come on, I learned my lesson from the vacuum cleaner thing."
Michael nodded. "Right," he said, though he didn't quite believe she had. "Go ahead and cast it then. Do I need to stay here or can I get a drink?
"Just stay there," Stella said. She rose off the couch and knelt before the coffee table. The ingredients waited for mixing in a mortar and pestle in the middle of the table. She ground them down, until the crunch-crunch of grains of spice became a soft pff of powder. With a tap of her finger, she tipped the mortar over the big candle on the table, and the mixture went up in a reddish flame.
"Can I get a drink now?" Michael asked.
"Yeah, all done with the hard part," she said. As he got up to go to the fridge, she stood up and shook out her hands and feet like she was about to go running. Michael realized her zip-up hoodie and sweat pants weren't just stay-at-home laziness--she'd been getting ready for a change.
As he was pouring water from the pitcher in the fridge, Michael felt the prickle along his neck. It was a sensation he'd gotten used to, all his hairs tugging in one direction, pulled by some invisible static balloon. It's what magic felt like as it was passing through him.
"I'm getting a bit of the tingly," he told Stella. Michael walked back to the coffee table and took a big sip of water. The hairs stood up on his palm as he wiggled his fingers.
"Oh. That's weird. It should only be working on me," Stella said.
Michael set his glass down. "No, no 'that's weird'. The vacuum cleaner started out with 'that's weird'. If this spell isn't working right you need to stop it right o-ohHH!" A quiver rolled from his knees to his chest and he collapsed back into the couch. It was such a sudden shock, it seemed the floor had dropped out from underneath him.
"I can't stop it in the middle of the spell. Let's keep cool. There's two things that could have happened..." Stella trailed off. She looked at him, swiping her fingertips across her eyebrow. Her hair drifted down lower, sliding from her temples to her cheeks as if she hadn't gotten a haircut in a month or so. Michael might not have caught it if he he wasn't watching for some change, waiting to see the magic.
"Well, what two things?" he asked. Magic doodled around his back, dancing from limb to limb, felt in the bristle of the hairs on his body. A touch reached his stomach, and the energy trickled through his skin, deep into his core. The magic flowed into him and then spread outward, making him arch his back. A groan left his lips. His fingertips retreated across the couch cushions. His thighs pressed together.
"Number one: you're also turning into your dream girl," Stella said. She had always had pale skin, between the Irish and German and whatever else ran in her family like magic did. But now a warm tan inched its way across her skin. Was that really a part of his fantasy? "Or number two:" Stella continued, "You're turning into my dream girl."
Michael bit his lip. Staying calm was a fine idea, but he'd never been transfigured before. His heartbeat made him feel like he was shaking. A pair of warm, invisible hands gripped his hips and pushed, pressing outward. With more slender fingers, he fumbled at his belt buckle. The waistband dug into his widening hips, until he managed to loose the buckle and pop open the button. His thighs spread until there was a small gap between them at the very top.
"Oh, man," Stella said under her breath. She leaned on the side of their armchair. As she did, her lengthening hair draped forward, lending her a gently wild look. Her roots were dark and darkening, and as she scooped her hair back and pushed it out of her face, new, rich browns trickled toward her tips. "Transfiguration isn't usually so intense."
Michael's chin felt cold. He reached up to where his beard had been and brushed his fingers across softening peach fuzz. The tips of his hair tickled his brow and he swept it aside, then paused. He turned his hands over. Well-kept nails, almost polished, with just a sliver of a white tip showing.
"Stella," he said. His voice sounded like he was seventeen again. Michael massaged the front of his throat, stubble-free and without an adam's apple. "Stella, get the counterspell ready," he said.
Stella's mouth hung open slightly, her softer lips parted. She held onto the chair while she panted. It took her a moment, blinking her darkening eyes, before she seemed to hear him. "Yeah--yeah, I'm getting it," she said. She knelt in front of the table and pulled the papers in front of her..
Why was she so distracted? His heart fluttered and colors flickered outside of their borders for a moment. Stars popped in front of his eyes. A force pulled upward from inside his body. He pressed his hands together between his legs. Something was swelling, but it wasn't an erection. Shifting from side to side in his seat, he pushed his pants down. Shirt and boxers were all he still had on..
The heat swirled up and outward, following the new path of his hips. He was glowing already, even with his hand an inch from the fabric of his boxers. His fingers fell. There was still a mound between his legs, but no shaft, just soft, swollen folds and a jolt so hard it knocked his knees apart.
"Oh my god," he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers were on their own. They slipped underneath his boxers and ran his fingertips along his new labia. His toes curled. A heat was there already; this just made it worse. He felt feverish, almost delirious. His hips rolled upward, and he made a groan in the back of his throat.
Stella puffed, blowing a strand of inky brown from her face. Despite her tan, he could tell that she was blushing. "Not so easy to concentrate, huh?" she said. Her face looked softer, smoother. He wanted to lean against her cheek and close his eyes and drift off.
"I'm a girl!" Michael said, hazy-eyed, fingering himself. His knees were too weak to stand, his back too arched to sit up. He looked down at his free hand, at the natural tan that would have clashed with his blonde hair. He grabbed a lock of hair to look at, staring at the long, smooth brown pouring through his fingers. He dropped it back to his shoulders.
For something to focus on, Michael tried to make a mental inventory of what was happening to Stella. Her eyes, a light brown that shimmered as she read. Her hair, darkening past brown, spilling onto her back. Her skin, a darker tan than his. Her body, slimmer maybe--the hoodie and track pants hid her figure, but they sat better on her shoulders and across her waist. Her lips, rounded, parted, and gently flushed.
That was as far as he got. His fingers found their way between his folds, into his pussy. His hips floated above the couch while his head sunk into the pillows. His free hand went to his shirt's buttons and started undoing them as fast as he could gropethrough the fabric. His body was pulsing, and he felt every brush of flannel against his tender nipples.
His breath rose; his gasps came tighter and tighter. Those invisible hands pressed his waist inward, a gentle tuck. He was left feeling almost concave. Michael shoved the shirt off of his chest, letting it hang from his shoulders instead. His chest was swelling. Because of the way his fingering lit up his body, his nipples stuck out into the air.
"Stella," he groaned, sounding more needy than anything else. She leaned back from the table and started to unzip her hoodie. He rolled his head to look at her and watched her peel the fabric back, exposing her larger, but still modest, natural breasts. He had never been one for the huge look, thankfully.
"I think we're mixing," Stella said, though her voice came from far back in her throat. "Your fantasy's horny."
Michael rocked his head and made a weak noise of disagreement. "No...horny's definitely your fantasy." His voice was completely different. He made the same sounds, but they came out higher, with more breath, and with a hint of a moan. Invisible hands pressed in against his face, remolding it into smoother shape. A rounder brow and softer chin, his eyebrows arched and cheekbones tugged. His facial muscles pulled in strange new ways as he opened his eyes and blinked and spread his lips and moaned.
His chest rolled forward slowly, more weight, sagging gently. He was outpacing Stella. He reached out to cup his breasts, to cradle them in his arm. His other arm was draped tightly over his stomach. Buried between his legs, his fingers stroked away.
Stella, who didn't look like Stella at all, but instead some slender, naturally-tanned beauty, kicked off her track pants. They were the last bit of her clothing. "Geez," she said, looking at him, chewing on her thick lip as her fingers rubbed along her thighs.
Michael only managed to squeak out a few vague words before his brain came crashing back into his skull and sparks of static popped in front of his eyes and he slumped down against the sofa. His legs quivered. The inside of his body spasmed a few times, making him curl his hips. He was tired, dizzy, satisfied, and now, a woman.
"Michael," Stella said. Even though her voice was different, it wasn't unfamiliar. Somehow, behind the sultry tone, she still spoke like herself.
Michael's head lolled to the side. Stella kissed her neck and wrapped her arms around her waist. She and her. Something about the magic had to be making this easy, Michael thought. Something was dulling her shock. Or maybe that was just the arousal overriding her judgement.
"Michael, come on. I want you to see," Stella said. She pulled Michael from the sofa with an arm under her waist. With her girlfriend's shoulder to lean on, Michael let her lead the way into their bedroom, where among the mess of clothes and mismatched sheets, there was a full-length closet mirror.
Michael could see the resemblance that came from their merged fantasies. They both had richly tanned skin and dark complexions, long hair, and slender bodies. Partly because they were so similar, their differences stood out--Stella's tan was a bit redder, her lips rounder and puffier, her eyes brown and her hair nearly black. Michael was the taller one, curvier, with more of a bust and more hips and a more gently angular face. His hair was mahogany brown, and her eyes were black.
Michael was staring into someone's face that wasn't her own and watching them replicate every little move. She turned away, wrinkling her nose slightly. Her nose bumped into Stella's. Stella's lips pressed against her own and they sunk into a kiss that lingered until Michael pulled herself back. It took a serious force of will just to part their lips.
"Stella," she said. Her hands found her girlfriend's hips. "The counter-spell." She was so soft, Michael couldn't help trailing her hands up along her sides. Stella's eyes swam hazily and her mouth hung half-open. She must've been feeling that lust. The shine of her lips drew Michael back toward her.
"No. Not until I get to have fun too," Stella said.They were so close, Michael could feel the heat pouring off of Stella's cheeks. She raised her arms and pushed against Michael's shoulders. Michael slipped down onto her knees.
Michael would have protested, but her body was aching so hard that she'd do anything to press up against Stella again. Even if it meant putting off the counterspell. She wrapped her arms around Stella's legs and pressed herself against her girlfriend's thighs. Warm, soft tan against tan, gently damp with sweat. Even the air conditioning couldn't cool them off now.
With watering lips, Michael looked at Stella's pussy. She'd never wanted to eat her out more than she did right now. That was definitely from Stella's fantasy--she wanted a pretty girl to go down on her. But knowing why she felt that way didn't stop Michael from having that feeling. Michael let out a small, flushed squeak before leaning forward.
Stella's thighs tightened. She threaded her fingers through Michael's long hair and cradled her head. If she tried to say something, it got stuck in her throat, coming out as a croak and then a gasp.
Her instincts told Michael to spread Stella's folds with two fingers, to turn her head just like so, to curl her tongue like this. She didn't reflect on her newfound skill. Her hand had found its way between her legs again. Michael puffed softly, taking breaths of air between lapping at her girlfriend's pussy. Her hips rolled with a slow thrusting motion, even though the only thing she had to grind against were her own fingers.
In the hot, shuddering press of Stella's thighs against her cheeks and the uneasy moans coming from her as she bucked, Michael felt almost at home. It was the same comfort as when she'd lie in bed with Stella and cuddling grew into groping and then lapsed into spooning and turned into playful grinding. Yes, she was a girl now, and she was eating out her girlfriend, and they were both in the bodies of gorgeous, exotic women they'd never met. Despite all the differences, there was nothing quite like the tremor, the gasps, the chills of being entangled with someone she cared about.
Stella had been sitting up, but now she sprawled back on the bed. With one arm curled around her side, she held Michael as tight against her pussy as she could with each roll of her hips. Her free hand roamed over her chest. Stella groped and squeezed her breasts, then rubbed along the swell of her stomach.
Michael felt close to orgasm from her own fingering, but her mind wouldn't let her focus on that. She couldn't stop her tongue, couldn't stop thinking about the best way to wring pleasure out of Stella. Stella's fantasy girl was dedicated to pleasing her partner. Her fingers were wet, but she couldn't break her horny focus on Stella's folds.
Stella's feet curled and her toes spread. Michael's pussy was swollen and tender to the touch, but she kept working away at herself, despite her better judgement telling her to stop. A sudden rush came over her. She was off balance, her whole body clenching, dripping on the floor in the throes of her climax. Michael spread her legs wide. Her hips cocked to the side and her cheek leaned against one of Stella's thighs. She moaned against Stella's pussy. Sparks popped in front of her eyes and she was about to collapse. Her orgasm left her hot and shuddering but still rooted between Stella's legs.
Stella arched her back, propped up on her arms. From her vantage point, Michael saw her stomach flexing, her breasts spread back, and the light sheen of sweat against her dark skin. Michael lifted her arms and wrapped her hands around Stella's thighs, squeezing. Her hands stroked along smooth, scaly patches on Stella's legs, but she had no time to think about that. The only care in her mind right now was getting her girlfriend to climax.
The skills the spell gave her didn't steer her wrong. It wasn't even a minute before her nimble tongue drew out a sharp, desperate squeal from Stella and her body took over. Michael rode it out between her legs, her mind awash in afterglow and her pounding heartbeat.
Stella stayed sprawled on the bed as she trailed off into her own warm glow. Her thighs relaxed, letting Michael go. She crawled up on the bed next to Stella. Michael had to keep her legs spread just an inch; she'd been a little too rough on herself in the heat of the moment. She curled her arms around Stella, and Stella draped her arms over Michael's shoulders.
Though their bodies were entirely different, they fit together the way they always had while spooning. It was strange, like slipping into a new pair of clothes that fit as if they'd worn them for years. The closeness was reassuring. They were still themselves, still in love, no matter what they looked like right now.
Stella turned her head toward Michael. "I want to go again," she said, out of breath.
Michael shook her head and pulled Stella closer. Stella cocked her head slightly and leaned in to kiss her. Those feelings were welling up inside of Michael again, all that excitement and desire. Forget the aches, they said. Have more fun. She had enough self-control to give her new pussy some rest, but Michael still sunk into the kiss with Stella, squeezing against her lover.
With a twist of her hips, Stella rolled over so that she was facing Michael fully. She pulled free from the kiss with a small, steamy pant. "I love your breasts," she said, rolling her fingertips over Michael's nipples. Her knees twitched and she groaned.
"S-Stella," she said, trying to keep hold of her thoughts when they were filled with wanting to bask here with her girlfriend.
"Shh...Michelle," she said, a finger to her mouth. She winked Michael pouted.
"That's not my name," she said. "I'm still--"
Stella ran her fingers over Michael's nipples again. "It fits you now. Besides, it's you I love, not your name."
A few long seconds of consideration ticked by. Michelle nodded. Maybe it was the magic again, making her willing to go along with this. Even if it was, she didn't mind. "All right," she said.
"Now, Michelle," Stella said. A playful grin crossed her lips. Stella leaned down, taking Michelle's chest in her hands. She pressed her lips to one of her stiff nipples. With flicks of her tongue and gentle nips, Stella made her body light up. The tightness grew between her legs again, the hot feeling that dragged her thoughts down and focused them on her pussy.
Michelle was still recovering, though. To keep her hands away from her tender folds, she reached for Stella's chest, cupping her breasts and just kneading softly, almost distractedly. Her toes flexed, like she was pawing at the sheets.
From Stella's throat came a low 'mmm' of delight. After a minute she pulled back, raising her head, looking up into Michelle's eyes.
"Your hands feel weird," she said. The two were still wrapped in the haze of desire. Michelle had no idea what Stella meant. Stella took one of Michelle's arms by the wrist and pulled it up between them so that they could both see. Thin arches of webbed skin connected each of her fingers, small but unmistakable, especially when she spread her hand and the webbing stretched tight.
"What?" Michelle asked, in a daze. So hard to think when all she really wanted to do was to entwine herself with Stella. "What!?" she said a little louder, sitting up, looking at both her hands. They matched, the same subtle webbing between her fingers.
Stella huffed softly as she propped herself up. "Okay, that's not from my fantasy," she said.
Michelle's cheeks flushed a darker tan as she tried to sort out just what the spell had picked up on. Her introspection was interrupted by a strange sheen from Stella's legs.
"Look, scales!" Michelle said, pointing at Stella's bare thighs. Stella lifted her hand and glanced down at her legs, where a small patch of scales in a murky grayish color had grown. Not like how someone's skin could get scaly when dried out--these were polished, regular scales, like a reptile, or...
"What's happening?" Stella said. She got to her feet, twisting around and looking over her legs to find a few other patches of scales.
It clicked in her mind. Michelle knew what was happening.
"I, uh," she said, swallowing. "I had this thing for fantasy creatures, you know, as a teenager. Elves and centaurs and stuff..."
Stella's eyes went wide. She rubbed her hands together as the webbing began to grow between her fingers. Michelle's webbing was spreading higher up her fingers, closer to her fingertips.
"Am I turning into a dragon!?" Stella asked. She put her hands on Michelle's shoulders and fixed her with an intense gaze. "I better not be turning into a dragon."
"No! Not dragons. But, uh, I think we're turning into...mermaids," Michelle said. It was such a Lisa Frank thing to like that Michelle (as a guy) had always felt shy about admitting it. Maybe that's why she'd held onto the fantasy in the back of her mind for so long.
Stella got a hold of herself, drawing herself up and giving her long hair a determined toss. "Okay, that's not so bad, but we've got to get to the beach, fast," she said.
"How fast?" Michelle asked.
"We've got thirty minutes to get into a body of water, or we'll start drying out," Stella said.
Michelle wasn't about to doubt Stella's mermaid expertise, since she was the magical one in their relationship. But if they needed water, they were going to be out of luck. Their apartment only came with a shower, and since Michael rode his bike to work, they didn't own a car.
"I can call an Uber," Michelle said.
"I've got it," Stella said. She had already grabbed a crystal off of the bedside table. "All spirits up and down, your powers I beseech..."
"Wait a second, let me at least get the counterspell!" Michelle said. She sprung off the bed, ran to the bedroom door, and stepped through the threshold into wet sand.
The only sound was the white noise of lapping surf and the occasional caw of a gull somewhere high above. To Michael's left was blue ocean; to her right, past the white sands, green brush and palm trees sticking up into the air. Ahead and behind her, the beach curled away. They were on a peninsula, or possibly an island. The air was so fresh, it almost smelled sweet.
Stella stood nearby, looking around curiously, with her crystal still in hand.
"This doesn't look like Santa Monica," she said, frowning.
"It looks deserted," Michelle said. A hint of annoyance floated in her voice, but it was hard to sustain. The stranger this situation became, the more distant real life seemed. She was a girl, and she was getting a mermaid girlfriend. Maybe she should just relax and enjoy it in the moment? They'd be able to find a way back somehow.
She looked up at the sky, which rose to a deep blue at its peak far higher than anything imaginable. It was daylight, and the sun was still high. It had been a quarter to six when she got home. That put them west of the coast, somewhere in the Pacific.
Michelle looked at Stella. "I think we're on an island. Definitely not in California."
"Well...at least we're together," Stella said, closing the distance between her and Michelle and kissing her again. Suddenly, Michelle was flushed and wrapping her arms around Stella again and pulling her close to share the feeling of the warm sun against her skin. That pervasive lust was still coiled around both of them.
"Aah," Stella grunted softly, pulling back.
Michelle had brushed one of Stella's dry patches of scales. Together, they looked down at the spreading scales on Stella's legs, and the small patches, still clearish, cropping up on Michelle's. Even without contact, Michelle was getting an itchy, burning feeling where her skin was changing.
"C'mon, let's get in the water together," Michelle said. She waded with Stella out to the edge of the surf, where the waves could wash up to their stomachs. Michelle squealed in surprise as the water splashed over her: cold, crisp, salty, and soothing to her scales.
Stella leaned back and groaned as the water splashed over her, leaving her glistening from her bellybutton down. She turned toward Michelle and smiled. "Where were we?" she asked, then slipped an arm around her, leaning in to wrap her lips around one of Michelle's nipples.
"Stell--aah," Michelle gasped. She squirmed in the sand, her eyelids fluttering. "We're out in the open," she complained, but she didn't push her away.
Stella lifted her head for a moment. "You said it yourself, this place is deserted."
Again, Michelle's fantasies stopped her from protesting. Sex on the beach with a mermaid. Stop complaining and enjoy it, her libido told her.
The scales on Stella's legs were spreading far enough that they began to connect. No longer grayish, they took on a deep, cobalt blue coloration that complemented her new black hair. Stella scooted closer, tossed a leg over Michelle's hips, and straddled her there on the sand, kneeling over her with the waves lapping at her thighs.
"Stella," Michelle groaned. It began as a protest, but ended up as more of a plea.
Michelle's legs prickled with the feeling of new scales growing in, spreading along the outsides of her thighs. Looking around Stella's body, she saw her own copper-red scales shimmering as the waves rolled over them.
As Stella worked Michelle back into that horny haze, her worries slid away. She didn't have to concern herself with whether or not they'd be able to find their way back to California, or what might happen if Stella tried to magic them back to their apartment, or any of that. Just focus on right now, her body said, on the way she can make you feel. She was glad to do that.
Michelle put an arm around Stella and held onto her, while her other hand snuck its way up between Stella's thighs. Her fingers were completely webbed, but that wasn't stopping her. She pressed her palm between Stella's legs and curled her fingers up into her puffy folds. The webbed skin served to spread Stella open, wrapping snugly around her labia.
Stella groaned through her nose and leaned against Michelle's fingers. If the webbed hand felt weird to Stella, she wasn't complaining. Michelle reached for something to hold onto and found Stella's hips, where her blue scales had grown in. Instinctively, she pulled her hand away, but Stella grabbed her wrist and slapped it firmly against her ass. Enjoy this, Stella's eyes said. Michelle shuddered and raised her hips off the sand, letting the wavesflow underneath her ass and cool her down. It wasn't so cold when you got used to it. The water was sharp and crisp like the rustle of autumn leaves.
A tiny string of saliva ran from Stella's mouth to Michelle's breast. She leaned back for a moment, smiled, and then took the other breast between her lips. The air brushing against her now-bare nipple kept it cool and stiff, sensitive to every motion she made.
Michelle looked at Stella's feet, resting in the water, and watched them spreading wider and broader until she felt uncomfortable and had to lean back and look up at the sky. She was afraid of that step between her and this fantasy, afraid of what it would be like to have her body shifting so drastically. But Stella wasn't shying away from it.
And Stella kept Michelle busy. She didn't have to think about the prickling feeling along her toes, the feeling of her feet stretching laterally. Just think about the pleasure rolling through her, the little jolts as Stella rubbed her teeth against her nipple, and the way Stella's tongue could curl and curl and curl. So they both had nimble tongues. Michelle wasn't surprised.
Stella's thighs squeezed Michelle's hand as she closed her legs. Michelle couldn't help gasping at the smooth push of Stella's changing body, pressing her crotch forward. Stella's pussy couldn't nestle between her thighs when her thighs were connected. Stella pulled back from Michelle's chest, wrapping an arm around her back and panting.
"Don't stop," she said. Her eyelids fluttered. As Stella's lower body grew together, her tail came to rest on top of Michelle's legs. The new weight pressed her into the sand, and her smooth scales couldn't quite balance on top of Michelle. Stella wobbled on top of her, smooth scales brushing quickly against Michelle's skin. With a heavy splash, Stella slipped off to the side. What had been her knees plopped into the shallow water next to Michelle.
Stella was still propped up, ass out of the water. It was just that now, she was balanced on her curled blue tail, instead of on her knees. The powerful muscles of her new tail clenched around Michelle's fingers. Stella cried out as her body seized up, pushed over the edge into a shuddering orgasm. What would have been her thighs tensed, and her tail splashed anxiously in the water.
Michelle's fingers came back with milky fluid on them that sparkled in the sunlight. She looked from her own webbed hands, to Stella. Stella's hair kept its volume even though it was damp. Mermaid magic, she guessed. Stella held out her hands and opened and closed them briefly, looking at the new webbing.
Michelle caught a sparkle in Stella's eye before she was shoved down onto the sand. Stella's lips pressed tight against hers. Stella stuck her hand down between Michelle's thighs, returning the favor Michelle had given her. Her knees buckled and her hips rose up again. Michelle's eyes threatened to go crossed. Her pussy was puffy from the changes rippling through her body, and Stella's fingers were warm, and Stella moved with eager intent. Michelle might have asked Stella to stop if she wasn't buried deep in the kiss. In a way, she was glad she couldn't. It was forcing her past her fears, making her accept this thing that she ultimately wanted.
Beneath Stella's hand, Michelle's thighs joined. Copper scales streamed from one side of her hips to the other. There was enough strength in Stella's arms to keep Michelle pinned down, or maybe it was just the rushing pleasure making Michelle weak. The more Stella stroked, the harder it was for Michelle to think coherently. The water was a soft blanket wrapping around her, rolling up against her shoulders and cheeks. Her shimmering girlfriend was above her, and her legs were nearly numb from the rolling, wet pleasure of her webbed fingers.
Not entirely numb, though. Her muscles slid into new positions, bulged thicker; a build meant for propelling her through the water. She twisted with more joints than she'd had before, then curled, then flicked her tail. Stella didn't let up for a second. She was a natural with her slick, webbed fingers.
Michelle wrapped her arms around Stella's back and melted against the sand as her own orgasm rushed through her. The waves pulled back around her and she felt like she was going to get washed down into the deep and she didn't care. Her body was glowing with heat and when they finally parted, she was taking dizzy, heaving breaths.
Stella rolled onto her rear, or whatever she had in place of her butt now. After just letting the surf roll up over her for a minute, Michelle climbed up into a sitting position.
"I really want to keep making out with you, but I need to catch my breath," Stella said.
Michelle took her wet palm and dragged it across her forehead to cool herself. "Same here," she said.
"I guess between us, our fantasy woman is pretty horny," Stella said. She laughed and Michelle smiled.
Stella was taking to the change well, and that put Michelle's worries at ease. The last thing she wanted to see was something one of them did driving the two of them apart. From becoming a woman to becoming mermaids, having Stella there had kept Michelle calm. ...Relatively calm. This was pretty intense, even for someone as usually chill as Michelle.
Michelle looked out at the small tufts of white foam on the waves rolling in. "Do you want to swim?" she asked.
Stella flicked her blue tail. "What's my other option?" she asked.
"I dunno, running a marathon?" Michelle smiled. Scooting forward, she waited for a strong wave, then splashed down into it and let it pull her in as it receded.
Bubbles tumbled around her. Her tail splashed up above the water as she pushed deeper, until she was in about ten feet deep. Blinking, she looked at the sand and dappledlight around her--she could see clearly, and though the feeling of water against her eyes was strange, there was no sting.
Her head popped up above the water just in time to see Stella's splash, so she ducked back down underneath after taking a big breath. In an undulating stroke, Stella came swimming up to Michelle under the water, sunlight glowing in ripples against her tanned skin, hair flowing behind her as if magic was keeping it always manageable.
"Why are you holding your breath?" Stella asked.
"Bluh-huh?" Michelle said, letting out a big bubble of air.
"Mermaids can breathe underwater, dummy."
Michelle took in a sharp breath to tell Stella that she didn't even know mermaids were a real thing with rules until just now. She didn't say it, though. Instead, she clapped her hands to the sides of her throat. Her gill flaps had fluttered open when she took that breath and she had felt the rush of water through them.
With a kick of her tail, Michelle broke the surface again and took a deep gasp of air. She gingerly rubbed her fingers up along the curve of her neck, looking for the seams of her gills. Above the water, though, they sealed up, practically hidden from view. With a splash and flick of her hair, Stella surfaced, bobbing slowly in front of Michelle.
"Sorry, I forget you don't really know about mermaids," she said.
"Speaking of, how do you know so much about mermaids? Is it just a witch thing?" Michelle asked.
Stella shrugged. She was always casual about her weird magic stuff. "My parents had this big bestiary they made me study from."
"Smart choice, it turns out," Michelle said.
Stella put her arms around Michelle, and she accepted the hug eagerly, trying to keep her tail curled back behind her so she didn't smack hers against Stella's. Moving around came naturally, but if she thought about the placement of her new appendage too hard, she'd start to overthink it.
"Let's do it together. Going down in five, four..." Stella started to count. Michelle closed her eyes and gulped. Her sealed-up gills tingled. "...one, here we go!" Stella said, then pulled them both under the water. It crashed around them, followed by a swirl of bubbles. Michelle's eyes were shut and she was holding her breath. Overthinking it again. She untied the knot in her stomach and relaxed and her gills opened up. It was like taking a breath, just of water instead of air.
"Oh man, that's weird," Michelle said. She spoke right out into the water, no glubbing bubbles.
"Hey, it's your fantasy," Stella said, sticking out her tongue. "Now that we're not at risk of drying out, I could try to send us back home. I left the crystal up on the beach," she added.
They floated in the water together, in each other's arms. The motion of the waves pushed them in a slow circle. "Think we can spend the day like this, at least?" Michelle asked.
Stella let go of Michelle. "Sure," she said, "If you can catch me." With a laugh, she flicked around in the water and went shimmering off.
"Hey!" Michelle squeaked. Her initial surprise warmed into amusement as she twisted her tail like she'd known it for years and sped off after Stella. She breathed in the water and was able to smell something. It was a bit like waking up and nestling into Stella's hair in the morning, or the way her studio smelled minus the scent of paper and incense. It was Stella's scent, and it was a comfort in this strange situation. Michelle followed after her girlfriend, using her scent to find her way.
Michelle darted and swung through the deeper waters after Stella, following her away from the beach and into the reef that rimmed the island they'd found themselves on. The colorful fish that floated in and out of the corals made it seem as if the whole place was breathing. The waving of anemones with the motion of the water was like watching a forest blow in the breeze.
Michelle, fascinated by the wildlife, poked at a parrotfish until it angrily darted away, then tried to corral a school of small, silvery fish with her hands until they dispersed in a big burst. She wondered where Stella was, until a sound like a bowling ball hitting a strike clattered down from above. She looked up. Stella swam down out of huge mushroom cloud of bubbles.
"See how high you can jump!" she said.
Michelle bunched her copper tail beneath her, then sprung forward, pumping up and down as fast as she could. The surface grew clearer and brighter as she neared. With a sudden, forceful push, she leaped into the air, spinning slowly as the spray flung around her. There was the island, and the sun, and the sea all around. And then she hit the water square on her back.
The two of them shared a laugh while Michelle's back still stung. There were some things that even instinctive gracefulness couldn't fix.
Although there was a low ache in the back of Michelle's mind, the same feeling of lust that had practically consumed her back at the apartment, it was easier to ignore it now. Maybe she'd satisfied it for now, or maybe exploring as a mermaid was interesting enough to drive it back from the forefront of her mind.
Together they raced and explored in the water. They found the limits of the reef and circled the entire island, which couldn't have been bigger than a mile in circumference. Once they had satisfied their more intellectual curiosity, they went back to playing. Michelle and Stella splashed each other in the shallow water and learned how high they could jump and how far. When they were tired, they caught the waves back to the shore and nestled in the sand there.
Stella laid against Michelle's shoulder, her tail curled over and around Michelle's. The feeling of scales wrapping around scales was unfamiliar, almost too smooth, but Michelle found it instinctively comforting. If mermaids hugged, this was probably how they'd do it.
The sun hung lower in the sky. I wasn't setting yet, but it was low enough that the light cast long shadows across the beach and made the waves shine blue-green.
"So do you have a mermaid name yet?" Michelle asked.
Stella raised her head and frowned. "I don't think that's a real thing," she said.
"You made Michelle my girl name," she said. "So I don't see why mermaid names are any weirder."
"Do you have a mermaid name then?" Stella asked.
Michelle blushed. "I always thought Naia would be a pretty name for a mermaid," she said.
Stella smiled. "That can be yours, then. I'll take...Ariadne, why not."
"Just for until we go back," Michelle added.
"Whatever you say, Naia," Stella said. A shiver ran all the way down Michelle's spine to the tip of her tail. Wait, no... If she had this one day to live out this fantasy, she wasn't letting self-consciousness mess it up. If she wanted to go by Naia for today, then she wasn't going to hold back.
Michelle, or Naia for now, laid on the sand with Stella, now Ariadne. After teasing each other with their new names, they seemed to come naturally. Naia assumed it was part of the spell, like how easily she'd adapted to her feminine name.
For a little while, they let the sun warm their skin and their scales. The waves splashed up against them, keeping them from getting too hot or too dry. Naia's hands drifted from Ariadne's waist to her tail, brushing with the grain of the scales. Her tail was firm against her hands. It was like a big, singular muscle. Naia could feel the little flexes traveling down along it as Ariadne flipped her fin or shifted against the wet sand.
Playfulness came over them for a moment and they wrestled together in the sand, until Ariadne had Naia pinned down, holding her arms around her below the waist. Naia laid against the sand in defeat, and Ariadne returned the gentle stroking. She rested her chin on one of Naia's hips while she ran her hands down her scaled sides. Naia groaned softly, feeling little bristles of delight across her scales.
"You know what," Naia said, raising her head. "I'm hungry. I'm going to try to find some food."
Ariadne opened her eyes and brushed back her hair. Despite swimming all afternoon, her hair wasn't bunched up or drying out all salty. "What, you mean you're going to fish?" she asked.
Naia nodded. "Yeah. I want to try to catch some, at least. I'm not getting another opportunity to catch fish as a fish," she said.
"Good luck catching something with your bare hands," Ariadne said. She stuck out her tongue. Naia just smiled confidently back at her. She extracted herself from Ariadne's grasp. Sliding back into the ocean felt like slipping into a warm blanket.
It was only under water that Naia realized she didn't know what kinds of fish were good. Maybe she could trust her instincts. She followed the slope of the seafloor out from the island, until she was deep in the reef where the larger fish swam. Some were too small to make a good meal, and some looked too hard and bony to be good to eat. Her search began quick and eager, but lapsed into more lazy drifting when she found she couldn't quite tell what to try to catch.
And then, out of nowhere, her nose flared. She caught the hint of something in the water, something that smelled tasty, and it was coming from the glimmer of a silvery-tan fish ahead of her. With a firm push of her tail, Naia sailed toward it. The fish wiggled away.
Oh no you don't, she thought. Her tail rippled harder, the water streaming by as she honed in on that one fish. Nearly two feet long, and big enough to have some good meat on it. The longer she focused on it, the more her stomach ground against her ribs. Twice, she seemed close enough to catch it, but it darted away at the last minute and she clapped her hands together with nothing but water between them.
Unknown to her, her fingernails were growing, narrowing down into finer points as she swam. Soon enough, they were more like subtle claws then nails.
Finally, she managed to pounce. She trapped the fish against the side of a rock and grabbed it as best she could. It tried to wriggle out of her grasp. She dug her nails into its side until she pierced its scales. Even with her claws holding it tight, it was thrashing. With an angry huff, she peeled back her lips and bit down on its head until she heard a soft crunch.
As Naia swam back to the shore, she licked the fish's blood off of her sharp teeth. In order to climb back onto land, she stuck the fish into her mouth. She washed up on the shore in a tumble, then flopped herself down and slid over next to Ariadne.
"Pheh," she said, slipping the fish off her small fangs and dropping it into her lap.
Ariadne's eyes widened. She reached out, taking the fish in her hands to feel its weight. "Wow. You actually caught something."
"So do you have some kind of firestarter spell?" Naia asked. She trailed off. Ariadne opened her mouth and sunk her teeth into the fish's hide, biting off a chunk of its flesh, scales and all. She made a low, pleasant noise in her throat as she chewed once or twice, then swallowed.
"Sorry, what?" Ariadne asked.
"Nevermind." Naia smiled at her as she took the fish back and tore off her own big mouthful and gulped it down. If Ariadne didn't want to bother, then she didn't care either. They'd both had sushi before, so was this all that different?
They took turns tearing into the fish. Naia's heart was starting to beat faster; something about eating fired her up again. The heat down in her groin wasn't quite like the feeling she'd had before, either. This was still hot and tight, but it wasn't quite so pure and romantic. This felt more raw and primal.
"Thish's really good," Ariadne said, speaking through her fangs as she swallowed down another chunk of fish meat. "You should catch some more."
Naia had gotten a visceral thrill from seeing Ariadne tear into the fish, so she returned the favor, twisting her head as she pulled some more meat from its ribs. She caught Ariadne staring from the corner of her eye. Naia passed the fish back, then turned and laid on top of Ariadne. She draped one arm over her tail, looking up at her with a toothy grin. Ariadne gave her a curious look with a mouthful of fish.
Naia buried her head in Ariadne's crotch. She spread Ariadne open with her fingers and lapped at her pussy with her long tongue. A heady groan came from Ariadne's mouth as she leaned back. With one hand, Ariadne reached down, pushing Naia's head closer. She held the fish with the other to keep eating.
Naia curled her tongue into little knots as she licked at Ariadne's puffy folds. Her hand naturally dipped down to her own labia, but she pulled back when she felt the press of claws against the tender flesh. Ouch, don't do that, she thought to herself. She was horny enough, though, that she hadn't yet put two and two together.
Above her, Ariadne made sounds of mixed pleasure and eating. Naia dug her tongue in, using its newfound dexterity and length to its fullest. Ariadne's hips rose and rocked as Naia teased groans out of her girlfriend.
Ariadne tossed what was now just a fish's skeleton off to the side, then leaned back and panted openly while Naia ate her out. Naia liked the way muscles flexed in Ariadne's tail, tensing on one side, then the other, like she was trying to squirm legs that she no longer had any more.
As her fingers brushed across her own chest, Ariadne gasped softly, feeling the brush of her claws against her skin. She pulled her hand back and held it up in front of her eyes. The webbed skin, yes, that she knew was there, but she looked closer, at the sharp, pointed nails jutting from her fingers, curved slightly like claws.
"Naia," she said weakly. She couldn't even pull her own hand off the back of Naia's head. Naia heard, but it was just another one of Ariadne's excited moans, right? She was close. A minute of squirming more, and Ariadne was stretched out flat on the sand, panting, her glittering mermaid juices on Naia's lips.
"Something's happening," Ariadne said, raising her hands up to show Naia. Naia blinked herself from her mating haze and looked down at her own hands. They weren't just clawed; scales were sprouting from her fingers. Each second, a new scale hardened out of her skin, and took on the same coppery tone as her tail.
"I thought the spell was done, though," Naia said. Ariadne got a strange worried look in her eye and leaned forward. She took Naia's jaw in her hand and and pushed it open, revealing the set of fangs she'd been growing. She pulled back, then made an open-lipped grimace, looking anxiously at Naia. Tall, slightly curved, and narrow fangs filled Ariadne's mouth.
"I don't know," Ariadne said. "Maybe...maybe our fantasies changed, and it's picking up on that. It could be adjusting to our new desires."
Naia's tail twisted, like there were knots growing in her joints. She whimpered and leaned against Ariadne, holding onto her waist tightly. "We have to stop it! This is too much," she said. She tried to stretch her tail. As it extended, the scales shifted outward, pushing new rows out between the existing ones. Her tail stretched longer than her legs had been, more narrowly tapered.
"I don't know if we can stop it," Ariadne said. She held out her hands, watching the first blue scales glisten on her fingers.
Naia's hands were covered in scales up to her wrists. Elsewhere on her body, her skin was prickling dryly, like it was trying to peel off. She turned her arms over and watched bits of skin flake up like peeling paint, then curl away from her body. The skin spread into small fins on the back of her wrist and the tip of her elbow. She tensed, and the fins flexed.
"What are we becoming?" Naia asked. Her mind felt as if it was bubbling inside a pressure cooker. She wanted to slip back into the water and let it ripple over her and just close her eyes, but she couldn't stop watching herself. The lustrous shine of her scales was dimming, tinged with a blue-green like oxidized copper.
A particularly large wave washed up over the both of them, leaving them freshly dampened. The water soothed the itchy feeling that had been creeping up Naia's back. She reached back, brushing her scaled fingers along her smooth skin, then finding the trail of scales leading up her backbone. She couldn't keep herself from rubbing along the growing spines sticking out. They were forming a new dorsal fin.
"I think we're becoming real mermaids. I mean, we were the fantasy version before, the ones from fairy tales and stuff," Ariadne said. Naia looked her girlfriend up and down, trying to assess what was happening to her. Her blue scales also took on a greenish tint. Scales and fins sprouted higher up on her body--though she was lagging a little behind Naia.
Ariadne said something about survival and adaptation, but it all became garbled gurgling as Naia's ears reshaped themselves. She clapped her hands over the sides of her head, trying to shut out the noise of her inner ear changing. When she pulled them away, she had a pair of fins where her ears had been. Everything sounded a little tinny, like she was trying to hear it through an old radio.
Naia's tail coiled over on itself as she slid next to Ariadne and put her arms around her. "It's gonna be okay," she said. Her arms were covered in scales all the way up to the tops of her forearms. From head to tip of her tail, Naia had to be at least eight, maybe nine feet. In addition to the broad mermaid fin at the end of her tail, she had grown smaller extra fins along its length. To her, it looked like a sea monster's tail.
Ariadne's hair grew longer, wilder. A quick touch of her own told Naia that hers was following suit. Streaks of turquoise-blue shot through Ariadne's hair, like untamed stripes in a messy mane. Naia's hair was worse, tangled up thicker, with large sweeps of copper-green stroked through it.
New desires pounded through her head--or maybe not so much new as newly invigorated. She wanted to hunt fish. She wanted to mate with her lover. She wanted to dive and swim. They felt at once both alien and as much a part of her as anything else. No matter how hard she tried to ignore them, her stomach rumbled for fish and her crotch ached and she coiled herself tighter around her changing girlfriend.
A sudden fear struck her and she opened her mouth to tell Ariadne that she loved her. Naia had to make sure she said it. But she only got as far as, "Ariadne, I lerrrk!" She grasped at her throat, wide-eyed, and squeaked. What came out wasn't a noise like speech, but more like a dolphin's cry.
"Naia?" Ariadne asked, frowning as she looked up at her. Naia tried to speak again, but again, all that came out was a high-pitched squeaking. She pursed her lips, then just laid her head against Ariadne's shoulders and held onto her tightly. When would this stop and how far would it go? The one thing she wouldn't let go of was Ariadne.
Her tail coiled around Ariadne's stretching tail. Her arms held her snugly as the spines prickled their way up Ariadne's back. Ariadne's anxious wiggles slowed as she leaned back against Naia and closed her eyes and waited for it to be over. She only felt Ariadne's body, only smelled the faint scent of Ariadne's hair against her cheek.
As they shut out the rest of the world and clung together, what came to Naia's mind was spooning with Ariadne. Back at their apartment, when things were normal. Even after she'd been turned into a girl, there was a certain way their bodies locked together that was 'them', the two of them, like they were made for one another.
Forget the mermaid tails. Forget the fins and squeaking, forget man or woman. Forget what names they were using. As long as they were a pair, nothing else was quite as important. And right now, even as monstrous mermaids or whatever they had become, their bodies were entwined in just that perfect way. An embrace was an embrace, whether their arms were covered with scales or skin.
Ariadne squeaked. Naia lifted her head and brought her lips to Ariadne's. They kissed. In that embrace and that kiss, Naia could feel they would be safe. They wouldn't be lost to their new instincts.
"Ee-eeek?" Naia tried to say. She shook her head and made a fanged frown. That didn't work. She looked around, wishing for some paper, even some bark and charcoal, or...
She stuck her claw into the damp sand. With her claw, she scratched out a couple words. 'Go back to LA?'
Ariadne followed the line of Naia's arm to the words she'd written. She looked back up at her and let out a squeak that trailed off. Then, with her hand, she wrote under the first line. 'Do you want to?'
Naia looked out at the sea. Now that the sun was setting, the sky was growing orange and pink and the sea shimmered with its own deep blue. It was peaceful here, beautiful, full of food, and just the two of them. All of her new, true mermaid instincts were telling her to stay. But one thing held her back: she couldn't force Ariadne into this. This was a crazy dream of her own, and it wouldn't be fair...
Naia looked at Ariadne. While she had been thinking, Ariadne was staring out at the sea with a small smile on her face. Her eyes shimmered in the light. If you lost the fins and fangs, changed the hair and face, it would be the smile that Ariadne had given her when they first saw their apartment. Ariadne's 'I'd love to live here' face was the same, just like she was the same. Just like they were the same.
'No,' Naia wrote in the sand.
Maybe that's why they'd had that final change, so that they could live here together. If that was the case, Naia was happy with it.
Ariadne leaned over, doing something with her claws in the sand. After a minute, she rolled back, revealing two mermaid stick figures holding hands with fanged smiley faces on their heads.
A tittering squeal left Naia's throat and she hugged Ariadne tightly. They twined together on the sand, rolling deeper into the surf until, with a splash, they sunk under the water. With gestures, Naia suggested they find somewhere to rest for the night. Ariadne nodded, but then a thought struck her and she held up one claw.
The blue-scaled wild mermaid came splashing back up onto shore, hauling herself up to the high-tide mark. She looked right and left, scanning the sand until she caught sight of her magic crystal. She scooped it up in her hand and rolled her way back into the sea.
Ariadne held up her crystal as she swam back down to Naia . Her broad grin showed all her fangs. Naia considered trying to mime 'careful' or 'vacuum cleaner' to Ariadne, but settled with pursed lips and a stern glare. Then, the two of them entwined their fingers and went looking for a quiet cove to make into their new home.